THE Contemplations upon the HISTORY OF THE New Testament, now complete.  
The second Tome.  
Together with Divers TREATISES reduced to the greater Volume.  
By Jos. Exon.  
MDCLXI.  
LONDON, Printed by James Flesher.   

TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY, CHARLES BY THE GRACE OF GOD KING OF GREAT Britain, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith.  
Most Gracious and Dread Sovereign,  
MOre than twenty years are slipped away, since I entered upon this task of sacred Contemplations; presuming so long ago to prefix your Royal Name to some of the first pieces of this long work, which I rather wished, then hoped I might live to finish. The God of Heaven hath been pleased to stretch out my days so far as to see it brought, at last, (after many necessary intermissions) to an happy end; Now, not with more contentment than boldness, I bring to your sacred hands (besides variety of other discourses) that work complete, whereof some few parcels saw the light before, under subordinate Dedications. The whole is your Majesty's due, no less than the unworthy Author; whose age pleaseth and prideth itself in nothing more, then in the title of one of your Majesty's most ancient Attendants (in my station) now living,  
JOS. EXON.   

THE CONTENTS OF THIS SECOND TOME. CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NEW TESTAMENT.  

The First Book containing,  
THE Angel and Zachary. 1  
The Annunciation of CHRIST. 6  
The Birth of CHRIST. 9  
The Sages and the Star. 12  
The Purification. 15  
Herod and the Infants. 18   

The Second Book containing,  
CHrist among the Doctors. 23  
Christ's Baptism. 27  
Christ Tempted. 29  
Simon Called. 38  
The Marriage in Cana. 41  
The good Centurion. 44   

The Third Book containing,  
THe Widow's Son raised. 48  
The Rulers Son cured. 51  
The dumb Devil ejected. 53  
Matthew Called. 58  
Christ amongst the Gergesens; or Legion, and the Gadarene heard. 61   

The Fourth Book containing,  
THe faithful Canaanite. 73  
The deaf and dumb man cured. 79  
Zacheus. 83  
John Baptist beheaded. 91  
The five loaves and two fishes. 100  
The walk upon the waters. 107  
The bloody issue healed. 114  
Jairus and his daughter. 120  
The motion of the two fiery Disciples repelled. 122  
The ten Lepers. 126  
The pool of Bethesda. 132  
Christ transfigured. 138  
The woman taken in adultery. 152  
The thankful Penitent. 158  
Martha and Mary. 165  
The beggar that was born blind, cured. 169  
The stubborn Devil ejected. 173  
The Widows mites. 177  
The ambition of the two sons of Zebedee. 179  
The tribute-money paid. 183  
Lazarus dead. 185  
Lazarus raised. 190  
Christ's procession to the Temple. 198  
The figtree cursed. 202  
Christ betrayed. 205  
The Agony. 209  
Peter and Malchus; or, Christ apprehended. 212  
Christ before Caiaphas. 215  
Christ before Pilate. 218  
The Crucifixion. 224  
The Resurrection. 233  
The Ascension. ●●●   

Sermons and other Treatises.  
A Sermon of public thanksgiving for the wonderful mitigation of the late Mortality; preached before his Majesty at White-Hall. 251  
One of the Sermons preached at Westminster on the day of the Public Fast April 5. 1628. to the Lords of the High Court of Parliament. 261  
A Sermon preached before his Majesty on the Sunday before the Fast (March 30. 1628.) at Whitehall. 271  
One of the Sermons preached to the Lords of the high Court of Parliament, on Ash-wednesday, February 18. 279  
The Hypocrite; set forth in a Sermon at Court, February 28. 1629. being the third Sunday in Lent. 291  
The Beauty and Unity of the Church; in a Sermon at White-Hall. 304  
The Fashions of the world; laid forth in a Sermon at Grayes-Inn on Candlemas day. 311  
The Estate of a Christian, laid forth in a Sermon at Grayes-Inn on Candlemas day. 320  
The Fall of Pride; out of Proverbs 29. ver. 23. 329  
Christ and Caesar: A Sermon preached at Hampton-Court. 337  
The defeat of Cruelty prayed for, and laid forth in a Sermon preached at a solemn Fast at White-Hall. 344  
S. Paul's combat, in two Sermons preached at the Court to his Majesty in ordinary attendance. 1 352  
S. Paul's combat, in two Sermons preached at the Court to his Majesty in ordinary attendance. 2 362   

The Old Religion: A treatise wherein is laid down the true state of the difference betwixt the Reformed and Roman Church. 369  
The Reconciler: An Epistle pacificatory of the seeming difference of opinion concerning the Trueness and Visibility. of the Roman Church. 424  
Occasional Meditations. 448  
Certain Catholic Propositions. 499  
An Answer to Pope Urban his Inurbanity, expressed in a Breeve sent to Lewis the French King. 503    

TO MY MUCH HONOURED, AND RIGHT WORSHIPFUL FRIEND, Sir Henry Yeluerton KNIGHT, ATTORNEY GENERAL TO HIS MAJESTY.  
Right Worshipful,  
It is not out of any satiety that I change from the Old Testament to the New; these two, as they are the Breasts of the Church, so they yield Milk equally wholesome, equally pleasant unto able Nurselings. Herein I thought good to have respect unto my Reader, in whose strength there may be difference. That other Breast perhaps doth not let down this nourishing liquor so freely, so easily. Even so small a variety refresheth a weak Infant. Neither will there perhaps want some palates which will find a more quick and pleasing relish in this fresher substance. These I thought good to please with a Taste, ere they come to sat themselves with a full Meal of this Divine nourishment; in emulation of the good Scribe, that brings forth both old and new. If it please God to enable my life and opportunities, I hope at last to present this Church with the last service of the History of either Page: wherein my Joy and my Crown shall be the Edification of many. In the mean time, I dedicate this part unto your Name, whom I have so much cause to observe and honour. The Blessing of that God whose Church you have ever made your chief Client be still upon your head, and that honourable Society which rejoices in so worthy a Leader. To it and yourself I shall be ever (as I have cause)  
Humbly and unfeignedly devoted, JOS. HALL..   

Contemplations.  

THE FIRST BOOK.  
Containing 

The Angel and Zachary.  
The Annunciation.  
The Birth of CHRIST.  
The Sages and the Star.  
The Purification.  
Herod and the Infants.    

The Angel and Zachary.  
WHEN things are at worst, then God begins a change. The state of the Jewish Church was extremely corrupted, immediately before the news of the Gospel; yet, as bad as it was, not only the Priesthood, but the courses of attendance continued, even from David's time till Christ's. It is a desperately depraved condition of a Church, where no good orders are left. Judea passed many troubles, many alterations, yet this orderly combination endured about an eleven hundred years. A settled good will not easily be defeated, but in the change of persons will remain unchanged, and if it be forced to give way, leaves memorable footsteps behind it. If David foresaw the perpetuation of this holy Ordinance, how much did he rejoice in the knowledge of it? who would not be glad to do good, on condition, that it may so long outlive him?  
The successive turns of the Legal ministration held on in a Line never interrupted. Even in a forlorn and miserable Church, there may be a personal succession. How little were the Jews better for this, when they had lost the Urim and Thummim, sincerity of Doctrine and Manners? This stayed with them even whiles they and their Sons crucified Christ. What is more ordinary, then wicked Sons of holy Parents? It is the succession of Truth and Holiness that makes or institutes a Church, whatever become of the persons. Never time's were so barren, as not to yield some good; The greatest dearth affords some few good Ears to the Gleaners. Christ would not have come into the world, but he would have some faithful to entertain him: He, that had the disposing of all times and men, would cast some holy ones into his own times: There had been no equality, that all should either overrun, or follow him, and none attend him. Zachary and Elizabeth are just, both of Aaron's blood, and John Baptist of theirs: whence should an holy seed spring if not of the Loins of Levi? It is not in the power of Parents to traduce Holiness to their Children: it is the blessing of God, that feoffs them in the Virtues of their Parents, as they feoff them in their sins. There is no certainty, but there is likelihood, of an holy Generation, when the Parents are such. Elizabeth was just, as well as Zachary, that the forerunner of a Saviour might be holy on both sides. If the stock and the griffe be not both good, there is much danger of the fruit. It is an happy match, when the Husband and the Wife are one, not only in themselves, but in God, not more in flesh, then in the spirit. Grace makes no difference of sexes, rather the weaker carries away the more honour, because it hath had less helps. It is easy to observe, that the New Testament affordeth more store of good women than the old. Elizabeth led the ring of this mercy, whose barrenness ended in a miraculous fruit both of her body and of her time.  
This religious pair made no less progress in virtue then in age, and yet their virtue could not make their best age fruitful: Elizabeth was barren. A just soul and a barren womb may well agree together. Amongst the Jews barrenness was not a defect only, but a reproach: yet while this good woman was fruitful of holy obedience, she was barren of children. As John, which was miraculously conceived by man, was a fit forerunner of him that was conceived by the Holy Ghost; so a barren Matron was meet to make way for a Virgin.  
None but a son of Aaron might offer incense to God in the Temple, and not every son of Aaron, and not any one at all seasons: God is a God of order, and hates confusion no less than irreligion. Albeit he hath not so straightened himself under the Gospel as to tie his service to persons or places, yet his choice is now no less curious because it is more large. He allows none but the authorised: he authoriseth none but the worthy. The incense doth ever smell of the hand that offers it. I doubt not but that perfume was sweeter which ascended up from the hand of a just Zacharie. The sacrifice of the wicked is abomination to God. There were courses of ministration in the Legal services: God never purposed to burden any of his creatures with devotion. How vain is the ambition of any soul that would load itself with the universal charge of all men? How thankless is their labour that do wilfully overspend themselves in their ordinary vocations? As Zacharie had a course in God's house, so he carefully observed it: the favour of these respites doubled his diligence. The more high and sacred our calling is, the more dangerous is neglect. It is our honour that we may be allowed to wait upon the God of heaven in these immediate services. Woe be to us if we flacken those duties wherein God honours us more than we can honour him.  
Many sons of Aaron, yea of the same family, served at once in the Temple according to the variety of employments. To avoid all difference, they agreed by lot to assign themselves to the several offices of each day: the lot of this day called Zacharie to offer Incense in the outer Temple. I do not find any prescription they had from God of this particular manner of designment. Matters of good order in holy affairs may be ruled by the wise institution of men according to reason and expediency.  
It fell out well that Zacharie was chosen by lot to this ministration, that God's immediate hand might be seen in all the passages that concerned his great Prophet; that as the person, so the occasion might be of Gods own choosing. In lots and their seeming casual disposition, God can give a reason, though we can give none. Morning and Evening, twice a day, their Law called them to offer Incense to God, that both parts of the day might be consecrate to the maker of time. The outer Temple was the figure of the whole Church upon earth, like as the Holy of holiest represented Heaven. Nothing can better resemble our faithful prayers then sweet perfume: these God looks that we should (all his Church over) send up unto him Morning and Evening. The elevations of our hearts should be perpetual: but if twice in the day we do not present God with our solemn invocations, we make the Gospel less officious than the Law.  
That the resemblance of prayers and incense might be apparent, whiles the Priest sends up his incense within the Temple, the people must send up their prayers without. Their breath and that incense, though remote in the first rising, met ere they went up to heaven. The people might no more go into the Holy place to offer up the incense of prayers unto God, than Zacharie might go into the Holy of holies. Whiles the partition wall stood betwixt Jews and Gentiles, there were also partitions betwixt the Jews and themselves. Now every man is a Priest unto God, every man (since the veil was rend) prays within the Temple. What are we the better for our greater freedom of access to God under the Gospel, if we do not make use of our privilege?  
Whiles they were praying to God, he sees an Angel of GOD: as Gideon's Angel went up in the smoke of the sacrifice, so did zachary's Angel (as it were) come down in the fragrant smoke of his incense. It was ever great news to see an Angel of God; but now more, because God had long withdrawn from them all the means of his supernatural revelations. As this wicked people were strangers to their God in their conversation, so was God grown a stranger to them in his apparitions: yet now that the season of the Gospel approached, he visited them with his Angels; before he visited them by his Son. He sends his Angel to men in the form of man, before he sends his Son to take humane form. The presence of Angels is no novelty, but their apparition; they are always with us, but rarely seen, that we may awfully respect their messages when they are seen. In the mean time our faith may see them, though our senses do not; their assumed shapes do not make them more present, but visible.  
There is an order in that heavenly Hierarchy, though we know it not. This Angel that appeared to Zacharie was not with him in the ordinary course of his attendances, but was purposely sent from God with this message. Why was an Angel sent? and why this Angel? It had been easy for him to have raised up the prophetical spirit of some Simeon to this prediction. The same Holy Ghost which revealed to that just man, that he should not see death ere he had seen the Messias, might have as easily revealed unto him the birth of the forerunner of Christ, and by him to Zacharie: but God would have this voice, which should go before his Son, come with a noise. He would have it appear to the world, that the harbinger of the Messiah should be conceived by the marvellous power of that God whose coming he proclaimed. It was fit the first Herald of the Gospel should begin in wonder. The same Angel that came to the Blessed Virgin with the news of Christ's conception, came to Zacharie with the news of John's, for the honour of him that was the greatest of them which were born of women, and for his better resemblance to him which was the seed of the woman. Both had the Gospel for their errand, one as the messenger of it, the other as the Author; both are foretold by the same mouth.  
When could it be more fit for the Angel to appear unto Zacharie, then when prayers and incense were offered by him? Where could he more fitly appear then in the Temple? In what part of the Temple more fitly then at the Altar of Incense? and whereabout rather then on the right side of the Altar? Those glorious spirits as they are always with us, so most in our devotions; and as in all places, so most of all in God's house. They rejoice to be with us whiles we are with God; as contrarily they turn their faces from us when we go about our sins.  
He that had wont to live and serve in the presence of the master, was now astonished at the presence of the servant. So much difference there is betwixt our faith and our senses, that the apprehension of the presence of the God of spirits by faith goes down sweetly with us, whereas the sensible apprehension of an Angel dismays us. Holy Zacharie, that had wont to live by faith, thought he should die when his sense began to be set on work. It was the weakness of him that served at the Altar without horror, to be daunted with the face of his fellow-servant. In vain do we look for such Ministers of God as are without infirmities, when just Zacharie was troubled in his devotions with that wherewith he should have been comforted. It was partly the suddenness, and partly the glory of the apparition, that affrighted him. The good Angel was both apprehensive and compassionate of zachary's weakness, and presently incourages him with a cheerful excitation, (Fear not, Zacharias.). The blessed spirits, though they do not often vocally express it, do pity our humane frailties, and secretly suggest comfort unto us when we perceive it not. Good and evil Angels, as they are contrary in estate, so also in disposition. The good desire to take away fear, the evil to bring it. It is a fruit of that deadly enmity which is betwixt Satan and us, that he would, if he might, kill us with terror; whereas the good spirits affecting our relief and happiness, take no pleasure in terrifying us, but labour altogether for our tranquillity and cheerfulness.  
There was not more fear in the face then comfort in the speech; Thy prayer is heard. No Angel could have told him better news. Our desires are uttered in our prayers. What can we wish but to have what we would? Many good suits had Zachary made, and amongst the rest for a Son. Doubtless it was now some space of years since he made that request. For he was now stricken in age, and had ceased to hope: yet had God laid it up all the while; and when he thinks not of it, brings it forth to effect. Thus doth the mercy of our God deal with his patient and faithful suppliants. In the fervour of their expectation he many times holds them off; and when they least think of it, and have forgotten their own suits, he graciously condescends. Delay of effect may not discourage our faith. It may be God hath long granted ere we shall know of his grant. Many a father reputes him of his fruitfulness, and hath such sons as he wishes unborn: but to have so gracious and happy a son as the Angel foretold, could not be less comfort than honour to the age of Zacharie. The proof of children makes them either the blessings or crosses of their parents. To hear what his son should be before he was, to hear that he should have such a son, a son whose birth should concern the joy of many, a son that should be great in the sight of the Lord, a son that should be sacred to God, filled with God, beneficial to man, an harbinger to him that was God and man, was news enough to prevent the Angel, and to take away that tongue with amazement, which was after lost with incredulity.  
The speech was so good, that it found not a sudden belief. This good news surprised Zachary. If the intelligence had taken leisure, that his thoughts might have had time to debate the matter, he had easily apprehended the infinite power of him that had promised; the pattern of Abraham and Sara; and would soon have concluded the appearance of the Angel more miraculous than his prediction. Whereas now, like a man masked with the strangeness of that he saw and heard, he misdoubts the message, and asks, How shall I know? Nature was on his side, and alleged the impossibility of the event both from age and barrenness. Supernatural tidings at the first hearing astonish the heart, and are entertained with doubts by those which upon further acquaintance give them the best welcome.  
The weak apprehensions of our imperfect faith are not so much to be censured as pitied. It is a sure way for the heart, to be prevented with the assurance of the omnipotent power of God, to whom nothing is impossible: so shall the hardest point of faith go down easily with us. If the eye of our mind look upward, it shall meet with nothing to avert or interrupt it: but if right forward, or downward, or round about, every thing is a block in our way.  
There is a difference betwixt desire of assurance and unbelief. We cannot be too careful to raise up ourselves arguments to settle our faith; although it should be no faith, if it had no feet to stand upon, but discursive. In matters of faith, if reasons may be brought for the conviction of the gainsayers, it is well; if they be helps, they cannot be grounds of our belief. In the most faithful heart there are some sparks of infidelity: so to believe, that we should have no doubt at all, is scarce incident unto flesh and blood. It is a great perfection if we have attained to overcome our doubts. What did misled Zacharie, but that which uses to guide others, Reason? (I am old, and my wife is of great age.) As if years and dry loins could be any let to him which is able of very stones to raise up children unto Abraham. Faith and reason have their limits: where reason ends, faith begins: and if reason will be encroaching upon the bounds of faith, she is strait taken captive by infidelity. We are not fit to follow Christ, if we have not denied ourselves; and the chief piece of ourselves is our reason. We must yield God able to do that which we cannot comprehend, and we must comprehend that by our faith which is disclaimed by reason. Hagar must be driven out of doors, that Sara may rule alone.  
The authority of the reporter makes way for belief in things which are otherwise hard to pass; although in the matters of God we should not so much care who speaks, as what is spoken, and from whom. The Angel tells his name, place, office, unasked, that Zacharie might not think any news impossible that was brought him by an heavenly messenger. Even where there is no use of language, the spirits are distinguished by names, and each knows his own appellation and others. He that gave leave unto man his Image, to give names unto all his visible and inferior creatures, did himself put names unto the spiritual: and as their name is, so are they mighty and glorious. But lest Zacharie should no less doubt of the stile of the messenger, then of the errand itself, he is at once both confirmed, and punished with dumbness. That tongue which moved the doubt, must be tied up: He shall ask no more questions for forty weeks, because he asked this one distrustfully.  
Neither did Zacharie lose his tongue for the time, but his ears also; he was not only mute, but deaf: For otherwise, when they came to ask his allowance for the name of his Son, they needed not to have demanded it by signs, but by words. God will not pass over slight offences, and those which may plead the most colourable pretences in his best children, without a sensible check: it is not our holy entireness with God that can bear us out in the least sin; yea rather the more acquaintance we have with his Majesty, the more sure we are of correction when we offend. This may procure us more favour in our well-doing, not less justice in evil.  
Zacharie stayed, and the people waited: whether some longer discourse betwixt the Angel and him then needed to be recorded, or whether astonishment at the apparition and news, withheld him, I inquire not; the multitude thought him long, yet though they could but see afar off, they would not depart till he returned to bless them. Their patient attendance without, shames us that are hardly persuaded to attend within, whiles both our senses are employed in our divine services, and we are admitted to be co-agents with our Ministers.  
At last Zacharie comes out speechless, and more amazes them with his presence then with his delay. The eyes of the multitude that were not worthy to see his vision, yet see the signs of his vision, that the world might be put into the expectation of some extraordinary sequel. GOD makes way for his voice by silence. His speech could not have said so much as his dumbness. Zacharie would fain have spoken, and could not with us too many are dumb, and need not. Negligence, Fear, Partiality stop the mouths of many, which shall once say, Woe to me, because I held my peace. His hand speaks that which he cannot with his tongue, and he makes them by signs to understand that which they might read in his face. Those powers we have, we must use. But though he have ceased to speak, yet he ceased not to minister. He takes not this dumbness for a dismission, but stays out the eight days of his course, as one that knew the eyes and hands and heart would be accepted of that God which had bereft him of his tongue. We may not strait take occasions of withdrawing ourselves from the public services of our God, much less under the Gospel. The Law, which stood much upon bodily perfection, dispensed with age for attendance. The Gospel, which is all for the Soul, regards those inward powers, which whiles they are vigorous, exclude all excuses of our ministration.   

The Annunciation of CHRIST.  
THE Spirit of GOD was never so accurate in any description as that which concerns the Incarnation of GOD. It was fit no circumstance should be omitted in that Story, whereon the faith & salvation of all the World dependeth. We cannot so much as doubt of this truth, and be saved; no not the number of the month, not the name of the Angel is concealed: Every particle imports not more certainty than excellence. The time is the sixth month after John's Conception, the prime of the Spring. Christ was conceived in the Spring, born in the Solstice. He in whom the World received a new life, receives life in the same season wherein the World received his first life from him; and he which stretches out the days of his Church, and lengthens them to Eternity, appears after all the short and dim light of the Law, and enlightens the World with his glory. The Messenger is an Angel. A man was too mean to carry the news of the Conception of God. Never any business was conceived in Heaven, that did so much concern the earth as the Conception of the GOD of Heaven in Womb of earth: No less than an Archangel was worthy to bear this tidings, and never any Angel received a greater honour than of this Embassage.  
It was fit our reparation should answer our fall. An evil Angel was the first motioner of the one to Eve a Virgin, then espoused to Adam, in the Garden of Eden: a good Angel is the first reporter of the other to Mary, a Virgin espoused to Joseph, in that place which (as the Garden of Galilee,) had a name from flourishing. No good Angel could be the Author of our restauration, as that evil Angel was of our ruin. But that which those glorious Spirits could not do themselves, they are glad to report as done by the God of Spirits. Good news rejoices the bearer. With what joy did this holy Angel bring the news of that Saviour, in whom we are redeemed to life, himself established in life and glory? The first Preacher of the Gospel was an Angel. That office must needs be glorious that derives itself from such a Predecessor. God appointed his Angel to be the first Preacher, and hath since called his Preachers Angels. The message is well suited. An Angel comes to a Virgin, Gabriel to Mary; He that was by signification the strength of God, to her that was by signification exalted by God, to the conceiving of him that was the God of strength: to a Maid, but espoused; a Maid for the honour of Virginity, espoused for the honour of Marriage. The marriage was in a sort made, not consummate, through the instinct of him that meant to make her not an example, but a miracle of women. In this whole work God would have nothing ordinary. It was fit that she should be a married Virgin, which should be a Virgin mother. He that meant to take man's nature without man's corruption, would be the Son of man without man's seed, would be the seed of the woman without man; and amongst all women, of a pure Virgin; but amongst Virgins, of one espoused, that there might be at once a Witness and a Guardian of her fruitful Virginity. If the same God had not been the author of Virginity and Marriage, he had never countenanced Virginity by Marriage.  
Whether doth this glorious Angel come to find the Mother of him that was GOD, but to obscure Galilee? A part which even the Jews themselves despised, as forsaken of their privileges, (Out of Galilee ariseth no Prophet.) Behold, an Angel comes to that Galilee, out of which no Prophet comes, and the God of Prophets and Angels descends to be conceived in that Galilee, out of which no Prophet ariseth. He that filleth all places, makes no difference of places. It is the person which gives honour and privilege to the place, not the place to the person; as the presence of God makes the Heaven, the Heaven doth not make the honour glorious. No blind corner of Nazareth can hide the blessed Virgin from the Angel. The favours of God will find out his children wheresoever they are withdrawn.  
It is the fashion of God to seek out the most despised, on whom to bestow his honours. We cannot run away as from the judgements, so not from the mercies of our God. The cottages of Galilee are preferred by God to the famous Palaces of Jerusalem: he cares not how homely he converse with his own. Why should we be transported with the outward glory of places, whiles our God regards it not? We are not of the Angel's diet, if we had not rather be with the blessed Virgin at Nazareth, then with the proud Dames in the Court of Jerusalem. It is a great vanity to respect any thing above goodness, and to disesteem goodness for any want. The Angel salutes the Virgin, he prays not to her; he salutes her as a Saint, he prays not to her as a Goddess. For us to salute her as he did, were gross presumption; for neither are we as he was, neither is she as she was. If he that was a Spirit saluted her that was flesh and blood here on earth, it is not for us that are flesh and blood to salute her which is a glorious Spirit in Heaven. For us to pray to her in the Angel's salutation, were to abuse the Virgin, the Angel, the salutation.  
But how gladly do we second the Angel in the praise of her, which was more ours then his? How justly do we bless her, whom the Angel pronounceth blessed? How worthily is she honoured of men, whom the Angel proclaimeth beloved of God? O blessed Mary, he cannot bless thee, he cannot honour thee too much, that deifies thee not. That which the Angel said of thee, thou hast prophesied of thyself: we believe the Angel, and thee. All Generations shall call thee blessed, by the fruit of whose womb all Generations are blessed. If Zachary were amazed with the sight of this Angel, much more the Virgin: That very Sex had more disadvantage of fear. If it had been but a man that had come to her in that secrecy and suddenness, she could not but have been troubled; how much more, when the shining glory of the person doubled the astonishment?  
The troubles of holy minds end ever in comfort: Joy was the errand of the Angel, and not terror. Fear (as all passions) disquiets the heart, and makes it for the time unfit to receive the messages of God. Soon hath the Angel cleared these troublesome mists of passions, and sent out the beams of heavenly consolation in the remotest corner of her soul by the glad news of her Saviour. How can joy but enter into her heart out of whose womb shall come salvation? What room can fear find in that breast that is assured of favour? Fear not, Marry, for thou hast found favour with God. Let those fear who know they are in displeasure, or know not they are gracious. Thine happy estate calls for confidence, and that confidence for joy. What should, what can they fear, who are favoured of him at whom the Devils tremble? Not the presence of the good Angels, but the temptations of the evil, strike many terrors into our weakness: we could not be dismayed with them, if we did not forget our condition. We have not received the spirit of bondage to fear again, but the spirit of Adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. If that Spirit (O God) witness with our spirits that we are thine, how can we fear any of those spiritual wickednesses? Give us assurance of thy favour, and let the powers of Hell do their worst.  
It was no ordinary favour that the Virgin found in Heaven: No mortal Creature was ever thus graced, that he should take part of her nature that was the God of Nature; that he which made all things, should make his humane body of hers; that her womb should yield that flesh which was personally united to the Godhead; that she should bear him that upholds the world: Lo, thou shalt conceive and bear a Son, and shalt call his name Jesus. It is a question, whether there be more wonder in the Conception or in the Fruit; the Conception of the Virgin, or Jesus conceived. Both are marvellous, but the former doth not more exceed all other wonders then the latter exceedeth it. For the child of a Virgin is the reimprovement of that power which created the world: but that God should be incarnate of a Virgin, was an abasement of his Majesty, and an exaltation of the creature beyond all example. Well was that Child worthy to make the mother blessed. Here was a double Conception, one in the womb of her body, the other of the soul. If that were more miraculous, this was more beneficial; that was her privilege, this was her happiness: If that were singular to her, this is common to all his chosen. There is no renewed heart wherein thou, O Saviour, art not form again. Blessed be thou that hast herein made us blessed. For what womb can conceive thee, and not partake of thee? Who can partake of thee, and not be happy?  
Doubtless the Virgin understood the Angel, as he meant, of a present Conception, which made her so much more inquisitive into the manner and means of this event: How shall this be, since I know not a man? That she should conceive a Son by the knowledge of man after her Marriage consummate, could have been no wonder: But how then should that Son of hers be the Son of God? This demand was higher. How her present Virginity should be instantly fruitful might be well worthy of admiration, of inquiry. Here was desire of information, not doubts of infidelity; yea rather this question argues Faith: it takes for granted that which an unbelieving heart would have stuck at. She says not, Who and whence art thou? what Kingdom is this? where and when shall it be erected? but smoothly supposing all those strange things would be done, she insists only on that which did necessarily require a further intimation, and doth not distrust, but demand. Neither doth she say, This cannot be, nor, How can this be? but, How shall this be? So doth the Angel answer, as one that knew he needed not to satisfy curiosity, but to inform judgement, and uphold faith. He doth not therefore tell her of the manner, but of the Author of this act; The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the most High shall overshadow thee. It is enough to know who is the undertaker, and what he will do. O God, what do we seek a clear light, where thou wilt have a shadow? No Mother knows the manner of her natural Conception: what presumption shall it be for flesh and blood, to search how the Son of God took flesh and blood of his Creature? It is for none but the Almighty to know those works which he doth immediately concerning himself; those that concern us, he hath revealed: Secrets to God, things revealed to us.  
The answer was not so full, but that a thousand difficulties might arise out of the particularities of so strange a message; yet after the Angel's Solution, we hear of no more Objections, no more Interrogations. The faithful heart, when it once understands the good pleasure of God, argues no more; but sweetly rests itself in a quiet expectation: Behold the Servant of the Lord, be it to me according to thy Word. There is not a more noble proof of our Faith, then to captivate all the powers of our understanding and will to our Creator, and without all sciscitations to go blindfold whither he will lead us. All disputations with God (after his will known) arise from infidelity. Great is the Mystery of godliness, and if we will give Nature leave to cavil, we cannot be Christians. O God, thou art faithful, thou art powerful: It is enough, that thou hast said it: In the humility of our obedience we resign ourselves over to thee. Behold the Servants of the Lord, be it unto us according to thy Word.  
How fit was her womb to conceive the flesh of the Son of God by the power of the Spirit of God, whose breast had so soon by the power of the same Spirit conceived an assent to the will of God? and now of an Handmaid of God, she is advanced to the Mother of God. No sooner hath she said (be it done) than it is done, the Holy Ghost over-shadows her and forms her Saviour in her own body. This very Angel that talks with the Blessed Virgin; could scarce have been able to express the joy of her heart in the sense of this Divine burden. Never any mortal creature had so much cause of exultation. How could she that was full of God be other then full of joy in that God? Grief grows greater by concealing; Joy by expression. The holy Virgin had understood by the Angel, how her Cousin Elizabeth was no less of kin to her in condition; the fruitfulness of whose age did somewhat suit the fruitfulness of her Virginity. Happiness communicated doubles itself. Here is no straining of courtesy. The blessed Maid whom vigour of age had more fitted for the way, hastens her journey into the Hill-country to visit that gracios Matron whom God had made a sign of her miraculous Conception. Only the meeting of Saints in Heaven can parallel the meeting of these two Cousins: the two wonders of the World are met under one roof, and congratulate their mutual happiness. When we have Christ spiritually conceived in us, we cannot be quiet till we have imparted our joy. Elizabeth that holy Matron did no sooner welcome her blessed Cousin, than her Babe welcomes his Saviour. Both in the retired Closets of their Mother's Womb are sensible of each others presence; the one by his omniscience, the other by instinct. He did not more forerun Christ then overrun Nature. How should our hearts leap within us, when the Son of God vouchsafes to come into the secret of our Souls, not to visit us, but to dwell with us, to dwell in us!   

The Birth of Christ.  
AS all the actions of men, so especially the public actions of public men are ordered by God to other ends then their own. This Edict went not so much out from Augustus, as from the Court of Heaven. What, did Caesar know Joseph and Mary? His charge was universal to a world of subjects through all the Roman Empire. God intended this Cension only for the Blessed Virgin and her Son, that Christ might be born where he should. Caesar meant to fill his Coffers, God meant to fulfil his Prophecies; and so to fulfil them, that those whom it concerned might not feel the accomplishment. If God had directly commanded the Virgin to go up to Bethleem, she had seen the intention, and expected the issue: but that wise Moderator of all things, that works his will in us, loves so to do it as may be least with our foresight and acquaintance, and would have us fall under his Decrees unawares, that we may so much the more adore the depths of his Providence. Every Creature walks blindfold, only he that dwells in light sees whither they go.  
Doubtless, blessed Mary meant to have been delivered of her Divine burden at home, and little thought of changing the place of Conception for another of her Birth. That house was honoured by the Angel, yea, by the over-shadowing of the Holy Ghost, none could equally satisfy her hopes or desires: It was fit that he which made choice of the Womb wherein his Son should be conceived, should make choice of the place where his Son should be born. As the work is all his, so will he alone contrive all the circumstances to his own ends. Oh the infinite Wisdom of God in casting all his Designs! There needs no other proof of Christ then Caesar and Bethleem; and of Caesar's, than Augustus; his Government, his Edict pleads the truth of the Messias. His Government now was the deep peace of all the world under that quiet Sceptre which made way for him who was the Prince of Peace. If Wars be a sign of the time of his second coming, Peace was a sign of his first. His Edict; now was the Sceptre departed from Juda. It was the time for Shilo to come. No power was left in the Jews, but to obey. Augustus is the Emperor of the World, under him Herod is the King of Judaea, Cyrenius is precedent of Syria; Jury hath nothing of her own. For Herod if he were a King, yet he was no Jew; and if he had been a Jew, yet he was no otherwise a King, than tributary and titular. The Edict came out from Augustus, was executed by Cyrenius; Herod is no actor in this service. Gain and glory are the ends of this taxation: each man professed himself a subject, and paid for the privilege of his servitude. Now their very heads were not their own, but must be paid for to the head of a foreign Seat. They which before stood upon the terms of their immunity, stoop at the last. The proud suggestions of Judas the Galilean might shed their blood and swell their stomaches, but could not ease their yoke; neither was it the meaning of God, that holiness (if they had been as they pretended) should shelter them from subjection. A Tribute is imposed upon God's free people. This act of bondage brings them liberty. Now when they seemed most neglected of God, they are blessed with a Redeemer; when they are most pressed with foreign Sovereignty, God sends them a King of their own, to whom Caesar himself must be a subject. The goodness of our God picks out the most needful times of our relief and comfort: Our extremities give him the most glory. Whither must Joseph and Marie come to be taxed, but unto Bethleem David's City? The very place proves their descent: He that succeeded David in his Throne, must succeed him in the place of his Birth. So clearly was Bethleem designed to this honour by the Prophets, that even the Priests and the Scribes could point Herod unto it, and assured him the King of the Jews could be no where else born. Bethleem justly the house of bread; the bread that came down from Heaven is there given to the world: whence should we have the bread of life, but from the house of bread? O holy David, was this the Well of Bethleem, whereof thou didst so thirst to drink of old, when thou saidst, O that one would give me drink of the water of the Well of Bethleem! Surely that other water, when it was brought thee by thy Worthies, thou pouredst it on the ground, and wouldst not drink of it. This was that living Water for which thy soul longed, whereof thou saidst elsewhere, As the Hart brayeth after the water-brooks, so longeth my soul after thee, O God: My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God.  
It was no less than four day's journey from Nazareth to Bethleem: How just an excuse might the Blessed Virgin have pleaded for her absence? What woman did ever undertake such a journey so near her delivery? And doubtless Joseph, which was now taught of God to love and honour her, was loath to draw forth a dear wife in so unwieldy a case, into so manifest hazard. But the charge was peremptory, the obedience exemplary. The desire of an inoffensive observance even of Heathenish authority, digests all difficulties. We may not take easy occasions to withdraw our obedience to supreme commands. Yea how didst thou (O Saviour) by whom Augustus reigned, in the Womb of thy Mother yield this homage to Augustus? The first lesson that ever thy example taught us, was Obedience.  
After many steps are Joseph and Mary come to Bethleem. The plight wherein she was would not allow any speed, and the forced leisure of the journey causeth disappointment: the end was worse than the way; there was no rest in the way, there was no room in the Inn. It could not be but that there were many of the kindred of Joseph and Mary at that time in Bethleem; for both there were their Ancestors born, if not themselves, and thither came up all the Cousins of their blood; yet there and then doth the holy Virgin want room to lay either her head or her burden. If the house of David had not lost all mercy and good nature, a Daughter of David could not so near the time of her travel have been destitute of lodging in the City of David. Little did the Bethleemites think what a guest they refused: else they would gladly have opened their doors to him, which was able to open the gates of Heaven to them. Now their inhospitality is punishment enough to itself: They have lost the honour and happiness of being host to their God. Even still, O blessed Saviour, thou standest at our doors and knockest; every motion of thy good Spirit tells us thou art there: Now thou comest in thine own name, and there thou standest, whiles thy head is full of dew, and thy locks wet with the drops of the night. If we suffer carnal desires and worldly thoughts to take up the lodging of our heart and revel within us whiles thou waitest upon our admission, surely our judgement shall be so much the greater, by how much better we know whom we have excluded. What do we cry shame on the Bethleemites, whilst we are wilfully more churlish, more unthankful? There is no room in my heart for the wonder at this humility. He for whom Heaven is too straight, whom the Heaven of heavens cannot contain, lies in the straight cabin of the womb, and when he would enlarge himself for the world, is not allowed the room of an Inn. The many mansions of Heaven were at his disposing; the Earth was his and the fullness of it; yet he suffers himself to be refused of a base cottage, and complaineth not. What measure should discontent us wretched men, when thou (O God) farest thus from thy creatures? How should we learn both to want and abound, from thee, which abounding with the glory and riches of heaven, wouldst want a lodging in thy first welcome to the earth? Thou camest to thine own, and thy own received thee not: How can it trouble us to be rejected of the world, which is not ours? What wonder is it if thy servants wandered abroad in sheep's skins and goats skins, destitute and afflicted, when their Lord is denied harbour? How should all the world blush at this indignity of Bethleem? He that came to save men, is sent for his first lodging to the beasts: the stable is become his Inn, the cratch his bed. O strange cradle of that great King, which heaven itself may envy! O Saviour, thou that wert both the Maker and Owner of Heaven, of Earth, couldst have made thee a Palace without hands, couldst have commanded thee an empty room in those houses which thy creatures had made. When thou didst but bid the Angels avoid their first place, they fell down from Heaven like lightning; and when in thy humbled estate thou didst but say, I am he, who was able to stand before thee? How easy had it been for thee to have made place for thyself in the throngs of the stateliest Courts? Why wouldst thou be thus homely, but that by contemning worldly glories, thou mightest teach us to contemn them? that thou mightest sanctify poverty to them, whom thou called'st unto want? that since thou which hadst the choice of all earthly conditions, wouldst be born poor and despised, those which must want out of necessity might not think their poverty grievous? Here was neither friend to entertain, nor servant to attend, nor place wherein to be attended, only the poor beasts gave way to the God of all the world. It is the great mystery of Godliness, that God was manifested in the flesh, and seen of Angels; but here, which was the top of all wonders, the very beasts might see their Maker. For those spirits to see God in the flesh, it was not so strange, as for the brute creatures to see him which was the God of spirits. He that would be led into the wilderness amongst wild beasts to be tempted, would come into the house of beasts to be born, that from the height of his divine glory his humiliation might be the greater. How can we be abased low enough for thee (O Saviour) that hast thus neglected thyself for us? That the visitation might be answerable to the homeliness of the place, attendants, provision▪ who shall come to congratulate his birth but poor shepherds? The 〈◊〉 of the earth rest at home, and have no summons to attend him by whom they reign: God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the mighty. In an obscure time (the night) unto obscure men (shepherds) doth God manifest the light of his Son by glorious Angels. It is not our meanness (O God) that can exclude us from the best of thy mercies; yea thus far dost thou respect persons, that thou hast put down the mighty, and exalted them of low degree. If these shepherds had been snorting in their beds, they had no more seen Angels, nor heard news of their Saviour, than their neighbours; their vigilancy is honoured with this heavenly vision. Those which are industrious in any calling are capable of further blessings, whereas the idle are fit for nothing but temptation. No less than a whole Chore of Angels are worthy to sing the hymn of Glory to God, for the incarnation of his Son. What joy is enough for us, whose nature he took, and whom he came to restore by his incarnation? If we had the tongues of Angels, we could not raise this note high enough to the praise of our glorious Redeemer. No sooner do the Shepherds hear the news of a Saviour, than they run to Bethleem to seek him. Those that left their beds to tend their flocks, leave their flocks to inquire after their Saviour. No earthly thing is too dear to be forsaken for Christ. If we suffer any worldly occasion to stay us from Bethleem, we care more for our sheep then our souls. It is not possible that a faithful heart should hear where Christ is, and not labour to the sight, to the fruition of him. Where art thou, O Saviour, but at home in thine own house, in the assembly of thy Saints? where art thou to be found but in thy Word and Sacraments? yea there thou seekest for us: if there we hast not to seek for thee, we are worthy to want thee, worthy that our want of thee here should make us want the presence of thy face for ever.   

The Sages and the Star.  
THE Shepherds and the Cratch accorded well; yet even they saw nothing which they might not contemn; neither was there any of those shepherds that seemed not more like a King, than that King whom they came to see. But oh the Divine Majesty that shined in this baseness! There lies the Babe in the stable, crying in the manger, whom the Angels came down from heaven to proclaim, whom the Sages come from the East to adore, whom an heavenly Star notifies to the world, that now men might see that Heaven and earth serves him that neglected himself. Those lights that hang low are not far seen, but those which are high placed are equally seen in the remotest distances. Thy light, O Saviour, was no less than heavenly. The East saw that which Bethleem might have seen: ofttimes those which are nearest in place are farthest off in affection. Large objects when they are too close to the eye, do so overfill the sense, that they are not discerned. What a shame is this to Bethleem? the Sages came out of the East to worship him whom that village refused. The Bethleemites were Jews; the wisemen Gentiles. This first entertainment of Christ was a presage of the sequel: The Gentiles shall come from far to adore Christ, whiles the Jews reject him. Those Easterlings were great searchers of the depths of Nature, professed Philosophers; them hath God singled out to the honour of the manifestation of Christ. Humane Learning well improved makes us capable of Divine. There is no Knowledge whereof God is not the Author: he would never have bestowed any gift that should lead us away from himself. It is an ignorant conceit, that inquiry into Nature should make men Atheous. No man is so apt to see the Star of Christ as a diligent disciple of Philosophy. Doubtless this light was visible 〈…〉, only they followed it, which knew it had more than Nature: he 〈…〉 that is wise for his own soul. If these wise men had been acquainted with all the other stars of heaven, and had not seen the Star of Christ, they had had but light enough to lead them into utter darkness. Philosophy without this Star is but the wisp of Error. These Sages were in a mean between the Angels and the Shepherds. God would in all the ranks of intelligent Creatures have some to be witnesses of his Son. The Angels direct the Shepherds, the Star guides the Sages. The duller capacity hath the more clear and powerful helps: the wisdom of our good God proportions the means unto the disposition of the persons. Their Astronomy had taught them this Star was not ordinary, whether in sight, or in brightness, or in motion. The eyes of Nature might well see that some strange news was portended to the world by it; but that this Star designed the birth of the Messias, there needed yet another light. If the Star had not besides had the commentary of a revelation from God, it could have led the wisemen only into a fruitless wonder. Give them to be the offspring of Balaam, yet the true prediction of that false Prophet was not enough warrant. If he told them the Messias should arise as a Star out of Jacob, he did not tell them that a Star should arise far from the posterity of Jacob, at the birth of the Messias. He that did put that Prophecy into the mouth of Balaam, did also put this illumination into the heart of the Sages. The Spirit of God is free to breathe where he listeth: Many shall come from the East and the West to seek Christ, when the Children of the Kingdom shall be shut out. Even than God did not so confine his election to the pale of the Church, as that he did not sometimes look out for special instruments of his glory. Whither do these Sages come, but to Jerusalem? where should they hope to hear of the new King, but in the mother City of the Kingdom? The conduct of the Star was first only general to Judaea; the rest is for a time left to inquiry: they were not brought thither for their own sakes, but for Jewrie's, for the worlds; that they might help to make the Jews inexcusable, and the world faithful. That their tongues therefore might blazon the birth of Christ, they are brought to the head City of Judaea, to report and inquire. Their wisdom could not teach them to imagine that a King could be born to Judaea of that note and magnificence, that a Star from heaven should publish him to the earth, and that his subjects should not know it: and therefore as presupposing a common notice, they say, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? There is much deceit in probabilities, especially when we meddle with spiritual matters. For God uses still to go a way by himself.  
If we judge according to reason and appearance, who is so likely to understand heavenly truths as the profound Doctors of the world? These God passes over, and reveals his will to babes. Had these Sages met with the Shepherds of the villages near Bethleem, they had received that intelligence of Christ which they did vainly seek from the learned Scribes of Jerusalem. The greatest Clerks are not alwaiess the wisest in the affairs of God: these things go not by discourse, but by revelation.  
No sooner hath the Star brought them within the noise of Jerusalem, than it is vanished out of sight. God would have their eyes lead them so far, as till their tongues might be set on work to win the vocal attestation of the chief Priests and Scribes to the fore-appointed place of our Saviour's nativity. If the Star had carried them directly to Bethleem, the learned Jews had never searched the truth of those prophecies, wherewith they are since justly convinced. God never withdraws our helps, but for a further advantage. However our hopes seem crossed, where his Name may gain, we cannot complain of loss.  
Little did the Sages think this question would have troubled Herod: they had (I fear) concealed their message, if they had suspected this event. Sure, they thought it might be some Son or grandchild of him which then held the Throne, so as this might win favour from Herod, rather than an unwelcome fear of rivalty. Doubtless they went first to the Court; where else should they ask for a King: The more pleasing this 〈…〉 if it had fall'n upon Herod's own loins, the more grievous it was to light upon a stranger. If Herod had not overmuch affected greatness, he had not upon those indirect terms aspired to the Crown of Jewry: so much the more therefore did it trouble him to hear the rumour of a successor, and that not of his own. Settled greatness cannot abide either change or partnership. If any of his subjects had moved this question, I fear his head had answered it. It is well that the name of foreigners could excuse these Sages. Herod could not be brought up among the Jews, and not have heard many and confident reports of a Messias that should ere long arise out of Israel; and now when he hears the fame of a King born, whom a Star from Heaven signifies and attends, he is nettled with the news. Every thing affrights the guilty. Usurpation is full of jealousies and fear; no less full of projects and imaginations: it makes us think every bush a man, and every man a thief.  
Why art thou troubled (O Herod?) A King is born; but such a King, as whose Sceptre may ever concur with lawful Sovereignty; yea such a King, as by whom Kings do hold their Sceptres, not lose them. If the wisemen tell thee of a King, the Star tells thee he is heavenly. Here is good cause of security, none of fear. The most general enmities and oppositions to good arise from mistake. If men could but know how much safety and sweetness there is in all Divine truth, it could receive nothing from them but welcomes and gratulations. Misconceits have been still guilty of all wrongs and persecutions. But if Herod were troubled, (as Tyranny is still suspicious) why was all Jerusalem troubled with him? Jerusalem, which now might hope for a relaxation of her bonds, for a recovery of her liberty and right? Jerusalem, which now only had cause to lift up her drooping head in the joy and happiness of a Redeemer? Yet not Herod's Court, but even Jerusalem was troubled; so had this miserable City been overtoiled with change, that now they were settled in a condition quietly evil, they are troubled with the news of better. They had now got a habit of servility, and now they are so acquainted with the yoke, that the very noise of liberty (which they supposed would not come with ease) began to be unwelcome.  
To turn the causes of joy into sorrow, argues extreme dejectedness, and a distemper of judgement no less than desperate. Fear puts on a visor of devotion. Herod calls his learned counsel, and as not doubting whether the Messiah should be born, he asks where he shall be born. In the disparition of that other light, there is a perpetually-fixed Star shining in the writings of the Prophets, that guides the chief Priests and Scribes directly unto Bethleem. As yet envy and prejudice had not blinded the eyes and perverted the hearts of the Jewish teachers; so as now they clearly justify that Christ whom they afterwards condemn, and by thus justifying him condemn themselves in rejecting him. The water that is untroubled yields the visage perfectly. If God had no more witness but from his enemies, we have ground enough of our faith.  
Herod feared, but dissembled his fear, as thinking it a shame that strangers should see there could any power arise under him worthy of his respect or awe. Out of an unwillingness therefore to discover the impotency of his passion, he makes little ado of the matter, but only, after a privy inquisition into the Time, employs the informers in the search of the Person; Go and search diligently for the Babe, etc. It was no great journey from Jerusalem to Bethleem: how easily might Herod's cruelty have secretly suborned some of his bloody Courtiers to this inquiry and execution? If God had not meant to mock him before he found himself mocked of the wisemen, he had rather sent before their journey, then after their disappointment. But that God in whose hands all hearts are did purposely besot him, that he might not find the way to so horrible a mischief.  
There is no Villan● 〈◊〉 but it will mask itself under a show of Piety. Herod will also worship 〈◊〉 Babe. The courtesy of a false Tyrant is death. A crafty hypocrite never means so ill as when he speaketh fairest. The wisemen are upon their way full of expectation, full of desire: I see no man either of the City or Court to accompany them. Whether distrust or fear hindered them, I inquire not: but of so many thousand Jews, no one stirs his foot to see that King of theirs which strangers came so far to visit. Yet were not these resolute Sages discouraged with this solitariness and small respect, nor drawn to repent of their journey, as thinking, What do we come so far to honour a King whom no man will acknowledge? what mean we to travel so many hundred miles to see that which the inhabitants will not look out to behold? but cheerfully renew their journey to that place which the ancient light of Prophecy had designed. And now behold, God encourages their holy forwardness from Heaven, by sending them their first guide; as if he had said, What need ye care for the neglect of men, when ye see Heaven honours the King whom ye seek? What joy these Sages conceived when their eyes first beheld the re-appearance of that happy Star, they only can tell, that after a long and sad night of Tentation have seen the loving countenance of God shining forth upon their souls. If with obedience and courage we can follow the calling of God in difficult enterprises, we shall not want supplies of comfort. Let not us be wanting to God, we shall be sure he cannot be wanting to us.  
He that led Israel by a Pillar of fire into the Land of Promise, leads the wisemen by a Star to the Promised seed. All his directions partake of that light which is in him: For God is light. This Star moves both slowly and low, as might be fittest for the pace, for the purpose of these Pilgrims. It is the goodness of God that in those means wherein we cannot reach him, he descends unto us. Surely when the wisemen saw the Star stand still, they looked about to see what Palace there might be near unto that station fit for the birth of a King; neither could they think that sorry shed was it which the Star meant to point out, but finding their guide settled over that base roof, they go in to see what guest it held. They enter, and, O God, what a King do they find! how poor! how contemptible! wrapped in clouts, laid in straw, cradled in the manger, attended with beasts! what a sight was this, after all the glorious promises of that Star, after the predictions of Prophets, after the magnificence of their expectation!  
All their way afforded nothing so despicable as that Babe whom they came to worship. But as those which could not have been wisemen unless they had known that the greatest glories have arisen from mean beginnings, they fall down and worship that hidden Majesty. This baseness hath bred wonder in them, not contempt: they well knew the Star could not lie. They which saw his Star afar off in the East, when he lay swaddled in Bethleem, do also see his Royalty further off, in the despised estate of his infancy: A Royalty more than humane. They well knew that Stars did not use to attend earthly Kings; and if their aim had not been higher, what was a Jewish King to Persian strangers? Answerable therefore hereunto was their adoration. Neither did they lift up empty hands to him whom they worshipped, but presented him with the most precious commodities of their Country, Gold, Incense, Myrrh; not as thinking to enrich him with these, but by way of homage acknowledging him the Lord of these. If these Sages had been Kings, and had offered a Princely weight of gold, the Blessed Virgin had not needed in her Purification to have offered two young pigeons, as the sign of her penury. As God loves not empty hands, so he measures fullness by the affection. Let it be Gold, or Incense, or Myrrh, that we offer him, it cannot but please him, who doth not use to ask how much, but how good.   

The Purification.  
THere could be no impurity in the Son of God: and if the best substance of a pure Virgin carried in it any taint of Adam, that was scoured away by sanctification in the womb: and yet the Son would be circumcised, and the Mother purified. He that came to be sin for us, would in our persons be legally unclean, that by satisfying the Law he might take away our uncleanness. Though he were exempted from the common condition of our birth, yet he would not deliver himself from those ordinary rites that implied the weakness and blemishes of Humanity. He would fulfil one law to abrogate it, another to satisfy it. He that was above the Law, would come under the Law, to free us from the Law. Not a day would be changed, either in the Circumcision of Christ or the Purification of Mary. Here was neither convenience of place, nor of necessaries for so painful a work, in the stable of Bethleem; yet he that made and gave the Law, will rather keep it with difficulty, then transgress it with ease.  
Why wouldst thou, O blessed Saviour, suffer that sacred foreskin to be cut off, but that by the power of thy circumcision the same might be done to our Souls that was done to thy Body? We cannot be therefore thine, if our hearts be uncircumcised. Do thou that in us which was done to thee for us; cut off the superfluity of our maliciousness, that we may be holy in and by thee, which for us wert content to be Legally impure.  
There was shame in thy Birth, there was pain in thy Circumcision. After a contemptible welcome into the world, that a sharp razor should pass through thy skin for our sakes, (which can hardly endure to bleed for our own) it was the praise of thy wonderful mercy in so early humiliation. What pain or contempt should we refuse for thee, that hast made no spare of thyself for us? Now is Bethleem left with too much honour, there is Christ born, adored, circumcised. No sooner is the Blessed Virgin either able or allowed to walk, than she travels to Jerusalem, to perform her holy Rites for herself, for her Son; to purify herself, to present her Son. She goes not to her own house at Nazareth, she goes to God's House at Jerusalem. If purifying were a shadow, yet thanksgiving is a substance. Those whom God hath blessed with fruit of body and safety of deliverance, if they make not their first journey to the Temple of God, they partake more of the unthankfulness of Eve then Mary's devotion.  
Her forty days therefore were no sooner out then Mary comes up to the holy City. The rumour of a new King borne at Bethleem was yet fresh at Jerusalem, since the report of the wisemen: and what good news had this been for any pickthank to carry to the Court? Here is the Babe whom the Star signified, whom the Sages inquired for, whom the Angels proclaimed, whom the Shepherds talked of, whom the Scribes and high Priests notified, whom Herod seeks after. Yet unto that Jerusalem which was troubled at the report of his Birth is Christ come, and all tongues are so locked up, that he which sent from Jerusalem to Bethleem to seek him finds him not, who (as to countermine Herod) is come from Bethleem to Jerusalem. Dangers that are aloof off, and but possible, may not hinder us from the duty of our devotion. God saw it not yet time to let loose the fury of his adversaries, whom he holds up like some eager mastiffs, & then only lets go when they shall most shame themselves and glorify him.  
Well might the Blessed Virgin have wrangled with the Law, and challenged an immunity from all ceremonies of purification; What should I need purging, which did not conceive in sin? This is for those mothers whose births are unclean: mine is from God, which is Purity itself. The Law of Moses reaches only to those women which have conceived seed: I conceived not this seed, but the Holy Ghost in me. The Law extends to the mothers of those sons which are under the Law: mine is above it. But as one that cared more for her peace then her privilege, and more desired to be free from offence then from labour and charge, she dutifully fulfils the Law of that God whom she carried in her womb and in her arms: like the mother of him who, though he knew the children of the Kingdom free, yet would pay tribute unto Caesar: like the mother of him whom it behoved to fulfil all righteousness. And if she were so officious in ceremonies, as not to admit of any excuse in the very circumstance of her obedience, how much more strict was she in the main duties of morality? That Soul is fit for the Spiritual conception of Christ, that is conscionably scrupulous in observing all God's Commandments; whereas he hates all alliance to a negligent or froward heart.  
The law of Purification proclaims our uncleanness. The mother is not allowed after her childbirth to come unto the Sanctuary, or to touch any hallowed thing, till her set time be expired. What are we whose very birth infects the mother that bears us? At last she comes to the Temple; but with Sacrifices, either a Lamb and a Pigeon, or Turtle, or (in the meaner estate) two Turtle-doves, or young Pigeons: whereof one is for a burnt-offering, the other for a sin-offering; the one for thanksgiving, the other for expiation: for expiation of a double sin, of the mother that conceived, of the child that was conceived. We are all born sinners, and it is a just question, whether we do more infect the world or the world us. They are gross flatterers of Nature that tell her she is clean. If our lives had no sin, we bring enough with us: the very Infant that lives not to sin as Adam, yet he sinned in Adam, and is sinful in himself. But, oh the unspeakable mercy of our God we provide the sin, he provides the remedy. Behold an expiation welnear as early as our sin; the blood of a young lamb, or dove, yea rather the blood of Him whose innocence was represented by both, cleanseth us presently from our filthiness. First went Circumcision, than came the Sacrifice; that by two holy acts that which was naturally unholy might be hallowed unto God. Under the Gospel our Baptism hath the force of both: it does away our corruption by the water of the Spirit; it applies to us the sacrifice of Christ's blood, whereby we are cleansed. Oh that we could magnify this goodness of our God, which hath not left our very infancy without redress, but hath provided helps whereby we may be delivered from the danger of our hereditary evils.  
Such is the favourable respect of our wise God, that he would not have us undo ourselves with devotion: the service he requires of us is ruled by our abilities. Every poor mother was not able to bring a lamb for her offering: there was none so poor, but might procure a pair of turtles or pigeons. These doth God both prescribe and accept from poorer hands, no less than the beasts of a thousand mountains. He looks for somewhat of every one, not of every one alike. Since it is he that makes differences of abilities, (to whom it were as easy to make all rich) his mercy will make no difference in the acceptation. The truth and heartiness of obedience is that which he will crown in his meanest servants. A mite from the poor Widow is more worth to him then the talents of the wealthy.  
After all the presents of those Eastern worshippers (who intended rather homage than ditation) the Blessed Virgin comes in the form of poverty with her two doves unto God: she could not without some charge lie all this while at Bethleem, she could not without charge travel from Bethleem to Jerusalem. Her Offering confesseth her penury. The best are not ever the wealthiest. Who can despise any one for want, when the mother of Christ was not rich enough to bring a Lamb for her Purification? We may be as happy in russet as in tissue.  
While the Blessed Virgin brought her Son into the Temple with that pair of doves, here were more doves than a pair. They for whose sake that offering was brought, were more doves than the doves that were brought for that offering. Her Son, for whom she brought that dove to be sacrificed, was that sacrifice which the dove represented. There was nothing in him but perfection of innocence: and the oblation of him is that whereby all mothers and sons are fully purified. Since in ourselves we cannot be innocent, happy are we if we can have the spotless Dove sacrificed for us, to make us innocent in him.  
The Blessed Virgin had more business in the Temple then her own; she came, as to purify herself, so to present her Son. Every male that first opened the womb, was holy unto the Lord. He that was the Son of God by eternal Generation before time, and by miraculous Conception in time, was also by common course of Nature consecrate unto God. It is fit the holy Mother should present God with his own. Her firstborn was the firstborn of all creatures. It was he whose Temple it was that he was presented in, to whom all the firstborn of all creatures were consecrated, by whom they were accepted; and now is he brought in his Mother's arms to his own house, and as Man is presented to himself as God. If Moses had never written Law of God's special propriety in the firstborn, this Son of God's Essence and Love had taken possession of the Temple. His right had been a perfect Law to himself. Now his obedience to that Law which himself had given doth no less call him thither then the challenge of his peculiar interest.  
He that was the Lord of all creatures (ever since he struck the firstborn of the Egyptians) requires the first male of all creatures, both man and beast, to be dedicated to him: wherein God caused a miraculous event to second Nature, which seems to challenge the first and best for the Maker. By this Rule God should have had his service done only by the heirs of Israel. But since God, for the honour and remuneration of Levi, had chosen out that Tribe to minister unto him, now the firstborn of all Israel must be presented to God as his due, but by allowance redeemed to their parents. As for beasts, the first male of the clean beasts must be sacrificed, of unclean exchanged for a price. So much Morality is there in this constitution of God, that the best of all kinds is fit to be consecrated to the Lord of all. Every thing we have is too good for us, if we think any thing we have too good for him.  
How glorious did the Temple now seem, that the Owner was within the walls of it? Now was the hour and guest come, in regard whereof the Second Temple should surpass the first. This was his House built for him, dedicated to him: there had he dwelled long in his spiritual Presence, in his typical. There was nothing either placed or done within those walls whereby he was not resembled: and now the Body of those Shadows is come, and presents himself where he had been ever represented. Jerusalem is now every where. There is no Church, no Christian heart, which is not a Temple of the living God: there is no Temple of God wherein Christ is not presented to his Father. Look upon him (O God) in whom thou art well pleased; and in him and for him be well pleased with us.  
Under the Gospel we are all firstborn, all heirs; every soul is to be holy unto the Lord; we are a royal generation, an holy Priesthood. Our Baptism as it is our Circumcision and our sacrifice of purification, so is it also our presentation unto God. Nothing can become us but holiness. O God to whom we are devoted, serve thyself of us, glorify thyself by us, till we shall by thee be glorified with thee.   

HEROD and the Infants.  
WEll might these wisemen have suspected Herod's secrecy. If he had meant well, what needed that whispering? That which they published in the streets, he asks in his privy chamber: yet they not misdoubting his intention, purpose to fulfil his charge. It could not in their apprehension but be much honour to them to make their success known, that now both King and people might see it was not fancy that led them, but an assured Revelation. That God which brought them thither, diverted them, and caused their eyes to shut, to guide them the best way home.  
These Sages made a happy voyage: for now they grew into further acquaintance with God. They are honoured with a second messenger from heaven. They saw the Star in the way, the Angel in their bed: The Star guided their journey unto Christ, the Angel directed their return. They saw the Star by day, a vision by night: God spoke to their eyes by the Star, he speaks to their heart by a dream. No doubt they had left much noise of Christ behind them: they that did so publish his Birth by their inquiry at Jerusalem, could not be silent when they found him at Bethleem. If they had returned by Herod, I fear they had come short home. He that meant death to the Babe for the name of a King, could mean no other to those that honoured and proclaimed a new King, and erected a throne besides his. They had done what they came for: and now that God whose business they came about, takes order at once for his Son's safety and for theirs. God, which is perfection itself, never begins any business but he makes and end, and ends happily. When our ways are his, there is no danger of miscarriage.  
Well did these wisemen know the difference, as of Stars, so of dreams: they had learned to distinguish between the natural and Divine; and once apprehending God in their sleep, they follow him waking, and return another way. They were no subjects to Herod; his command pressed them so much the less: or if the being within his dominions had been no less bond then native subjection, yet where God did countermand Herod, there could be no question whom to obey. They say not, We are in a strange country, Herod may meet with us, it can be no less than death to mock him in his own territories; but cheerfully put themselves upon the way, and trust God with the success. Where men command with God, we must obey men for God, and God in men; when against him, the best obedience is to deny obedience, and to turn our backs upon Herod.  
The wisemen are safely arrived in the East, and fill the world full of expectation as themselves are full of wonder. Joseph and Mary are returned with the Babe to that Jerusalem where the wisemen had inquired for his Birth. The City was doubtless still full of that rumour, and little thinks that he whom they talk of was so near them. From thence they are, at least in their way to Nazareth, where they purpose their abode. God prevents them by his Angel; and sends them for safety into Egypt. Joseph was not wont to be so full of visions. It was not long since the Angel appeared unto him to justify the innocency of the Mother, and the Deity of the Son: now he appears for the preservation of both, and a preservation by flight. Could Joseph now choose but think, Is this the King that must save Israel, that needs to be saved by me? If he be the Son of God, how is he subject to the violence of men? How is he Almighty, that must save himself by flight? or how must he fly, to save himself out of that Land which he comes to save? But faithful Joseph having been once tutored by the Angel, and having heard what the wisemen said of the Star, what Simeon and Anna said in the Temple; labours not so much to reconcile his thoughts, as to subject them; and as one that knew it safer to suppress doubts then to assoil them, can believe what he understands not, and can wonder where he cannot comprehend.  
Oh strange condition of the King of all the word! He could not be born in a base estate, yet even this he cannot enjoy with safety. There was no room for him in Bethleem; there will be no room for him in Judaea. He is no sooner come to his own, than he must fly from them; that he may save them, he must avoid them. Had it not been easy for thee (O Saviour) to have acquit thyself from Herod a thousand ways? What could an arm of flesh have done against the God of Spirits? What had it been for thee to have sent Herod five years' sooner unto his place? what to have commanded fire from Heaven on those that should have come to apprehend thee? or to have bidden the Earth to receive them alive whom she meant to swallow dead? We suffer misery, because we must; thou, because thou wouldst. The same will that brought thee from Heaven into earth, sends thee from Jury to Egypt. As thou wouldst be born mean and miserable, so thou wouldst live subject to humane vexations; that thou, which hast taught us how good it is to bear the yoke even in our youth, mightst sanctify to us early afflictions. Or whether (O Father) since it was the purpose of thy wisdom to manifest thy Son by degrees unto the world, was it thy will thus to hide him for a time under our infirmity? And what other is our condition? we are no sooner born thine then we are persecuted. If the Church travel and bring forth a male, she is in danger of the Dragon's streams. What do the Members complain of the same measure which was offered to the Head? Both our births are accompanied with tears.  
Even of those whose mature age is full of trouble, yet the infancy is commonly quiet: but here life and toil began together. O Blessed Virgin! even already did the sword begin to pierce thy soul: thou which wert forced to bear thy Son in thy womb from Nazareth to Bethleem, must now bear him in thy arms from Jury into Egypt: yet couldst thou not complain of the way whilst thy Saviour was with thee. His presence alone was able to make the stable a Temple, Egypt a Paradise, the way more pleasing than rest. But whither then? O whither dost thou carry that blessed burden, by which thyself and the world are upholden? To Egypt, the slaughter-house of God's people, the furnace of Israel's ancient affliction, the sink of the world. Out of Egypt have I called my Son (saith God.) That thou called'st thy Son out of Egypt, O God, is no marvel: It is a marvel that thou called'st him into Egypt; but that we know all earth's are thine, and all places and men are like figures upon a table, such as thy disposition makes them. What a change is here? Israel, the firstborn of God, flies out of Egypt into the promised Land of Judaea; Christ, the firstborn of all creatures, flies from Judaea into Egypt. Egypt is become the Sanctuary, Judaea the Inquisition-house of the Son of God. He that is everywhere the same, makes all places alike to his: He makes the fiery furnace a gallery of pleasure, the Lion's den an house of defence, the Whale's belly a lodging chamber, Egypt an harbour.  
He flees that was able to preserve himself from danger; to teach us how lawfully we may flee from those dangers we cannot avoid otherwise. It is a thankless fortitude to offer our throat unto the knife. He that came to die for us, fled for his own preservation, and hath bid us follow him; When they persecute you in one City, flee into another. We have but the use of our lives, and we are bound to husband them to the best advantage of God and his Church. God hath made us, not as Butts to be perpetually shot at, but as the marks of Rovers movable, as the wind and Sun may best serve.  
It was warrant enough for Joseph and Mary that God commands them to flee: yet so familiar is God grown with his approved servants, that he gives them the reason of his commanded flight; (For Herod will seek the young child to destroy him.) What wicked men will do, what they would do, is known unto God beforehand. He that is so infinitely wise to know the designs of his enemies before they are, could as easily prevent them that they might not be: but he lets them run on in their own courses, that he may fetch glory to himself out of their wickedness.  
Good Joseph having this charge in the night, stays not till the morning; no sooner had God said Arise, than he starts up and sets forward. It was not diffidence, but obedience that did so hasten his departure. The charge was direct, the business important. He dares not linger for the light, but breaks his rest for the journey, and taking vantage of the dark, departs towards Egypt. How knew he this occasion would abide any delay? We cannot be too speedy in the execution of God's commands; we may be too late. Here was no treasure to hide, no hangings to take down, no lands to secure: the poor Carpenter needs do no more but lock the doors and away. He goes lightly that wants a load. If there be more pleasure in abundance, there is more security in a mean estate. The Bustard or the Ostrich, when he is pursued, can hardly get upon his wings; whereas the Lark mounts with ease. The rich hath not so much advantage of the poor in enjoying, as the poor hath of the rich in leaving.  
Now is Joseph come down into Egypt. Egypt was beholden to the name, as that whereto it did owe no less than their universal preservation. Well might it repay this act of Hospitality to that name and blood. The going down into Egypt had not so much difficulty, as the staying there: their absence from their Country was little better than a banishment. But what was this other then to serve a prenticeship in the house of bondage? To be any where save at home was irksome: but to be in Egypt so many years amongst idolatrous Pagans, must needs be painful to religious hearts. The Command of their God and the Presence of Christ makes amends for all. How long should they have thought it to see the Temple of God, if they had not had the God of the Temple with them? How long to present their Sacrifices at the Altar of God, if they had not had him with them which made all Sacrifices accepted, and which did accept the Sacrifice of their hearts?  
Herod was subtle in mocking the wisemen, whiles he promised to worship him whom he meant to kill: now God makes the wisemen to mock him, in disappointing his expectation. It is just with God to punish those which would beguile others with illusion. Great spirits are so much more impatient of disgrace. How did Herod now rage and fret, and vainly wish to have met with those false spies, and tell with what torments he would revenge their treachery, and curse himself for trusting Strangers in so important a business?  
The Tyrant's suspicion would not let him rest long. Ere many days he sends to inquire of them whom he sent to inquire of Christ. The notice of their secret departure increaseth his jealousy; and now his anger runs mad, and his fear proves desperate. All the Infants of Bethleem shall bleed for this one; and (that he may make sure work) he cuts out to himself large measures both of time and place. It was but very lately that the Star appeared, that the wisemen re-appeared not. They asked for him that was born, they did not name when he was born. Herod, for more security, over-reaches their time, and setches into the slaughter all the Children of two years' age. The Priests and Scribes had told him, the town of Bethleem must be the place of the Messiah's nativity. He fetches in all the Children of the coasts adjoining; yea his own shall for the time be a Bethleemite. A tyrannous guiltiness never thinks itself safe, but ever seeks to assure itself in the excess of cruelty. Doubtless he which so privily inquired for Christ, did as secretly brew this massacre. The mothers were set with their children on their laps, feeding them with the breast, or talking to them in the familiar language of their love; when suddenly the Executioner rushes in, and snatches them from their arms, and at once pulling forth his Commission and his knife, without regard to shrieks or tears, murders the innocent Babe, and leaves the passionate mother in a mean between madness and death. What cursing of Herod? what wring of hands? what condoling? what exclaiming was now in the streets of Bethleem?  
O bloody Herod, that couldst sacrifice so many harmless lives to thine ambition! What could those Infants have done? If it were thy person whereof thou wert afraid, what likelihood was it thou couldst live till those sucklings might endanger thee? This news might affect thy Successors; it could not concern thee, if the heat of an impotent and furious envy had not made thee thirsty of blood. It is not long that thou shalt enjoy this cruelty: After a few hateful years thy soul shall feel the weight of so many Innocents', of so many just curses.  
He for whose sake thou killed'st so many, shall strike thee with death; and then what wouldst thou have given to have been as one of those Infants whom thou murtheredst? In the mean time, when thine executioners returned and told thee of their unpartial dispatch, thou smiledst to think how thou hadst defeated thy rival, and beguiled the Star, and deluded the Prophecies; whiles God in Heaven and his Son on earth laugh thee to scorn, and make thy rage an occasion of further glory to him whom thou meantest to suppress.  
He that could take away the lives of other, cannot protract his own. Herod is now sent home. The coast is clear for the return of that holy Family: now God calls them from their exile. Christ and his Mother had not stayed so long out of the confines of the reputed visible Church, but to teach us continuance under the Cross. Sometimes God sees it good for us not to sip of the cup of affliction, but to make a diet-drink of it, for constant and common use. If he allow us no other liquor for many years, we must take it off cheerfully, and know that it is but the measure of our betters.  
Joseph and Mary stir not without a command; their departure, stay, removal is ordered by the voice of God. If Egypt had been more tedious unto them, they durst not move their foot till they were bidden. It is good in our own business to follow reason or custom: but in God's business, if we have any other guide but himself, we presume, and cannot expect a blessing.  
O the wonderful dispensation of God in concealing 〈◊〉 himself from men! Christ was now some five years old; he bears 〈◊〉 as an infant, and knowing all things, neither takes nor gives notice of aught concerning his removal and disposing, but appoints that to be done by his Angel which the Angel could not have done but by him. Since he would take our nature, he would be a perfect child, suppressing the manifestation and exercise of that Godhead whereto that infant-nature was conjoined. Even so, O Saviour, the humility of thine infancy was answerable to that of thy birth. The more thou hidest and abasest thyself for us, the more should we magnify thee, the more should we deject ourselves for thee. Unto thee, with the Father and the holy Ghost, he all honour and glory now & for ever. Amen.    

Contemplations.  
THE SECOND BOOK,  
Containing 

Christ among the Doctors.  
Christ Baptised.  
Christ Tempted.  
Simon Called.  
The Marriage in Cana.  
The good Centurion.    

To the Honourable General, Sir EDWARD CECIL Knight, all Honour and Happiness.  
Most Honoured Sir,  
THE store of a good Scribe is (according to our Saviour) both old & new. I would (if I durst) be ambitious of this only honour. Having therefore drawn forth those not frivolous thoughts out of the Old Testament, I fetch these following from the New. God is the same in both; as the body differs not with the age of the suit, with the change of robes. The old and new wine of holy Truth came both out of one vineyard; yet here may we safely say to the Word of his Father, as was said to the Bridegroom of Cana, Thou hast kept the best wine till the last. The authority of both is equally sacred: the use admits no less difference than is betwixt a Saviour fore shadowed and come. The intermission of those military employments which have won you just honour, both in foreign nations and at home, is in this only gainful, that it yields you leisure to these happy thoughts, which shall more fully acquaint you with him that is at once the God of Hosts and the Prince of Peace. To the furtherance whereof these my poor labours shall do no thankless offices. In lieu of your noble favours to me both at home and where you have merited command, nothing can be returned but humble acknowledgements, and hearty prayers for the increase of your Honour, and all Happiness to yourself and your thrice-worthy and virtuous Lady, by him that is deeply obliged and truly devoted to you both,  
JOS. HALL..   

Christ among the Doctors.  
EVen the Spring shows us what we may hope for of the tree in Summer. In his nonage therefore would our Saviour give us a taste of his future proof; lest if his perfection should have showed itself without warning to the world, it should have been entertained with more wonder than belief. Now this act of his Childhood shall prepare the faith of men by fore-exspectation. Notwithstanding all this early demonstration of his Divine graces, the incredulous Jews could afterwards say, Whence hath this man his wisdom and great works? What would they have said if he had suddenly leapt forth into the clear light of the world? The Sun would dazzle all eyes, if he should break forth at his first rising into his full strength: now he hath both the daystar to go before him, and to bid men look for that glorious body, and the lively colours of the day to publish his approach, the eye is comforted, not hurt by his appearance.  
The Parents of Christ went up yearly to Jerusalem at the Feast of the Passeover: the Law was only for the males. I do not find the Blessed Virgin bound to this voyage: the weaker sex received indulgence from God. Yet she knowing the spiritual profit of that journey, takes pains voluntarily to measure that long way every year. Piety regards not any distinction of sexes or degrees, neither yet doth God's acceptation: rather doth it please the mercy of the Highest more to reward that service which, though he like in all, yet out of favour he will not impose upon all. It could not be but that she whom the holy Ghost over-shadowed, should be zealous of God's service. Those that will go no further than they are dragged in their Religious exercises, are no whit of kin to her whom all Generations shall call blessed.  
The child Jesus in the minority of his age went up with his Parents to the holy solemnity, not this year only, but in all likelihood others also: He in the power of whose Godhead and by the motion of whose Spirit all others ascended thither, would not himself stay at home. In all his examples he meant our instruction. This pious act of his nonage intended to lead our first years into timely Devotion. The first liquor seasons the vessel for a long time after. It is every way good for a man to bear God's yoke, even from his infancy: it is the policy of the Devil to discourage early holiness. He that goes out betimes in the morning, is more like to dispatch his journey than he that lingers till the day be spent. This Blessed Family came not to look at the Feast, and be gone; but they duly stayed out all the appointed days of unlevened bread. They and the rest of Israel could not want houshold-businesses at home: those secular affairs could not either keep them from repairing to Jerusalem, or send them away immaturely. Worldly cares must give place to the sacred. Except we will depart unblessed, we must attend God's services till we may receive his dismission.  
It was the fashion of those times and places, that they went up, and so returned by troops, to those set meetings of their holy Festivals. The whole Parish of Nazareth went and came together. Good fellowship doth no way so well as in the passage to Heaven: much comfort is added by society to that journey which is of itself pleasant. It is an happy word, Come, let us go up to the house of the Lord. Mutual encouragement is none of the least benefits of our holy assemblies. Many sticks laid together make a good fire, which if they lie single lose both their light and heat.  
The Feast ended, what should they do but return to Nazareth? God's services may not be so attended as that we should neglect our particular callings. Himself calls us from his own House to ours, and takes pleasure to see a painful Client. They are foully mistaken that think God cares for no other trade but devotion. Piety and diligence must keep meet changes with each other. Neither doth God less accept of our return to Nazareth, than our going up to Jerusalem.  
I cannot think that the Blessed Virgin or good Joseph could be so negligent of their Divine charge, as not to call the child Jesus to their setting forth from Jerusalem. But their back was no sooner turned upon the Temple, than his face was towards it. He had business in that place when theirs was ended: there he was both worshipped and represented. He, in whom the Godhead dwelled bodily, could do nothing without God: his true Father led him away from his supposed. Sometimes the affairs of our ordinary vocation may not grudge to yield unto spiritual occasions. The Parents of Christ knew him well to be of a disposition not strange, nor sullen & Stoical, but sweet and sociable: and therefore they supposed he had spent the time and the way in company of their friends and neighbours. They do not suspect him wandered into the solitary fields: but when evening came, they go to seek him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance. If he had not wont to converse formerly with them, he had not now been sought amongst them. Neither as God nor man doth he take pleasure in a stern froward austerity and wild retiredness; but in a mild affableness and amiable conversation.  
But, O Blessed Virgin, who can express the sorrows of thy perplexed Soul, when all that evening search could afford thee no news of thy Son Jesus? Was not this one of those swords of Simeon which should pierce through thy tender breast? How didst thou chide thy credulous neglect, in not observing so precious a charge, and blame thine eyes for once looking beside this object of thy love? How didst thou, with thy careful Husband, spend that restless night in mutual expostulations and bemoanings of your loss? How many suspicious imaginations did that while rack thy grieved spirit? Perhaps thou mightest doubt, lest they which laid for him by Herod's command at his birth, had now by the secret instigation of Archelaus surprised him in his childhood: or it may be thou thoughtest thy Divine Son had now withdrawn himself from the earth, and returned to his heavenly Glory, without warning: or peradventure thou studiedst with thyself whether any carelessness on thy behalf had not given occasion to this absence.  
O dear Saviour, who can miss, and not mourn for thee? Never any soul conceived thee by faith, that was less afflicted with the sense of thy desertion then comforted with the joy of thy presence. Just is that sorrow, and those tears seasonable, that are bestowed upon thy loss. What comfort are we capable of whiles we want thee? What relish is there in these earthly delights without thee? What is there to mitigate our passionate discomforts, if not from thee? Let thyself loose, O my soul, to the fullness of sorrow, when thou findest thyself bereft of him in whose presence is the fullness of joy; and deny to receive comfort from any thing save from his return.  
In vain is Christ sought among his kindred according to the flesh: So far are they still from giving us their aid to find the true Messias, that they lead us from him. Back again therefore are Joseph and Mary gone to seek him at Jerusalem. She goes about in the City, by the streets and by the open places, and seeks him whom her soul loveth: she sought him for the time, and found him not. Do we think she spared her search? The evening of her return she hastes to the Inn where she had left him: where missing him, she inquires of every one she met, Have you not seen him whom my soul loveth? At last, the third day, she finds him in the Temple. One day was spent in the journey towards Galilee; another in the return to Jerusalem; the third day recovers him. He who would rise again the third day, and be found amongst the living, now also would the third day be found of his Parents, after the sorrow of his absence. But where wert thou, O blessed Jesus, for the space of these three days? where didst thou bestow thyself, or who tended thee whiles thou wert thus alone at Jerusalem? I know, if Jerusalem should have been as unkind to thee as Bethleem, thou couldst have commanded the Heavens to harbour thee; and if men did not minister to thee, thou couldst have commanded the service of Angels. But since the form of a Servant called thee to a voluntary homeliness, whether it pleased thee to exercise thyself thus early with the difficulties of a stranger, or to provide miraculously for thyself, I inquire not, since thou revealest not: only this I know, that hereby thou intendedst to teach thy Parents that thou couldst live without them, and that not of any indigency, but out of a gracious dispensation, thou wouldst ordinarily depend upon their care.  
In the mean time thy Divine wisdom could not but foreknow all these corroding thoughts wherewith the heart of thy dear Mother must needs bleed through this sudden dereliction; yet wouldst thou leave her for the time to her sorrow. Even so, O Saviour, thou thoughtest fit to visit her that bore thee with this early affliction. Never any loved thee whom thou dost not sometimes exercise with the grief of missing thee; that both we may be more careful to hold thee, and more joyful in recovering thee. Thou hast said, and canst not lie, I am with you to the end of the world: but even whiles thou art really present, thou thinkest good to be absent unto our apprehensions. Yet if thou leave us, thou wilt not forsake us; if thou leave us for our humiliation, thou wilt not forsake us to our final discomfort. Thou mayest for three days hide thyself, but then we shall find thee in the Temple. None ever sought thee with a sincere desire, of whom thou wert not found. Thou wilt not be either so little absent as not to whet our appetites, nor so long as to fainten the heart. After three days we shall find thee: and where should we rather hope to find thee then in the Temple? There is the habitation for the God of Israel, there is thy resting place for ever. Oh all ye that are grieved with the want of your Saviour, see where you must seek him. In vain shall ye hope to find him in the streets, in the Taverns, in the theatres: seek him in his holy Temple: seek him with piety, seek him with faith; there shall ye meet him, there shall ye recover him. Whiles children of that age were playing in the streets, Christ was found sitting in the Temple; not to gaze on the outward glory of that house, or on the golden Candlesticks or Tables, but to hear and appose the Doctors. He who as God gave them all the wisdom they had, as the Son of man hearkens to the wisdom he had given them. He who sat in their hearts, as the Author of all learning and knowledge, sits in the midst of their school, as an humble Disciple: that by learning of them, he might teach all the younger sort humility and due attendance upon their Instructors. He could at the first have taught the great Rabbins of Israel the deep mysteries of God, but because he was not yet called by his Father to the public function of a Teacher, he contents himself to hear with diligence, and to ask with modesty, and to teach only by insinuation. Let those consider this which will needs run as soon as they can go: and when they find ability, think they need not stay for a further vocation of God or men. Open your eyes, ye rather ripe invaders of God's Chair, and see your Saviour in his younger years not sitting in the eminent pulpits of the Doctors, but in the lowly floors of the Auditors. See him that could have taught the Angels, listening in his minority to the voice of men. Who can think much to learn of the Ancients, when he looks upon the Son of God sitting at the feet of the Doctors of Israel? First he hears, than he asks. How much more doth it concern us to be hearers ere we offer to be teachers of others? He gathers that hears; he spends that teacheth: if we spend before we gather, we shall soon prove bankrupts.  
When he hath heard, he asks; and after that he answers. Doubtless those very questions were instructions, and meant to teach more then to learn. Never had these great Rabbins heard the voice of such a Tutor, in whom they might see the wisdom of God so concealing itself, that yet it would be known to be there. No marvel then if they all wondered at his understanding and answers. Their eyes saw nothing but humane weakness, their ears heard Divine sublimity of matter: betwixt what they saw and what they heard, they could not but be distracted with a doubting admiration. And why did ye not (O ye Jewish teachers) remember, That to us a Child is born, and unto us a Son is given, and the government is upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of peace? Why did ye not now bethink yourselves what the Star, the Sages, the Angels, the Shepherds, Zachary, Simeon, Anna, had premonished you? Fruitless is the wonder that endeth not in faith. No light is sufficient where the eyes are held through unbelief or prejudice.  
The Doctors were not more amazed to hear so profound a childhood, than the Parents of Christ were to see him among the Doctors: the joy of finding him did strive with the astonishment of finding him thus. And now not Joseph, (he knew how little right he had to that Divine Son) but Mary breaks forth into a loving expostulation, Son, why hast thou dealt so with us? That she might not seem to take upon her as an imperious Mother, it is like she reserved this question till she had him alone: wherein she meant rather to express grief then correption. Only herein the Blessed Virgin offended, that her inconsideration did not suppose (as it was) that some higher respects than could be due to flesh and blood called away the Son of God from her that was the daughter of man. She that was but the mother of humanity should not have thought that the business of God must for her sake be neglected. We are all partial to ourselves naturally, and prone to the regard of our own rights. Questionless this gracious Saint would not for all the world have willingly preferred her own attendance to that of her God: through heedlessness she doth so: her Son and Saviour is her monitor, out of his Divine love reforming her natural; How is it that ye sought me? Know ye not that I must go about my Father's business? Immediately before the Blessed Virgin had said, Thy father and I sought thee with heavy hearts. Wherein both according to the supposition of the world, she called Joseph the Father of Christ, and according to the fashion of a dutiful Wife, she names her Joseph before herself. She well knew that Joseph had nothing but a name in this business, she knew how God had dignified her beyond him; yet she says, Thy father and I sought thee. The Son of God stands not upon contradiction to his Mother, but leading her thoughts from his supposed father to his true, from earth to Heaven, he answers, Knew ye not that I must go about my Father's business? It was honour enough to her, that he had vouchsafed to take flesh of her: it was his eternal honour that he was God of God, the everlasting Son of the heavenly Father. Good reason therefore was it that the respects to flesh should give place to the God of Spirits. How well contented was holy Mary with so just an answer? how doth she now again in her heart renew her answer to the Angel, Behold the servant of the Lord, be it according to thy word?  
We are all the Sons of God in another kind. Nature and the World thinks we should attend them. We are not worthy to say, we have a Father in Heaven, if we cannot steal away from these earthly distractions, and employ ourselves in the services of our God.   

Christ's Baptism.  
JOHN did every way forerun Christ, not so much in the time of his Birth, as in his office. Neither was there more unlikeliness in their Disposition and carriage, than similitude in their Function. Both did preach and baptise: only John baptised by himself, our Saviour by his Disciples: our Saviour wrought miracles by himself, by his Disciples; John wrought none by either. Wherein Christ meant to show himself a Lord, and John a servant: and John meant to approve himself a true servant to him whose harbinger he was. He that leapt in the womb of his mother, when his Saviour (than newly conceived) came in presence, bestirred himself when he was brought forth into the light of the Church, to the honour and service of his Saviour: he did the same before Christ, which Christ charged his Disciples to do after him, Preach and Baptise. The Gospel ran always in one tenor, and was never but like itself. So it became the Word of him in whom there is no shadow by turning, and whose Word it is, I am Jehova, I change not.  
It was fit that he which had the Prophets, the Star, the Angel to foretell his coming into the world, should have his Usher to go before him, when he would notify himself to the world. John was the voice of a Crier; Christ was the Word of his Father: it was fit this Voice should make a noise to the world, ere the Word of the Father should speak to it. John's note was still, Repentance; the Axe to the root, the Fan to the floor, the Chaff to the fire: as his raiment was rough, so was his tongue; and if his food were wild Honey, his speech was stinging Locusts. Thus must the way be made for Christ in every heart. Plausibility is no fit preface to Regeneration. If the heart of man had continued upright, God might have been entertained without contradiction; but now violence must be offered to our corruption, ere we can have room for Grace. If the great Way-maker do not cast down hills and raise up valleys in the bosoms of men, there is no passage for Christ. Never will Christ come into that Soul, where the Herald of Repentance hath not been before him.  
That Saviour of ours who from eternity lay hid in the Counsel of God, who in the fullness of time so came, that he lay hid in the womb of his mother for the space of forty weeks, after he was come, thought fit to lie hid 〈◊〉 Nazareth for the space of thirty years, now at last begins to show himself to the world, and comes from Galilee to Jordan. He that was God always, and might have been perfect man in an instant, would by degrees rise to the perfection both of his Manhood, and execution of his Mediatorship; to teach us the necessity of leisure in spiritual proceedings: that many Suns and successions of seasons and means must be stayed for, ere we can attain our maturity; and that when we are ripe for the employments of God, we should no less willingly leave our obscurity, than we took the benefit of it for our preparation. He that was formerly circumcised, would now be baptised. What is Baptism but an Evangelical Circumcision? What was Circumcision but a Legal Baptism? One both supplied and succeeded the other; yet the Author of both will undergo both. He would be circumcised, to sanctify his Church that was; and baptised, to sanctify his Church that should be: that so in both Testaments he might open a way into Heaven. There was in him neither filthiness nor foreskin of corruption, that should need either knife or water. He came not to be a Saviour for himself, but for us: we are all uncleanness and uncircumcision: he would therefore have that done to his most pure body, which should be of force to clear our impure Souls: thus making himself sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.  
His Baptism gives virtue to ours. His last action (or rather passion) was his baptising with blood: his first was his baptization with water: both of them wash the world from their sins. Yea, this latter did not only wash the souls of men, but washeth that very water by which we are washed: from hence is that made both clean and holy, and can both cleanse and hollow us. And if the very handkerchief which touched his Apostles had power of cure, how much more that Water which the sacred body of Christ touched? Christ comes far to seek his baptism: to teach us (for whose sake he was baptised) to wait upon the Ordinances of God, and to sue for the favour of spiritual blessings. They are worthless commodities that are not worth seeking for. It is rarely seen, that God is found of any man unsought for: that desire which only makes us capable of good things, cannot stand with neglect.  
John durst not baptise unbidden: his Master sent him to do this service; and behold, the Master comes to his servant, to call for the participation of that privilege which he himself had instituted and enjoined. How willingly should we come to our spiritual Superiors, for our part in those mysteries which God hath left in their keeping? yea, how gladly should we come to that Christ who gives us these blessings, who is given to us in them?  
This seemed too great an honour for the modesty of John to receive. If his mother could say, when her blessed cousin the Virgin Mary came to visit her, Whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? how much more might he say so, when the Divine Son of that mother came to call for a favour from him? I have need to be baptised of thee, and comest thou to me? O holy Baptist, if there were not a greater born of woman than thou; yet thou couldst not be born of a woman, and not need to be baptised of thy Saviour. He baptised with fire, thou with water. Little would thy water have availed thee without his fire. If he had not baptised thee, how wert thou sanctified from the womb? There can be no flesh without filthiness: neither thy supernatural Conception nor thy austere life could exempt thee from the need of Baptism. Even those that have not lived to sin after the similitude of Adam, yet are they so tainted with Adam, that unless the second Adam cleanse them by his Baptism, they are hopeless. There is no less use of Baptism unto all, then there is certainty of the need of Baptism. John baptised without, Christ within. The more holy a man is, the more sensible he is 〈◊〉 his unholiness. No carnal man could have said, I have need to be baptised of thee; neither can he find what he is the better for a little Font-water. The sense of our wretchedness and the valuation of our spiritual helps, is the best trial of our regeneration. Our Saviour doth not deny that either John hath need to be baptised of him, or that it is strange that he should come to be baptised of John; but he will needs thus far both honour John and disparage himself, to be baptised of his Messenger. He that would take flesh of the Virgin, education from his Parents, sustenance from his creatures, will take Baptism from John. It is the praise of his Mercy, that he will stoop so low as to be beholden to his creatures, which from him receive their Being, and power both to take and give.  
Yet no so much respect to John, as obedience to his Father, drew him to this point of humiliation: Thus it behoves us to fulfil all righteousness. The Counsels and Appointments of God are Righteousness itself. There needs no other motive, either to the servant or the Son, than the knowledge of those righteous purposes. This was enough to lead a faithful man through all difficulties and inconveniencies; neither will it admit of any reply or any demur. John yieldeth to this honour which his Saviour puts upon him, in giving Baptism to the Author of it. He baptised others to the remission of their sins: now he baptises him, by whom they are remitted both to the Baptizer and to others.  
No sooner is Christ baptised, than he comes forth of the water. The element is of force but during the use: it turns common when that is past: Neither is the water sooner powned on his head, than the Heavens are opened, and the Holy Ghost descendeth upon that head which was baptised. The Heavens are never shut while either of the Sacraments is duly administered and received: neither do the Heavens ever thus open, without the descent of the Holy Ghost. But now that the God of Heaven is baptised, they open unto him, which are opened to all the faithful by him: and that Holy Ghost which proceeded from him, together with the Father, joins with the Father in a sensible testimony of him; that now the world might see what interest he had in the Heavens, in the Father, in the Holy Spirit, and might expect nothing but Divine from the entrance of such a Mediator.   

Christ tempted.  
NO sooner is Christ come out of the water of Baptism, than he enters into the fire of Tentation. No sooner is the Holy Spirit descended upon his head in the form of a Dove, than he is led by the Spirit to be tempted. No sooner doth God say, This is my Son, than Satan says, If thou be the Son of God. It is not in the power either of the gift or seals of Grace, to deliver us from the assaults of Satan; they may have the force to repel evil suggestions, they have none to prevent them: yea, the more we are engaged unto God by our public vows and his pledges of favour, so much more busy and violent is the rage of that Evil one to encounter us. We are no sooner stepped forth into the field of God, than he labours to wrest our weapons out of our hands, or to turn them against us.  
The voice from Heaven acknowledged Christ to be the Son of God. This Divine Testimony did not allay the malice of Satan, but exasperated it: Now that venomous Serpent swells with inward poison, and hasts to assail him whom God hath honoured from Heaven. O God, how should I look to escape the suggestions of that wicked one, when the Son of thy love cannot be free? when even grace itself draws on enmity? That enmity that spared not to strike at the Head, will he forbear the weakest and remotest limb? Arm thou me therefore with an expectation of that evil I cannot avoid▪ Make thou me as strong as he is malicious. Say to my Soul also, Thou art my Son, and let Satan do his worst.  
All the time of our Saviour's obscurity I do not find him set upon: now that he looks forth to the public execution of his Divine Office, Satan bends his forces against him. Our privacy, perhaps, may sit down in peace: but never man did endeavour a common good without opposition. It is a sign that both the work is holy, and the Agent faithful, when we meet with strong affronts.  
We have reason to be comforted with nothing so much as with resistance. If we were not in a way to do good, we should find no rubs: Satan hath no cause to molest his own, and that whiles they go about his own service. He desires nothing more, then to make us smooth paths to sin; but when we would turn our feet to Holiness, he blocks up the way with Tentations.  
Who can wonder enough at the sauciness of that bold spirit, that dares to set upon the Son of the everliving God? Who can wonder enough at thy meekness and patience, O Saviour, that wouldst be tempted? He wanted not Malice and Presumption to assault thee; thou wantedst not Humility to endure those assaults. I should stand amazed at this voluntary dispensation of thine, but that I see the susception of our Humane nature lays thee open to this condition. It is necessarily incident to manhood to be liable to Tentations. Thou wouldst not have put on flesh, if thou hadst meant utterly to put off this consequence of our infirmity▪ If the state of Innocence could have been any defence against evil motions, the first Adam had not been tempted, much less the second. It is not the presenting of Tentations that can hurt us, but their entertainment. Ill counsel is the fault of the Giver, not of the Refuser. We cannot forbid lewd eyes to look in at our windows, we may shut our doors against their entrance. It is no less our praise to have resisted, than Satan's blame to suggest evil. Yea, O blessed Saviour, how glorious was it for thee, how happy for us, that thou wert tempted? Had not Satan tempted thee, how shouldest thou have overcome? Without blows there can be no victory, no triumph: How had thy power been manifested, if no adversary had tried thee? The first Adam was tempted and vanquished: the second Adam, to repay and repair that foil, doth vanquish in being tempted. Now have we not a Saviour and High Priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but such an once as was in all things tempted in like sort, yet without sin. How boldly therefore may we go unto the Throne of grace, that we may receive mercy, and find grace of help in time of need? Yea, this Duel was for us. Now we see by this conflict of our Almighty Champion, what manner of Adversary we have, how he fights, how he is resisted, how overcome. Now our very Temptation affords us comfort, in that we see, the dearer we are unto God, the more obnoxious we are to this trial: neither can we be discouraged by the heinousness of those evils whereto we are moved, since we see the Son of God solicited to Infidelity, Covetousness, Idolatry. How glorious therefore was it for thee, O Saviour, how happy for us, that thou wert tempted?  
Where then wast thou tempted, O Blessed Jesus? or whither goest thou to meet with our great Adversary? I do not see thee led into the marketplace, or any other part of the City, or thy home-stead of Nazareth, but into the vast Wilderness, the habitation of beasts; a place that carrieth in it both horror and opportunity. Why wouldst thou thus retire thyself from men? But as confident Champions are wont to give advantage of ground or weapon to their Antagonist, that the glory of their victory may be the greater: so wouldst thou, O Saviour, in this conflict with our common Enemy, yield him his own terms for circumstances, that thine honour and his foil may be the more. Solitariness is no small help to the speed of a Tentation. Woe to him that is alone, for if he fall, there is not a second to lift him up. Those that out of an affectation of Holiness seek for solitude in rocks and caves of the deserts, do no other than run into the mouth of the danger of Tentation, whiles they think to avoid it. It was enough for thee, to whose Divine power the gates of Hell were weakness, thus to challenge the Prince of darkness. Our care must be always to eschew all occasions of spiritual danger; and (what we may) to get us out of the reach of Tentations  
But, O the depth of the Wisdom of God How camest thou, O Saviour, to be thus tempted? That Spirit whereby thou wast conceived as man, and which was one with thee and the Father as God, led thee into the wilderness to be tempted of Satan. Whiles thou taughtest us to pray to thy Father, Led us not into temptation, thou meantest to instruct us, that if the same Spirit led us not into this perilous way, we go not into it. We have still the same conduct. Let the path be what it will, how can we miscarry in the hand of a Father? Now may we say to Satan, as thou didst unto Pilate, Thou couldst have no power over me, except it were given thee from above. The Spirit led thee; it did not drive thee: here was a sweet invitation, no compulsion of violence. So absolutely conformable was thy will to thy Deity, as if both thy Natures had but one volition. In this first draught of thy bitter potion, thy Soul said in a real subjection, Not my will, but thy will be done. We imitate thee, O Saviour, though we cannot reach to thee. All thine are led by thy Spirit: Oh teach us to forget that we have wills of our own. The Spirit led thee; thine invincible strength did not animate thee into this combat uncalled. What do we weaklings so far presume upon our abilities or success, as that we dare thrust ourselves upon Temptations unbidden, unwarranted? Who can pity the shipwreck of those Mariners, which will needs put forth and hoist fails in a Tempest?  
Forty days did our Saviour spend in the Wilderness, fasting and solitary, all which time was worn out in Temptation; however the last brunt, because it was most violent, is only expressed. Now could not the adversary complain of disadvantage, whiles he had the full scope both of time and place to do his worst. And why did it please thee, O Saviour, to fast forty days and forty nights, unless, as Moses fasted forty days at the delivery of the Law, and Elias at the restitution of the Law, so thou thoughtest fit at the accomplishment of the Law and the promulgation of the Gospel, to fulfil the time of both these Types of thine, wherein thou intendest our wonder, not our imitation; not our imitation of the time, though of the act. Here were no faulty desires of the flesh in thee to be tamed, no possibility of a freer and more easy assent of the Soul to God that could be affected of thee, who wast perfectly united unto God; but as for us thou wouldst suffer death, so for us thou wouldst suffer hunger, that we might learn by fasting to prepare ourselves for Tentations. In fasting so long, thou intendest the manifestation of thy power; in fasting no longer, the truth of thy manhood. Moses and Elias, through the miraculous sustentation of God, fasted so long, without any question made of the truth of their bodies: So long therefore thou thoughtest good to fast, as by the reason of these precedents might be without prejudice of thine Humanity; which if it should have pleased thee to support, as thou couldst, without means, thy very Power might have opened the mouth of cavils against the verity of thy Humane nature. That thou mightest therefore well approve, that there was no difference betwixt thee and us but sin, thou that couldst have fasted without hunger, and lived without meat, wouldst both feed, and fast, and hunger.  
Who can be discouraged with the scantness of friends or bodily provisions, when he sees his Saviour thus long destitute of all earthly comforts, both of society and sustenance? Oh the policy and malice of that old Serpent! when he sees Christ bewray some infirmity of nature in being hungry, than he lays sorest at him by temptations. His eye was never off from our Saviour all the time of his sequestration; and now that he thinks he espies any one part to lie open, he drives at it with all his might. We have to do with an Adversary no less vigilant than malicious, who will be sure to watch all opportunities of our mischief, and where he sees any advantage of weakness, will not neglect it. How should we stand upon our guard for prevention, that both we may not give him occasions of our hurt, nor take hurt by those we have given?  
When our Saviour was hungry, Satan tempts him in matter of Food; not then, of Wealth or Glory: He well knows both what baits to fish withal, and when and how to lay them. How safe and happy shall we be, if we shall bend our greatest care where we discern the most danger?  
In every Temptation there is an appearance of good, whether of the body, of mind, or estate. The first is the lust of the flesh, in any carnal desire; the second, the pride of heart and life; the third, the lust of the eyes. To all these the first Adam is tempted, and in all miscarried; the second Adam is tempted to them all, and overcometh. The first man was tempted to Carnal appetite by the forbidden fruit; to Pride, by the suggestion of being as God; to Covetousness, in the ambitious desire of knowing good and evil. Satan having found all the motions so successful with the first Adam in his innocent estate, will now tread the same steps in his temptations of the second. The stones must be made bread; there is the motion to a Carnal appetite. The guard and attendance of Angels must be presumed on; there is a motion to Pride. The Kingdoms of the Earth and the glory of them must be offered; there to Covetousness and Ambition.  
Satan could not but have heard God say, This is my well-beloved Son, he had heard the Message and the Carol of the Angels, he saw the Star and the journey, and Offerings of the Sages, he could not but take notice of the gratulations of Zachary, Simeon, Anna, he well knew the Predictions of the Prophets; yet now that he saw Christ fainting with hunger, as not comprehending how infirmities could consist with a Godhead, he can say, If thou be the Son of God. Had not Satan known that the Son of God was to come into the World, he had never said, If thou be the Son of God. His very supposition convinces him: The ground of his Temptation answers itself. If therefore Christ seemed to be a mere man, because after forty days he was hungry; why was he not confessed more than a man, in that for forty days he hungered not? The motive of the Temptation is worse than the motion; If thou be the Son of God. Satan could not choose another suggestion of so great importance. All the work of our Redemption, of our Salvation, depends upon this one Truth, Christ is the Son of God. How should he else have ransomed the World? how should he have done, how should he have suffered that which was satisfactory to his Father's wrath? how should his actions or Passion have been valuable to the sin of all the World? What marvel is it if we that are sons by Adoption be assaulted with the doubts of our interest in God, when the natural Son, the Son of his Essence is thus tempted? Since all our comfort consists in this point, here must needs be laid the chief battery; and here must be placed our strongest defence.  
To turn Stones into Bread, had been no more faulty in itself then to turn Water into Wine: But to do this in a distrust of his Father's Providence, to abuse his power and liberty in doing it, to work a Miracle of Satan's choice, had been disagreeable to the Son of God. There is nothing more ordinary with our spiritual enemy, then by occasion of want to move us to unwarrantable courses: Thou art poor, steal; Thou canst not rise by honest means, use indirect. How easy had it been for our Saviour to have confounded Satan by the power of his Godhead? But he rather chooses to vanquish him by the Sword of the Spirit, that he might teach us how to resist & overcome the powers of darkness. If he had subdued Satan by the Almighty power of the Deity, we might have had what to wonder at, not what to imitate: now he useth that weapon which may be familiar unto us, that he may teach our weakness how to be victorious. Nothing in Heaven or earth can beat the forces of Hell, but the word of God. How carefully should we furnish ourselves with this powerful munition? how should our hearts and mouths be full of it? Teach me, O Lord, the way of thy Statutes: O take not from me the words of Truth. Let them be my Songs in the house of my pilgrimage: So shall I make answer to my Blasphemers. What needed Christ to have answered Satan at all, if it had not been to teach us that Temptations must not have their way; but must be answered by resistance, and resisted by the Word?  
I do not hear our Saviour aver himself to be a God, against the blasphemous insinuation of Satan; neither do I see him working this miraculous Conversion, to prove himself the Son of God: but most wisely he takes away the ground of the Temptation. Satan had taken it for granted, that man cannot be sustained without bread; and therefore infers the necessity of making bread of stones. Our Saviour shows him from an infallible Word, that he had mislayed his suggestion; That man lives not by usual food only, but by every word that proceedeth from the mouth of God. He can either sustain without bread, as he did Moses and Elias; or with a miraculous bread, as the Israelites with Manna; or send ordinary means miraculously, as food to his Prophet by the Ravens; or miraculously multiply ordinary means, as the Meal and Oil to the Sareptan Widow. All things are sustained by his Almighty Word. Indeed we live by food, but not by any virtue that is without God; without the concurrence of whose Providence, bread would rather choke then nourish us. Let him withdraw his hand from his creatures, in their greatest abundance we perish. Why do we therefore bend our eyes on the means, and not look up to the hand that gives the blessing?  
What so necessary dependence hath the blessing upon the creature, if our Prayers hold them not together? As we may not neglect the means, so we may not neglect the procurement of a blessing upon the means, nor be unthankful to the hand that hath given the blessing.  
In the first assault Satan moves Christ to doubt of his Father's Providence, and to use unlawful means to help himself: in the next, he moves him to presume upon his Father's protection, and the service of his blessed Angels. He grounds the first upon a conceit of want, the next of abundance. If he be in extremes, it is all to one end, to misled unto evil: If we cannot be driven down to despair, he labours to lift us up to presumption. It is not one foil than can put this bold spirit out of countenance. Temptations, like waves, break one in the neck of another. Whiles we are in this warfare, we must make account that the repulse of one Temptation doth but invite to another.  
That Blessed Saviour of ours that was content to be led from Jordan into the Wilderness, for the advantage of the first Temptation, yields to be led from the Wilderness to Jerusalem, for the advantage of the second. The place doth not a little avail to the act. The Wilderness was fit for a Temptation arising from Want, it was not fit for a Temptation moving to Vainglory; the populous City was the fittest for such a motion. Jerusalem was the glory of the World, the Temple was the glory of Jerusalem, the Pinnacles, the highest piece of the Pinnacle, there is Christ content to be set for the opportunity of Tentation. O Saviour of men, how can we wonder enough at this Humility of thine, that thou wouldst so far abase thyself as to suffer thy pure and sacred Body to be transported by the presumptuous and malicious hand of that unclean Spirit? It was not his Power, it was thy Patience that deserves our admiration. Neither can this seem overstrange to us, when we consider that if Satan be the head of wicked men, wicked men are the members of Satan. What was Pilate, or the Jews that persecuted thine innocence, but limbs of this Devil? And why are we then amazed, to see thee touched and locally transported by the head, when we see thee yielding thyself over to be crucified by the members? If Satan did the worse and greater mediately by their hands, no marvel if he do the less and easier immediately by his own; yet neither of them without thy voluntary dispensation. He could not have looked at thee without thee. And if the Son of God did thus suffer his own holy and precious Body to be carried by Satan; what wonder is it if that Enemy have sometimes power given him over the sinful bodies of the adopted sons of God? It is not the strength of Faith that can secure us from the outward violences of that Evil one. This difference I find betwixt his spiritual and bodily assaults: those are beaten back by the shield of Faith, these admit not of such repulse. As the best man may be lame, blind, diseased; so, through the permission of God, he may be bodily vexed by an old manslayer. Grace was never given us for a Target against external Afflictions.  
Methinks I see Christ hoist upon the highest battlements of the Temple, whose very roof was an hundred and thirty Cubits high; and Satan standing by him with this speech in his mouth: Well then, since in the matter of nourishment thou wilt needs depend upon thy Father's Providence, that he can without means sustain thee, take now further trial of that Providence in thy miraculous preservation; Cast thyself down from this height. Behold, thou art here in Jerusalem, the famous and holy City of the World; here thou art, on the top of the pinnacle of that Temple which is dedicated to thy Father, and, if thou be God, to thyself. The eyes of all men are now fixed upon thee: there cannot be devised a more ready way to spread thy glory and to proclaim thy Deity, then by casting thyself headlong to the Earth. All the World will say there is more in thee then a man. And for danger, there can be none. What can hurt him that is the Son of God? and wherefore serves that glorious Guard of Angels, which have by Divine Commission taken upon them the charge of thine Humanity? Since therefore in one act thou mayest be both safe and celebrated, trust thy Father and those thy serviceable Spirits with thine assured preservation; Cast thyself down. And why didst thou not, O thou malignant spirit, endeavour to cast down my Saviour by those same presumptuous hands that brought him up, since the descent is more easy than the raising up? Was it for that it had not been so great an advantage to thee that he should fall by thy means as by his own? Falling into sin was more than to fall from the pinnacle. Still thy care and suit is, to make us Authors to ourselves of evil: thou gainest nothing by our bodily hurt, if the Soul be safe. Or was it rather for that thou couldst not? I doubt not but thy Malice could as well have served to have offered this measure to himself, as to his holy Apostle soon after. But he that bounded thy power, tethers thee shorter. Thou couldst not, thou canst not do what thou wouldst. He that would permit thee to carry him up, binds thy hands from casting him down. And woe were it for us if thou wert not ever stinted.  
Why did Satan carry up Christ so high, but on purpose that his fall might be the more deadly? So deals he still with us; he exalts us, that we may be dangerously abased: he puffs them up with swelling thoughts of their own worthiness, that they may be vile in the eyes of God, and fall into condemnation. It is the manner of God, to cast down that he may raise, to abase that he may exalt: Contrarily Satan raises up that he may throw down, and intends nothing but our dejection in our advancement.  
Height of place gives opportunity of Tentation. Thus busy is that Wicked one in working against the members of Christ. If any of them be in eminence above others, those he labours most to ruinate. They had need to stand fast, that stand high. There is both more danger of their falling, and more hurt in their fall.  
He that had presumed thus far, to tempt the Lord of Life, would fain now dare him also to presume upon his Deity: If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down. There is not a more tried shaft in all his quiver then this; a persuasion to men, to bear themselves too bold upon the favour of God. Thou art the Elect and Redeemed of God; sin, because Grace hath abounded; sin, that it may abound. Thou art safe enough though thou offend: be not too much an adversary to thine own liberty. False spirit! it is no liberty to sin, but servitude rather; there is liberty, but in the freedom from sin. Every one of us that hath the hope of Sons, must purge himself, even as he is pure that hath redeemed us. We are bought with a price, therefore must we glorify God in our body and spirits; for they are God's. Our Sonship teaches us awe and obedience; and therefore because we are Sons, we will not cast our selves down into sin.  
How idly do Satan and wicked men measure God by the crooked line of their own misconceit? Iwis, Christ cannot be the Son of God, unless he cast himself down from the Pinnacle, unless he come down from the Cross. God is not merciful unless he honour them in all their desires; not just, unless he take speedy vengeance where they require it. But when they have spent their folly upon these vain imaginations, Christ is the Son of God, though he stay on the top of the Temple. God will be merciful, though we miscarry; and just, though sinners seem lawless. Neither will he be any other than he is, or measured by any rule but himself.  
But what is this I see? Satan himself with a Bible under his arm, with a Text in his mouth, It is written, He shall give his Angels charge over thee? How still in that Wicked one doth Subtlety strive with Presumption? Who could not but over-wonder at this, if he did not consider, that since the Devil dared to touch the sacred Body of Christ with his hand, he may well touch the Scriptures of God with his tongue? Let no man henceforth marvel to hear Heretics or Hypocrites quote Scriptures, when Satan himself hath not spared to cite them. What are they the worse for this, more than that holy Body which is transported? Some have been poisoned by their meats and drinks; yet either these nourish us, or nothing. It is not the Letter of the Scripture that can carry it, but the Sense; if we divide these two, we profane and abuse that Word we allege. And wherefore doth this foul spirit urge a Text, but for imitation, for prevention, and for success? Christ had alleged a Scripture unto him; he re-alledges Scripture unto Christ. At leastwise he will counterfeit an imitation of the Son of God. Neither is it in this alone: what one act ever passed the hand of God, which Satan did not apishly attempt to second? If we follow Christ in the outward action with contrary intentions, we follow Satan in following Christ. Or, perhaps, Satan meant to make Christ hereby weary of this weapon: As we see fashions, when they are taken up of the unworthy, are cast off by the Great. It was, doubtless, one cause why Christ afterward forbade the Devil even to confess the Truth, because his mouth was a slander. But chiefly doth he this, for a better colour of his Tentation: He gilds over this false metal with Scripture, that it may pass current. Even now is Satan transformed into an Angel of Light, and will seem godly for a mischief. If Hypocrites make a fair show to deceive with a glorious lustre of Holiness, we see whence they borrowed it. How many thousand souls are betrayed by the abuse of that Word whose use is sovereign and saving? No Devil is so dangerous as the religious Devil. If good meat turn to the nourishment, not of Nature, but of the Disease, we may not forbear to feed, but endeavour to purge the body of those evil humours which cause the stomach to work against itself. O God, thou that hast given us light, give us clear and sound eyes, that we may take comfort of that Light thou hast given us. Thy Word is holy, make our hearts so; and then shall they find that Word not more true than cordial. Let not this Divine Table of thine be made a snare to our souls.  
What can be a better act then to speak Scripture? It were a wonder if Satan should do a good thing well. He citys Scripture then, but with mutilation and distortion; it comes not out of his mouth, but maimed and perverted: One piece is left, all misapplied. Those that wrest or mangle Scripture for their own turn, it is easy to see from what School they come. Let us take the Word from the Author, not from the Usurper. David would not doubt to eat that sheep which he pulled out of the mouth of the Bear or Lion. He shall give his Angels charge over thee: Oh comfortable assurance of our protection. God's children never go unattended. Like unto great Princes, we walk ever in the midst of our guard; though invisible, yet true, careful, powerful. What creatures are so glorious as the Angels of Heaven? yet their Maker hath set them to serve us. Our Adoption makes us at once great and safe. We may be contemptible and ignominious in the eyes of the world; but the Angels of God observe us the while, and scorn not to wait upon us in our homeliest occasions. The Sun or the Light may we keep out of our houses, the Air we cannot; much less these Spirits that are more simple and immaterial. No walls, no bolts can sever them from our sides: they accompany us in dungeons, they go with us into our exile. How can we either fear danger or complain of solitariness, whiles we have so unseparable, so glorious Companions?  
Is our Saviour distasted with Scripture, because Satan mis-laies it in his dish? Doth he not rather snatch this sword out of that impure hand, & beat Satan with the weapon which he abuseth? It is written, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God. The Scripture is one, as that God whose it is: Where it carries an appearance of difficulty or inconvenience, it needs no light to clear it but that which it hath in itself. All doubts that may arise from it are fully answered by collation. It is true that God hath taken this care and given this charge of his own: he will have them kept, not in their sins: they may trust him, they may not tempt him: he meant to encourage their Faith, not their Presumption. To cast ourselves upon any immediate Providence when means fail not, is to disobey, in stead of believing God. We may challenge God on his Word, we may not strain him beyond it: we may make account of what he promised, we may not subject his Promises to unjust examinations; and where no need is, make trial of his Power, Justice, Mercy, by devices of our own. All the Devils in Hell could not elude the force of this Divine answer: and now Satan sees how vainly he tempteth Christ to tempt God.  
Yet again, for all this, do I see him setting upon the Son of God. Satan is not foiled when he is resisted. Neither diffidence nor presumption can fasten upon Christ; he shall be tried with Honour. As some expert Fencer that challenges at all weapons, so doth his great Enemy. In vain shall we plead our skill in some, if we fail in any. It must be our wisdom to be prepared for all kind of assaults: as those that hold Towns and Forts do not only defend themselves from incursions, but from the Cannon and the Pionier. Still doth that subtle Serpent traverse his ground for an advantage. The Temple is not high enough for his next Tentation; he therefore carries up Christ to the top of an exceeding high Mountain. All enemies in pitched fields strive for the benefit of the Hill, or River, or Wind, or Sun. That which his servant Balac did by his instigation, himself doth now immediately, change places in hope of prevailing. If the obscure country will not move us, he tries what the Court can do; if not our home, the Tavern; if not the field, our closer. As no place is left free by his malice, so no place must be made prejudicial by our carelessness: and as we should always watch over ourselves, so than most when the opportunity carries cause of suspicion.  
Wherefore is Christ carried up so high, but for prospect? If the Kingdoms of the earth and their glory were only to be presented to his imagination, the Valley would have served; if to the outward sense, no Hill could suffice. Circular bodies though small, cannot be seen at once. This show was made to both; divers Kingdoms lying round about Judea were represented to the eye, the glory of them to the imagination. Satan meant the eye could tempt the fancy, no less than the fancy could tempt the will. How many thousand souls have died of the wound of the eye? If we do not let in sin at the window of the eye or the door of the ear, it cannot enter into our hearts.  
If there be any pomp, majesty, pleasure, bravery in the world, where should it be but in the Courts of Princes, whom God hath made his Images, his Deputies on earth? There is soft raiment, sumptuous feasts, rich jewels, honourable attendance, glorious triumphs, royal state; these Satan lays out to the fairest show. But oh the craft of that old Serpent! Many a care attends Greatness: No Crown is without thorns: High seats are never but uneasy. All those infinite discontentments which are the shadow of earthly Sovereignty, he hides out of the way; nothing may be seen but what may both please and allure. Satan is still and ever like himself. If Tentations might be but turned about and shown on both sides, the Kingdom of darkness would not be so populous. Now whensoever the Tempter sets upon any poor soul, all sting of conscience, wrath, judgement, torment is concealed, as if they were not: nothing may appear to the eye but pleasure, profit, and a seeming happiness in the enjoying our desires. Those other woeful objects are reserved for the farewell of sin; that our misery may be seen and felt at once. When we are once sure, Satan is a Tyrant; till then, he is a Parasite. There can be no safety, if we do not view as well the back as the face of Tentations.  
But oh presumption and impudence, that Hell itself may be ashamed of! The Devil dares say to Christ, All these will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me: That beggarly spirit, that hath not an inch of earth, can offer the whole world to the maker, to the owner of it. The slave of God would be adored of his Creator. How can we hope he should be sparing of false boasts and of unreasonable promises unto us, when he dares offer Kingdoms to him by whom King's reign?  
Tentations on the right hand are most dangerous. How many that have been hardened with Fear, have melted with Honour? There is no doubt of that soul that will not bite at the golden hook.  
False liars and vainglorious boasters see the top of their pedigree; if I may not rather say, that Satan doth borrow the use of their tongues for a time: Whereas faithful is he that hath promised, who will also do it, Fidelity and truth is the issue of Heaven.  
If Idolatry were not a dear sin to Satan, he would not be so importunate to compass it. It is miserable to see how he draws the world insensibly into this sin, which they profess to detest. Those that would rather hazard the furnace than worship Gold in a Statue, yet do adore in it the stamp, and find no fault with themselves. If our hearts be drawn to stoop unto an over-high respect of any creature, we are Idolaters. O God, it is no marvel if thy jealousy be kindled at the admission of any of thine own works into a competition of honour with their Creator.  
Never did our Saviour say, Avoid Satan, till now. It is a just indignation that is conceived at the motion of a rivaltie with God. Neither yet did Christ exercise his Divine power in this command, but by the necessary force of Scripture drives away that impure Tempter; It is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve. The rest of our Saviour's answers were more full and direct then that they could admit of a reply; but this was so flat and absolute, that it utterly daunted the courage of Satan, and put him to a shameful flight, and made him for the time weary of his trade.  
The way to be rid of the troublesome solicitations of that Wicked one, is continued resistance. He that forcibly drove the Tempter from himself, takes him off from us, and will not abide his assaults perpetual. It is our exercise and Trial that he intends, not our Confusion.   

Simon called.  
AS the Sun in his first rising draws all eyes to it; so did this Sun of Righteousness when he first shone forth into the world. His miraculous cures drew Patients, his Divine doctrine drew Auditors; both together drew the admiring multitude by troops after him. And why do we not still follow thee, O Saviour, through deserts and mountains, over land and seas, that we may be both healed and taught? It was thy word that when thou wert lift up, thou wouldst draw all men unto thee: Behold, thou art lift up long since, both to the tree of shame, and to the throne of heavenly glory; Draw us, and we shall run after thee. Thy word is still the same, though proclaimed by men; thy virtue is still the same, though exercised upon the spirits of men. Oh give us to hunger after both, that by both our souls may be satisfied.  
I see the people not only following Christ, but pressing upon him: even very unmannerliness finds here both excuse and acceptation. They did not keep their distances in an awe to the Majesty of the Speaker, whiles they were ravished with the power of the Speech; yet did not our Saviour check their unreverent thronging, but rather incourages their forwardness. We cannot offend thee, O God, with the importunity of our desires. It likes thee well, that the Kingdom of Heaven should suffer violence. Our slackness doth ever displease thee, never our vehemency.  
The throng of Auditors forced Christ to leave the shore, and to make Peter's ship his pulpit. Never were there such nets cast out of that fisherboat before. Whiles he was upon the Land, he healed the sick bodies by his touch; now that he was upon the Sea, he cured the sick Souls by his doctrine; and is purposely severed from the multitude, that he may unite them to him. He that made both Sea and Land, causeth both of them to conspire to the opportunities of doing good.  
Simon was busy washing his nets. Even those nets that caught nothing must be washed, no less then if they had sped well. The night's toil doth not excuse his day's work. Little did Simon think of leaving those nets which he so carefully washed; and now Christ interrupts him with the favour and blessing of his gracious presence. Labour in our calling (how homely soever) makes us capable of Divine benediction. The honest fisherman, when he saw the people flock after Christ, and heard him speak with such power, could not but conceive a general and confuse apprehension of some excellent worth in such a Teacher, and therefore is glad to honour his ship with such a Guest; and is first Christ's Host by Sea, ere he is his Disciple by land. An humble and serviceable entertainment of a Prophet of God, was a good foundation of his future honour. He that would so easily lend Christ his hand and his ship, was likely soon after to bestow himself upon his Saviour.  
Simon hath no sooner done this service to Christ, than Christ is preparing for his reward: when the Sermon is ended, the ship-room shall be paid for abundantly: neither shall the Host expect any other paymaster than himself. Launch forth into the deep, and let down your Nets to make a draught. That ship which lent Christ an opportunity of catching men upon the shore, shall be requited with a plentiful draught of fish in the deep. It had been as easy for our Saviour to have brought the fish to Peter's ship, close to the shore; yet as choosing rather to have the ship carried to the shoal of fish, he bids Launch forth into the deep. In his Miracles he loves ever to meet Nature in her bounds; and when she hath done her best, to supply the rest by his overruling power. The same power therefore that could have caused the fishes to leap upon dry land, or to leave themselves forsaken of the waters upon the sands of the Lake, will rather find them in a place natural to their abiding. Launch out into the deep.  
Rather in a desire to gratify and obey his guest, then to pleasure himself, will Simon bestow one cast of his net. Had Christ enjoined him an harder task, he had not refused; yet not without an allegation of the unlikelihood of success, Master, we have travailed all night, and caught nothing; yet at thy word I will let down the Net. The night was the fittest time for the hopes of their trade; not unjustly might Simon misdoubt his speed by day, when he had worn out the night in unprofitable labour. Sometimes God crosseth the fairest of our expectations, and gives a blessing to those times and means whereof we despair. That pains cannot be cast away, which we resolve to lose for Christ. O God, how many do I see casting out their Nets in the great Lake of the World, which in the whole night of their life have caught nothing? They conceive mischief, and bring forth iniquity; they hatch Cockatrice's eggs, and wove the Spider's web: he that eateth of their eggs dieth, and that which is trodden upon breaketh out into a Serpent; their webs shall be no garment, neither shall they cover themselves with their labours.  
O ye sons of men, how long will ye love vanity, and follow after lies? Yet if we have thus vainly misspent the time of our darkness, let us at the command of Christ cast out our new-washen nets: our humble and penitent obedience shall come home laden with blessings. And when they had so done, they enclosed a great multitude of fishes, so that their Net broke. What a difference there is betwixt our own voluntary acts and those that are done upon command; not more in the grounds of them, then in the issue? those are ofttimes fruitless, these ever successful. Never man threw out his Net at the word of his Saviour, and drew it back empty. Who would not obey thee, O Christ, since thou dost so bountifully requite our weakest services? It was not mere retribution that was intended in this event, but instruction also: This act was not without a mystery. He that should be made a fisher of men, shall in this draught foresee his success. The Kingdom of Heaven is like a draw-net cast into the Sea, which when it is full, men draw to land. The very first draught that Peter made after the compliment of his Apostleship, enclosed no less than three thousand Souls. O powerful Gospel, that can fetch sinful men from out of the depths of natural corruption! O happy souls, that from the blind and muddy cells of our wicked nature, are drawn forth to the glorious liberty of the sons of God Simon's Net breaks with the store. Abundance is sometimes no less troublesome than want. The Net should have held, if Christ had not meant to over-charge Simon both with blessing and admiration. How happily is that Net broken, whose rupture draws the fisher to Christ? Though the net broke, yet the fish escaped not: He that brought them thither to be taken, held them there till they were taken. They beckoned to their partners in the other ship, that they should come and help them. There are other ships in partnership with Peter, he doth not fish all the Lake alone. There cannot be a better improvement of society then to help us gain, to relieve us in our profitable labours, to draw up the spiritual draught into the vessel of Christ and his Church. Wherefore hath God given us partners, but that we should because to them for their aid in our necessary occasions? Neither doth Simon slacken his hand, because he had assistants. What shall we say to those lazy fishers, who can set others to the Drag, whiles themselves look on at ease; caring only to feed themselves with the fish, not willing to wet their hands with the Net? What shall we say to this excess of gain? The Nets break, the ships sink with their burden. Oh happy complaint of too large a capture! O Saviour, if those Apostolical vessels of thy first rigging were thus overlaid, ours float and totter with a ballasted lightness. Thou, who art no less present in these bottoms of ours, lad them with an equal fraught of converted souls, and let us praise thee for thus sinking.  
Simon was a skilful Fisher, and knew well the depth of his trade; and now perceiving more than Art or Nature in this draught, he falls down at the knees of Jesus, saying, Lord, go from me, for I am a sinful man. Himself is caught in this Net. He doth not greedily fall upon so unexpected and profitable a booty, but he turns his eyes from the draught to himself, from the Act to the Author, acknowledging vileness in the one, in the other Majesty: Go from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.  
It had been pity the honest Fisherman should have been taken at his word. O Simon, thy Saviour is come into thine own ship to call thee, to call others by thee unto blessedness, and dost thou say, Lord, go from me? As if the Patient should say to the Physician, Depart from me, for I am sick. It was the voice of astonishment, not of dislike; the voice of humility, not of discontentment: yea, because thou art a sinful man, therefore hath thy Saviour need to come to thee, to stay with thee; and because thou art humble in the acknowledgement of thy sinfulness, therefore Christ delights to abide with thee, and will call thee to abide with him. No man ever fared the worse for abasing himself to his God. Christ hath left many a soul for froward and unkind usage; never any for the disparagement of itself, and entreaties of humility. Simon could not devise how to hold Christ faster, then by thus suing to him to be gone, then by thus pleading his unworthiness.  
O my Soul, be not weary of complaining of thine own wretchedness; disgrace thyself to him that knows thy vileness; be astonished at those mercies which have shamed thine ill deservings. Thy Saviour hath no power to go away from a prostrate heart. He that resists the proud, heartens the lowly: Fear not, for I will make thee henceforth a Fisher of men. Lo, this Humility is rewarded with an Apostleship. What had the Earth ever more glorious than a Legacy from Heaven? He that bade Christ go from him, shall have the honour to go first on this happy errand. This was a Trade that Simon had no skill of: it could not but be enough to him, that Christ said, I will make thee; the Miracle showed him able to make good his word. He that hath power to command the Fishes to be taken, can easily enable the hands to take them.  
What is this Divine Trade of ours then but a spiritual Piscation? The World is a Sea; Souls, like fishes, swim at liberty in this Deep; the Nets of wholesome Doctrine draw up some to the shore of Grace and Glory. How much skill, and toil, and patience is requisite in this Art? Who is sufficient for these things? This Sea, these Nets, the Fishers, the Fish, the Vessels are all thine, O God; do what thou wilt in us and by us. Give us ability and grace to take; give men will and grace to be taken; and take thou glory by that which thou hast given.   

The Marriage in Cana.  
WAS this then thy first Miracle, O Saviour, that thou wroughtest in Cana of Galilee? And could there be a greater Miracle than this, that having been thirty years upon earth, thou didst no miracle till now? that thy Divinity did hide itself thus long in flesh? that so long thou wouldst lie obscure in a corner of Galilee, unknown to that world thou camest to redeem? that so long thou wouldst strain the patient expectation of those, who ever since thy Star waited upon the revelation of a Messias? We silly wretches, if we have but a dram of virtue, are ready to set it out to the best show: thou, who receivedst not the Spirit by measure, wouldst content thyself with a willing obscurity; and concealedst that power that made the world, in the roof of an humane breast, in a cottage of Nazareth. O Saviour, none of thy miracles is more worthy of astonishment than thy not doing of miracles. What thou didst in private, thy wisdom thought fit for secrecy: but if thy Blessed Mother had not been acquainted with some domestical wonders, she had not now expected a miracle abroad. The Stars are not seen by day; the Sun itself is not seen by night. As it is no small art to hide Art, so is it no small glory to conceal glory. Thy first public Miracle graceth a Marriage. It is an ancient and laudable institution, that the rites of Matrimony should not want a solemn celebration. When are Feasts in season, if not at the recovery of our lost rib; if not at this main change of our estate, wherein the joy of obtaining meets with the hope of further comforts? The Son of the Virgin, and the Mother of that Son, are both at a wedding. It was in all likelihood some of their kindred, to whose nuptial feast they were invited so far: yet was it more the honour of the Act then of the Person that Christ intended. He that made the first Marriage in Paradise, bestows his first Miracle upon a Galilean marriage. He that was the Author of Matrimony and sanctified it, doth by his holy presence honour the resemblance of his eternal union with his Church. How boldly may we spit in the faces of all the impure Adversaries of wedlock, when the Son of God pleases to honour it?  
The glorious Bridegroom of the Church knew well how ready men would be to place shame even in the most lawful conjunctions; and therefore his first work shall be to countenance his own Ordinance. Happy is that Wedding where Christ is a guest. O Saviour, those that marry in thee, cannot marry without thee. There is no holy Marriage whereat thou art not (however invisible, yet) truly present by thy Spirit, by thy gracious benediction. Thou makest marriages in Heaven, thou blessest them from Heaven. O thou that hast betrothed us to thyself in Truth & Righteousness, do thou consummate that happy Marriage of ours in the highest Heavens. It was no rich or sumptuous Bridal to which Christ with his Mother & Disciples vouchsafed to come from the further parts of Galilee. I find him not at the magnificent Feasts or triumphs of the Great. The proud pomp of the World did not agree with the state of a servant. This poor needy Bridegroom wants drink for his guests. The Blessed Virgin (though a stranger to the house) out of a charitable compassion, and a friendly desire to maintain the decency of an hospital entertainment, inquires into the wants of her Host, pities them, bemoans them where there was power of redress: When the wine failed, the mother of Jesus said unto him, They have no wine. How well doth it beseem the eyes of piety and Christian love, to look into the necessities of others? She that conceived the God of mercies both in her heart and in her womb, doth not fix her eyes upon her own teacher, but searcheth into the penury of a poor Israelite, and feels those wants whereof he complains not. They are made for themselves, whose thoughts are only taken up with their own store or indigence.  
There was wine enough for a meal, though not for a Feast; and if there were not wine enough, there was enough water: yet the Holy Virgin complains of the want of wine, and is troubled with the very lack of superfluity. The bounty of our God reaches not to our life only, but to our contentment: neither hath he thought good to allow us only the bread of sufficiency, but sometimes of pleasure. One while that is but necessary, which some other time were superfluous. It is a scrupulous injustice to scant ourselves where God hath been liberal.  
To whom should we complain of any want, but to the Maker and Giver of all things? The Blessed Virgin knew to whom she sued: She had good reason to know the Divine nature and power of her Son. Perhaps the Bridegroom was not so needy, but if not by his purse, yet by his credit, he might have supplied that want; or, it were hard if some of the neighbour-guests (had they been duly solicited) might not have furnished him with so much wine as might suffice for the last service of a dinner. But Blessed Mary knew a nearer way: she did not think best to lad at the shallow Channel, but runs rather to the Wellhead, where she may dip and fill the Firkins at once with ease. It may be she saw that the train of Christ (which unbidden followed unto that Feast, and unexspectedly added to the number of the guests) might help forward that defect, and therefore she justly solicits her Son JESUS for a supply. Whether we want Bread, or Water, or Wine, necessaries or comforts, whither should we run, O Saviour, but to that infinite munificence of thine, which neither denieth nor upbraideth any thing? We cannot want, we cannot abound, but from thee. Give us what thou wilt, so thou give us contentment with what thou givest.  
But what is this I hear? A sharp answer to the suit of a Mother? Oh woman, what have I to do with thee? He whose sweet mildness and mercy never sent away any suppliant discontented, doth he only frown upon her that bore him? He that commands us to honour Father and Mother, doth he disdain her whose flesh he took? God forbid: Love and Duty doth not exempt Parents from due admonition. She solicited Christ as a Mother, he answers her as a Woman. If she were the Mother of his flesh, his Deity was eternal. She might not so remember herself to be a Mother, that she should forget she was a Woman; nor so look upon him as a Son, that she should not regard him as a God. He was so obedient to her as a Mother, that withal she must obey him as her God. That part which he took from her shall observe her; she must observe that nature which came from above, and made her both a Woman and a Mother. Matter of miracle concerned the Godhead only; Supernatural things were above the sphere of fleshly relation. If now the Blessed Virgin will be prescribing either time or form unto Divine acts, O woman, what have I to do with thee? my hour is not come. In all bodily actions his style was, O Mother: in spiritual and heavenly, O Woman. Neither is it for us in the holy affairs of God to know any faces; yea, if we have known Christ heretofore according to the flesh, henceforth know we him so no more.  
O Blessed Virgin, if in that heavenly glory wherein thou art thou canst take notice of these earthly things, with what indignation dost thou look upon the presumptuous superstition of vain men, whose suits make thee more than a solicitor of Divine favours? Thy Humanity is not lost in thy Motherhood, nor in thy Glory: The respects of Nature reach not so high as Heaven. It is far from thee to abide that honour which is stolen from thy Redeemer.  
There is a Marriage whereto we are invited, yea wherein we are already interessed, not as the Guests only, but as the Bride; in which there shall be no want of the wine of gladness. It is marvel if in these earthly banquets there be not some lack. In thy presence, O Saviour, there is fullness of joy, and at thy right hand are pleasures for evermore. Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb.  
Even in that rough answer doth the Blessed Virgin descry cause of hope. If his hour were not yet come, it was therefore coming: when the expectation of the guests and the necessity of the occasion had made fit room for the Miracle, it shall come forth and challenge their wonder. Faithfully therefore and observantly doth she turn her speech from her Son to the Waiters, Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. How well doth it beseem the Mother of Christ to agree with his Father in Heaven, whose voice from Heaven said, This is my wellbeloved Son, hear him? She that said of herself, Be it unto me according to thy word, says unto others, Whatsoever he saith to you, do it. This is the way to have Miracles wrought in us, obedience to his Word. The power of Christ did not stand upon their officiousness: he could have wrought wonders in spite of them; but their perverse refusal of his commands might have made them uncapable of the favour of a miraculous action. He that can (when he will) convince the obstinate, will not grace the disobedient. He that could work without us, or against us, will not work for us, but by us.  
This very poor house was furnished with many and large vessels for outward purification; as if sin had dwelled upon the skin, that superstitious people sought Holiness in frequent washings. Even this rinsing fouled them with the uncleanness of a traditional will-worship. It is the Soul which needs scouring; and nothing can wash that but the blood which they desperately wished upon themselves and their children, for guilt, not for expiation. Purge thou us, O Lord, with hyssop, and we shall be clean; wash us, and we shall be whiter than snow.  
The Waiters could not but think strange of so unseasonable a command, Fill the water pots. It is wine that we want, what do we go to fetch water? Doth this Holy man mean thus to quench our Feast, and cool our stomaches? If there be no remedy, we could have sought this supply unbidden. Yet so far hath the charge of Christ's Mother prevailed, that in stead of carrying flagons of wine to the table, they go to fetch pails-full of water from the Cisterns. It is no pleading of unlikelihoods against the command of an Almighty power.  
He that could have created wine immediately in those vessels, will rather turn water into wine. In all the course of his Miracles, I do never find him making aught of nothing; all his great works are grounded upon former existences. He multiplied the bread, he changed the water, he restored the withered limbs, he raised the dead, and still wrought upon that which was, and did not make that which was not. What doth he in the ordinary way of nature, but turn the watery juice that arises up from the root into wine? He will only do this now suddenly and at once, which he doth usually by sensible degrees. It is ever duly observed by the Son of God, not to do more miracle than he needs.  
How liberal are the provisions of Christ? If he had turned but one of those vessels, it had been a just proof of his power, and perhaps that quantity had served the present necessity: now he furnisheth them with so much wine as would have served an hundred and fifty guests for an entire Feast. Even the measure magnifies at once both his power and mercy. The munificent hand of God regards not our need only, but our honest affluence. It is our sin and our shame, if we turn his favour into wantonness. There must be first a filling, ere there be a drawing out. Thus in our vessels, the first care must be of our receipt; the next, of our expense. God would have us Cisterns, not Channels. Our Saviour would not be his own taster, but he sends the first draught to the Governor of the Feast. He knew his own power, they did not: Neither would he bear witness of himself, but fetch it out of others mouths. They that knew not the original of that wine, yet praised the taste; Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine, and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now. The same bounty that expressed itself in the quantity of the Wine, shows itself no less in the excellence. Nothing can fall from that Divine hand not exquisite: That liberality hated to provide crab-wine for his guests. It was fit that the miraculous effects of Christ (which came from his immediate hand) should be more perfect than the natural. O Blessed Saviour, how delicate is that new Wine which we shall one day drink with thee in thy Father's Kingdom! Thou shalt turn this water of our earthly affliction into that Wine of gladness, wherewith our Souls shall be satiate for ever. Make haste, O my Beloved, and be thou like to a Roe, or to a young Hart upon the Mountain of Spices.   

The good Centurion.  
Even the bloody trade of War yielded worthy Clients to Christ. This Roman Captain had learned to believe in that Jesus▪ whom many Jews despised. No Nation, no trade can shut out a good heart from God. If he were a foreigner for birth, yet he was a domestic in heart. He could not change his blood, he could overrule his affections. He loved that Nation which was chosen of God; and if he were not of the Synagogue, yet he built a Synagogue; where he might not be a party, he would be a Benefactor. Next to being good, is a favouring of goodness. We could not love Religion, if we utterly want it. How many true Jews were not so zealous? Either will or ability lacked in them, whom duty more obliged. Good affections do many times more than supply Nature. Neither doth God regard whence, but what we are. I do not see this Centurion come to Christ as the Israelitish Captain came to Elias in Carmel, but with his Cap in his hand, with much suit, much submission, by others, by himself: he sends first the Elders of the Jews, whom he might hope that their Nation and place might make gracious: then, left the employment of others might argue neglect, he seconds them in person. Cold and fruitless are the motions of friends, where we do wilfully shut up our own lips. Importunity cannot but speed well in both. Could we but speak for ourselves, as this Captain did for his servant, what could we possibly want? What marvel is it if God be not forward to give, where we care not to ask, or ask as if we cared not to receive? Shall we yet call this a suit, or a complaint? I hear no one word of entreaty. The less is said, the more is concealed: it is enough to lay open his want. He knew well that he had to deal with so wise and merciful a Physician, as that the opening of the malady was a craving of cure. If our spiritual miseries be but confessed, they cannot fail of redress.  
Great variety of Suitors resorted to Christ; one comes to him for a Son, another for a Daughter, a third for himself: I see none come for his Servant, but this one Centurion. Neither was he a better man than a Master. His Servant is sick: he doth not drive him out of doors, but lays him at home; neither doth he stand gazing by his beds-side, but seeks forth: He seeks forth, not to Witches or Charmers, but to Christ: he seeks to Christ, not with a fashionable relation, but with a vehement aggravation of the disease. Had the Master been sick, the faithfullest Servant could have done no more. He is unworthy to be well served, that will not sometimes wait upon his followers. Conceits of inferiority may not breed in us a neglect of charitable offices. So must we look down upon our Servants here on earth, as that we must still look up to our Master which is in Heaven.  
But why didst thou not, O Centurion, rather bring thy Servant to Christ for cure, then sue for him absent? There was a Paralytic, whom Faith and Charity brought to our Saviour, & let down through the uncovered roof in his Bed: why was not thine so carried, so presented? Was it out of the strength of thy faith, which assured thee thou neededst not show thy Servant to him that saw all things? One and the same grace may yield contrary effects. They, because they believed, brought the Patient to Christ; thou broughtest not thine to him, because thou believedst. Their act argued no less desire, thine more confidence. Thy labour was less, because thy Faith was more. Oh that I could come thus to my Saviour, and make such moan to him for myself, Lord, my soul is sick of unbelief, sick of self-love, sick of inordinate desires; I should not need to say more. Thy mercy, O Saviour, would not then stay by for my suit, but would prevent me (as here) with a gracious engagement, I will come and heal thee. I did not hear the Centurion say either, Come, or, Heal him: The one he meant, though he said not; the other he neither said nor meant. Christ over-gives both his words & intentions. It is the manner of that Divine munificence, where he meets with a faithful Suitor, to give more than is requested; to give when he is not requested. The very insinuations of our necessities are no less violent than successful. We think the measure of humane bounty runs over, when we obtain but what we ask with importunity: that infinite Goodness keeps within bounds, when it overflows the desires of our hearts.  
As he said, so he did. The Word of Christ either is his act, or concurs with it. He did not stand still when he said, I will come, but he went as he spoke. When the Ruler entreated him for his son, Come down ere he die, our Saviour stirred not a foot: the Centurion did but complain of the sickness of his servant, and Christ unasked says, I will come and heal him. That he might be far from so much as seeming to honour wealth and despise meanness, he that came in the shape of a Servant, would go down to the sick Servants pallet, would not go to the Bed of the rich Rulers Son. It is the basest motive of respect, that ariseth merely from outward Greatness. Either more Grace or more Need may justly challenge our favourable regards, no less than private Obligations.  
Even so, O Saviour, that which thou offeredst to do for the Centurion's Servant, hast thou done for us. We were sick unto death; so far had the dead palsy of sin overtaken us, that there was no life of Grace left in us: when thou wert not content to sit still in Heaven, and say, I will cure them; but addedst also, I will come and cure them. Thyself camest down accordingly to this miserable World, and hast personally healed us; so as now we shall not die but live, and declare thy works, O Lord. And oh that we could enough praise that love and mercy which hath so graciously abased thee, and could be but so low dejected before thee, as thou hast stooped low unto us; that we could be but as lowly subjects of thy goodness, as we are unworthy.  
O admirable return of Humility! Christ will go down to visit the sick Servant. The Master of that Servant says, Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under my roof: the Jewish Elders, that went before to mediate for him, could say, He is worthy that thou shouldest do this for him; but the Centurion, when he comes to speak for himself, I am not worthy. They said, He was worthy of Christ's Miracle; he says he is unworthy of Christ's presence. There is great difference betwixt others valuations and our own. Sometimes the world under-rates him that finds reason to set an high price upon himself. Sometimes again, it overvalues a man that knows just cause of his own humiliation. If others mistake us, this can be no warrant for our error. We cannot be wise, unless we receive the knowledge of ourselves by direct beams, not by reflection; unless we have learned to contemn unjust applauses, and scorning the flattery of the World, to frown upon our own vileness: Lord, I am not worthy.  
Many a one, if he had been in the Centurion's coat, would have thought well of it; a Captain, a man of good ability and command, a founder of a Synagogue, a Patron of Religion: yet he overlooks all these, and when he casts his eye upon the Divine worth of Christ and his own weakness, he says, I am not worthy: Alas, Lord, I am a Gentile, an Alien, a man of blood; thou art holy, thou art omnipotent. True Humility will teach us to find out the best of another, and the worst piece of ourselves: Pride contrarily shows us nothing but matter of admiration in ourselves, in others of contempt. Whiles he confessed himself unworthy of any favour, he approved himself worthy of all. Had not Christ been before in his heart, he could not have thought himself unworthy to entertain that Guest within his house. Under the low roof of an humble breast doth God ever delight to dwell: The state of his Palace may not be measured by the height, but by the depth. Brags and bold faces do ofttimes carry it away with men: nothing prevails with God but our voluntary dejections.  
It is fit the foundations should be laid deep, where the building is high. The Centurion's Humility was not more low than his Faith was lofty: that reaches up into Heaven, and in the face of humane weakness descries Omnipotence: Only say the word, and my Servant shall be whole.  
Had the Centurion's roof been Heaven itself, it could not have been worthy to be come under of him whose Word was Almighty, and who was the Almighty Word of his Father. Such is Christ confessed by him that says, Only say the word. None but a Divine Power is unlimited: neither hath Faith any other bounds than God himself. There needs no footing to remove Mountains or Devils, but a word. Do but say the word, O Saviour, my sin shall be remitted, my Soul shall be healed, my body shall be raised from dust, both Soul and body shall be glorious.  
Whereupon then was the steady confidence of the good Centurion? He saw how powerful his own word was with those that were under his command, (though himself were under the command of another) the force whereof extended even to absent performances; well therefore might he argue, that a free and unbounded power might give infallible commands, and that the most obstinate Disease must therefore needs yield to the beck of the God of Nature. Weakness may show us what is in strength; by one drop of water we may see what is in the main Ocean. I marvel not if the Centurion were kind to his Servants, for they were dutiful to him; he can but say, Do this, and it is done: these mutual respects draw on each other; cheerful and diligent service in the one calls for a due and favourable care in the other: they that neglect to please, cannot complain to be neglected. Oh that I could be but such a Servant to mine heavenly Master! Alas! every of his commands says, Do this, and I do it not: every of his inhibitions says, Do it not, and I do it. He says, Go from the World; I run to it: he says, Come to me; I run from him. Woe is me! this is not service, but enmity. How can I look for favour, while I return Rebellion? It is a gracious Master whom we serve; there can be no duty of ours that he sees not, that he acknowledges not, that he crowns not. We could not but be happy, if we could be officious.  
What can be more marvellous then to see Christ marvel? All marveling supposes an ignorance going before, and a knowledge following some accident unexpected: now who wrought this Faith in the Centurion, but he that wondered at it? He knew well what he wrought, because he wrought what he would; yet he wondered at what he both wrought and knew, to teach us, much more to admire that which he at once knows and holds admirable.  
He wrought this Faith as God, he wondered at it as man: God wrought, and man admired: he that was both, did both, to teach us where to bestow our wonder. I never find Christ wondering at gold or silver, at the costly and curious works of humane skill or industry: yea, when the Disciples wondered at the magnificence of the Temple, he rebuked them rather. I find him not wondering at the frame of Heaven and earth, nor at the orderly disposition of all creatures and events; the familiarity of these things intercepts the admiration. But when he sees the grace or acts of Faith, he so approves them, that he is ravished with wonder. He that rejoiced in the view of his Creation, to see that of Nothing he had made all things good, rejoices no less in the reformation of his Creature, to see that he had made good of evil. Behold, thou art fair, my Love, behold, thou art fair, and there is no spot in thee. My Sister, my Spouse, thou hast wounded my heart, thou hast wounded my heart with one of thine eyes.  
Our Wealth, Beauty, Wit, Learning, Honour, may make us accepted of men, but it is our Faith only that shall make God in love with us. And why are we of any other save God's Diet, to be more affected with the least measure of Grace in any man, then with all the outward glories of the World? There are great men whom we justly pity; we can admire none but the gracious.  
Neither was that plant more worth of wonder in itself, then that it grew in such a soil, with so little help of Rain and Sun. The weakness of means adds to the praise and acceptation of our proficiency. To do good upon a little is the commendation of thirst: it is small thank to be full-handed in a large estate: As contrarily, the strength of means doubles the revenge of our neglect. It is not more the shame of Israel then the glory of the Centurion, that our Saviour says, I have not found so great faith in Israel. Had Israel yielded any equal Faith, it could not have been unespied of these Allseeing eyes: yet were their helps so much greater as their Faith was less; and God never gives more than he requires. Where we have laid our Tillage and Compost and Seed, who would not look for a Crop? but if the uncultured fallow yield more, how justly is that unanswerable ground near to a curse?  
Our Saviour did not mutter this censorious testimony to himself, not whisper it to his Disciples, but he turned him about to the people, and spoke it in their ears, that he might at once work their shame and emulation. In all other things, except spiritual, our self-love makes us impatient of equals; much less can we endure to be outstripped by those who are our professed inferiors. It is well if any thing can kindle in us holy ambitions. Dull and base are the spirits of that man, that can abide to see another overtake him in the way and outrun him to Heaven.  
He that both wrought this Faith and wondered at it, doth now reward it; Go thy ways, and as thou hast believed, so be it unto thee. Never was any Faith unseen of Christ, never was any seen without allowance, never was any allowed without remuneration. The measure of our receipts in the matter of favour, is the proportion of our belief. The infinite Mercy of God (which is ever like itself) follows but one Rule in his gift to us, the Faith that he gives us. Give us, O God, to believe, and be it to us as thou wilt, it shall be to us above that we will.  
The Centurion sues for his Servant, and Christ says, So be it unto thee. The Servants health is the benefit of the Master, and the Master's Faith is the health of the Servant. And if the Prayers of an earthly Master prevailed so much with the Son of God for the recovery of a Servant, how shall the intercession of the Son of God prevail with his Father in Heaven for us that are his impotent Children & Servants upon Earth? What can we want, O Saviour, whiles thou suest for us? He that hath given thee for us, can deny thee nothing for us, can deny us nothing for thee. In thee we are happy, and shall be glorious. To thee, O thou mighty Redeemer of Israel, with thine eternal Father, together with thy Blessed Spirit, one God infinite and incomprehensible, be given all Praise, Honour and Glory, for ever and ever. Amen.    

Contemplations.  
THE THIRD BOOK,  
Containing 

The Widow's son raised.  
The Ruler's son healed.  
The dumb Devil ejected.  
Matthew called.  
Christ among the Gergesens; or Legion, and the Gadarene Herd.    

To my right Worthy and Worshipful friend, Mr JOHN GIFFORD OF Lancrasse in Devon, Esq. All Grace and Peace.  
SIR,  
I Hold it (as I ought) one of the rich mercies of God, that he hath given me favour in some eyes which have not seen me; but none, that I know, hath so much demerited me unknown, as your worthy Family. Ere therefore you see my face, see my hand willingly professing my thankful obligations. Wherewith may it please you to accept of this parcel of thoughts, not unlike those fellows of theirs, whom you have entertained above their desert. These shall present unto you our Bountiful Saviour, magnifying his mercies to men in a sweet variety; healing the Diseased, raising the Dead, casting out the Devil, calling in the Publican, and shall raise your heart to adore that infinite goodness. Every help to our Devotion deserves to be precious; so much more, as the decrepit age of the World declines to an heartless coldness of Piety. That God to whose Honour these poor Labours are meant, bless them in your hands, and from them to all Readers. To his Protection I heartily commend you, and the Right virtuous Gentlewoman, your worthy Wife, with all the Pledges of your happy affection, as whom you have deserved to be  
Your truly thankful and officious Friend, JOS. HALL..   

The Widow's son raised.  
THE favours of our beneficent Saviour were at the least contiguous. No sooner hath he raised the Centurion's Servant from his bed, than he raises the Widow's Son from his Bier.  
The fruitful clouds are not ordained to fall all in one field. Nain must partake of the bounty of Christ as well as Cana, or Capernaum. And if this Sun were fixed in one Orb, yet it diffuseth heat and light to all the world. It is not for any place to engross the messengers of the Gospel, whose errand is universal. This immortal seed may not fall all in one furrow.  
The little City of Nain stood under the hill of Hermon, near unto Tabor: but now it is watered with better dews from above, the Doctrine and Miracles of a Saviour.  
Not for state, but for the more evidence of the work, is our Saviour attended with a large train; so entering into the gate of that walled City, as if he meant to besiege their Faith by his Power, and to take it. His Providence hath so contrived his journey, that he meets with the sad pomp of a Funeral. A woeful Widow attended with her weeping neighbours is following her only Son to the grave. There was nothing in this spectacle that did not command compassion.  
A young man in the flower, in the strength of his age, swallowed up by death. Our decrepit age both exspects death and solicits it; but vigorous youth looks strangely upon that grim Sergeant of God. Those mellow apples that fall alone from the tree, we gather up with contentment: we chide to have the unripe unseasonably beaten down with cudgels.  
But more, a young man, the only Son, the only child of his mother. No condition can make it other then grievous for a well-natured mother to part with her own bowels: yet surely store is some mitigation of loss. Amongst many children one may be more easily miss; for still we hope the surviving may supply the comforts of the dead: But when all our hopes and joys must either live or die in one, the loss of that one admits of no consolation.  
When God would describe the most passionate expression of sorrow that can fall into the miserable, he can but say, oh daughter of my people, gird thee with sackcloth, and wallow thyself in the ashes, make lamentation and bitter mourning as for thine only Son. Such was the loss, such was the sorrow of this disconsolate mother; neither words nor tears can suffice to discover it.  
Yet more, had she been aided by the counsel and supportation of a loving yoke-fellow, this burden might have seemed less intolerable. A good Husband may make amends for the loss of a Son; had the root been left to her entire, she might better have spared the branch: now both are cut up, all the stay of her life is gone; and she seems abandoned to a perfect misery. And now when she gave herself up for a forlorn mourner, past all capacity of redress, the God of comfort meets her, pities her, relieves her. Here was no solicitor but his own compassion. In other occasions he was sought and sued to. The Centurion comes to him for a Servant, the Ruler for a Son, Jairus for a Daughter, the neighbours for the Paralytic; here he seeks up the Patient, and offers the cure unrequested. Whiles we have to do with the Father of Mercies, our afflictions are the most powerful suitors. No tears, no prayers can move him so much as his own commiseration. O God, none of our secret sorrows can be either hid from thine eyes or kept from thine heart: and when we are passed all our hopes, all possibilities of help, than art thou nearest to us for deliverance.  
Here was a conspiration of all parts to mercy. The Heart had compassion; the Mouth said, Weep not; the Feet went to the Bier; the Hand touched the coffin; the Power of the Deity raised the dead. What the Heart felt was secret to itself: the Tongue therefore expresses it in words of comfort, Weep not. Alas! what are words to so strong and just passions? To bid her not to weep that had lost her only Son, was to persuade her to be miserable, and not feel it; to feel, and not regard it; to regard, and yet to smother it. Concealment doth not remedy, but aggravate sorrow. That with the counsel of not weeping therefore she might see cause of not weeping, his Hand seconds his Tongue. He arrests the Coffin, and frees the Prisoner; Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. The Lord of life and death speaks with command. No finite power could have said so without presumption, or with success. That is the voice that shall one day call up our vanished bodies from those Elements into which they are resolved, and raise them out of their dust. Neither sea, nor death, nor hell can offer to detain their dead, when he charges them to be delivered. Incredulous nature! what dost thou shrink at the possibility of a Resurrection, when the God of Nature undertakes it? It is no more hard for that almighty Word which gave being unto all things, to say, Let them be repaired, then, Let them be made.  
I do not see our Saviour stretching himself upon the dead corpse, as Elias and Elisha upon the sons of the Sunamite and Sareptan, nor kneeling down and praying by the Bier, as Peter did to Dorcas; but I hear him so speaking to the dead as if he were alive, and so speaking to the dead, that by the word he makes him alive, I say unto thee, Arise. Death hath no power to bid that man lie still, whom the Son of God bids Arise. Immediately he that was dead sat up. So at the sound of the last Trumpet, by the power of the same voice we shall arise out of the dust, and stand up glorious: This mortal shall put on immortality; this corruptible, incorruption. This body shall not be buried, but sown; and at our day shall therefore spring up with a plentiful increase of glory. How comfortless, how desperate should be our lying down, if it were not for this assurance of rising? And now, behold, lest our weak faith should stagger at the assent to so great a difficulty, he hath already, by what he hath done, given us tastes of what he will do. The power that can raise one man, can raise a thousand, a million, a world: no power can raise one man, but that which is infinite; and that which is infinite admits of no limitation. Under the Old Testament God raised one by Elias, another by Elisha living, a third by Elisha dead: By the hand of the Mediator of the New Testament he raised here the son of the Widow, the daughter of Jairus, Lazarus, and, in attendance of his own Resurrection, he made a gaol-delivery of holy prisoners at Jerusalem. He raises the daughter of Jairus from her bed, this Widow's son from his Coffin, Lazarus from his grave, the dead Saints of Jerusalem from their rottenness; that it might appear no degree of death can hinder the efficacy of his overruling command. He that keeps the keys of Death cannot only make way for himself through the common Hall and outer-rooms, but through the inwardest and most reserved closerts of darkness.  
Methinks I see this young man, who was thus miraculously awaked from his deadly sleep, wiping and rubbing those eyes that had been shut up in death; and descending from the Bier, wrapping his winding-sheet about his loins, cast himself down in a passionate thankfulness at the feet of his Almighty restorer, adoring that Divine power which had commanded his Soul back again to her forsaken lodging: and though I hear not what he said, yet I dare say they were words of praise and wonder which his returned Soul first uttered. It was the mother whom our Saviour pitied in this act, not the son; (who now forced from his quiet rest, must twice pass through the gates of death.) As for her sake therefore he was raised, so to her hands was he delivered; that she might acknowledge that soul given to her, not to the possessor. Who cannot feel the amazement and ecstasy of joy that was in this revived mother, when her son now salutes her from out of another world, and both receives and gives gratulations of his new life? How suddenly were all the tears of that mournful train dried up with a joyful astonishment? How soon is that funeral banquet turned into a new Birthday feast? What striving was here to salute the late carcase of their returned neighbour? What awful and admiring looks were cast upon that Lord of life, who seeming homely, was approved Omnipotent? How gladly did every tongue celebrate both the work and the Author? A great Prophet is raised up amongst us, and God hath visited his people. A Prophet was the highest name they could find for him, whom they saw like themselves in shape, above themselves in power. They were not yet acquainted with God manifested in the flesh. This Miracle might well have assured them of more than a Prophet: but he that raised the dead man from the Bier, would not suddenly raise these dead hearts from the grave of Infidelity. They shall see reason enough to know that the Prophet who was raised up to them was the God that now visited them, and at last should do as much for them as he had done for the young man, raise them from death to life, from dust to glory.   

The Ruler's Son cured.  
THe bounty of God so exceedeth man's, that there is a contrariety in the exercise of it: We shut our hands because we opened them; God therefore opens his because he hath opened them. God's mercies are as comfortable in their issue as in themselves. Seldom ever do blessings go alone: where our Saviour supplied the Bridegroom's wine, there he heals the Ruler's son. He had not in all these coasts of Galilee done any Miracle but here. To him that hath shall be given.  
We do not find Christ oft attended with Nobility: here he is. It was some great Peer, or some noted Courtier that was now a suitor to him for his dying son. Earthly Greatness is no defence against Afflictions. We men forbear the Mighty: Disease and Death know no faces of Lords or Monarches. Could these be bribed, they would be too rich. Why should we grudge not to be privileged, when we see there is no spare of the greatest?  
This Noble Ruler listens after Christ's return into Galilee. The most eminent amongst men will be glad to hearken after Christ in their necessity. Happy was it for him that his son was sick; he had not else been acquainted with his Saviour, his Soul had continued sick of ignorance and unbelief. Why else doth our good God send us pain, losses, opposition, but that he may be sought to? Are we afflicted? whither should we go but to Cana to seek Christ? whither but to the Cana of Heaven, where our water of sorrow is turned to the wine of gladness, to that omnipotent Physician who healeth all our infirmities; that we may once say, It is good for me that I was afflicted?  
It was about a day's journey from Capernaum to Cana: Thence hither did this Courtier come for the cure of his son's Fever. What pains even the greatest can be content to take for bodily health? No way is long, no labour tedious to the desirous. Our Souls are sick of a spiritual Fever, labouring under the cold fit of Infidelity, and the hot fit of Self-love; and we sit still at home, and see them languish unto death.  
This Ruler was neither faithless nor faithful. Had he been quite faithless, he had not taken such pains to come to Christ. Had he been faithful, he had not made this suit to Christ when he was come, Come down, and heal my son ere he die.  
Come down? as if Christ could not have cured him absent. Ere he die? as if that power could not have raised him being dead. How much difference was here betwixt the Centurion and the Ruler? That came for his Servant, this for his Son. This son was not more above the servant, than the Faith which sued for the servant surpassed that which sued for the son. The one can say, Master, come not under my roof, for I am not worthy; only speak the word, and my servant shall be whole. The other can say, Master, either come under my roof, or my son cannot be whole. Heal my son had been a good suit; for Christ is the only Physician for all diseases: but, Come down and heal him, was to teach God how to work.  
It is good reason that he should challenge the right of prescribing to us, who are every way his own: it is presumption in us to stint him unto our forms. An expert workman cannot abide to be taught by a novice; how much less shall the alwise God endure to be directed by his creature? This is more than if the Patient should take upon him to give a Recipe to the Physician. That God would give us grace is a beseeming suit: but to say, Give it me by prosperity, is a saucy motion.  
As there is faithfulness in desiring the End; so modesty and patience in referring the Means to the author. In spiritual things God hath acquainted us with the means whereby he will work, even his own Sacred Ordinances. Upon these, because they have his own promise, we may call absolutely for a Blessing: In all others there is no reason that beggars should be choosers. He who doth whatsoever he will, must do it how he will. It is for us to receive, not to appoint.  
He who came to complain of his son's sickness, hears of his own; Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe. This Nobleman was (as is like) of Capernaum: There had Christ often preached; there was one of his chief residencies. Either this man had heard our Saviour oft, or might have done: yet because Christ's Miracles came to him only by hear-say (for as yet we find none at all wrought where he preached most) therefore the man believes not enough; but so speaks to Christ as to some ordinary Physician, Come down and heal. It was the common disease of the Jews, Incredulity; which no receipt could heal but Wonders. A wicked and adulterous generation seeks signs. Had they not been wilfully graceless, there was already proof enough of the Messias: the miraculous conception and life of the Forerunner, zachary's dumbness, the attestation of Angels, the apparition of the Star, the journey of the Sages, the vision of the Shepherds, the testimonies of Anna and Simeon, the Prophecies fulfilled, the Voice from Heaven at his Baptism, the Divine words that he spoke; and yet they must have all made up with Miracles: which though he be not unwilling to give at his own times, yet he thinks much to be tied unto at theirs. Not to believe without signs, was a sign of stubborn hearts.  
It was a foul fault and a dangerous one, Ye will not believe. What is it that shall condemn the world but unbelief? What can condemn us without it? No sin can condemn the repentant. Repentance is a fruit of Faith: where true Faith is then, there can be no condemnation; as there can be nothing but condemnation without it. How much more foul in a noble Capernaite, that had heard the Sermons of so Divine a Teacher? The greater light we have, the more shame it is for us to stumble.  
Oh what shall become of us that reel and fall in the clearest Sunshine that ever looked forth upon any Church? Be merciful to our sins, O God, and say any thing of us rather then, Ye will not believe.  
Our Saviour tells him of his unbelief. He feels not himself sick of that disease: All his mind is on his dying son. As easily do we complain of bodily griefs, as we are hardly affected with spiritual. Oh the meekness and mercy of this Lamb of God When we would have looked that he should have punished this suitor for not believing, he condescends to him that he may believe: Go thy way, thy son liveth. If we should measure our hopes by our own worthiness, there were no expectation of blessings: but if we shall measure them by his bounty and compassion, there can be no doubt of prevailing. As some tender mother that gives the breast to her unquiet child in stead of the rod, so deals he with our perversnesses.  
How God differences men according to no other conditions then of their Faith! The Centurion's servant was sick, the Ruler's son. The Centurion doth not sue unto Christ to come; only says, My servant is sick of a Palsy: Christ answers him, I will come and heal him. The Ruler sues unto Christ that he would come and heal his son: Christ will not go; only says, Go thy way, thy Son lives. Outward things carry no respect with God. The Image of that Divine Majesty shining inwardly in the Graces of the Soul is that which wins love from him in the meanest estate. The Centurion's Faith therefore could do more than the Ruler's Greatness; and that faithful man's servant hath more regard than this great man's son.  
The Ruler's request was, Come and heal: Christ's answer was, Go thy way, thy Son lives. Our merciful Saviour meets those in the end whom he crosses in the way. How sweetly doth he correct our prayers, and whiles he doth not give us what we ask, gives us better than we asked!  
Justly doth he forbear to go down with this Ruler, lest he should confirm him in an opinion of measuring his power by conceits of locality and distance: but he doth that in absence for which his presence was required with a repulse, Thy Son liveth; giving a greater demonstration of his Omnipotency then was craved. How oft doth he not hear to our will, that he may hear us to our advantage? The chosen Vessel would be rid of Tentations, he hears of a supply of Grace: The sick man asks Release, receives Patience; Life, and receives Glory. Let us ask what we think best: let him give what he knows best.  
With one word doth Christ heal two Patients, the son and the father; the son's Fever, the father's Unbelief. That operative word of our Saviour was not without the intention of a trial. Had not the Ruler gone home satisfied with that intimation of his son's life and recovery, neither of them had been blessed with success. Now the news of performance meets him one half of the way: and he that believed somewhat ere he came, and more when he went, grew to more faith in the way; and when he came home, enlarged his faith to all the skirts of his family. A weak faith may be true; but a true faith is growing. He that boasts of a full stature in the first moment of his assent, may presume, but doth not believe.  
Great men cannot want Clients; their Example sways some, their Authority more: they cannot go to either of the other world's alone. In vain do they pretend power over others, who labour not to draw their Families unto God.   

The Dumb Devil ejected.  
THat the Prince of our Peace might approve his victories perfect, wheresoever he met with the Prince of Darkness he foiled him, he ejected him. He found him in Heaven; thence did he throw him headlong; and verified his Prophet, I have cast thee out of mine holy mountain. And if the Devils left their first habitation, it was because (being Devils) they could not keep it. Their estate indeed they might have kept, and did not; their habitation they would have kept, and might not. How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer? He found him in the heart of man; (for in that closet of God did the evil spirit after his exile from Heaven shroud himself: Sin gave him possession, which he kept with a willing violence) thence he casts him by his Word and Spirit. He found him tyrannising in the bodies of some possessed men, and with power commands the unclean spirits to depart.  
This act is for no hand but his. When a strong man keeps possession, none but a stronger can remove him. In voluntary things the strongest may yield to the weakest, Samson to a Dalilah; but in violent, ever the mightiest carries it. A spiritual nature must needs be in rank above a bodily: neither can any power be above a Spirit, but the God of Spirits.  
No otherwise is it in the mental possession, Wherever sin is, there Satan is: as on the contrary, whosoever is born of God, the seed of God remains in him. That Evil one not only is, but rules in the sons of disobedience: in vain shall we try to eject him, but by the Divine power of the Redeemer. For this cause the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the Devil. Do we find ourselves haunted with the familiar Devils of Pride, Self-love, Sensual desires, Unbelief? None but thou, O Son of the everliving God, can free our bosoms of these hellish guests. Oh cleanse thou me from my secret sins, and keep me that presumptuous sins prevail not over me. O Saviour, it is no Paradox to say, that thou castest out more Devils now then thou didst whiles thou wert upon earth. It was thy word, When I am lifted up, I will draw all men unto me. Satan weighs down at the feet; thou pullest at the head, yea at the heart. In every conversion which thou workest, there is a dispossession. Convert me, O Lord, and I shall be converted. I know thy means are now no other than ordinary. If we expect to be dispossessed by miracle, it would be a miracle if ever we were dispossessed. Oh let thy Gospel have the perfect work in me; so only shall I be delivered from the powers of darkness.  
Nothing can be said to be dumb, but what naturally speaks: nothing can speak naturally, but what hath the instruments of speech; which because spirits want, they can no otherwise speak vocally then as they take voices to themselves, in taking bodies. This Devil was not therefore dumb in his nature, but in his effect. The man was dumb by the operation of that Devil which possessed him: and now the action is attributed to the spirit which was subjectively in the man. It is not you that speak, faith our Saviour, but the spirit of your Father that speaketh in you.  
As it is in bodily Diseases, that they do not infect us alike; some seize upon the humours, others upon the spirits; some assault the brain, others the heart or lungs: so in bodily and spiritual possessions; in some the evil spirit takes away their senses, in some their limbs, in some their inward faculties; like as spiritually they affect to move us unto several sins, one to lust, another to covetousness, or ambition, another to cruelty: and their names have distinguished them according to these various effects. This was a dumb Devil: which yet had possessed not the tongue only of this man, but his ear; not that only, but (as it seems) his eyes too.  
O subtle and tyrannous spirit, that obstructs all ways to the Soul, that keeps out all means of Grace both from the door and windows of the heart; yea that stops up all passages whether of ingress or egress: of ingress at the eye or ear, of egress at the mouth, that there might be no capacity of redress!  
What holy use is there of our tongue but to praise our Maker, to confess our sins, to inform our brethren? How rife is this Dumb Devil every where, whiles he stops the mouths of Christians from these useful and necessary duties?  
For what end hath man those two privileges above his fellow-creatures, Reason and Speech, but that as by the one he may conceive of the great works of his Maker, which the rest cannot, so by the other he may express what he conceives to the honour of the Creator both of them and himself? And why are all other creatures said to praise God, and bidden to praise him, but because they do it by the apprehension, by the expression of man? If the Heavens declare the glory of God, how do they it but to the eyes, and by the tongue of that man for whom they were made? It is no small honour whereof the envious spirit shall rob his Maker, if he can close up the mouth of his only rational and vocal creature, and turn the best of his workmanship into a dumb Idol, that hath a mouth and speaks not. Lord, open thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth thy praise.  
Praise is not more necessary than complaint; praise of God, than complaint of ourselves, whether to God or men. The only amends we can make to God, when we have not had the grace to avoid sin, is to confess the sin we have not avoided. This is the sponge that wipes out all the blots and blurs of our lives. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  
That cunning manslayer knows there is no way to purge the sick soul but upward, by casting out the vicious humour wherewith it is clogged; and therefore holds the lips close, that the heart may not disburden itself by so wholesome evacuation. When I kept silence, my bones consumed: For day and night thy hand, O Lord, was heavy upon me; my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. O let me confess against myself my wickedness unto thee, that thou mayst forgive the punishment of my sin.  
We have a tongue for God, when we praise him; for ourselves, when we pray and confess; for our brethren, when we speak the truth for their information; which if we hold back in unrighteousness, we yield unto that dumb Devil. Where do we not see that accursed spirit? He is on the Bench, when the mute or partial Judge speaks not for truth and innocence. He is in the Pulpit, when the Prophets of God smother, or halve, or adulterate the message of their Master. He is at the Bar, when irreligious Jurours dare lend an oath to fear, to hope, to gain. He is in the Market, when godless chapmen for their penny sell the truth and their soul. He is in the common conversation of men, when the tongue belies the heart, flatters the guilty, balketh reproofs even in the foulest crimes. O thou who only art stronger than that strong one, cast him out of the hearts and mouths of men. It is time for thee, Lord, to work, for they have destroyed thy Law.  
That it might well appear this impediment was not natural; so soon as the man is freed from the spirit, his tongue is free to his speech. The effects of spirits as they are wrought, so they cease at once. If the Son of God do but remove our spiritual possession, we shall presently break forth into the praise of God, into the confession of our vileness, into the profession of truth.  
But what strange variety do I see in the spectators of his Miracle, some wondering, others censuring, a third sort tempting, a fourth applauding? There was never man or action but was subject to variety of constructions. What man could be so holy as he that was God? What act could be more worthy than the dispossessing of an evil spirit? Yet this man, this act passeth these differences of interpretation. What can we do to undergo but one opinion? If we give alms and fast, some will magnify our charity and devotion, others will tax our hypocrisy: If we give not, some will condemn our hardheartedness, others will allow our care of justice. If we preach plainly, to some it will favour of a careless slubbering, to others oft a mortified sincerity; elaborately, some will tax our affectation, others will applaud our diligence in dressing the delicate viands of God. What marvel is it if it be thus with our imperfection, when it fared not otherwise with him that was Purity and Righteousness itself? The austere forerunner of Christ came neither eating nor drinking; they say, He hath a Devil: The Son of man came eating and drinking; they say, This man is a glutton, a friend of Publicans and sinners: and here one of his holy acts carries away at once wonder, censure, doubt, celebration. There is no way safe for a man but to square his actions by the right rule of justice, of charity; and then let the world have leave to spend their glosses at pleasure. It was an heroical resolution of the chosen vessel, I pass very little to be judged of you, or of man's day.  
I marvel not if the people marvelled; for here were four wonders in one: the blind saw, the deaf heard, the dumb spoke, the Demoniac is delivered. Wonder was due to so rare and powerful a work, and if not this, nothing. We can cast away admiration upon the poor devices or activities of men; how much more upon the extraordinary works of Omnipotency? Whoso knows the frame of Heaven and earth, shall not much be affected with the imperfect effects of frail Humanity; but shall with no less Ravishment of soul acknowledge the miraculous works of the same Almighty hand. Neither is the spiritual ejection worthy of any meaner entertainment. Rarity and difficulty are wont to cause wonder. There are many things which have wonder in their worth, and lose it in their frequency; there are some which have it in their strangeness, and lose it in their facility: Both meet in this. To see men haunted, yea possessed with a dumb Devil, is so frequent, that it is a just wonder to find a man free: but to find the dumb spirit cast out of a man, and to hear him praising God, confessing his sins, teaching others the sweet experiments of mercy, deserves just admiration. If the Cynic sought in the market for a man amongst men, well may we seek amongst men for a Convert. Neither is the difficulty less than the rareness. The strong man hath the possession; all passages are blocked up, all helps barred, by the treachery of our nature. If any soul be rescued from these spiritual wickednesses, it is the praise of him that doth wonders alone.  
But whom do I see wondering? The multitude. The unlearned beholders follow that act with wonder, which the learned Scribes entertain with obloquy. God hath revealed those things to babes which he hath hid from the wise and prudent. With what scorn did those great Rabbins speak of these sons of the earth, This people that knows not the Law is accursed? Yet the Mercy of God makes an advantage of their simplicity; in that they are therefore less subject to cavillation and incredulity: as contrarily, his Justice causes the proud knowledge of others to lie as a block in their way to the ready assent unto the Divine power of the Messias. Let the pride of glorious adversaries disdain the poverty of the clients of the Gospel: it shall not repent us to go to Heaven with the vulgar, whiles their great ones go in state to perdition.  
The multitude wondered. Who censured but Scribes, great Doctors of the Law, of the divinity of the Jews? What Scribes but those of Jerusalem, the most eminent Academy of Judaea? These were the men who out of their deep reputed judgement cast these foul aspersions upon Christ. Great wits ofttimes misled both the owners and followers. How many shall once wish they had been born dullards, yea idiots, when they shall find their wit to have barred them out of Heaven? Where is the Scribe? where is the disputer of this world? Hath not God made the wisdom of the world foolishness? Say the world what it will, a dram of holiness is worth a pound of wit. Let others censure with the Scribes: let me wonder with the multitude.  
What could malice say worse? He casteth out Devils through Beelzebub the Prince of Devils. The Jews well knew that the Gods of the heathen were no other than Devils; amongst whom for that the Lord of Flies (so called, whether for the concourse of flies to the abundance of his sacrifices, or for his aid implored against the infestation of those swarms) was held the chief, therefore they style him The Prince of Devils. There is a subordination of spirits, some higher in degree, some inferior to others. Our Saviour himself tells us of the Devil and his Angels. Messengers are inferior to those that send them. The seven Devils that entered into the swept and garnished house, were worse than the former. Neither can Principalities, and Powers, and Governors, and Princes of the darkness of this World, design others then several ranks of evil Angels. There can be no being without some kind of order; there can be no order in parity. If we look up into Heaven, there is The King of Gods, The Lord of Lords; higher than the highest. If to the earth, there are Monarches, Kings, Princes, Peers, people. If we look down to Hell, there is the Prince of Devils. They labour for Confusion that call for Parity. What should the Church do with such a for me as is not exempliied in Heaven, in Earth, in Hell?  
One Devil (according to their supposition) may be used to cast out another. How far the command of one spirit over another may extend, it is a secret of infernal state, too deep for the inquiry of men. The thing itself is apparent; upon compact and precontracted composition, one gives way to other for the common advantage. As we see in the Commonwealth of Cheaters and Cutpurses, one doth the fact, another is feed to bring it out and to procure restitution: both are of the trade, both conspire to the fraud; the actor falls not out with the revealer, but divides with him that cunning spoil.  
One malicious miscreant sets the Devil on work to the inflicting of disease or death; another upon agreement, for a further spiritual gain, takes him off: There is a Devil in both. And if there seem more bodily favour, there is no less spiritual danger in the latter: In the one Satan wins the agent, the suitor in the other. It will be no cause of discord in Hell, that one Devil gives ease to the body which another tormented, that both may triumph in the gain of a Soul. Oh God, that any creature which bears thine Image should not abhor to be beholding to the powers of Hell for aid, for advice! Is is not because there is not a God in Israel, that men go to inquire of the God of Ekron? Can men be so sottish to think that the vowed enemy of their Souls can offer them a bait without an hook? What evil is there in the City which the Lord hath not done? what is there which he cannot as easily redress? He wounds, he heals again. And if he will not, It is the Lord, let him do what seems good in his eyes. If he do not deliver us, he will crown our faithfulness in a patient perseverance. The wounds of God are better than the salves of Satan.  
Was it possible that the wit of Envy could devise so high a slander? Beelzebub was a God of the heathen, therefore herein they accuse him for an Idolater: Beelzebub was a Devil to the Jews, therefore they accuse him for a conjurer: Beelzebub was the chief of Devils, therefore they accuse him for on Arch-exorcist, for the worst kind of Magician. Some professors of this black Art, though their work be devilish, yet they pretend to do it in the name of Jesus, and will presumptuously seem to do that by command which is secretly transacted by agreement. The Scribes accuse Christ of a direct compact with the Devil, and suppose both a league and familiarity, which by the Law of Moses (in the very hand of a Saul) was no other than deadly. Yea so deep doth this wound reach, that our Saviour searching it to the bottom, finds no less in it then the sin against the Holy Ghost; inferring hereupon that dreadful sentence of the irremissibleness of that sin unto death. And if this horrible crimination were cast upon thee, O Saviour, in whom the Prince of this world found nothing, what wonder is it if we thy sinful servants be branded on all sides with evil tongues?  
Yea (which is yet more) how plain is it that these men forced their tongue to speak this slander against their own heart? Else this Blasphemy had been only against the Son of man, not against the Holy Ghost: but now that the searcher of hearts finds it to be no less then against the Blessed Spirit of God, the spite must needs be obstinate; their malice doth wilfully cross their conscience. Envy never regards how true, but how mischievous: So it may gall or kill, it cares little whether with truth or falsehood. For us, Blessed are we when men revile us, and say all manner of evil of us, for the name of christ. For them, What reward shall be given to thee, thou false tongue? Even sharp arrows with hot burning coals; yea those very coals of hell from which thou wert enkindled.  
There was yet a third sort that went a midway betwixt wonder and censure. These were not so malicious as to impute the miracle to a Satanical operation; they confess it good, but not enough; and therefore urge Christ to a further proof: Though thou hast cast out this dumb Devil, yet this is no sufficient argument of thy Divine power. We have yet seen nothing from thee like those ancient Miracles of the times of our forefathers. Joshuah caused the Sun to stand still; Elias brought fire down from heaven; Samuel astonished the people with thunder and rain in the midst of harvest: If thou wouldst command our belief, do somewhat like to these. The casting out of a Devil shows thee to have some power over Hell; show us now that thou hast no less power over Heaven. There is a kind of unreasonableness of desire and insatiableness in infidelity; it never knows when it hath evidence enough. This which the Jews overlooked, was a more irrefragable demonstration of Divinity than that which they desired. A Devil was more than a Meteor, or a parcel of an element; to cast out a Devil by command, more than to command fire from Heaven. Infidelity ever loves to be her own carver.  
No son can be more like a father then these Jews to their progenitors in the desert: that there might be no fear of degenerating into good, they also of old tempted God in the Wilderness. First, they are weary of the Egyptian bondage, and are ready to fall out with God and Moses for their stay in those fornaces. By ten miraculous Plagues they are freed: and going out of those confines, the Egyptians follow them; the Sea is before them: now they are more afflicted with their liberty then their servitude. The Sea yields way, the Egyptians are drowned: and now that they are safe on the other shore, they tempt the Providence of God for water. The Rock yields it them: then, no less for bread and meat. God sends them Manna and Quails: they cry out of the food of Angels. Their present enemies in the way are vanquished: they whine at the men of measures in the heart of Canaan. Nothing from God but Mercy; nothing from them but Temptations.  
Their true brood both in nature and in sin had abundant proofs of the Messiah; if curing the blind, lame, diseased, deaf, dumb, ejecting Devils, overruling the elements, raising the dead, could have been sufficient: yet still they must have a sign from Heaven, and shut up in the stile of the Tempter, If thou be the Christ. The gracious heart is credulous: Even where it sees not, it believes; and where it sees but a little, it believes a great deal. Neither doth it presume to prescribe unto God what and how he shall work, but takes what it finds, and unmovably rests in what it takes. Any miracle, no miracle serves enough for their assent who have built their Faith upon the Gospel of the Lord Jesus.   

Matthew called.  
THE number of the Apostles was not yet full: One room is left void for a future occupant. Who can but expect that it is reserved for some eminent person? and behold Matthew the Publican is the man. Oh the strange election of Christ! Those other Disciples whose calling is recorded, were from the Fisherboat; this from the Toll-booth: They were unlettered, this infamous. The condition was not in itself sinful: but as the Taxes which the Romans imposed on God's free people were odious, so the Collectors, the Farmers of them abominable. Besides that it was hard to hold that seat without oppression, without exaction. One that best knew it branded it with poling and sycophancy. And now behold a griping Publican called to the Family, to the Apostleship, to the Secretaryship of God. Who can despair in the conscience of his unworthiness, when he sees this pattern of the free bounty of him that calleth us? Merits do not carry it in the gracious election of God, but his mere favour. There sat Matthew the Publican busy in his Countinghouse, reckoning up the sums of his Rentals, taking up his arrearages, and wrangling for denied duties, and did so little think of a Saviour, that he did not so much as look at his passage: but Jesus, as he passed by, saw a man sitting at the receipt of custom, named Matthew. As if this prospect had been sudden and casual, Jesus saw him in passing by. O Saviour, before the world was thou sawest that man sitting there; thou sawest thine own passage; thou sawest his call in thy passage: and now thou goest purposely that way that thou mightest see and call. Nothing can be hid from that piercing eye, one glance whereof hath discerned a Disciple in the clothes of a Publican. That habit, that shop of extortion cannot conceal from thee a vessel of election. In all forms thou knowest thine own; and in thine own time shalt fetch them out of the disguises of their soul sins or unfit conditions. What sawest thou, O Saviour, in that Publican that might either allure thine eye, or not offend it? What but an hateful trade, an evil eye, a gripple hand, bloody tables, heaps of spoil? Yet now thou saidst, Follow me. Thou that saidst once to Jerusalem, Thy birth and nativity is of the land of Canaan: Thy father was an Amorite, thy mother an Hittite: Thy navel was not cut, neither wert thou washed in water to supple thee; thou wast not salted at all, thou wast not swaddled at all: None eye pitied thee, but thou wast cast out in the open fields, to the loathing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born. And when I Passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee, Live, yea, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live: Now also, when thou passedst by, and sawest Matthew sitting at the receipt of custom, saidst to him, Follow me. The life of this Publican was so much worse than the birth of that forlorn Amorite, as Follow me was more than Live. What canst thou see in us, O God, but ugly deformities, horrible sins, despicable miseries? yet doth it please thy mercy to say unto us, both Live, and, Follow me.  
The just man is the first accuser of himself: whom do we hear to blazon the shame of Matthew but his own mouth? Matthew the Evangelist tells us of Matthew the Publican. His fellows call him Levi, as willing to lay their finger upon the spot of his unpleasing profession: himself will not smother nor blanche it a whit, but publishes it to all the world in a thankful recognition of the mercy that called him; as liking well that his baseness should serve for a fit foil to set off the glorious lustre of his Grace by whom he was elected. What matters it how vile we are, O God, so thy glory may arise in our abasement?  
That word was enough, Follow me; spoken by the same tongue that said to the corpse at Nain, Young man, I say to thee, Arise. He that said at first, Let there be light, says now, Follow me. That power sweetly inclines which could forcibly command: the force is not more unresistible than the inclination. When the Sun shines upon the Iceicles, can they choose but melt and fall? When it looks into a dungeon, can the place choose but be enlightened? Do we see the Jet drawing up straws to it, the Loadstone iron, and do we marvel if the Omnipotent Saviour, by the influence of his Grace, attract the heart of a Publican? He arose and followed him. We are all naturally averse from thee, O God: do thou but bid us Follow thee, draw us by thy powerful word, and we shall run after thee. Alas! thou speakest, and we sit still: thou speakest by thine outward Word to our ear, and we stir not. Speak thou by the secret and effectual word of thy Spirit to our heart; the world cannot hold us down, Satan cannot stop our way, we shall arise and follow thee.  
It was not a more busy than gainful trade that Matthew abandoned to follow Christ into poverty: and now he cast away his Counters, and struck his Tallies, and crossed his books, and contemned his heaps of cash in comparison of that better treasure which he foresaw lie open in that happy attendance. If any commodity be valued of us too dear to be parted with for Christ, we are more fit to be Publicans than Disciples. Our Saviour invites Matthew to a Discipleship; Matthew invites him to a Feast. The joy of his call makes him begin his abdication of the world in a banquet.  
Here was not a more cheerful thankfulness in the inviter, than a gracious humility in the guest. The new servant bids his Master, the Publican his Saviour; and is honoured with so blessed a presence. I do not find where Jesus was ever bidden to any table and refused. If a Pharisee, if a Publican invited him, he made not dainty to go. Not for the pleasure of the dishes; what was that to him, who began his work in a whole Lent of days? But (as it was his meat and drink to do the will of his Father) for the benefit of so winning a conversation. If he sat with sinners, he converted them; if with converts, he confirmed and instructed them; if with the poor, he fed them; if with the rich in substance, he made them richer in grace. At whose board did he ever sit, and left not his host a gainer? The poor Bridegroom entertains him, and hath his water-pots filled with Wine. Simon the Pharisee entertains him, and hath his table honoured with the public remission of a penitent sinner, with the heavenly doctrine of remission. Zachaeus entertains him; Salvation came that day to his house, with the Author of it. That presence made the Publican a Son of Abraham. Matthew is recompensed for his feast with an Apostleship. Martha and Mary entertain him, and besides Divine instruction receive their Brother from the dead. O Saviour, whether thou feast us or we feast thee, in both of them is Blessedness.  
Where a Publican is the Feast-master, it is no marvel if the guests be Publicans and sinners. Whether they came alone out of the hope of that mercy which they saw their fellow had found; or whether Matthew invited them to be partners of that plentiful grace whereof he had tasted, I inquire not. Publicans and sinners will flock together; the one hateful for their trade, the other for their vicious life. Common contempt hath wrought them to an unanimity, and sends them to seek mutual comfort in that society which all others held loathsome and contagious. Moderate correction humbleth and shameth the offender: whereas a cruel severity makes men desperate, and drives them to those courses whereby they are more dangerously infected. How many have gone into the prison faulty, and returned flagitious? If Publicans were not sinners, they were no whit beholden to their neighbours.  
What a tablefull was here? The Son of God beset with Publicans and sinners. O happy Publicans and sinners, that had found out their Saviour! O merciful Saviour, that disdained not Publicans and sinners!  
What sinner can fear to kneel before thee, when he sees Publicans and sinners sit with thee? Who can fear to be despised of thy meekness and mercy, which didst not abhor to converse with the outcasts of men? Thou didst not despise the Thief confessing upon the Cross, nor the sinner weeping upon thy feet, nor the Canaanite crying to thee in the way, nor the blushing Adulteress, nor the odious Publican, nor the forswearing Disciple, nor the persecutor of Disciples, nor thine own executioners: how can we be unwelcome to thee, if we come with tears in our eyes, faith in our hearts, restitution in our hands? O Saviour, our breasts are too oft shut upon thee; thy bosom is ever open to us. We are as great sinners as the consorts of these Publicans; why should we despair of a room at thy Table?  
The squint-eyed Pharisees look across at all the actions of Christ: where they should have admired his Mercy, they cavil at his Holinesle; They said to his Disciples, Why eateth your Master with Publicans and sinners? They durst not say thus to the Master, whose answer (they knew) would soon have convinced them: This wind (they hoped) might shake the weak faith of the Disciples. They speak where they may be most likely to hurt. All the crew of Satanical instruments have learned this craft of their old Tutor in Paradise. We cannot reverence that man whom we think unholy. Christ had lost the hearts of his followers, if they had entertained the least suspicion of his impurity; which the murmur of these envious Pharisees. would fain insinuate: He cannot be worthy to be followed that is unclean; He cannot but be unclean that eateth with Publicans and sinners. Proud and foolish Pharisees! ye fast whiles Christ eateth; ye fast in your houses whiles Christ eateth in other men's; ye fast with your own while Christ feasts with sinners: but if ye fast in pride, while Christ eats in humility; if ye fast at home for merit or popularity, while Christ feasts with sinners for compassion, for edification, for conversion, your fast is unclean, his feast is holy: ye shall have your portion with hypocrites, when those Publicans and sinners shall be glorious.  
When these censurers thought the Disciples had offended, they speak not to them but to their Master, Why do thy Disciples that which is not lawful? now, when they thought Christ offended, they speak not to him, but to the Disciples. Thus, like true make-bates, they go about to make a breach in the family of Christ, by setting off the one from the other. The quick eye of our Saviour hath soon espied the pack of their fraud, and therefore he takes the words out of the mouths of his Disciples, into his own. They had spoke of Christ to the Disciples: Christ answers for the Disciples concerning himself, The whole need not the Physician, but the sick. According to the two qualities of pride, scorn and overweening, these insolent Pharisees overrated their own holiness, contemned the noted unholiness of others: As if themselves were not tainted with secret sins, as if others could not be cleansed by repentance. The searcher of hearts meets with their arrogance, and finds those justiciaries sinful, those sinners just. The spiritual Physician finds the sickness of those sinners wholesome, the health of those Pharisees desperate: that wholesome, because it calls for the help of the Physician; this desperate, because it needs not. Every soul is sick; those most that feel it not. Those that feel it, complain; those that complain, have cure: those that feel it not, shall find themselves dying ere they can wish to recover. O blessed Physician, by Whose stripes we are healed, by whose death we live, happy are they that are under thy hands, sick, as of sin, so of sorrow for sin. It is as impossible they should die, as it is impossible for thee to want either skill, or power, or mercy. Sin hath made us sick unto death: make thou us but as sick of our sins, we are as safe as thou art gracious.   

Christ among the Gergesens; or Legion, and the Gadarene Herd.  
I Do not any where find so furious a Demoniac as amongst the Gergesens: Satan is most tyrannous where he is obeyed most, Christ no sooner sailed over the lake, than he was met with two possessed Gadarenes: The extreme rage of the one hath drowned the mention of the other. Yet in the midst of all that cruelty of the evil spirit, there was sometimes a remission, if not an intermission of vexation. If ofttimes Satan caught him, than sometimes in the same violence he caught him not. It was no thank to that malignant one, who as he was indefatigable in his executions, so unmeasurable in his malice; but to the merciful overruling of God, who in a gracious respect to the weakness of his poor creatures, limits the spiteful attempts of that immortal enemy, and takes off this Mastive, whiles we may take breath. He who in his justice gives way to some onsets of Satan, in his mercy restrains them: so regarding our deservings, that withal he regards our strength. If way should be given to that malicious spirit, we could not subsist: no violent thing can endure; and if Satan might have his will, we should no moment be free. He can be no more weary of doing evil to us, than God is of doing good. Are we therefore preserved from the malignity of these powers of darkness? Blessed be our strong Helper, that hath not given us over to be a prey unto their teeth. Or if some scope have been given to that envious one to afflict us, hath it been with favourable limitations, it is thine only mercy, O God, that hath chained and muzzled up this band-dog, so as that he may scratch us with his paws, but cannot pierce us with his fangs. Far, far is this from our deserts, who had too well merited a just abdication from thy favour and protection, and an interminable seizure by Satan both in soul and body.  
Neither do I here see more matter of thanks to our God, for our immunity from the external injuries of Satan, than occasion of serious inquiry into his power over us for the spiritual. I see some that think themselves safe from this ghostly tyranny, because they sometimes find themselves in good moods, free from the suggestions of gross sins, much more from the commission. Vain men, that feed themselves with so false and frivolous comforts! will they not see Satan, through the just permission of God, the same to the Soul in mental possessions, that he is to the body in corporal? The worst Demoniac hath his lightsome respites; not ever tortured, not ever furious: betwixt whiles he might look soberly, talk sensibly, move regularly. It is a woeful comfort that we sin not always. There is no Master so barbarous as to require of his Slave a perpetual unintermitted toil; yet, though he sometimes eat, sleep, rest, he is a vassal still. If that Wicked one have drawn us to a customary perpetration of evil, and have wrought us to a frequent iteration of the same sin, this is gage enough for our servitude, matter enough for his tyranny and insultation. He that would be our Tormenter always, cares only to be sometimes our Tempter.  
The possessed is bound, as with the invisible fetters of Satan, so with the material chains of the inhabitants. What can bodily forces prevail against a spirit? Yet they endeavour this restraint of the man, whether out of charity or justice: Charity, that he might not hurt himself; Justice, that he might not hurt others. None do so much befriend the Demoniac as those that bind him. Neither may the spiritually possessed be otherwise handled: for though this act of the enemy be plausible, and to appearance pleasant, yet there is more danger in this dear and smiling tyranny. Two sorts of chains are fit for outrageous sinners; good laws, unpartial executions; That they may not hurt, that they may not be hurt to eternal death.  
These iron chains are no sooner fast then broken. There was more than an humane power in this disruption. It is not hard to conceive the utmost of Nature in this kind of actions. Samson doth not break the cords and ropes like a thread of tow, but God by Samson. The man doth not break these chains, but the Spirit. How strong is the arm of these evil angels! how far transcending the ordinary course of Nature! They are not called Powers for nothing. What flesh & blood could but tremble at the palpable inequality of this match! if herein the merciful protection of our God did not the rather magnify itself, that so much strength met with so much malice hath not prevailed against us. In spite of both we are in safe hands. He that so easily broke the iron fetters, can never break the adamantine chain of our Faith. In vain do the chafing billows of Hell beat upon that Rock whereon we are built. And though these brittle chains of earthly metal be easily broken by him, yet the sure-tempered chain of God's eternal Decree he can never break: that Almighty Arbiter of Heaven and Earth and Hell hath chained him up in the bottomless pit, and hath so restrained his malice, that (but for our good) we cannot be tempted; we cannot be foiled, but for a glorious victory.  
Alas! it is no otherwise with the spiritually possessed. The chains of restraint are commonly broken by the fury of wickedness. What are the respects of civility, fear of God, fear of men, wholesome laws, careful executions, to the desperately licentious, but as cobwebs to an hornet? Let these wild Demoniacs know that God hath provided chains for them that will hold, even everlasting chains under darkness. These are such as must hold the Devils themselves (their masters) unto the judgement of the great Day; how much more those impotent vassals? Oh that men would suffer themselves to be bound to their good behaviour, by the sweet and easy recognizances of their duty to their God, and the care of their own Souls, that so they might rather be bound up in the bundle of life.  
It was not for rest that these chains were torn off, but for more motion. This prisoner runs away from his friends, he cannot run away from his Jailor. He is now carried into the Wilderness; not by mere external force, but by internal impulsion: carried by the same power that unbound him, for the opportunity of his Tyranny, for the horror of the place, for the affamishment of his body, for the avoidance of all means of resistance. Solitary Deserts are the delights of Satan. It is an unwise zeal that moves us to do that to ourselves in an opinion of merit and holiness, which the Devil wishes to do to us for a punishment, and conveniency of tentation. The evil Spirit is for solitariness: God is for society; He dwells in the assembly of his Saints, yea there he hath a delight to dwell. Why should not we account it our happiness that we may have leave to dwell where the Author of all Happiness loves to dwell?  
There cannot be any misery incident unto us, whereof our gracious Redeemer is not both conscious and sensible. Without any entreaty therefore of the miserable Demoniac, or suit of any friend, the God of spirits takes pity of his distress; and from no motion but his own, commands the evil Spirit to come out of the man. Oh admirable precedent of mercy, preventing our requests, exceeding our thoughts, forcing favours upon our impotence, doing that for us which we should, and yet cannot desire! If men upon our instant solicitations would give us their best aid, it were a just praise of their bounty: but it well became thee, O God of mercy, to go without force, to give without suit. And do we think thy goodness is impaired by thy glory? If thou wert thus commiserative upon earth, art thou less in Heaven? How dost thou now take notice of all our complaints, of all our infirmities? How doth thine infinite pity take order to redress them? What evil can befall us which thou knowest not, feelest not, relievest not? How safe are we that have such a Guardian, such a Mediator in Heaven?  
Not long before had our Saviour commanded the winds and waters, and they could not but obey him: now he speaks in the same language to the evil Spirit: he entreats not, he persuades not; he commands. Command argues Superiority. He only is infinitely stronger than the strong one in possession. Else, where powers are matched, though with some inequality, they tug for the victory, and without resistance yield nothing. There are no fewer sorts of 〈◊〉 with Satan then with men. Some have dealt with him by suit, as the old Satanian heretics, and the present Indian Savages, sacrificing to him that he hurt not: Others by covenant, conditioning their service upon his assistance, as Witches and Magicians: Others by insinuation of implicit compact, as Charmers and Figure-casters: Others by adjuration, as the sons of Scaeva and modern Exorcists, unwarrantably charging him by an higher name than their own. None ever offered to deal with Satan by a direct and primary command but the God of Spirits. The great Archangel, when the strife was about the body of Moses, commanded not, but imprecated rather, The Lord rebuke thee, Satan. It is only the God that made this Spirit an Angel of light, that can command him now that he hath made himself the Prince of darkness. If any created power dare to usurp a word of command, he laughs at their presumption; and knows them his vassals, whom he dissembles to fear as his Lords. It is thou only, O Saviour, at whose beck those stubborn Principalities of Hell yield and tremble. No wicked man can be so much a slave to Satan, as Satan is to thee. The interposition of thy grace may defeat that dominion of Satan: thy rule is absolute, and capable of no let. What need we to fear, whiles we are under so omnipotent a Commander? The waves of the deep rage horribly; yet the Lord is stronger than they. Let those Principalities and Powers do their worst: Those mighty adversaries are under the command of him who loved us so well as to bleed for us. What can we now doubt of? His power, or his will? How can we profess him a God, and doubt of his power? How can we profess him a Saviour, and doubt of his will? He both can and will command those Infernal powers. We are no less safe than they are malicious.  
The Devil saw Jesus by the eyes of the Demoniac: for the same saw that spoke: but it was the ill spirit that said, I besecch thee torment me not. It was sore against his will that he saw so dreadful an object. The overruling power of Christ dragged the soul spirit into his presence. Guiltiness would fain keep out of sight. The limbs of so woeful an head shall once call on the Hills and Rocks to hide them from the face of the Lamb: such Lion-like terror is in that mild face, when it looks upon wickedness. Neither shall it be one day the least part of the torment of the damned, to see the most lovely spectacle that Heaven can afford. He from whom they fled in his offers of Grace, shall be so much more terrible, as he was and is more gracious. I marvel not therefore that the Devil, when he saw Jesus, cried out. I could marvel that he fell down, that he worshipped him. That which the proud spirit would have had Christ to have done to him in his great Duel, the same he now doth unto Christ, fearfully, servilely, forcedly. Who shall henceforth brag of the external homage he performs to the Son of God, when he sees Satan himself fall down and worship? What comfort can there be in that which is common to us with Devils; who as they believe and tremble, so they tremble and worship? The outward bowing is the body of the action; the disposition of the Soul is the soul of it: therein lies the difference from the counterfeit stoop of wicked men and spirits. The religious heart serves the Lord in fear, and rejoices in him with trembling. What it doth is in way of service: In service to his Lord, whose Sovereignty is his comfort and protection: in the fear of a son, not of a slave; in fear tempered with joy; in a joy, but allayed with trembling: whereas the prostration of wicked men and Devils is only an act of form, or of force; as to their Judge, as to their tormentor, not as to their Lord; in mere servility, not in reverence; in an uncomfortable dulness, without all delight; in a perfect horror, without capacity of joy. These worship without thanks, because they fall down without the true affections of worship.  
Whoso marvels to see the Devil upon his knees, would much more marvel to hear what came from his mouth, Jesus, the Son of the most high God. A confession, which if we should hear without the name of the Author, we should ask from what Saint it came. Behold the same name given to Christ by the Devil, which was formerly given him by the Angel, Thou shalt call his name Jesus. That awful name whereat every knee shall bow, in Heaven, in earth and under the earth, is called upon by this prostrate Devil. And lest that should not import enough, (since others have been honoured by this name in Type,) he adds for full distinction, The Son of the most high God. The good Syrophenician and blind Bartimaeus could say, The Son of David. It was well to acknowledge the true descent of his pedigree according to the flesh: but this infernal Spirit looks aloft, and fetcheth his line out of the highest Heavens, The Son of the most high God. The famous confession of the prime Apostle (which honoured him with a new name to immortality,) was no other then, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God: and what other do I hear from the lips of a fiend? None more Divine words could fall from the highest Saint. Nothing hinders but that the veriest miscreant on earth, yea the foulest Devil in Hell, may speak holily. It is no passing of judgement upon loose sentences. So Peter should have been cast for a Satan, in denying, forswearing, cursing; and the Devil should have been set up for a Saint, in confessing Jesus the Son of the most high God. Fond hypocrite, that pleasest thyself in talking well, hear this Devil; and when thou canst speak better than he, look to far better: but in the mean time know, that a smooth tongue and a foul heart carries away double judgements.  
Let curious heads dispute whether the Devil knew Christ to be God. In this I dare believe himself, though in nothing else: he knew what he believed, what he believed that he confessed, Jesus the Son of the most high God. To the confusion of those semi-Christians, that have either held doubtfully, or ignorantly misknown, or blasphemously denied what the very Devils have professed. How little can a bare speculation avail us in these cases of Divinity? So far this Devil hath attained, to no ease, no comfort. Knowledge alone doth but puff up; it is our love that edifies. If there be not a sense of our sure interest in this Jesus, a power to apply his merits and obedience, we are no whit the safer, no whit the better; only we are so much the wiser, to understand who shall condemn us.  
This piece of the clause was spoken like a Saint, Jesus, the Son of the most high God: the other piece like a Devil, What have I to do with thee? If the disclamation were universal, the latter words would impugn the former: for whiles he confesses Jesus to be the Son of the most high God, he withal confesses his own inevitable subjection. Wherefore would he beseech, if he were not obnoxious? He cannot, he dare not say, What hast thou to do with me? but, What have I to do with thee? Others indeed I have vexed, thee I fear. In respect then of any violence, of any personal provocation, What have I to do with thee? And dost thou ask, O thou evil spirit? what hast thou to do with Christ, whiles thou vexest a servant of Christ? Hast thou thy name from knowledge, and yet so mistakest him whom thou confessest, as if nothing could be done to him but what immediately concerns his own person? Hear that great and just Judge sentencing upon his dreadful Tribunal; Inasmuch as thou didst it unto one of these little ones, thou didst it unto me. It is an idle misprision to sever the sense of an injury done to any of the Members from the Head.  
He that had humility enough to kneel to the Son of God, hath boldness enough to expostulate, Art thou come to torment us before our time? Whether it were that Satan, who useth to enjoy the torment of sinners, whose music it is to hear our shrieks and gnash, held it no small piece of his torment to be restrained in the exercise of his tyranny: or whether the very presence of Christ were his rack; for the guilty spirit projecteth terrible things, and cannot behold the Judge or the executioner without a renovation of horror: or whether that (as himself professeth) he were now in a fearful expectation of being commanded down into the deep, for a further degree of actual torment, which he thus deprecates.  
There are tortures appointed to the very spiritual natures of evil Angels. Men that are led by Sense, have easily granted the body subject to torment, who yet have not so readily conceived this incident to a spiritual substance. The Holy Ghost hath not thought it fit to acquaint us with the particular manner of these invisible acts, rather willing that we should herein fear then inquire. But as all matters of Faith, though they cannot be proved by Reason, (for that they are in a higher sphere) yet afford an answer able to stop the mouth of all Reason that dares bark against them, (since truth cannot be opposite to itself;) so this of the sufferings of Spirits. There is therefore both an intentional torment incident to Spirits, and a real. For, as in Blessedness the good Spirits find themselves joined unto the chief good; and hereupon feel a perfect love of God, and unspeakable joy in him, and rest in themselves: so contrarily, the evil Spirits perceive themselves eternally excluded from the presence of God, and see themselves settled in a woeful darkness; and from the sense of this separation arises an horror not to be expressed, not to be conceived. How many men have we known to torment themselves with their own thoughts? There needs no other gibbet then that which their troubled spirit hath erected in their own heart. And if some pains begin at the Body, and from thence afflict the Soul in a copartnership of grief; yet others arise immediately from the Soul, and draw the Body into a participation of misery. Why may we not therefore conceive mere and separate Spirits capable of such an inward excruciation?  
Besides which, I hear the Judge of men and Angels say, Go ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his Angels: I hear the Prophet say, Tophet is prepared of old. If with fear and without curiosity we may look upon those flames, why may we not attribute a spiritual nature to that more than natural fire? In the end of the world the Elements shall be dissolved by fire: and if the pure quintessential matter of the sky, and the element of fire itself shall be dissolved by fire, than that last fire shall be of another nature then that which it consumeth. What hinders then but that the Omnipotent God hath from eternity created a fire of another nature proportionable even to Spiritual essences? Or why may we not distinguish of fire, as it is itself, a bodily creature; and as it is an instrument of God's justice, so working not by any material virtue or power of its own, but by a certain height of supernatural efficacy, to which it is exalted by the Omnipotence of that supreme and righteous Judge? Or lastly, why may we not conceive that though Spirits have nothing material in their nature which that fire should work upon, yet by the judgement of the Almighty Arbiter of the world, justly willing their torment, they may be made most sensible of pain, and, by the obedible submission of their created nature, wrought upon immediately by their appointed tortures; besides the very horror which ariseth from the place whereto they are everlastingly confined? For if the incorporeal Spirits of living men may be held in a loathed or painful body, and conceive sorrow to be so imprisoned; why may we not as easily yield that the evil spirits of Angels or men may be held in those direful flames, and much more abhor therein to continue for ever? Tremble rather, O my Soul, at the thought of this woeful condition of the evil Angels; who, for one only act of Apostasy from God, are thus perpetually tormented: whereas we sinful wretches multiply many and presumptuous offences against the Majesty of our God. And withal admire and magnify that infinite Mercy to the miserable generation of man, which after this holy severity of justice to the revolted Angels, so graciously forbears our heinous iniquities, and both suffers us to be free for the time from these hellish torments, and gives us opportunity of a perfect freedom from them for ever. Praise the Lord, O my Soul, and all that is within me praise his holy Name, who forgiveth all thy sins, and healeth all thine infirmities; who redeemeth thy life from destruction, and crowneth thee with mercy and compassions.  
There is no time wherein the evil spirits are not tormented: there is a time wherein they expect to be tormented yet more. Art thou come to torment us before our time? They knew that the last Assizes are the prefixed term of their full execution; which they also understood to be not yet come. For though they knew not when the Day of Judgement should be; (a point concealed from the glorious Angels of Heaven) yet they knew when it should not be: and therefore they say, Before the time. Even the very evil spirits confess, and fearfully attend a set day of universal Sessions. They believe less than Devils, that either doubt of or deny that day of final retribution.  
Oh the wonderful mercy of our God, that both to wicked men and spirits respites the utmost of their torment! He might upon the first instant of the fall of Angels have inflicted on them the highest extremity of his vengeance: He might upon the first sins of our youth (yea of our nature) have swept us away, and given us our portion in that fiery lake. He stays a time for both: though with this difference of mercy to us men, that here not only is a delay, but may be an utter prevention of punishment, which to the evil spirits is altogether impossible. They do suffer, they must suffer: and though they have now deserved to suffer all they must, yet they must once suffer more than they do.  
Yet so doth this evil spirit expostulate, that he sues, I beseech thee, torment me not. The world is well changed since Satan's first onset upon Christ. Then he could say, If thou be the Son of God; now, Jesus, the Son of the most high God: then, All these will I give thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me; now, I beseech thee, torment me not. The same power, when he lists, can change the note of the Tempter to us. How happy are we that have such a Redeemer as can command the Devils to their chains? Oh consider this, ye lawless sinners, that have said, Let us break his bonds, and cast his cords from us. However the Almighty suffers you for a judgement to have free scope to evil, and ye can now impotently resist the revealed will of your Creator, yet the time shall come when ye shall see the very masters whom ye have served (the powers of darkness) unable to avoid the revenges of God. How much less shall man strive with his Maker? man, whose breath is in his nostrils, whose house is clay, whose foundation is the dust?  
Nature teaches every creature to wish a freedom from pain. The foulest spirits cannot but love themselves; and this love must needs produce a deprecation of evil. Yet what a thing is this, to hear the Devil at his prayers? I beseech thee, torment me not. Devotion is not guilty of this, but fear. There is no grace in the suit of Devils, but nature; no respect of Glory to their Creator, but their own ease. They cannot pray against sin, but against torment for sin. What news is it now to hear the profanest mouth in extremity imploring the Sacred Name of God, when the Devils do so? The worst of all creatures hates punishment, and can say, Led me not into pain: only the good heart can say, Led me not into temptation. If we can as heartily pray against sin, for the avoiding of displeasure, as against punishment, when we have displeased, there is true Grace in the Soul. Indeed, if we could fervently pray against Sin, we should not need to pray against Punishment, which is no other than the inseparable shadow of that body: but if we have not laboured against our Sins, in vain do we pray against Punishment. God must be just; and the wages of sin is death.  
It pleased our Holy Saviour, not only to let fall words of command upon this spirit, but to interchange some speeches with him. All Christ's actions are not for example. It was the error of our Grandmother to hold chat with Satan. That God, who knows the craft of that old Serpent and our weak simplicity, hath charged us not to inquire of an evil spirit. Surely if the Disciples returning to Jacob's Well wondered to see Christ talk with a woman, well may we wonder to see him talking with an unclean Spirit. Let it be no presumption, O Saviour, to ask upon what grounds thou didst this wherein we may not follow thee. We know that sin was excepted in thy conformity of thyself to us: we know there was no guile found in thy mouth, no possibility of taint in thy nature, in thine actions: neither is it hard to conceive how the same thing may be done by thee without sin, which we cannot but sin in doing. There is a vast difference in the intention, in the Agent. For on the one side, thou didst not ask the name of the spirit as one that knew not, and would learn by enquiring; but that by the confession of that mischief which thou pleasedst to suffer, the grace of the Cure might be the more conspicuous, the more glorious: So on the other, God and man might do that safely which mere man cannot do without danger. Thou mightest touch the Leprosy, and not be legally unclean, because thou touchedst it to heal it, didst not touch it with possibility of infection. So mightest thou, who, by reason of the perfection of thy Divine nature, wert uncapable of any stain by the interlocution with Satan, safely confer with him, whom corrupt man, pre-disposed to the danger of such a parley, may not meddle with without sin, because not without peril. It is for none but God to hold discourse with Satan. Our surest way is to have as little to do with that Evil one as we may; and if he shall offer to maintain conference with us by his secret Tentations, to turn our speech unto our God, with the Archangel, The Lord rebuke thee, Satan.  
It was the presupposition of him that knew it, that not only men but spirits have names. This than he asks, not out of an ignorance or curiosity; nothing could be hid from him who calleth the Stars and all the hosts of Heaven by their names: but out of a just respect to the glory of the Miracle he was working, whereto the notice of the name would not a little avail. For if without inquiry or confession our Saviour had ejected this evil spirit, it had passed for the single dispossession of one only Devil; whereas now it appears there was a combination and hellish champerty in these powers of darkness, which were all forced to veil unto that Almighty command.  
Before, the Devil had spoken singularly of himself, What have I to do with thee? and, I beseech thee torment me not. Our Saviour yet, knowing that there was a multitude of Devils lurking in that breast, who dissembled their presence, wrists it out of the Spirit by this interrogation, What is thy name? Now can those wicked ones no longer hide themselves: He that asked the question, forced the answer. My name is Legion. The author of discord hath borrowed a name of war: from that military order of discipline by which the Jews were subdued doth the Devil fetch his denomination, They were many, yet they say, My name, not, Our name; though many, they speak as one, they act as one, in this possession. There is a marvellous accordance even betwixt evil spirits. That Kingdom is not divided, for than it could not stand. I wonder not that wicked men do so conspire in evil, that there is such unanimity in the broachers and abettors of errors, when I see those Devils, which are many in substance, are one in name, action, habitation. Who can too much brag of unity, when it is incident unto wicked spirits? All the praise of concord is in the subject: if that be holy, the consent is Angelical; if sinful, devilish.  
What a fearful advantage have our spiritual enemies against us? If armed troops come against single stragglers, what hope is there of life, of victory? How much doth it concern us to band our hearts together in a communion of Saints? Our enemies come upon us like a torrent: Oh let us not run asunder like drops in the dust. All our united forces will be little enough to make head against this league of destruction.  
Legion imports Order, number, conflict. Order, in that there is a distinction of regiment, a subordination of Officers. Though in Hell there be confusion of faces, yet not confusion of degrees. Number: Those that have reckoned a Legion at the lowest, have counted it six thousand: others have more than doubled it. Though here it is not strict, but figurative, yet the letter of it implies multitude. How fearful is the consideration of the number of Apostate Angels? And if a Legion can attend one man, how many must we needs think are they, who all the world over are at hand to the punishment of the wicked, the exercise of the good, the tentation of both? It cannot be hoped there can be any place or time wherein we may be secure from the onsets of these enemies. Be sure, ye lewd men, ye shall want no furtherance to evil, no torment for evil. Be sure, ye godly, ye shall not want combatants to try your strength and skill. Awaken your courages to resist, and stir up your hearts, make sure the means of your safety. There are more with us then against us. The God of Heaven is with us, if we be with him: and our Angels behold the face of God. If every Devil were a Legion, we are safe. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we shall fear no evil. Thou, O Lord, shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of our enemies, and thy right hand shall save us.  
Conflict. All this number is not for sight, for rest; but for motion, for action. Neither was there ever hour since the first blow given to our first Parents, wherein there was so much as a truce betwixt these adversaries. As therefore strong frontier Towns, when there is a peace concluded on both parts, break up their garrison, open their gates, neglect their Bulwarks; but when they hear of the enemy mustering his forces in great and unequal numbers, than they double their guard, keep Sentinel, repair their Sconces: so must we, upon the certain knowledge of our numerous and deadly enemies in continual array against us, address ourselves always to a wary and strong resistance. I do not observe the most to think of this ghostly hostility. Either they do not find there are Tentations, or those Tentations hurtful; they see no worse than themselves: and if they feel motions of evil arising in them, they impute it to fancy, or unreasonable appetite, to no power but Nature's; and those motions they follow without sensible hurt, neither see they what harm it is to sin. Is it any marvel that carnal eyes cannot discern spiritual Objects? that the World, who is the friend, the vassal of Satan, is in no war with him? Elisha's servant, when his eyes were opened, saw troops of spiritual soldiers, which before he discerned not. If the eyes of our Souls be once enlightened by supernatural knowledge and the clear beams of Faith, we shall as plainly descry the invisible powers of wickedness, as now our bodily eyes see Heaven and Earth. They are, though we see them not: we cannot be safe from them, if we do not acknowledge, not oppose them.  
The Devils are now become great suitors to Christ; That he would not command them into the deep; that he would permit their entrance into the swine. What is this deep but hell, both for the utter separation from the face of God, and for the impossibility of passage to the region of Rest and Glory? The very evil spirits than fear and expect a further degree of torment; they know themselves reserved in those chains of darkness for the judgement of the great Day. There is the same wages due to their sins & to ours; neither are the wages paid till the work be done. They tempting men to sin, must needs sin grievously in tempting; as with us men those that misled into sin offend more than the actors. Not till the upshot therefore of their wickedness shall they receive the full measure of their condemnation. This day, this deep they tremble at: what shall I say of those men that fear it not? It is hard for men to believe their own unbelief. If they were persuaded of this fiery dungeon, this bottomless deep, wherein every sin shall receive an horrible portion with the damned, durst they stretch forth their hands to wickedness? No man will put his hand into a fiery Crucible to fetch gold thence, because he knows it will burn him. Did we as truly believe the everlasting burning of that infernal fire, we durst not offer to fetch Pleasures or Profits out of the midst of those flames.  
This degree of torment they grant in Christ's power to command; they knew his power unresistible: had he therefore but said, Back to hell whence ye came, they could no more have stayed upon earth, than they can now climb into Heaven. O the wonderful dispensation of the Almighty, who though he could command all the evil spirits down to their dungeons in an instant, so as they should have no more opportunity of Temptation, yet thinks fit to retain them upon earth! It is not out of weakness, or improvidence of that Divine hand, that wicked spirits tyrannize here upon earth; but out of the most wise and most holy ordination of God, who knows how to turn evil into good, how to fetch good out of evil, and by the worst instruments to bring about his most just decrees. Oh that we could adore that awful and infinite power, and cheerfully cast ourselves upon that Providence which keeps the Keys even of Hell itself, and either lets out, or returns the Devils to their places.  
Their other suit hath some marvel in moving it, more in the grant; That they might be suffered to enter into the Herd of Swine. It was their ambition of some mischief that brought forth this desire: that since they might not vex the body of man, they might yet afflict men in their goods. The Malice of these envious spirits reacheth from us to ours: It is sore against their wills if we be not every way miserable. If the Swine were Legally unclean for the use of the table, yet they were naturally good. Had not Satan known them useful for man, he had never desired their ruin. But as Fencers will seem to fetch a blow at the leg, when they intent it at the head; so doth this Devil, whiles he drives at the Swine, he aims at the Souls of these Gadarens: by this means he hoped well (and his hope was not vain) to work in these Gergesens a discontentment at Christ, an unwillingness to entertain him, a desire of his absence; he meant to turn them into Swine by the loss of their Swine. It was not the rafters or stones of the house of Job's children that he bore the grudge to, but to the owners; nor to the lives of the children so much, as the Soul of their Father. There is no Affliction wherein he doth not strike at the heart; which whiles it holds free, all other damages are light: but a wounded spirit (whether with sin or sorrow) who can bear? Whatever becomes of goods or limbs, happy are we if (like wise soldiers) we guard the vital parts. Whiles the Soul is kept sound from impatience, from distrust, our Enemy may afflict us, he cannot hurt us.  
They sue for a sufferance; not daring other then to grant that without the permission of Christ they could not hurt a very Swine. If it be fearful to think how great things evil spirits can do with permission; it is comfortable to think how nothing they can do without permission. We know they want not malice to destroy the whole frame of God's work; but of all, man; of all men, Christians: but if without leave they cannot set upon an Hog, what can they do to the living Images of their Creator? They cannot offer us so much as a suggestion without the permission of our Saviour. And can he that would give his own most precious blood for us, to save us from evil, wilfully give us over to evil?  
It is no news that wicked spirits wish to do mischief: it is news that they are allowed it. If the owner of all things should stand upon his absolute command, who can challenge him for what he thinks fit to do with his creature? The first Foal of the Ass is commanded under the Law to have his neck broken. What is that to us? The creatures do that they were made for, if they may serve any way to the glory of their Maker. But seldom ever doth God leave his actions unfurnished with such reasons as our weakness may reach unto. There were Sects amongst these Jews that denied Spirits. They could not be more evidently, more powerfully convinced then by this event. Now shall the Gadarens see from what a multitude of Devils they were delivered; and how easy it had been for the same power to have allowed these Spirits to seize upon their Persons as well as their Swine. Neither did God this without a just purpose of their castigation. His Judgements are righteous, where they are most secret. Though we cannot accuse these inhabitants of aught, yet he could; and thought good thus to mulct them. And if they had not wanted Grace to acknowledge it, it was no small favour of God that he would punish them in their Swine, for that which he might have avenged upon their Bodies and Souls. Our Goods are furthest off us: If but in these we smart, we must confess to find mercy.  
Sometimes it pleaseth God to grant the suits of wicked men and spirits, in no favour to the suitors. He grants an ill suit, and withholds a good: He grants an ill suit in Judgement, and holds back a good one in Mercy. The Israelites ask meat; he gives Quails to their mouths, and leanness to their Souls. The chosen vessel wishes Satan taken off, and hears only, My grace is sufficient for thee. We may not evermore measure favours by condescent. These Devils doubtless receive more punishment for that harmful act wherein they are heard. If we ask what is either unfit to receive or unlawful to beg, it is a great favour of our God to be denied.  
Those spirits which would go into the Swine by permission, go out of the man by command: they had stayed long, and are ejected suddenly. The immediate works of God are perfect in an instant, and do not require the aid of time for their maturation.  
No sooner are they cast out of the man, than they are in the Swine. They will lose no time, but pass without intermission from one mischief to another. If they hold it a pain not to be doing evil; why is it not our delight to be ever doing good? The impetuousness was no less than the speed. The Herd was carried with violence from a steepdown place into the lake, and was choked. It is no small force that could do this: but if the Swine had been so many Mountains, these spirits, upon God's permission, had thus transported them. How easily can they carry those Souls which are under their power to destruction? Unclean beasts that wallow in the mire of sensuality, brutish Drunkards transforming themselves by excess, even they are the Swine whom the Legion carries headlong to the pit of perdition.  
The wicked spirits have their wish; the Swine are choked in the waves. What ease is this to them? Good God, that there should be any creature that seeks contentment in destroying, in tormenting the good creatures of his Maker! This is the diet of Hell. Those Fiends feed upon spite towards man, so much more as he doth more resemble his Creator; towards all other living substances, so much more as they may be more useful to man. The Swine ran down violently; what marvel is it if their Keepers fled? That miraculous work which should have drawn them to Christ, drives them from him. They run with the news; the Country comes in with clamour: The whole multitude of the Country about besought him to depart. The multitude is a beast of many heads; every head hath a several mouth, and every mouth a several tongue, and every tongue a several accent; every head hath a several brain, and every brain thoughts of their own: so as it is hard to find a multitude without some division. At least seldom ever hath a good motion found a perfect accordance: it is not so infrequent for a multitude to conspire in evil. Generality of assent is no warrant for any act. Common Error carries away many, who inquire not into the reason of aught, but the practice. The way to Hell is a beaten road through the many feet that tread it. When Vice grows into fashion, Singularity is a Virtue.  
There was not a Gadarene found that either dehorted his fellows, or opposed the motion. It is a sign of people given up to judgement, when no man makes head against projects of evil. Alas! what can one strong man do against a whole throng of wickedness? Yet this good comes of an unprevailing resistance, that God forbears to plague, where he finds but a sprinkling of Faith. Happy are they who (like unto the celestial bodies, which being carried about with the sway of the highest sphere, yet creep on their own ways) keep on the courses of their own Holiness, against the swinge of common corruptions: they shall both deliver their own Souls, and help to withhold judgement from others.  
The Gadarenes sue to Christ for his departure. It is too much favour to attribute this to their modesty, as if they held themselves unworthy of so Divine a Guest. Why then did they fall upon this suit in a time of their loss? Why did they not tax themselves, and intimate a secret desire of that which they durst not beg? It is too much rigour to attribute it to the love of their Hogs, and an anger at their loss: then they had not entreated, but expelled him. It was their fear that moved this harsh suit: a servile fear of danger to their persons, to their goods; lest he that could so absolutely command the Devils, should have set these tormentors upon them; lest their other Demoniacs should be dispossessed with like loss. I cannot blame these Gadarenes that they feared. This power was worthy of trembling at. Their fear was unjust: They should have argued, This man hath power over men, beasts, devils, it is good having him to our friend; his presence is our safety and protection. Now they contrarily mis-infer, Thus powerful is he, it is good he were further off. What miserable and pernicious misconstructions do men make of God, of Divine Attributes and actions? God is omnipotent, able to take infinite vengeance of sin; Oh that he were not: He is provident; I may be careless: He is merciful; I may sin: He is holy; Let him depart from me, for I am a sinful man. How witty Sophisters are natural men to deceive their own Souls, to rob themselves of a God? O Saviour, how worthy are they to want thee, that wish to be rid of thee? Thou hast just cause to be weary of us, even whiles we sue to hold thee: but when once our wretched unthankfulness grows weary of thee, who can pity us to be punished with thy departure? Who can say it is other then righteous, that thou shouldst regest one day upon us, Depart from me, ye wicked.    

Contemplations.  
THE FOURTH BOOK,  
Containing 

The faithful Canaanite.  
The deaf and dumb man cured.  
Zacheus.  
John Baptist beheaded.  
The five loaves and two fishes.  
The walk upon the waters.  
The bloody issue healed.  
Jairus and his daughter.  
The motion of the two fiery Disciples repelled.  
The ten Lepers.  
The pool of Bethesda.  
Christ transfigured.  
The woman taken in adultery.  
The thankful Penitent.  
Martha and Mary.  
The beggar that was born blind, cured.  
The stubborn Devil ejected.  
The Widow's mites.  
The ambition of the two sons of Zebedee.  
The tribute-money paid.  
Lazarus dead.  
Lazarus raised.  
Christ's procession to the Temple.  
Christ betrayed.  
The Agony.  
Peter and Malchus; or, Christ apprehended.  
Christ before Caiaphas.  
Christ before Pilate.  
The Crucifixion.  
The Resurrection.  
The Ascension.    
To the only honour and glory of God my Saviour, and to the benefit and behoof of his blessed Spouse, the Church, I do in all humility devote myself and all my Meditations, The weak and unworthy Servant of both, J. E.  

To the READER.  
THose few spare hours which I could either borrow or steal from the many employments of my busy Diocese, I have gladly bestowed upon these, not more recreative than useful, Contemplations, for which I have been (some years) a debtor to the Church of God: now, in a care to satisfy the desires of many and my own pre-ingagement, I send them forth into the light. My Reader shall find the discourse in all these passages more large, and in the latter (as the occasion gives) more fervent. And if he shall miss some remarkable stories, let him be pleased to know, that I have purposely omitted those pieces which consist rather of speech then of act, and those that are in respect of the matter coincident to these I have selected. I have so done my task, as fearing, not affecting length; and as careful to avoid the cloying of my Reader with other men's thoughts. Such as they are, I wish them, as I hope they shall be, beneficial to God's Church; and in them intend to set up my rest: beseeching my Reader that he will mutually exchange his prayers for and with me, who am the unworthiest of the Servants of Christ,  
J. E.   

The faithful Canaanite.  
IT was our Saviour's trade to do good: Therefore he came down from Heaven to earth, therefore he changed one station of earth for another. Nothing more commends Goodness then generality and diffusion; whereas reservedness and close-handed restraint blemish the glory of it▪ The Sun stands not still in one point of Heaven, but walks his daily round, that all the inferior world may share of his influences both in heat and light. Thy bounty, O Saviour, did not affect the praise of fixedness, but motion● one while I find thee at Jerusalem, then at Capernaum, soon after in the utmost verge of Galilee; never but doing good.  
But as the Sun, though he daily compass the world, yet never walks from under his line, never goes beyond the turning points of the longest and shortest day; so neither didst thou, O Saviour, pass the bounds of thine own peculiar people. Thou wouldst move, but not wildly; not out of thine own sphere: wherein thy glorified estate exceeds thine humbled, as far as Heaven is above earth. Now thou art lift up, thou drawest all men unto thee; there are now no lists, no limits of thy gracious visitations: but as the whole earth is equidistant from Heaven; so all the motions of the world lie equally open to thy bounty.  
Neither yet didst thou want outward occasions of thy removal: perhaps the very importunity of the Scribes and Pharisees, in obtruding their Traditions, drove thee thence; perhaps their unjust offence at thy Doctrine. There is no readier way to lose Christ then to clog him with humane ordinances, then to spurn at his heavenly instructions. He doth not always subduce his Spirit with his visible presence; but his very outward withdrawing is worthy of our sighs, worthy of our tears. Many a one may say, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my Soul had not died. Thou art now with us, O Saviour, thou art with us in a free and plentiful fashion; how long, thou knowest: we know our deservings and fear. Oh teach us how happy we are in such a guest; and give us grace to keep thee. Hadst thou walked within the Phoenician borders, we could have told how to have made glad constructions of thy mercy in turning to the Gentiles; thou that couldst touch the Lepers without uncleanness, couldst not be defiled with aliens: but we know the partition wall was not yet broken down; and thou that didst charge thy Disciples not to walk into the way of the Gentiles, wouldst not transgress thine own rule. Once we are sure thou camest to the utmost point of the bounds of Galilee; as not ever confined to the heart of Jewry, thou wouldst sometimes bless the outer skirts with thy presence. No angle is too obscure for the Gospel: the land of Zabulon and the land of Nepthali, by the way of the Sea beyond Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles, the people which sat in darkness saw great light. The Sun is not scornful, but looks with the same face upon every plot of earth; not only the stately palaces and pleasant gardens are visited by his beams, but mean cottages, but neglected bogs and mores. God's word is like himself, no accepter of persons; the wild Kern, the rude Scythian, the savage Indian are alike to it. The Mercy of God will be sure to find out those that belong to his Election in the most secret corners of the world, like as his Judgements will fetch his enemies from under the hills and rocks. The good Shepherd walks the wilderness to seek one sheep strayed from many. If there be but one Syrophoenician soul to be gained to the Church, Christ goes to the coasts of Tyre and Sidon to fetch her. Why are we weary to do good, when our Saviour underwent this perpetual toil in healing bodies and winning Souls? There is no life happy but that which is spent in a continual drudging for edification.  
It is long since we heard of the name or nation of Canaanites. All the Country was once so styled; that people was now forgotten: yet because this woman was of the blood of those Phoenicians which were anciently ejected out of Canaan, that title is revived to her. God keeps account of pedigrees after our oblivion; that he may magnify his mercies by continuing them to thousands of the generations of the just, and by renewing favours upon the unjust. No Nation carried such brands and scars of a Curse as Canaan. To the shame of those careless Jews, even a faithful Canaanite is a suppliant to Christ, whiles they neglect so great Salvation. She doth not speak, but cry. Need and desire have raised her voice to an importunate clamour. The God of mercy is light of hearing; yet he loves a loud and vehement solicitation; not to make himself inclinable to grant, but to make us capable to receive blessings. They are words, and not prayers, which fall from careless lips. If we felt our want, or wanted not desire, we could speak to God in no tune but cries. If we would prevail with God, we must wrestle; and if we would wrestle happily with God, we must wrestle first with our own dulness. Nothing but cries can pierce Heaven. Neither doth her vehemence so much argue her Faith, as doth her compellation, O Lord, thou Son of David. What Proselyte, what Disciple could have said more? O blessed Syrophoenician, who taught thee this abstract of Divinity? What can we Christians confess more than the Deity and the Humanity, the Messiaship of our glorious Saviour? His Deity as Lord, his Humanity as a Son, his Messiaship as the Son of David. Of all the famous progenitors of Christ two are singled out by an eminence, David and Abraham; a King, a Patriarch: and though the Patriarch were first in time, yet the King is first in place; not so much for the dignity of the Person, as the excellence of the Promise, which as it was both later and fresher in memory, so more honourable. To Abraham was promised multitude and blessing of seed; to David●●rpetuity ●●rpetuity of dominion. So as when God promiseth not to destroy his people, it is for Abraham's sake; when not to extinguish the Kingdom, it is for David's sake. Had she said, The Son of Abraham, she had not come home to this acknowledgement. Abraham is the Father of the faithful; David of the Kings of Juda and Israel. There are many faithful; there is but one King: so as in this title she doth proclaim him the perpetual King of his Church, the rod or flower which should come from the root of Jesse, the true and only Saviour of the world. Whoso would come unto Christ to purpose, must come in the right style; apprehending a true God, a true Man, a true God and Man: any of these severed from other, makes Christ an Idol, and our prayers sin. Being thus acknowledged, what suit is so fit for him as mercy? Have mercy on me. It was her daughter that was tormented, yet she says, Have mercy on me. Perhaps her possessed child was senseless of her misery: the parent feels both her sorrow and her own. As she was a good woman, so a good mother. Grace and good nature have taught her to appropriate the afflictions of this divided part of her own flesh. It is not in the power of another skin, to sever the interest of our own loins or womb. We find some fouls that burn themselves, whiles they endeavour to blow out the fire from their young. And even Serpents can receive their brood into their mouth to shield them from danger. No creature is so unnatural, as the reasonable that hath put off affection.  
On me therefore in mine; for my Daughter is grievously vexed with a Devil. It was this that sent her to Christ: It was this that must incline Christ to her. I doubt whether she had inquired after Christ, if she had not been vexed with her daughter's spirit. Our Afflictions are as Benhadad's best counsellors, that sent him with a cord about his neck to the merciful King of Israel. These are the files & whetstones that set an edge on our Devotions; without which they grow dull and ineffectual: neither are they stronger motives to our suit then to Christ's mercy. We cannot have a better spokesman unto God then our own misery. That alone sues and pleads and importunes for us. This which sets off men, whose compassion is finite, attracts God to us. Who can plead discouragements in his access to the throne of Grace, when our wants are our forcible advocates? All our worthiness is in a capable misery.  
All Israel could not example the Faith of this Canaanite; yet she was thus tormented in her daughter. It is not the truth or strength of our Faith that can secure us from the outward and bodily vexations of Satan: against the inward and spiritual that can and will prevail: it is no more antidote against the other then against fevers and dropsies. How should it, whenas it may fall out that these sufferings may be profitable? and why should we expect that the love of our God shall yield to forelay any benefit to the Soul? He is an ill patient that cannot distinguish betwixt an affliction and the evil of affliction. When the messenger of Satan buffets us, it is enough that God hath said, My grace is sufficient for thee.  
Millions were in Tyre and Sidon, whose persons, whose children were untouched with that tormenting hand. I hear none but this faithful Woman say, My daughter is grievously vexed of the Devil. The worst of bodily afflictions are an insufficient proof of Divine displeasure. She that hath most Grace, complains of most discomfort.  
Who would now expect any other than a kind answer to so pious and faithful a petition? And behold, he answered her not a word. O holy Saviour, we have oft found cause to wonder at thy words, never till now at thy silence. A miserable suppliant cries and sues, whiles the God of mercies is speechless. He that comforts the afflicted, adds affliction to the comfortless by a willing disrespect. What shall we say then? Is the fountain of Mercy dried up? O Saviour, couldst thou but hear? she did not murmur, not whisper, but cry out; couldst thou but pity, but regard her that was as good as she was miserable? If thy ears were open, could thy bowels be shut? Certainly it was thou that didst put it into the heart, into the mouth of this woman to ask, and to ask thus of thyself. She could never have said, O Lord, thou son of David, but from thee, but by thee. None calleth Jesus the Lord but by the holy Ghost. Much more therefore didst thou hear the words of thine own making; and well wert thou pleased to hear what thou thoughtest good to forbear to answer. It was thine own grace that sealed up thy lips.  
Whether for the trial of her patience and perseverance, for● silence carried a semblance of neglect; and a willing neglect lays strong siege to the best fort of the Soul. Even calm tempers when they have been stirred have bewrayed impetuousness of Passion. If there be any dregs in the bottom of the glass, when the water is shaken they will be soon seen. Or whether for the more sharpening of her desires, and raising of her zealous importunity. Our holy longings are increased with delays: it whets our appetite to be held fasting. Or whether for the more sweetening of the blessing by the difficulty or stay of obtaining. The benefit that comes with ease is easily contemned. Long and eager pursuit endears any favour. Or whether for the engaging of his Disciples in so charitable a suit. Or whether for the wise avoidance of exception from the captious Jews: or lastly, for the drawing on of an holy and imitable pattern of faithful perseverance; and to teach us not to measure God's hearing of our suit by his present answer, or his present answer by our own sense. Whiles our weakness exspects thy words, thy wisdom resolves upon thy silence. Never wert thou better pleased to hear the acclamation of Angels, then to hear this woman say, O Lord, thou son of David: yet silence is thy answer. When we have made our prayers, it is an happy thing to hear the report of them back from Heaven: but if we always do not so, it is not for us to be dejected, and to accuse either our infidelity or thy neglect; since we find here a faithful suitor met with a gracious Saviour, and yet he answered her not a word. If we be poor in spirit, God is rich in mercy; he cannot send us away empty: yet he will not always let us feel his condescent, crossing us in our will, that he may advance our benefit.  
It was no small fruit of Christ's silence that the Disciples were hereupon moved to pray for her: not for a mere dismission; it had been no favour to have required this, but a punishment; (for if to be held in suspense be miserable, to be sent away with a repulse is more but for a merciful grant. They saw much passion in the woman, much cause of passion: they saw great discouragement on Christ's part, great constancy on hers. Upon all these, they feel her misery, and become suitors for her unrequested. It is our duty in case of necessity to intercede for each other; and by how much more familiar we are with Christ, so much more to improve our interest for the relief of the distressed. We are bidden to say, Our Father, not mine: yea, being members of one body, we pray for ourselves in others. If the foot be pricked, the back bends, the head bows down, the eyes look, the hands stir, the tongue calls for aid, the whole man is in pain and labours for redress. He cannot pray or be heard for himself, that is no man's friend but his own. No prayer without faith, no faith without charity, no charity without mutual intercession.  
That which urged them to speak for her, is urged to Christ by them for her obtaining; She cries after us. Prayer is as an arrow: if it be drawn up but a little, it goes not far; but if it be pulled up to the head, it flies strongly, and pierces deep. If it be but dribbled forth of careless lips, it falls down at our foot; the strength of our ejaculation sends it up into Heaven, and fetches down a blessing. The child hath escaped many a stripe by his loud crying; and the very unjust Judge cannot endure the widow's clamour. Heartless motions do but teach us to deny; servant suits offer violence both to earth and Heaven.  
Christ would not answer the woman, but doth answer the Disciples. Those that have a familiarity with God shall receive answers, when strangers shall stand out. Yea even of domestics some are more entire: He that lay in Jesus his bosom could receive that intelligence which was concealed from the rest. But who can tell whether that silence or this answer be more grievous? I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. What is this answer but a defence of that silence and seeming neglect? Whiles he said nothing, his forbearance might have been supposed to proceed from the necessity of some greater thoughts: but now, his answer professeth that silence to have proceeded from a willing resolution not to answer: and therefore he doth not vouchsafe so much as to give to her the answer, but to her solicitors; that they might return his denial from him to her, who had undertaken to derive her suit to him; I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Like a faithful Ambassador, Christ hath an eye to his commission. That may not be violated, though to an apparent advantage: whither he is not sent, he may not go. As he, so all his have their fixed marks set: at these they aim, and think it not safe to shoot at rovers. In matter of morality it is not for us to stand only upon inhibitions, avoiding what is forbidden, but upon commands, endeavouring only what is enjoined. We need no other rule of our life then the intention of our several stations. And if he that was God, would take no further scope to himself then the limits of his commission, how much doth it concern us frail men to keep within compass? or what shall become of our lawlessness, that live in a direct contrariety to the will of him that sent us?  
Israel was Jacob's name; from him derived to his posterity: till the division of the Tribes under Jeroboam, all that nation was Israel: then the Father's name went to the most (which were ten Tribes,) the name of the Son Juda to the best, which were two. Christ takes no notice of this unhappy division: he remembers the ancient name which he gave to that faithful wrestler. It was this Christ with whom Jacob strove; it was he that wrenched his hip, and changed his name, and dismissed him with a blessing; and now he cannot forget his old mercy to the house of Israel. To that only doth he profess himself sent. Their first brood were shepherds, now they are sheep; and those not guarded, not empastured, but strayed and lost. O Saviour, we see thy charge; the house of Israel, not of Esau; sheep, not goats, not wolves; lost sheep, not securely impaled in the confidence of their safe condition. Woe were to us if thou wert not sent to us. He is not a Jew which is one without. Every Israelite is not a true one. We are not of thy fold, if we be not sheep: thou wilt not reduce us to thy fold, if we be not lost in our own apprehensions. O Lord, thou hast put a fleece upon our backs, we have lost ourselves enough: make us so sensible of our own wander, that we may find thee sent unto us, and may be happily found of thee.  
Hath not this poor woman yet done? Can neither the silence of Christ nor his denial silence her? Is it possible she should have any glimpse of hope after so resolute repulses? yet still, as if she saw no argument of discouragement, she comes, and worships, and cries, Lord, help me. She which could not in the house get a word of Christ, she that saw her solicitors (though Christ's own Disciples) repelled, yet she comes. Before she followed, now she overtakes him; before she sued aloof, now she comes close to him: no contempt can cast her off. Faith is an undaunted Grace; it hath a strong heart, and a bold forehead: even very denials cannot dismay it, much less delays. She came not to face, not to expostulate, but to prostrate herself at his feet: Her tongue worshipped him before, now her knee. The eye of her Faith saw that Divinity in Christ which bowed her to his Earth. There cannot be a fitter gesture of man to God then adoration.  
Her first suit was for mercy, now for help. There is no use of mercy but in helpfulness. To be pitied without aid, is but an addition to misery. Who can blame us, if we care not for an unprofitable compassion?  
The very suit was gracious. She saith not, Lord, if thou canst, help me, as the father of the Lunatic; but professes the power whiles she begs the act, and gives glory where she would have relief.  
Who now can expect other than a fair and yielding answer to so humble, so faithful, so patient a suppliant? What can speed well, if a prayer of Faith from the knees of Humility succeeds not? And yet behold, the further she goes, the worse she fares: her discouragement is doubled with her suit. It is not good to take the children's bread and to cast it to dogs. First, his silence implied a contempt; then his answer defended his silence; now his speech expresses and defends his contempt. Lo, he hath turned her from a woman to a dog, and (as it were) spurns her from his feet with an harsh repulse. What shall we say? is the Lamb of God turned Lion? Doth that clear fountain of mercy run blood? O Saviour, did ever so hard a word fall from those mild lips? Thou called'st Herod sox; most worthily, he was crafty and wicked: the Scribes and Pharisees a generation of Vipers; they were venomous and cruel: Judas a Devil; he was both covetous and treacherous. But here was a woman in distress, and distress challenges mercy: a good woman, a faithful suppliant, a Canaanitish Disciple, a Christian Canaanite; yet rated and whipped out for a dog by thee who wert all goodness and mercy? How different are thy ways from ours? Even thy severity argues favour. The Trial had not been so sharp, if thou hadst not found the Faith so strong, if thou hadst not meant the issue so happy. Thou hadst not driven her away as a dog, if thou hadst not intended to admit her for a Saint; and to advance her as much for a pattern of Faith, as thou depressedst her for a spectacle of contempt.  
The time was when the Jews were children, and the Gentiles dogs: now the case is happily altered; the Jews are the dogs, (so their dear and Divine countryman calls the Concision) we Gentiles are the children. What certainty is there in an external profession, that gives us only to seem, not to be; at least the being that it gives is doubtful and temporary? We may be children to day, and dogs to morrow. The true assurance of our condition is in the decree and covenant of God on his part, in our Faith and Obedience on ours. How they of children became dogs, it is not hard to say; their presumption, their unbelief transformed them; and (to perfect their brutishness) they set their fangs upon the Lord of life. How we of dogs become children I know no reason. But, 
Rom. 11. 33.  O the depth! That which at the first singled them out from the nations of the world, hath at last singled us out from the world and them. It is not in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth, but in God that hath mercy. Lord, how should we bless thy Goodness, that we of dogs are Children? how should we fear thy Justice, since they of Children are dogs? Oh let not us be highminded, but tremble. If they were cut off who crucified thee in thine humbled estate, what may we expect who crucify thee daily in thy glory?  
Now what ordinary patience would not have been over-strained with so contemptuous a repulse? How few but would have fallen into intemperate passions, into passionate expostulations? Art thou the Prophet of God that so disdainfully entertainest poor suppliants? Is this the comfort that thou dealest to the distressed? Is this the fruit of my humble adoration, of my faithful profession? Did I snarl or bark at thee, when I called thee the Son of David? Did I fly upon thee otherwise then with my prayers and tears? And if this term were fit for my vileness, yet doth it become thy lips? Is it not sorrow enough to me that I am afflicted with my daughter's misery, but that thou (of whom I hoped for relief) must add to mine affliction in an unkind reproach? But here is none of all this. Contrarily, her Humility grants all, her patience overcomes all, and she meekly answers, Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's Table. The reply is not more witty than faithful. O Lord, thou art Truth itself; thy words can be no other than truth: thou hast called me a dog, and a dog I am: give me therefore the favour and privilege of a dog, that I may gather up some crumbs of mercy from under that table whereat thy children sit. This blessing (though great to me) yet to the infiniteness of thy power and mercy is but as a crumb to a Feast. I presume not to press to the board, but to creep under it. Deny me not those small offals which else would be swept away in the dust. After this stripe, give me but a crumb, and I shall fawn upon thee, and depart satisfied. O woman (say I) great is thine Humility, great is thy Patience: but, O woman (saith my Saviour) great is thy Faith. He sees the root, we the stock. Nothing but Faith could thus temper the heart, thus strengthen the Soul, thus charm the tongue. O precious Faith! O acceptable perseverance! It is no marvel if that chiding end in favour: Be it to thee even as thou wilt. Never did such Grace go away uncrowned. The beneficence had been straight, if thou hadst not carried away more than thou suedst for. Lo, thou that camest a dog, goest away a child; thou that wouldst but creep under the children's feet, art set at their elbow; thou that wouldst have taken up a crumb, art feasted with full dishes. The way to speed well at God's hand is, to be humbled in his eyes and in our own. It is quite otherwise with God, and with men. With men we are so accounted of as we account of ourselves. He shall be sure to be vile in the sight of others, which is vile in his own. With God nothing is got by vain ostentation, nothing is lost by abasement. O God, when we look down to our own weakness, and cast up our eyes to thine infiniteness, thine omnipotence, what poor things we are? but when we look down upon our sins and wickedness, how shall we express our shame? None of all thy creatures (except Devils) are capable of so soul a quality. As we have thus made ourselves worse than beasts, so let us in a sincere humbleness of mind acknowledge it to thee, who canst pity, forgive, redress it. So setting ourselves down at the lower end of the table of thy creatures, thou the great Master of the Feast mayst be pleased to advance us to the height of Glory.   

The Deaf and Dumb man cured.  
OUR Saviour's entrance into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon was not without a Miracle; neither was his regress: as the Sun neither rises nor sets without light. In his entrance he delivers the daughter of the faithful Syrophoenician; in his egress he cures the deaf and dumb. He can no more want work, than that work can want success. Whether the Patient were naturally deaf and perfectly dumb, or imperfectly dumb and accidentally deaf, I labour not. Sure I am that he was so deaf that he could not hear of Christ; so dumb that he could not speak for himself. Good neighbours supply his ears, his tongue; they bring him to Christ. Behold a Miracle led in by charity, acted by power, led out by modesty.  
It was a true office of Love to speak thus in the cause of the dumb; to lend senses to him that wanted. Poor man! he had nothing to entreat for him but his impotence: here was neither ear to inform, nor tongue to crave. His friends are sensible of his infirmity, and unasked bring him to cure. This spiritual service we owe to each other. It is true, we should be quick of hearing to the things of God and of our peace, quick of tongue to call for our helps: but, alas! we are naturally deaf and dumb to good. We have ear and tongue enough for the world: if that do but whisper, we hear it; if that do but draw back, we cry after it: we have neither for God; ever since our ear was lent to the Serpent in Paradise, it hath been spiritually deaf; ever since we set our tooth in the forbidden fruit, our tongue hath been speechless to God; and that which was faulty in the Root, is worse in the Branches. Every Soul is more deafened and bedumbed by increasing corruptions, by actual sins. Some ears the infinite mercy of God hath bored, some tongues he hath untied by the power of regeneration: these are wanting to their holy faculties, if they do not improve themselves in bringing the deaf and dumb unto Christ.  
There are some deaf and dumb upon necessity, some others upon affectation. Those, such as live either out of the pale of the Church, or under a spiritual tyranny within the Church: we have no help for them but our prayers; our pity can reach further than our aid: These, such as may hear of a Christ, and sue to him, but will not; a condition so much more fearful, as it is more voluntary. This kind is full of woeful variety: whiles some are deaf by an outward obturation, whether by the prejudice of the Teacher, or by secular occasions and distractions; others by the inwardly-aposteming tumours of pride, by the ill vapours of carnal affections, of froward resolutions. All of them, like the deaf adder, have their ears shut to the Divine charmer. Oh miserable condition of foolish men, so peevishly averse from their own Salvation; so much more worthy of our commiseration as it is more incapable of their own! These are the men whose cure we must labour, whom we must bring to Christ by admonitions, by threats, by authority, and (if need be) by wholesome compulsions.  
They do not only lend their hand to the deaf and dumb, but their tongue also: they say for him that which he could not wish to say for himself. Doubtless they had made signs to him of what they intended, and finding him forward in his desires, now they speak to Christ for him. Every man lightly hath a tongue to speak for himself; happy is he that keeps a tongue for other men. We are charged not with Supplications only, but with Intercessions. Herein is both the largest improvement of our love, and most effectual. No distance can hinder this fruit of our Devotion. Thus we may oblige those that we shall never see, those that can never thank us. This beneficence cannot impoverish us: the more we give, we have still the more. It is a safe and happy store that cannot be impaired by our bounty. What was their suit, but that Christ would put his hand upon the Patient? Not that they would prescribe the means, or imply a necessity of his touch; but for that they saw this was the ordinary course both of Christ and his Disciples, by touching to heal. Our prayers must be directed to the usual proceedings of God. His actions must be the rule of our prayers; our payers may not prescribe his actions.  
That gracious Saviour who is wont to exceed our desires, does more than they sue for. Not only doth he touch the party, but takes him by the hand, and leads him from the multitude.  
He that would be healed of his spiritual infirmities, must be sequestered from the throng of the world. There is a good use, in due times, of Solitariness. That Soul can never enjoy God that is not sometimes retired. The modest Bridegroom of the Church will not impart himself to his Spouse before company. Or perhaps this secession was for our example of a willing and careful avoidance of vainglory in our actions. Whence also it is that our Saviour gives an after-charge of secrecy. He that could say, He that doth evil hateth the light, escheweth the light even in good. To seek our own glory is not glory. Although besides this bashful desire of obscurity, here is a meet regard of opportunity in the carriage of our actions. The envy of the Scribes and Pharisees might trouble the passage of his Divine ministry: their exasperation is wisely declined by this retiring. He in whose hands time is, knows how to make his best choice of seasons. Neither was it our Saviour's meaning to have this Miracle buried, but hid. Wisdom hath no better improvement then in distinguishing times, and discreetly marshalling the circumstances of our actions: which whosoever neglects, shall be sure to shame his work, and mar his hopes.  
Is there a spiritual Patient to be cured? Aside with him. To undertake him before the face of the multitude, is to wound, not to heal him.  
Reproof and good counsel must be like our Alms, in secret, so as (if possible) one ear or hand might not be conscious to the other. As in some cases Confession, so our Reprehension must be auricular. The discreet Chirurgeon that would cure a modest Patient, whose secret complaint hath in it more shame than pain, shuts out all eyes save his own. It is enough for the God of Justice to say, Thou didst it secretly, but I will do it before all Israel, and before this Sun. Our limited and imperfect wisdom must teach us to apply private redresses to private maladies. It is the best remedy that is least seen, and most felt.  
What means this variety of ceremony? O Saviour, how many parts of thee are here active? Thy finger is put into the ear, thy spittle toucheth the tongue, thine eyes look up, thy lungs sigh, thy lips move to an Ephphatha. Thy word alone, thy beck alone, thy wish alone, yea the least act of velleity from thee might have wrought this cure. Why wouldst thou employ so much of thyself in this work? Was it to show thy liberty in not always equally exercising the power of thy Deity? in that one-while thine only command shall raise the dead, and eject Devils; another while thou wouldst accommodate thyself to the mean and homely fashions of natural agents, and condescending to our senses and customs, take those ways which may carry some more near respect to the cure intended? Or was it to teach us how well thou likest that there should be a ceremonious carriage of thy solemn actions, which thou pleasest to produce clothed with such circumstantial forms?  
It did not content thee to put one finger into one ear; but into either ear wouldst thou put a finger: Both ears equally needed cure, thou wouldst apply the means of cure to both. The Spirit of God is the finger of God. Then dost thou, O Saviour, put thy finger into our ear, when thy Spirit enables us to hear effectually. If we thrust our own fingers into our ears, using such humane persuasions to ourselves as arise from worldly grounds, we labour in vain: yea these stoppels must needs hinder our hearing the voice of God. Hence the great Philosophers of the ancient world, the learned Rabbins of the Synagogue, the great Doctors of a false faith are deaf to spiritual things. It is only that finger of thy Spirit, O blessed Jesus, that can open our ears, and make passage through our ears into our hearts. Let that finger of thine be put into our ears, so shall our deafness be removed, and we shall hear not the loud thunders of the Law, but the gentle whisper of thy gracious motions to our Souls.  
We hear for ourselves, but we speak for others. Our Saviour was not content to open the ears only, but to untie the tongue. With the ear we hear, with the mouth we confess. The same hand is applied to the tongue, not with a dry touch, but with spittle: in allusion doubtless to the removal of the natural impediment of speech. Moisture, we know, glibs the tongue, and makes it apt to motion; how much more from that Sacred mouth?  
There are those whose ears are open, but their mouths are still shut to God: they understand, but do not utter the wonderful things of God. There is but half a Cure wrought upon these men: their ear is but open to hear their own judgement, except their mouth be open to confess their Maker and Redeemer. O God, do thou so moisten my tongue with thy Graces, that it may run smoothly (as the pen of a ready writer) to the praise of thy Name. Whiles the finger of our Saviour was on the tongue, in the ear of the Patient, his eye was in Heaven. Never man had so much cause to look up to Heaven as he: there was his home, there was his throne. He only was from Heaven, heavenly. Each of us hath a good mind homeward, though we meet with better sights abroad: how much more when our home is so glorious above the region of our peregrination? But thou, O Saviour, hadst not only thy dwelling there, but thy seat of Majesty. There the greatest Angels adored thee: it is a wonder that thine eye could be ever any where but there. What doth thine eye in this but teach ours where to be fixed? Every good gift and every perfect gift coming down from above, how can we look off from that place whence we receive all good? Thou didst not teach us to say, O infinite God which art every where; but, O our father which art in Heaven. There let us look up to thee. Oh let not our eyes or hearts grovel upon this earth; but let us fasten them above the hills, whence cometh our salvation. Thence let us acknowledge all the good we receive; thence let us expect all the good we want.  
Why our Saviour looked up to Heaven (though he had Heaven in himself) we can see reason enough. But why did he sigh? Surely not for need: The least motion of a thought was in him impetratory. How could he choose but be heard of his Father, who was one with the Father? Not for any fear of distrust; but partly for compassion, partly for example. For compassion of those manifold infirmities into which sin had plunged mankind; a pitiful instance whereof was here presented unto him. For example, to fetch sighs from us for the miseries of others; sighs of sorrow for them, sighs of desire for their redress. This is not the first time that our Saviour spent sighs, yea tears, upon humane distresses. We are not bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh, if we so feel not the smart of our brethren, that the fire of our passion break forth into the smoke of sighs. Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is offended, and I burn not?  
Christ was not silent whiles he cured the dumb; his Ephphatha gave life to all these his other actions. His sighing, his spitting, his looking up to Heaven were the acts of a man: But his command of the ear and mouth to open was the act of God. He could not command that which he made not. His word is imperative, ours supplicatory. He doth what he will with us; we do by him what he thinks good to impart. In this mouth the word cannot be severed from the success. Our Saviour's lips are no sooner opened in his Ephphatha, than the mouth of the dumb and the ears of the deaf are opened. At once behold here celerity and perfection. Natural agents work by leisure, by degrees; nothing is done in an instant: by many steps is every thing carried from the entrance to the consummation. Omnipotency knows no Rules. No imperfect work can proceed from a cause absolutely perfect. The man hears now more lightly than if he had never been deaf; and speaks more plainly than if he had never been tongue-tied. And can we blame him if he bestowed the handsel of his speech upon the power that restored it? if the first improvement of his tongue were the praise of the giver, of the maker of it? Or can we expect other then that our Saviour should say, Thy tongue is free, use it to the praise of him that made it so; thy ears are open, hear him that bids thee proclaim thy cure upon the housetop? But now behold contrarily, he that opens this man's mouth by his powerful word, by the same word shuts it again; charging silence by the same breath wherewith he gave speech; Tell no man.  
Those tongues which interceded for his cure, are charmed for the concealment of it. O Saviour, thou knowest the grounds of thine own commands. It is not for us to inquire, but to obey: we may not honour thee with a forbidden celebration. Good meanings have ofttimes proved injurious. Those men whose charity employed their tongues to speak for the dumb man, do now employ the same tongues to speak of his cure, when they should have been dumb. This charge, they imagine, proceeds from an humble modesty in Christ; which the respect to his Honour bids them violate. I know not how we itch after those forbidden acts, which if left to our liberty we willingly neglect. This prohibition increaseth the rumour: every tongue is busied about this one. What can we make of this but a well-meant disobedience? O God, I should more gladly publish thy Name at thy command. I know thou canst not bid me to dishonour thee; there is no danger of such an injunction: but if thou shouldest bid me to hide the profession of thy Name and wondrous works, I should fulfil thy words, and not examine thine intentions. Thou knowest how to win more honour by our silence then by our promulgation. A forbidden good differs little from evil. What makes our actions to be sin but thy prohibitions? Our judgement avails nothing. If thou forbid us that which we think good, it becomes as faulty to thee-ward as that which is originally evil. Take thou charge of thy Glory; give me grace to take charge of thy Precepts.   

ZACHEUS.  
NOW was our Saviour walking towards his Passion: his last journey had most wonders. Jericho was in his way from Galilec to Jerusalem: he balks it not though it were outwardly cursed; but as the first Joshua saved a Rahab there, so there the second saves a Zacheus; that an Harlot, this a Publican. The traveller was wounded as he was going from Jerusalem to Jericho: this man was taken from his Jericho to the true Jerusalem, and was healed. Not as a passenger did Christ walk this way, but as a visitor; not to punish, but to heal. With us, the sick man is glad to send far for the Physician; here the Physician comes to seek patients, and calls at our door for work. Had not this good Shepherd left the ninety nine, and searched the desert, the lost Sheep had never recovered the fold; had not his gracious frugality sought the lost Groat, it had been swept up with the rushes, and thrown out in the dust. Still, O Saviour, dost thou walk through our Jericho: what would become of us, if thou shouldst stay till we seek thee alone? Even when thou hast found us, how hardly do we follow thee? The work must be all thine: we shall not seek thee, if thou find us not; we shall not follow thee, if thou draw us not.  
Never didst thou, O Saviour, set one step in vain: wheresoever thou art walking, there is some Zacheus to be won. As in a drought, when we see some weighty cloud hover over us, we say there is rain for some grounds, wheresoever it falls. The Ordinances of God bided good to some Souls; and happy are they on whom it lights.  
How justly is Zacheus brought in with a note of wonder? It is both great and good news to hear of a Convert. To see men perverted from God to the world, from truth to heresy, from piety to profaneness, is as common as lamentable; every night such stars fall: but to see a sinner come home to God, is both happy and wondrous, to men and Angels. I cannot blame that Philosopher, who undertaking to write of the hidden miracles of Nature, spends most of his discourse upon the generation and formation of man. Surely we are fearfully and wonderfully made. But how much greater is the Miracle of our spiritual regeneration; that a son of wrath, a child of Satan, should be transformed into the Son and heir of the everliving God? O God, thou workest both; but in the one our spirit animates us, in the other thine own.  
Yet some things which have wonder in them for their worth, lose it for their frequency; this hath no less rarity in it then excellence. How many painful Peter have complained to fish all night, and catch nothing? Many Professors and few Converts hath been ever the lot of the Gospel. God's house, as the streets of Jericho, may be thronged, and yet but one Zacheus. As therefore in the Lottery, when the great prize comes, the trumpet sounds before it; so the news of a Convert is proclaimed with, Behold Zacheus. Any Penitent had been worthy of a shout; but this man by an eminence; a Publican, a chief of the Publicans, rich.  
No name under Heaven was so odious as this of a Publican; especially to this Nation, that stood so high upon their freedom, that every impeachment of it seemed no less than damnable: insomuch as they ask not, Is it fit, or needful, but, Is it lawful to pay tribute unto Caesar? Any office of exaction must needs be heinous to a people so impatient of the yoke. And yet not so much the trade as the extortion drew hatred upon this profession; out of both they are deeply infamous: one while they are matched with Heathens, another while with Harlots, always with Sinners. And behold, Zacheus a Publican. We are all naturally strangers from God; the best is indisposed to Grace: yet some there are whose very Calling gives them better advantages. But this catchpole-ship of Zacheus carried extortion in the face, and in a sort bade defiance to his Conversion: yet behold, from this Toll-booth is called both Zacheus to be a Disciple, and Matthew to be an Apostle. We are in the hand of a cunning workman, that of the knottiest and crookedst timber can make rafters and ceiling for his own house; that can square the marble or flint as well as the freest stone. Who can now plead the disadvantage of his place, when he sees a Publican come to Christ? No Calling can prejudice God's gracious election.  
To excel in evil must needs be worse. If to be a Publican be ill, surely to be an Arch-publican is more. What talk we of the chief of Publicans, when he that professed himself the chief of Sinners is now among the chief of Saints? Who can despair of mercy, when he sees one Jericho send both an Harlot and a Publican to Heaven?  
The trade of Zacheus was not a greater rub in his way then his wealth. He that sent word to John for great news, that the poor receive the Gospel, said also, How hard is it for a rich man to enter into Heaven? This bunch of the Camel keeps him from passing the needle's eye; although not by any malignity that is in the creature itself (Riches are the gift of God) but by reason of those three pernicious hangs-by, Cares, Pleasures, Pride, which too commonly attend upon Wealth. Separate these, Riches are a blessing. If we can so possess them that they possess not us, there can be no danger, much benefit in abundance. All the good or ill of wealth or poverty is in the mind, in the use. He that hath a free and lowly heart in riches, is poor; he that hath a proud heart under rags, is rich. If the rich man do good and distribute, and the poor man steal, the rich hath put off his woe to the poor. Zacheus had never been so famous a Convert, if he had been poor; nor so liberal a Convert, if he had not been rich. If more difficulty, yet more glory was in the conversion of rich Zacheus.  
It is well that wealthy Zacheus was desirous to see Christ. Little do too many rich men care to see that sight: the face of Caesar in their coin is more pleasing. This man leaves his bags, to bless his eyes with this prospect. Yet can I not praise him for this too much; it was not (I fear) out of Faith, but Curiosity. He that had heard great same of the man, of his Miracles, would gladly see his face. Even an Herod longed for this, and was never the better. Only this I find, that this Curiosity of the eye, through the mercy of God, gave occasion to the Belief of the heart. He that desires to see Jesus, is in the way to enjoy him: there is not so much as a remote possibility in the man that cares not to behold him. The eye were ill bestowed, if it were only to betray our Souls: there are no less beneficial glances of it. We are not worthy of this useful casement of the heart, if we do not thence send forth beams of holy desires, and thereby re-conveigh profitable and saving Objects.  
I cannot marvel if Zacheus were desirous to see Jesus. All the world was not worth this sight. Old Simeon thought it best to have his eyes closed up with this spectacle, as if he held it pity and disparagement to see aught after it. The Father of the faithful rejoiced to see him, though at nineteen hundred years' distance; and the great Doctor of the Gentiles stands upon this as his highest stair, Have I not seen the Lord Jesus? And yet, O Saviour, many a one saw thee here, that shall never see thy face above; yea, that shall call to the hills to hide them from thy sight. And if we had once known thee according to the flesh, henceforth know we thee so no more. What an happiness shall it be so to see thee glorious, that in seeing thee we shall partake of thy glory? Oh blessed vision, to which all others are but penal and despicable! Let me go into the mint-house, and see heaps of gold, I am never the richer; let me go to the picturers, I see goodly faces, and am never the fairer; let me go to the Court, I see state and magnificence, and am never the greater: but, O Saviour, I cannot see thee, and not be blessed. I can see thee here, though in a glass. If the eye of my Faith be dim, yet it is sure. Oh let me be unquiet till I do now see thee through the veil of Heaven, ere I shall see thee as I am seen.  
Fain would Zacheus see Jesus, but he could not. It were strange if a man should not find some let in good desires: somewhat will be still in the way betwixt us and Christ. Here are two hindrances met; the one internal, the other external; the stature of the man, the press of the multitude; the greatness of the press, the smallness of the stature. There was great thronging in the streets of J●richo to see Jesus; the doors, the windows, the bulks were all full. Here are many beholders, few Disciples. If gazing, if profession were Godliness, Christ could not want clients: now amongst all these wonderers, there is but one Zacheus. In vain should we boast of our forwardness to see and hear Christ in our streets, if we receive him not into our hearts.  
This crowd hides Christ from Zacheus. Alas! how common a thing it is, by the interposition of the throng of the world to be kept from the sight of our Jesus? Here a carnal Fashionist says, Away with this austere scrupulousness, let me do as the most. The throng keeps this man from Christ. There a superstitious misbeliever says, What tell you me of an handful of reformed? the whole world is ours. This man is kept from Christ by the throng. The covetous Mammonist says, Let them that have leisure be devout; my employments are many, my affairs great. This man cannot see Christ for the throng. There is no perfect view of Christ but in an holy secession. The Spouse found not her Beloved till she was past the company; then she found him whom her Soul loved. Whoso never seeks Christ but in the crowd, shall never find comfort in finding him. The benefit of our public view must be enjoyed in retiredness. If in a press we see a man's face, that is all; when we have him alone, every limb may be viewed. O Saviour, I would be loath not to see thee in thine Assemblies; but I would be more loath not to see thee in my Closet. Yet had Zacheus been but of the common pitch, he might perhaps have seen Christ's face over his fellows shoulders: now his stature adds to the disadvantage; his Body did not answer to his Mind; his desires were high, whiles his body was low. The best is, however smallness of stature was disadvantageous in a level, yet it is not so at height. A little man, if his eye be clear, may look as high (though not as far) as the tallest. The least Pygmy may from the lowest valley see the Sun or Stars as fully as a Giant upon the highest mountain. O Saviour, thou art now in Heaven: the smallness of our person or of our condition cannot let us from beholding thee. The Soul hath no stature; neither is Heaven to be had with reaching: only clear thou the eyes of my Faith, and I am high enough.  
I regard not the Body: the Soul is the man. It is to small purpose that the body is a Giant, if the Soul be a dwarf. We have to do with a God that measures us by our desires, not by our statures. All the streets of Jericho (however he seemed to the eye) had not so tall a man as Zacheus.  
The witty Publican easily finds both his hindrances, and the ways of their redress. His remedy for the press, is to run before the multitude; his remedy for his stature, is to climb up into the Sycomore: he employs his feet in the one, his hands and feet in the other. In vain shall he hope to see Christ, that doth not outgo the common throng of the world. The multitude is clustered together, and moves too close to move fast: we must be nimbler than they, if ever we desire or expect to see Christ. It is the charge of God, Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil: we do evil if we lag in good. It is held commonly both wit and state for a man to keep his pace: and that man escapes not censure, who would be forwarder than his fellows. Indeed for a man to run alone in ways of indifferency, or to set an hypocritical face of out-running all others in a zealous profession, when the heart lingers behind, both these are justly hateful: but in an holy emulation to strive truly and really to out strip others in degrees of Grace, and a conscionable care of obedience, this is truly Christian, and worthy of him that would hope to be blessed with the sight of a Saviour.  
Tell me, ye fashionable Christians, that stand upon terms of equality, and will not go a foot before your neighbours in holy zeal and aidful charity, in conscionable sincerity; tell me, who hath made other men's progress a measure for yours? Which of you says, I will be no richer, no greater, no fairer, no wiser, no happier than my fellows? Why should you then say, I will be no holier? Our life is but a race; every good End that a man proposes to himself is a several goal. Did ever any man that ran for a prize, say, I will keep up with the rest? Doth he not know that if he be not foremost, he loseth? We had as good to have sat still, as not so to run that we may obtain. We obtain not, if we outrun not the multitude.  
So far did Zacheus overrun the stream of the people, that he might have space to climb the Sycomore ere Jesus could pass by. I examine not the kind, the nature, the quality of this Plant; what Tree soever it had been, Zacheus would have tried to scale it, for the advantage of this prospect. He hath found out this help for his stature, and takes pains to use it. It is the best improvement of our wit, to seek out the aptest furtherances for our Souls. Do you see a weak and studious Christian, that being unable to inform himself in the matters of God, goes to the cabinet of Heaven, the Priest's lips, which shall preserve knowledge? there is Zacheus in the Sycomore. It is the truest wisdom that helps forward our Salvation. How witty we are to supply all the deficiencies of Nature? If we be low, we can add cubits to our stature; if ill-coloured, we can borrow complexion; if hairless, perukes; if dim-sighted, glasses; if lame, crutches: and shall we be conscious of our spiritual wants, and be wilfully regardless of the remedy? Surely, had Zacheus stood still on the ground, he had never seen Christ; had he not climbed the Sycomore, he had never climbed into Heaven. O Saviour, I have not height enough of my own to see thee: give me what Sycomore thou wilt; give me grace to use it, give me an happy use of that grace.  
The more I look at the mercy of Christ, the more cause I see of astonishment. Zacheus climbs up into the Sycomore to see Jesus: Jesus first sees him, preventing his eyes with a former view. Little did Zacheus look that Jesus would have cast up his eyes to him. Well might he think the boys in the street would spy him out, and shout at his stature, trade, ambition: but that Jesus should throw up his eyes into the Sycomore, and take notice of that small despised morsel of flesh, ere Zacheus could find space to distinguish his face from the rest, was utterly beyond his thought or expectation. All his hope is to see, and now he is seen. To be seen and acknowledged is much more than to see. Upon any solemn occasion many thousands see the Prince, whom he sees not; and if he please to single out any one whether by his eye or by his tongue, amongst the press, it passes for an high favour. Zacheus would have thought it too much boldness to have asked what was given him. As Jonathan did to David, so doth God to us, he shoots beyond us. Did he not prevent us with mercy, we might climb into the Sycomore in vain. If he give Grace to him that doth his best, it is the praise of the giver, not the earning of the receiver. How can we do or will without him? If he see us first, we live; and if we desire to see him, we shall be seen of him. Whoever took pains to climb the Sycomore, and came down disappointed? O Lord, what was there in Zacheus, that thou shouldst look up at him? a Publican, a sinner, an arch-extortioner; a dwarf in stature, but a Giant in oppression; a little man, but a great Sycophant; if rich in coin, more rich in sins and treasures of wrath. Yet it is enough that he desires to see thee: all these disadvantages cannot hide him from thee. Be we never so sinful, if our desires towards thee be hearty and servant, all the broad leaves of the Sycomore cannot keep off thine eye from us. If we look at thee with the eye of Faith, thou wilt look at us with the eye of mercy. The eye of the Lord is upon the just; and he is just that would be so; if not in himself, yet in thee. O Saviour, when Zacheus was above, and thou wert below, thou didst look up at him: now thou art above, and we below, thou lookest down upon us; thy mercy turns thine eyes every way towards our necessities. Look down upon us that are not worthy to look up unto thee; and find us out, that we may seek thee.  
It was much to note Zacheus, it was more to name him. Methinks I see how Zacheus startled at this, to hear the sound of his own name from the mouth of Christ: neither can he but think, Doth Jesus know me? Is it his voice, or some others in the throng? Lo, this is the first blink that ever I had of him. I have heard the fame of his wonderful works, and held it happiness enough for me to have seen his face; and doth he take notice of my person, of my name? Surely the more that Zacheus knew himself, the more doth he wonder that Christ should know him. It was slander enough for a man to be a friend to a Publican; yet Christ gives this friendly compellation to the chief of Publicans, and honours him with this argument of a sudden entireness. The favour is great, but not singular: Every elect of God is thus graced. The Father knows the child's name: as he calls the stars of Heaven by their names, so doth he his Saints, the stars on earth; and it is his own rule to his Israel, I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine. As God's children do not content themselves with a confused knowledge of him, but aspire to a particular apprehension and sensible application; so doth God again to them: it is not enough that he knows them, as in the crowd, wherein we see many persons, none distinctly; but he takes single and several knowledge of their qualities, conditions, motions, events. What care we that our names are obscure or contemned amongst men, whiles they are regarded by God; that they are raked up in the dust of earth, whiles they are recorded in Heaven?  
Had our Saviour said no more but, Zacheus, come down, the poor man would have thought himself taxed for his boldness and curiosity: it were better to be unknown, then noted for miscarriage. But now the next words comfort him; For I must this day abide at thine house. What a sweet familiarity was here? as if Christ had been many years acquainted with Zacheus, whom he now first saw. Besides our use, the Host is invited by the Guest, and called to an inexspected entertainment. Well did our Saviour hear Zacheus his heart inviting him, though his mouth did not. Desires are the language of the Soul; those are heard by him that is the God of spirits.  
We dare not do thus to each other, save where we have eaten much salt; we scarce go where we are invited: though the face be friendly, and the entertainment great, yet the heart may be hollow. But here, he that saw the heart, and foreknew his welcome, can boldly say, I must this day abide at thine house. What a pleasant kind of entire familiarity there is betwixt Christ and a good heart? If any man open, I will come in, and sup with him. It is much for the King of Glory to come into a cottage, and sup there; yet thus he may do, and take some state upon him in sitting alone. No, I will so sup with him, that he shall sup with me. Earthly state consists in strangeness, and affects a stern kind of majesty aloof. Betwixt God and us though there be infinite more distance, yet there is a gracious affability and familiar entireness of conversation. O Saviour, what dost thou else every day but invite thyself to us in thy Word, in thy Sacraments? who are we that we should entertain thee, or thou us? dwarf's in Grace, great in nothing but unworthiness. Thy praise is worthy to be so much the more, as our worth is less. Thou that biddest thyself to us, bid us be fit to receive thee, and in receiving thee, happy.  
How graciously doth Jesus still prevent the Publican, as in his sight, notice, compellation, so in his invitation too? That other Publican, Levi, bad Christ to his house, but it was after Christ had bidden him to his Discipleship: Christ had never been called to his feast, if Levi had not been called into his family. He loved us first, he must first call us; for he calls us out of love. As in the general calling of Christianity, if he did not say, Seek ye my face, we could never say, Thy face, Lord, will I seek: so in the specialties of our main benefits or employments, Christ must begin to us. If we invite ourselves to him before he invite himself to us, the undertaking is presumptuous, the success unhappy.  
If Nathanael, when Christ named him, and gave him the memorial token of his being under the figtree, could say, Thou art the Son of God; how could Zacheus do less in hearing himself upon this wild figtree named by the same lips? How must he needs think, If he knew not all things, he could not know me; and if he knew not the hearts of men, he could not have known my secret desires to entertain him? He is a God that knows me, and a merciful God that invites himself to me. No marvel therefore, if upon this thought Zacheus come down in haste. Our Saviour said not, Take thy leisure, Zacheus; but, I will abide at thine house to day. Neither did Zacheus upon this intimation sit still and say, When the press is over, when I have done some errands of my office; but he hasts down to receive Jesus. The notice of such a guest would have quickened his speed without a command. God loves not slack and lazy executions. The Angels of God are described with wings: and we pray to do his will with their forwardness. Yea even to Judas Christ saith, What thou dost, do quickly. O Saviour, there is no day wherein thou dost not call us by the voice of thy Gospel: what do we still lingering in the Sycomore? How unkindly must thou needs take the delays of our Conversion? Certainly, had Zacheus stayed still in the Tree, thou hadst balked his house as unworthy of thee. What construction canst thou make of our wilful dilations, but as a stubborn contempt? How canst thou but come to us in vengeance, if we come not down to entertain thee in a thankful obedience?  
Yet do I not hear thee say, Zacheus, cast thyself down for haste; this was the counsel of the Tempter to thee; but, Come down in haste. And he did accordingly. There must be no more haste then good speed in our performances: we may offend as well in our heady acceleration, as in our delay. Moses ran so fast down the hill that he stumbled spiritually, and broke the Tables of God. We may so fast follow after Justice, that we outrun Charity. It is an unsafe obedience that is not discreetly and leisurely speedful.  
The speed of his descent was not more than the alacrity of his entertainment. He made haste, and came down, and received him joyfully. The life of hospitality is cheerfulness. Let our cheer be never so great, if we do not read our welcome in our friend's face as well as in his dishes, we take no pleasure in it.  
Can we marvel that Zacheus received Christ joyfully? Who would not have been glad to have his house, yea himself, made happy with such a guest? Had we been in the stead of this Publican, how would our hearts have leapt within us for joy of such a presence? How many thousand miles are measured by some devout Christians, only to see the place where his feet stood? How much happier must he needs think himself that owns the roof that receives him? But oh the incomparable happiness then, of that man whose heart receives him, not for a day, not for years of days, not for millions of years, but for eternity! This may be our condition, if we be not straightened in our own bowels. O Saviour, do thou welcome thyself to these houses of clay, that we may receive a joyful welcome to thee in those everlasting habitations.  
Zacheus was not more glad of Christ then the Jews were discontented. Four vices met here at once, Envy, Scrupulousness, Ignorance, Pride. Their eye was evil because Christ's was good. I do not hear any of them invite Christ to his home; yet they snarl at the honour of this unworthy Host: they thought it too much happiness for a Sinner, which themselves willingly neglected to sue for. Wretched men! they cannot see the Mercy of Christ, for being bleared with the happiness of Zacheus: yea that very Mercy which they see, torments them. If that viper be the deadliest which feeds the sweetest, how poisonous must this disposition needs be that feeds upon Grace?  
What a contrariety there is betwixt good Angels and evil men? The Angels rejoice at that whereat men pout and stomach: men are ready to cry and burst for anger at that which makes music in Heaven. Oh wicked and foolish elder brother, that feeds on hunger and his own heart without doors, because his younger brother is feasting on the fat calf within!  
Besides Envy they stand scrupulously upon the terms of Traditions. These sons of the earth might not be conversed with; their threshold was unclean; Touch me not, for I am holier than thou. That he therefore, who went for a Prophet, should go to the house of a Publican and Sinner, must needs be a great eyesore. They that might not go in to a Sinner, cared not what sins entered into themselves: the true cousins of those Hypocrites, who held it a pollution to go into the Judgment-hall, no pollution to murder the Lord of life. There cannot be a greater argument of a false heart, then to stumble at these straws, and to leap over the blocks of gross impiety. Well did our Saviour know how heinously offensive it would be to turn in to this Publican: he knows, and regards it not. A Soul is to be won, what cares he for idle misconstruction? Morally good actions must not be suspended upon danger of causeless scandal. In things indifferent and arbitrary, it is fit to be overruled by fear of offence: but if men will stumble in the plain ground of good, let them fall without our regard, not without their own peril. I know not if it were not David's weakness to abstain from good words whiles the wicked were in place. Let Justice be done in spite of the world; and in spite of Hell, Mercy.  
Ignorance was in part guilty of these scruples: they thought Christ either too holy to go to a Sinner, or in going made unholy. Foolish men! to whom came he? To you righteous? Let himself speak: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. Whither should the Physician go but to the sick? the whole need him not. Love is the best attractive of us; and he to whom much is forgiven, loves much.  
O Saviour, the glittering palaces of proud Justiciaries are not for thee; thou lovest the lowly and ragged cottage of a contrite heart. Neither could here be any danger of thy pollution. Thy Sun could cast his beams upon the impurest dunghill, and not be tainted. It was free and safe for the Leper and Bloody-fluxed to touch thee; thou couldst heal them, they could not infect thee. Neither is it otherwise in this moral contagion. We who are obnoxious to evil, may be insensibly defiled: thy Purity was enough to remedy that which might mar a world. Thou canst help us, we cannot hurt thee. Oh let thy presence ever bless us; and let us ever bless thee for thy presence.  
Pride was an attendant of this Ignorance: so did they note Zacheus for a Sinner, as if themselves had been none. His sins were written in his forehead, theirs in their breast. The presumption of their secrecy makes them insult upon his notoriousness. The smoke of pride flies still upward, and in the mounting vanisheth; Contrition beats it down, and fetcheth tears from the tender eyes. There are stage-sins, and there are closet-sins. These may not upbraid the other: they may be more heinous, though less manifest. It is a dangerous vanity to look outward at other men's sins with scorn, when we have more need to cast our eyes inward to see our own with humiliation.  
Thus they stumbled, and fell; but Zacheus stood. All their malicious murmur could not dishearten his Piety and Joy in the entertaining of Christ. Before Zacheus lay down as a Sinner, now he stands up as a Convert: sinning is falling, continuance in sin is lying down, Repentance is rising and standing up. Yet perhaps this standing was not so much the site of his Constancy or of his Conversion, as of his Reverence. Christ's affability hath not made him unmannerly; Zacheus stood. And what if the desire of more audibleness raised him to his feet? In that smallness of stature it was not fit he should lose aught of his height. It was meet so noble a proclamation should want no advantage of hearing. Never was our Saviour better welcomed. The penitent Publican makes his Will, and makes Christ his Supervisor. His Will consists of Legacies given, of Debts paid: gifts to the poor, payments to the injuried. There is Liberality in the former, in the latter Justice; in both the proportions are large: Half to the poor; fourfold to the wronged.  
This hand sowed not sparingly. Here must needs be much of his own that was well gotten, whether left by patrimony, or saved by parsimony, or gained by honest improvement. For when he had restored fourfold to every one whom he had oppressed, yet there remained a whole half for pious uses: and this he so distributes, that every word commends his bounty. I give; and what is more free than gist? In alms we may neither sell, nor return, nor cast away. We sell, if we part with them for importunity, for vainglory, for retribution: we return them, if we give with respect to former offices; this is to pay, not to bestow: we cast away, if in our beneficence we neither regard order nor discretion. Zacheus did neither cast away, nor return, nor sell, but give. I do give; not, I will. The prorogation of good makes it thankless. The alms that smell of the hand, lose the praise. It is twice given that is given quickly. Those that defer their gifts till their deathbed, do as good as say, Lord, I will give thee something when I can keep it no longer. Happy is the man that is his own executor. I give my goods; not another's. It is a thankless vanity to be liberal of another man's purse. Whoso gives of that which he hath taken away from the owner, doth more wrong in giving then in stealing. God exspects our gifts, not our spoils. I fear there is too many a School and Hospital, every stone whereof may be challenged. Had Zacheus meant to give of his extortions, he had not been so careful of his restitution: now he restores to others, that he may give of his own; I give half my goods. The Publicans heart was as large as his estate; he was not more rich in goods then in bounty. Were this example binding, who should be rich to give? who should be poor to receive? In the straight beginnings of the Church those beneficences were requisite, which afterwards in the larger elbow-room thereof would have caused much confusion. If the first Christians laid down all at the Apostles feet, yet ere long, it was enough for the believing Corinthians, every first day of the week to lay aside some pittance for charitable purposes. We are no Disciples, if we do not imitate Zacheus so far as to give liberally, according to the proportion of our estate.  
Giving is sowing: the larger seeding, the greater crop. Giving to the poor is foeneration to God: the greater bank, the more interest. Who can fear to be too wealthy? Time was when men faulted in excess: Proclamations were fain to restrain the Jews; Statutes were fain to restrain our Ancestors. Now there needs none of this: Men know how to shut their hands alone. Charity is in more danger of freezing then of burning. How happy were it for the Church, if men were only close-handed to hold, and not lime-fingered to take. To the poor; not to rich heirs. God gives to him that hath; we to him that wants. Some want because they would, whether out of prodigality or idleness; some want because they must: these are the fit Subjects of our beneficence, not those other. A poverty of our own making deserves no pity. He that sustains the lewd, feeds not his belly but his vice. So then this living Legacy of Zacheus is free, I give; present, I do give; just, my goods, large, half my goods; fit, to the poor.  
Neither is he more bountiful in his gift, then just in his restitution: If I have take nought from any man by false▪ accusation, I restore, it fourfold.  
It was proper for a Publican to pill and pole the subject, by devising complaints, and raising causeless vexations, that his mouth might be stopped with fees, either for silence or composition. This had Zacheus often done. Neither is this If a note of doubt, but of assertion. He is sure of the fact, he is not sure of the persons: their challenge must help to further his justice. The true penitence of this holy Convert expresses itself in Confession, in Satisfaction. His Confession is free, full, open. What cares he to shame himself, that he may give glory to God? Woe be to that bashfulness that ends in confusion of face. O God, let me blush before men, rather than be confounded before Thee, thy Saints and Angels.  
His Satisfaction is no less liberal than his gift. Had not Zacheus been careful to pay the debts of his fraud, all had gone to the poor. He would have done that voluntarily, which the Young man in the Gospel was bidden to do, and refusing went away sorrowful. Now he knew that his misgotten gain was not for God's Corban; therefore he spares half, not to keep, but to restore. This was the best dish in Zacheus his good cheer. In vain had he feasted Christ, given to the poor, confessed his extortions, if he had not made restitution. Woe is me for the paucity of true Converts. There is much stolen goods; little brought home. men's hands are like the fishers Flew, yea like Hell itself, which admits of no return. O God, we can never satisfy thee; our score is too great, our abilities too little: but if we make not even with men, in vain shall we look for mercy from thee. To each his own had been well; but four for one was munificent. In our transactions of commerce we do well to beat the bargain to the lowest; but in cases of moral or spiritual payments to God or men, now there must be a measure, pressed, shaken, running over. In good offices and due retributions we may not be pinching and niggardly. It argues an earthly and ignoble mind, where we have apparently wronged, to higgle and dodge in the amends.  
Oh mercy and justice well repaid! This day is Salvation come to thine house. Lo, Zacheus, that which thou givest to the poor, is nothing to that which thy Saviour gives to thee. If thou restorest four for one, here is more than thousands of millions for nothing: were every of thy pence a world, they could hold no comparison with this bounty. It is but dross that thou givest, it is Salvation that thou receivest. Thou gavest in present, thou dost not receive in hope; but, This day is Salvation come to thine house. Thine illgotten metals were a strong bar to bolt Heaven gates against thee; now that they are dissolved by a seasonable beneficence and restitution, those gates of glory fly open to thy Soul. Where is that man that can challenge God to be in his debt? Who can ever say, Lord, this favour I did to the least of thine unrequited? Thrice happy Publican, that hast climbed from thy Sycomore to Heaven; and by a few worthless bags of unrighteous Mammon, hast purchased to thyself a Kingdom uncorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away.   

JOHN BAPTIST beheaded.  
THree of the Evangelists have (with one pen) recorded the death of the great harbinger of Christ, as most remarkable and useful. He was the forerunner of Christ, as into the world, so out of it: yea, he that made way for Christ into the world, made way for the name of Christ into the Court of Herod. This Herod Antipas was son to that Herod who was, and is ever infamous for the massacre at Bethle●m. Cruelty runs in a blood. The murderer of John the forerunner of Christ is well descended of him who would have murdered Christ, and, for his sake, murdered the Infants. It was late ere this Herod heard the fame of Jesus; not till he had taken off the head of John Baptist. The father of this Herod inquired for Christ too soon; this too late. Great men should have the best intelligence. If they improve it to all other uses of either frivolous or civil affairs, with neglect of spiritual, their judgement shall be so much more as their helps and means were greater. Whether this Herod were taken up with his Arabian wars against Arethas his father in law, or whether he were employed in his journey to Rome, I inquire not: but if he were at home, I must wonder how he could be so long without the noise of Christ. Certainly, it was a sign he had a very irreligious Court, that none of his Followers did so much as report to him the Miracles of our Saviour; who doubtless told him many a vain tale the while. One tells him of his brother Philip's discontentment; another relates the news of the Roman Court; another, the angry threats of Arethas; another flatters him with the admiration of his new mistress, and disparagement of the old: no man so much as says, Sir, there is a Prophet in your Kingdom that doth wonders. There was not a man in his country that had not been astonished with the fame of Jesus; yea all Syria and the adjoining regions rung of it: only Herod's Court hears nothing. Miserable is that Greatness which keeps men from the notice of Christ. How plain is it from hence, that our Saviour kept aloof from the Court? The austere and eremitical harbinger of Christ, it seems, preached there oft, and was heard gladly, though at last, to his cost; whiles our Saviour, who was more sociable, came not there. He sent a message to that Fox, whose den he would not approach. Whether it were that he purposely forbore, lest he should give that Tyrant occasion to revive and perose his father's suspicion; or whether for that he would not so much honour a place so infamously graceless and disordered; or whether by his example to teach us the avoidance of outward pomp and glory. Surely Herod saw him not till his death; heard not of him till the death of John Baptist. And now his un-intelligence was not more strange than his misconstruction; This is John Baptist, whom I beheaded. First he doubted, than he resolved: he doubted upon others suggestions; upon his own apprehensions he resolved thus. And though he thought good to set a face on it to strangers, unto whom is was not safe to bewray his fear; yet to his domestics he freely discovered his thoughts; This is John Baptist. The troubled Conscience will many a time open that to familiars, which it hides from the eyes of others. Shame and fear meet together in guiltiness. How could he imagine this to be John? That common conceit of transanimation could have no place here; there could be no transmigration of Souls into a grown and well-statured body. That received fancy of the Jews held only in the case of conception and birth, not of full age. What need we scan this point, when Herod himself professes, He is risen from the dead? He that was a Jew by profession, and knew the story of Elisha's bones, of the Sareptan's and Shunamite's son, and in all likelihood had now heard of our Saviour's miraculous resuscitation of others, might think this power reflected upon himself. Even Herod, as bad as he was, believed a Resurrection. Lewdness of life and practice may stand with orthodoxy in some main points of Religion. Who can doubt of this, when the Devils believe and tremble? Where shall those men appear whose faces are Christian, but their hearts saducees?  
Oh the terrors and tortures of a guilty heart! Herod's Conscience told him he had offered an unjust and cruel violence to an innocent; and now he thinks that John's ghost haunts him. Had it not been for this guilt of his bosom, why might he not as well have thought that the same God whose hand is not shortened, had conferred this power of Miracles upon some other? Now it could be no body but John that doth these wonders: and how can it be (thinks he) but that this revived Prophet, who doth these strange things, will be revenged on me for his head? He that could give himself life, can more easily take mine: how can I escape the hands of a now-immortal and impassable avenger?  
A wicked man needs no other tormentor (especially for the sins of blood) than his own heart. Revel, O Herod, and feast, and frolic; and please thyself with dances, and triumphs, and pastimes: thy sin shall be as some Fury that shall invisibly follow thee, and scourge thy guilty heart with secret lashes, and upon all occasions shall begin thine Hell within thee. He wanted not other sins, that yet cried, Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God.  
What an honour was done to John in this misprision? While that man lived, the world was apt to think that John was the Christ: now that John is dead, Herod thinks Christ to be John. God gives to his poor conscionable servants a kind of reverence and high respect, even from those men that malign them most; so as they cannot but venerate whom they hate. Contrarily, no wit or power can shield a lewd man from contempt.  
John did no Miracle in his life, yet now Herod thinks he did miracles in his Resurrection; as supposing that a new supernatural life brought with it a supernatural power. Who can but wonder at the stupid partiality of Herod and these Jews? They can imagine and yield John risen from the dead, that never did miracle, and rose not; whereas Christ, who did infinite miracles, and rose from the dead by his almighty power, is not yielded by them to have risen. Their over-bountiful misconceit of the servant, is not so injurious as their niggardly infidelity to the Master. Both of them shall convince and confound them before the face of God. But, oh yet more blockish Herod! Thy conscience affrights thee with John's resurrection, and flies in thy face for the cruel murder of so great a Saint; yet where is thy repentance for so foul a fact? Who would not have expected that thou shouldest hereupon have humbled thyself for thy sin, and have laboured to make thy peace with God and him? The greater the fame and power was of him whom thou supposedst recovered from thy slaughter, the more should have been thy penitence. Impiety is wont to besot men, and turn them senseless of their own safety and welfare. One would have thought that our first Grandsire Adam, when he found his heart to strike him for his disobedience, should have run to meet God upon his knees, and have sued for pardon of his offence: In stead of that, he runs to hide his head among the bushes. The case is still ours; we inherit both his sin and his senslesness. Besides the infinite displeasure of God, wickedness makes the heart uncapable of Grace, and impregnable of the means of Conversion.  
Even the very first act of Herod's cruelty was heinous. He was foul enough with other sins; he added this above all, that he shut up John in prison. The violence offered to God's messengers is branded for notorious. The Sanctity and austere carriage of the man won him honour justly from the multitude, and aggravated the sin: but whatever his person had been, his mission was sacred (he shall send his messenger; the wrong redounds to the God that sent him. It is the charge of God, Touch not mine anointed, nor do my Prophets any harm. The precept is perhaps one, for even Prophets were anointed; but at lest next to violation of Majesty, is the wrong to a Prophet. But what? do I not hear the Evangelist say that Herod heard John gladly? How is it then? Did John take the ear and heart of Herod, and doth Herod bind the hands and feet of John? Doth he wilfully imprison whom he gladly heard? How inconstant is a carnal heart to good resolutions? How little trust is to be given to the good motions of unregenerate persons? We have known when even mad dogs have fawned upon their master, yet he hath been too wise to trust them but in chains. As a true friend loves always, so a gracious heart always affects good: neither can be altered with change of occurrences. But the carnal man, like an hollow Parasite or a fawning Spaniel, flatters only for his own turn; if that be once either served or crossed, like a churlish cur, he is ready to snatch us by the fingers. Is there a worldly-minded man that lives in some known sin, yet makes much of the Preacher, frequents the Church, talks godly, looks demurely, carries fair? trust him not; he will prove, after his pious fits, like some resty horse, which goes on some paces readily and eagerly, but anon either stands still, or falls to flinging and plunging, and never leaves till he have cast his rider.  
What then might be the cause of John's bonds, and Herod's displeasure? For Herodias sake his brother Philip's wife. That woman was the subject of Herod's lust, and the exciter of his revenge. This light huswife ran away with her Husband's brother; and now doting upon her incestuous lover, and finding John to be a rub in the way of her licentious adultery, is impatient of his liberty, and will not rest till his restraint. Resolved sinners are mad upon their lewd courses and run furiously upon their gainsayers. A Bear robbed of her whelps is less impetuous. Indeed those that have determined to love their sins more than their Souls, whom can they care for? Though Herod was wicked enough, yet had it not been upon Herodias' instigation, he had never imprisoned John.  
Importunity of lewd solicitors may be of dangerous consequence, and many times draws greatness into those ways which it either would not have thought of, or abhorred. In the remotion of the wicked is the establishment of the throne.  
Yet still is this Dame called the wife of Philip. She had utterly left his bed, and was solemnly coupled to Herod; but all the ritual ceremonies of her new Nuptials cannot make her other than Philip's wife. It is a sure rule, That which is originally faulty can never be rectified. The ordination of Marriage is one for one; They twain shall be one flesh. There cannot be two heads to one body, nor two bodies to one head. Herod was her Adulterer, he was not her Husband: she was Herod's Harlot, Philip's Wife. Yet how doth Herod dote on her, that for her sake he loads John with irons? Whither will not the fury of inordinate Lust transport a man? Certainly John was of late in Herod's favour. That roughhewn Preacher was for a Wilderness, not for a Court: Herod's invitation drew him thither, his reverence and respects encouraged him there. Now the love of his Lust hath carried him into an hate of God's Messenger. That man can have no hold of himself or care of others, who hath given the rains to his unruly concupiscence. He that hath once fixed his heart upon the face of an Harlot, and hath beslaved himself to a bewitching Beauty, casts off at once all fear of God, respect to Laws, shame of the World, regard of his estate, care of wife, children, friends, reputation, patrimony, body, Soul. So violent is this beastly passion where it takes: neither ever leaves till it have hurried him into the chambers of death.  
Herodias herself had first plotted to kill the Baptist; her murderers were suborned, her ambushes laid. The success failed, and now she works with Herod for his durance. Oh marvellous hand of the Almighty! John was a mean man for estate, solitary, guardless, unarmed, impotent: Herodias a Queen, so great that she swayed Herod himself; and not more great then subtle; and not more great or subtle then malicious; yet Herodias laid to kill John, and could not. What an invisible, and yet sure, guard there is about the poor servants of God that seem helpless and despicable in themselves? There is over them an hand of Divine protection, which can be no more opposed then seen. Malice is not so strong in the hand as in the heart. The Devil is stronger than a world of men, a legion of Devils stronger than fewer spirits; yet a legion of Devils cannot hurt one swine without a permission. What can bands of enemies or gates of Hell do against God's secret ones? It is better to trust in the Lord, then to trust in Princes.  
It is not more clear who was the Author, than what was the motive of this imprisonment, the free reproof of Herod's Incest; It is not lawful, etc. Both the offenders were nettled with this bold reprehension. Herod knew the reputation that John carried; his Conscience could not but suggest the foulness of his own fact: neither could he but see how odious it would seem to persecute a Prophet for so just a reproof. For the colour therefore of so tyrannical an act, he brands John with Sedition: these presumptuous taxations are a disgrace and disparagement to Authority. It is no news with wicked Tyrants, to cloak their Cruelty with pretences of Justice. Never was it other than the lot of God's faithful servants, to be loaded with unjust reproaches in the conscionable performance of their duties. They should speed too well in the opinion of men, if they might but appear in their true shape.  
The fact of Herod was horrible and prodigious; to rob his own Brother of the partner of his bed; to tear away part of his flesh, yea his body from his head. So as here was at once in one act, Adultery, Incest, Violence. Adultery, that he took another's wife; Incest, that he took his Brother's; Violence, that he thus took her, in spite of her Husband. Justly therefore might John say, It is not lawful for thee. He balked not one of Herod's sins, but reproved him of all the evils that he had done; though more eminently of this, as that which more filled the eye of the world. It was not the Crown or awful Sceptre of Herod that could daunt the homely, but faithful, messenger of God: as one that came in the spirit of Elias, he fears no faces, spares no wickedness. There must meet in God's ministers Courage and Impartiality. Impartiality, not to make difference of persons; Courage, not to make spare of the sins of the greatest. It is an hard condition that the necessity of our Calling casts upon us, in some cases to run upon the pikes of displeasure. Prophecies were no Burdens, if they did not expose us to these dangers. We must connive at no evil: Every sin unreproved becomes ours.  
Hatred is the daughter of Truth. Herod is inwardly vexed with so peremptory a reprehension: and now he seeks to kill the author. And why did he not 〈◊〉 He feared the people. The time was, when he feared John no less than now 〈◊〉 hates him: he once reverenced him as a just and holy man, whom now he h●art-burns as an enemy▪ neither was it any counterfeit respect, sure the man was then in earnest. What shall we say then? was it that his inconstant heart was now fetched off by Herodias, and wrought to a disaffection? or was it with Herod as with Salomon's Sluggard, that at once would and would not? His thoughts are distracted with a mixed voluntary contradiction of purposes: as an holy man, and honoured of the people, he would not kill John; he would kill him, as an enemy to his Lust. The worst part prevaileth; Appetite oversways Reason and Conscience: and now, were it not for fear of the people, John should be murdered. What a self-conflicting and prodigious creature is a wicked man left over to his own thoughts? whiles on the one side he is urged by his Conscience, on the other by his lustful desires and by the importunity of Satan. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked: and after all his inward broils, he falls upon the worst; so as his yieldance is worse than his fight. When God sees fit, Herod's tyranny shall effect that which the wi●e Providence of the Almighty hath decreed for his Servants glory. In the mean while, rubs shall be cast in his way; and this for one, He feared the people. What an absurd and sottish thing is Hypocrisy? Herod fears the people, he fears not God. Tell me then, Herod, what could the people do at the worst? Perhaps, mutiny against thee, raise arms and tumults, disturb the Government, it may be, shake it off.  
What could God do? yea, what not? stir up all his creatures to plague thee, and when he hath done, tumble thee down to Hell, and there torment thee everlastingly. O fond Herod, that fearest where no fear was, and fearest not where there is nothing but terror!  
How God fits lewd men with restraints? If they be so godless as to regard his creature above himself, he hath external bugs to affright them withal; if bashful, he hath shame; if covetous, losses; if proud, disgrace: and by this means the most wise Providence keeps the world in order. We cannot better judge of our hearts, then by what we most fear.  
No man is so great as to be utterly exempted from fear. The Jews feared Herod; Herod feared the Jews: the healthful fear sickness; the free servitude: the people fear a Tyrant's oppression and cruelty; the Tyrant fears the people's mutiny and insurrection. If there have been some so great as to be above the reach of the power and machinations of inferiors, yet never any that have been free from their fears and suspicions. Happy is he that fears nothing but what he should, God.  
Why did Herod fear the people? They held John for a Prophet. And this opinion was both common and constant: even the Scribes and Pharisees durst not say, his Baptism was from men. It is the wisdom and goodness of God, ever to give his children favour somewhere. If Jezebel hate Elias, Ahab shall for the time honour him: and if Herod hate the Baptist, and would kill him, yet the people reverence him. Herod's malice would make him away; the people's reputation keeps him alive. As wise Princes have been content to maintain a faction in their Court or State for their own purposes; so here did the God of Heaven contrive and order differences of judgement and affection betwixt Herod and his subjects for his own holy ends. Else certainly, if all wicked men should conspire in evil, there could be no being upon earth; as contrarily, if evil spirits did not accord, Hell could not stand. Oh the unjust and fond partiality of this people! They all generally applaud John for a Prophet, yet they receive not his message. Whose Prophet was John, but of the Highest? what was his errand, but to be the way-maker unto Christ? what was he but the Voice of that Eternal Word of his Father? what was the found of that Voice but, Behold the Lamb of God: He that comes after me is greater than I, whose shoe-latchet I am not worthy to unlose? Yet they honour the servant, and reject the Master: they contemn that Prince whose Ambassador they reverence. How could they but argue, John is a Prophet; he speaks from God; his words must be true; he tells us this is the Lamb of God, the Messias that should ●ome to redeem the World: this must then needs be he; we will look for no other? Yet this perverse people receives John, and rejects Jesus. There is ever an absurdity in unbelief, whiles it separates those relations and respects which can never in Nature be disjoined. Thus it readily apprehends God as merciful in pardoning, not as just in punishing; Christ as a Saviour, not as a Judge. Thus we ordinarily (in a contrariety to these Jews) profess to receive the Master, and contemn the servants: whiles he hath said that will make it good, He that despiseth you, despiseth me.  
That which Herod in policy durst not, in wine he dares do: And that which God had restrained till his own time, now in his own time he permits to be done. The day was, as one of the Evangelists styles it, convenient: if for the purpose of Herodias, I am sure for God's; who having determined to glorify himself by John's martyrdom, will cast it upon a time when it may be most notified, Herod's birthday. All the Peers of the Country, perhaps of the neighbour Nations, are now assembled. Herodias could not have found out a time more fit to blazon her own shame and cruelty then in such a confluence. The wise Providence of God many times pays us with our own choice; so as when we think to have brought about our own Ends to our best content, we bring about his purposes to our own confusion.  
Herod's birthday is kept; and so was Pharaoh's: both of them with blood. These personal stains cannot make the practice unlawful. Where the man is good, the Birth is memorable.  
What blessing have we, if life be none? and if our life be a blessing, why should it not be celebrated? Excess and disorder may blemish any Solemnity; but that cleaves to the act, not to the institution.  
Herod's birthday was kept with a feast, and this Feast was a Supper. It was fit to be a nightwork: this Festivity was spent in works of darkness, not of the light; it was a child of darkness that was then born, not of the day.  
Those that are drunken, are drunk in the night. There is a kind of shame in Sin, even where it is committed with the stiffest resolution, at least there was wont to be: if now Sin be grown impudent, and Justice bashful, woe be to us.  
That there might be perfect revels at Herod's Birthday, besides the Feast, there is music and dancing, and that by Salome the daughter of Herodias. A meet Daughter for such a Mother, bred according to the disposition of so immodest a Parent. Dancing in itself, as it is a set, regular, harmonious motion of the body, cannot be unlawful, more than walking or running; Circumstances may make it sinful. The wanton gesticulations of a Virgin in a wild assembly of Gallants warmed with wine, could be no other than riggish and unmaidenly. It is not so frequently seen that the child follows the good Qualities of the Parent; it is seldom seen that it follows not the evil. Nature is the soil; good and ill Qualities are the herbs and weeds: the soil bears the weeds naturally, the herbs not without culture. What with traduction, what with education, it were strange if we should miss any of our Parents mis-dispositions.  
Herodias and Salome have what they desired. The dance pleased Herod well: those indecent motions that would have displeased any modest eye, (though what should a modest eye do at Herod's Feast?) overpleased Herod. Well did Herodias know how to fit the tooth of her Paramour, and had therefore purposely so composed the carriage and gesture of her Daughter, as it might take best: although doubtless the same action could not have so pleased from another. Herod saw in Salome's face and fashion, the image of her whom he doted on; so did she look, so did she move: besides that his lavish cups had predisposed him to wantonness: and now he cannot but like well that which so pleasingly suited his inordinate desire. All humours love to be fed; especially the vicious, so much more, as they are more eager and stirring. There cannot be a better glass wherein to discern the face of our hearts, than our Pleasures: such as they are, such are we, whether vain, or holy.  
What a strange transportation was this? Whatsoever thou shalt ask: half a Kingdom for a dance? Herod, this pastime is overpaid for; there is no proportion in this remuneration; this is not bounty, it is prodigence. Neither doth this pass under a bare Promise only, but under an Oath, and that solemn and (as it might be in wine) serious. How largely do sensual men both proffer and give for a little momentany and vain contentment? How many censure Herod's gross impotence, and yet second it with a worse giving away their precious Souls for a short pleasure of sin? What is half a Kingdom, yea a whole World, to a Soul? So much therefore is their madness greater, as their loss is more.  
So large a boon was worthy of a deliberation. Salome consults with her Mother upon so ample and ratified a promise. Yet so much good nature and filial respect was in this wanton Damsel, that she would not carve herself of her option, but takes her Mother with her. If Herodias were infamously lewd, yet she was her Parent, and must direct her choice. Children should have no will of their own; as their flesh is their Parents, so should their will be. They do justly unchild themselves, that in main elections dispose of themselves without the consent of those which gave them being. It is both unmannerly and unnatural in the Child to run before, without, against the will of the Parent.  
Oh that we could be so officious to our good and Heavenly Father, as she was to an earthly and wicked Mother; not to ask, not to undertake aught without his allowance, without his directions: that when the world shall offer us whatsoever our heart desires, we could run to the Oracles of God for our resolution; not daring to accept what he doth not both licence and warrant.  
Oh the wonderful strength of malice! Salome was offered no less than half the Kingdom of Herod, yet chooses to ask the head of a poor Preacher. Nothing is so sweet to a corrupt heart as revenge; especially when it may bring with it a full scope to a dear sin. All worldlings are of this diet: they had rather sin freely for a while and die, then refrain and live happily, eternally.  
What a suit was this? Give me here in a Charger the head of John Baptist. It is not enough for her to say, Let John's head be cut off; but, Give me it in a Charger. What a service was here to be brought into a Feast, especially to a Woman? a dead man's head swimming in blood. How cruel is a wicked heart, that can take pleasure in those things which have most horror?  
Oh the importunity of a galled conscience! Herodias could never think herself safe till John was dead; she could never think him dead till his head were off; she could not think his head was off, till she had it brought her in a platter: a guilty heart never thinks it hath made sure enough. Yea, even after the head was thus brought, they thought him alive again. Guiltiness and Security could never lodge together in one bosom.  
Herod was sorry, and no doubt in earnest; in the midst of his cups and pleasance. I should rather think his jollity counterfeited then his grief. It is true, Herod was a fox; but that subtle beast dissembles not always: when he runs away from the dogs, he means as he does. And if he were formerly willing to have killed John, yet he was unwillingly willing; and so far as he was unwilling to kill him as a Prophet, as a just man, so far was he sorry that he must be killed. Had Herod been wise, he had not been perplexed. Had he been so wise as to have engaged himself lawfully and within due limits, he had not now been so entangled as to have needed sorrow. The folly of Sinners is guilty of their pain, and draws upon them a late and unprofitable repentance.  
But here the act was not past, though the word were passed. It was his misconceived intanglement that caused this sorrow; which might have been remedied by flying off. A threefold cord tied him to the performance. The conscience of his Oath, the respect to his guests, a loathness to discontent Herodias and her daughter. Herod had so much religion as to make scruple of an Oath; not so much as to make scruple of a Murder. No man casts off all Justice and Piety at once; but whiles he gives himself over to some sins, he sticks at others. It is no thank to lewd men that they are not universally vicious. All God's several laws cannot be violated at once: there are Sins contrary to each other; there are Sins disagreeing from the lewdest dispositions. There are Oppressors that hate Drunkenness; there are Unclean persons which abhor Murder; there are Drunkards which hate Cruelty. One sin is enough to damn the Soul, one leak to drown the Vessel.  
But, oh fond Herod! what needed this unjust scrupulousness? Well and safely mightest thou have shifted the bond of thine Oath with a double evasion. One, that this generality of thy promise was only to be construed of lawful acts and motions: That only can we do, which we can justly do; Unlawfulness is in the nature of Impossibility. The other, that had this engagement been so meant, yet might it be as lawfully rescinded as it was unlawfully made. A sinful Promise is ill made, worse performed. Thus thou mightest, thou shouldest have come off fair; where now, holding thyself by an irreligious religion tied to thy foolish and wicked Oath; thou only goest away with this mitigation, that thou art a scrupulous Murderer.  
In the mean while, if an Herod made such conscience of keeping an unlawful Oath, how shall he in the day of judgement condemn those Christians which make no conscience of Oaths lawful, just, necessary? Woe is me, one sells an oath for a bribe, another lends an oath for favour, another casts it away for malice. I fear to think it may be a question whether there be more oaths broken, or kept. O God, I marvel not, if being implored as a witness, as an avenger of falsehood, thou hold him not guiltless that thus dares take thy Name in vain.  
Next to his Oath is the respect to his Honour. His guests heard his deep engagement, and now he cannot fall off with reputation. It would argue levity and rashness to say and not to do, and what would the world say? The misconceits of the points of Honour have cost millions of Souls. As many a one doth good only to be seen of men, so many a one doth evil only to satisfy the humour and opinion of others. It is a damnable plausibility so to regard the vain approbation or censure of the beholders, as in the mean time to neglect the allowance or judgement of God. But how ill guests were these? how well worthy of an Herod's table? Had they had but common civility, finding Herod perplexed, they had acquitted him by their dissuasions, and would have disclaimed the expectation of so bloody a performance: but they rather (to gratify Herodias) make way for so slight and easy a condescent. Even godly Princes have complained of the iniquity of their heels: how much more must they needs be ill attended, that give encouragements and examples of lewdness?  
Neither was it the least motive that he was loath to displease his Mistress. The Damsel had pleased him in her dance; he would not discontent her in breaking his word. He saw Herodias in Salome: the suit, he knew, was the mothers, though in the daughter's lips: both would be displeased in falling off; both would be gratified in yielding. Oh vain and wicked Herod! He cares not to offend God, to offend his Conscience; he cares to offend a wanton Mistress. This is one means to fill Hell, loathness to displease.  
A good heart will rather fall out with all the world then with God, then with his Conscience.  
The misgrounded sorrow of worldly hearts doth not withhold them from their intended sins. It is enough to vex, not enough to restrain them. Herod was sorry, but he sends the executioner for John's head. One act hath made Herod a Tyrant, and John a Martyr. Herod a Tyrant, in that without all legal proceedings, without so much as false witnesses, he takes off the head of a man, of a Prophet. It was Lust that carried Herod into Murder. The proceedings of sin are more hardly avoided then the entrance. Whoso gives himself leave to be wicked, knows not where he shall stay.  
John a Martyr, in dying for bearing witness to the Truth; Truth in Life, in Judgement, in Doctrine. It was the holy purpose of God, that he which had baptised with water should now be baptised with blood. Never did God mean that his best Children should dwell always upon earth: should they stay here, wherefore hath he provided Glory above? Now would God have John delivered from a double prison; of his own, of Herod's; and placed in the glorious liberty of his sons. His head shall be taken off, that it may be crowned with glory. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his Saints.  
Oh happy birthday (not of Herod, but) of the Baptist! Now doth John enter into his joy; and in this name is this day ever celebrated of the Church. This blessed Forerunner of Christ said of himself, I must decrease. He is decreased indeed, and now grown shorter by the head; but he is not so much decreased in stature, as increased in glory. For one minutes pain he is possessed of endless joy; and as he came before his Saviour into the world, so is he gone before him into Heaven.  
The head is brought in a Charger. What a dish was here for a Feast? How prodigiously insatiable is the cruelty of a wicked heart! O blessed service fit for the table of Heaven! It is not for thee, O wicked Herod, nor for thee, malicious and wanton Herodias; it is a dish precious and pleasing to the God of Heaven, to the blessed Angels, who looked upon that head with more delight in his constant fidelity, than the beholders saw it with horror, and Herodias with contentment of revenge.  
It is brought to Salome as the reward of her dance; she presents it to her Mother as the dainty she had longed for. Methinks I see how that chaste and holy countenance was tossed by impure and filthy hands; that true and faithful tongue, those sacred lips, those pure eyes, those mortified cheeks are now insultingly handled by an incestuous Harlot, and made a scorn to the drunken eyes of Herod's guests.  
Oh the wondrous judgements and incomprehensible dispositions of the holy, wise, Almighty God He that was sanctified in the womb, born and conceived with so much note and miracle, (what manner of child● shall this be?) lived with so much reverence and observation, is now, at midnight, obscurely murdered in a close prison, and his head brought forth to the insultation and irrision of Harlots and Ruffians. O God, thou knowest what thou hast to do with thine own. Thus thou sufferest thine to be misused and slaughtered here below, that thou mayst crown them above. It should not be thus, if thou didst not mean that their glory should be answerable to their depression.   

The five Loaves and two Fishes.  
WHat flocking there was after Christ which way soever he went? How did the Kingdom of Heaven suffer an holy violence in these his followers? Their importunity drove him from the land to the sea. When he was upon the sea of Tiberias, they followed him with their eyes; and when they saw which way he bend, they followed him so fast on foot, that they prevented his landing. Whether it were that our Saviour stayed somewhile upon the water (as that which yielded him more quietness, and freedom of respiration;) or whether the foot-passage (as it oft falls out) were the shorter cut, by reason of the compasses of the water and the many elbows of the land, I inquire not: sure I am, the wind did not so swiftly drive on the ship, as desire and zeal drove on these eager clients. Well did Christ see them all the way; well did he know their steps, and guided them: and now he purposely goes to meet them, whom he seemed to flee. Nothing can please God more than our importunity in seeking him: when he withdraws himself, it is that he may be more earnestly inquired for. Now than he comes to find them whom he made show to decline: and seeing a great multitude, he passes from the ship to the shore. That which brought him from Heaven to earth, brought him also from the sea to land; his compassion on their Souls, that he might teach them; compassion on their Bodies, that he might heal and feed them.  
Judaea was not large, but populous: it could not be but there must be amongst so many men many diseased: it is no marvel if the report of so miraculous and universal sanations drew customers. They found three advantages of cure above the power and performance of any earthly Physician, Certainty, Bounty, Ease. Certainty, in that all comers were cured without fail: Bounty, in that they were cured without charge: Ease, in that they were cured without pain. far be it from us, O Saviour, to think that thy Glory hath abated of thy Mercy: still and ever thou art our assured, bountiful, and perfect Physician, who healest all our diseases, and takest away all our infirmities. Oh that we could have our faithful recourse to thee in all our spiritual maladies: it were as impossible we should want help, as that thou shouldest want power and mercy.  
That our Saviour might approve himself every way beneficent, he that had filled the Souls of his Auditors with spiritual repast, will now fill their Bodies with temporal: and he that had approved himself the universal Physician of his Church, will now be known to be the great householder of the world, by whose liberal provision mankind is maintained. He did not more miraculously heal, than he feeds miraculously.  
The Disciples having well noted the diligent and importune attendance of the multitude, now towards evening come to their Master in a care of their repast and discharge. This is a desert place, and the time is now past: Send the multitude away, that they may go into the villages and buy themselves victuals. How well it becomes even spiritual guides to regard the bodily necessities of God's people? This is not directly in our charge, neither may we leave our sacred ministration to serve Tables. But yet, as the bodily father must take care for the Soul of his child; so must the spiritual have respect to the Body. This is all that the world commonly looks after; measuring their Pastors more by their dishes then by their doctrine or conversation: as if they had the charge of their Bellies, not of their Souls: if they have open Cellars, it matters not whether their Mouths be open. If they be sociable in their carriage, favourable and indulgent to their recreations, full in their cheer, how easily doth the world dispense with either their negligence or enormities? As if the Souls of these men lay in their wezand, in their gut. But surely they have reason to expect from their Teachers a due proportion of Hospitality. An unmeet parsimony is here not more odious than sinful: And where ability wants, yet care may not be wanting. Those Preachers which are so intent upon their spiritual work, that in the mean time they over-strain the weaknesses of their people, holding them in their Devotions longer than humane frailty will permit, forget not themselves more than their pattern: and must be sent to school to these compassionate Disciples, who when evening was come, sue to Christ for the people's dismission.  
The place was desert; the time, evening. Doubtless our Saviour made choice of both these, that there might be both more use and more note of his Miracle. Had it been in the morning, their stomach had not been up; their feeding had been unnecessary. Had it been in the Village, provision either might have been made, or at least would have seemed made by themselves. But now that it was both desert and evening, there was good ground for the Disciples to move, and for Christ to work their sustentation. Then only may we expect and crave help from God, when we find our need. Superfluous aid can neither be heartily desired, nor earnestly looked for, nor thankfully received from the hands of mercy. Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee. If it be not a burden, it is no casting it upon God. Hence it is that Divine aid comes ever in the very upshot and exigence of our trials; when we have been exercised, and almost tired with long hopes, yea with despairs of success: that it may be both more longed for ere it come, and when it comes more welcome.  
Oh the Faith and Zeal of these clients of Christ! They not only follow him from the City into the Desert, from delicacy to want, from frequency to solitude; but forget their bodies in pursuit of the food of their Souls.  
Nothing is more hard for an healthful man to forget then his belly; within few hours this will be sure to solicit him, and will take no denials. Yet such sweetness did these hearers find in the spiritual repast, that they thought not on the bodily: the Disciples pitied them, they had no mercy on themselves. By how much more a man's mind is taken up with Heavenly things, so much less shall he care for earthly. What shall earth be to us, when we are all Spirit? And in the mean time, according to the degrees of our intellectual elevations, shall be our neglect of bodily contentments.  
The Disciples think they move well: Send them away, that they may buy victuals. Here was a strong Charity, but a weak Faith. A strong Charity, in that they would have the people relieved; a weak Faith, in that they supposed they could not otherwise be so well relieved. As a man when he sees many ways lie before him, taketh that which he thinks both fairest and nearest; so do they: this way of relief lay openest to their view, and promised most. Well might they have thought, It is as easy for our Master to feed them, as to heal them; there is an equal facility in all things to a supernatural power: yet they say, Send them away. In all our projects and suits we are still ready to move for that which is most obvious, most likely, when sometimes that is less agreeable to the will of God.  
The Alwise and Almighty arbiter of all things hath a thousand secret means to honour himself in his proceedings with us. It is not for us to carve boldly for ourselves; but we must humbly depend on the disposal of his Wisdom and Mercy.  
Our Saviour's answer gives a strange check to their motion; They need not depart. Not need? They had no victuals; they must have; there was none to be had. What more need could be? He knew the supply which he intended, though they knew it not. His command was therefore more strange than his assertion, Give ye them to eat. Nothing gives what it hath not. Had they had victuals, they had not called for a dismission; and not having, how should they give? It was thy wisdom, O Saviour, thus to prepare thy Disciples for the intended Miracle: Thou wouldst not do it abruptly, without an intimation both of the purpose of it, and the necessity. And how modestly dost thou undertake it, without noise, without ostentation? I hear thee not say, I will give them to eat; but, Give ye: as if it should be their act, not thine. Thus sometimes it pleaseth thee to require of us what we are not able to perform; either that thou mayest show us what we cannot do, and so humble us; or that thou majest erect us to a dependence upon thee, which canst do it for us. As when the Mother bids the Infant come to her, which hath not yet the steady use of his legs, it is that he may cling the faster to her hand or coat for supportation.  
Thou bidst us, impotent wretches, to keep thy royal Law. Alas! what can we Sinners do? there is not one letter of those thy Ten words that we are able to keep. This charge of thine intends to show us not our strength, but our weakness. Thus thou wouldst turn our eyes both back to what we might have done, to what we could have done; and upwards to thee in whom we have done it, in whom we can do it. He wrongs thy Goodness and Justice that misconstrues these thy commands, as if they were of the same nature with those of the Egyptian taskmasters, requiring the brick, and not giving the straw. But in bidding us do what we cannot, thou inablest us to do what thou biddest. Thy Precepts under the Gospel have not only an intimation of our duty, but an habilitation of thy power: as here, when thou badest the Disciples to give to the multitude, thou meantest to supply unto them what thou commandedst to give.  
Our Saviour hath what he would; an acknowledgement of their insufficiency: We have here but five loaves and two fishes. A poor provision for the family of the Lord of the whole earth: Five loaves, and those barley; two fishes, and those little ones. We well know, O Saviour, that the beasts were thine on a thousand mountains, all the corn thine that covered the whole surface of the earth, all the fouls of the air thine; it was thou that providedst those drifts of Quails that fell among the tents of thy rebellious Israelites, that rainedst down those showers of Manna round about their camp: and dost thou take up (for thyself and thy meinie) with five barley loaves, and two little fishes? Certainly this was thy will, not thy need: to teach us, that this body must be fed, not pampered. Our belly may not be our master, much less our God; or if it be, the next word is, whose glory is their shame, whose end damnation. It is noted as the crime of the rich glutton, that he fared deliciously every day. I never find that Christ entertained any guests but twice; and that was only with loaves and fishes. I find him sometimes feasted by others more liberally. But his domestical fare how simple, how homely it is? The end of food is to sustain Nature. Meat was ordained for the belly, the belly for the body, the body for the Soul, the Soul for God: we must still look through the subordinate Ends to the highest. To rest in the pleasure of the meat, is for those creatures which have no Souls. Oh the extreme delicacy of these times! What conquisition is here of all sorts of curious dishes from the furthest seas and lands, to make up one hours' meal? what broken cookery? what devised mixtures? what nice sauces? what feasting not of the taste only, but of the sent? Are we the Disciples of him that took up with the loaves and fishes; or the Scholars of a Philoxenus, or an Apitius, or Vitellius, or those other monsters of the palate? the true sons of those first Parents that killed themselves with their teeth?  
Neither was the quality of these victuals more course than the quantity small. They make a But of five loaves and two fishes; and well might, in respect of so many thousand mouths. A little food to an hungry stomach, doth rather stir up appetite then satisfy it: as a little rain upon a droughty soil doth rather help to scorch then refresh it. When we look with the eye of Sense or Reason upon any Object, we shall see an impossibility of those effects which Faith can easily apprehend, and Divine power more easily produce. Carnal minds are ready to measure all our hopes by humane possibilities; and when they fail, to despair of success: where true Faith measures them by Divine power, and therefore can never be disheartened. This Grace is for things not seen, and whether beyond hope, or against it.  
The virtue is not in the means, but in the agent. Bring them hither to me. How much more easy had it been for our Saviour to fetch the loaves to him, then to multiply them? The hands of the Disciples shall bring them, that they might more fully witness both the Author, and manner of the instant Miracle. Had the loaves and fishes been multiplied without this bringing, perhaps they might have seemed to have come by the secret provision of the guests; now there can be no question either of the act, or of the agent. As God takes pleasure in doing wonders for men, so he loves to be acknowledged in the great works that he doth. He hath no reason to part with his own glory; that is too precious for him to lose, or for his creature to embezel. And how justly didst thou, O Saviour, in this mean to teach thy Disciples, that it was thou only who feedest the world; and upon whom both themselves and all their fellow-creatures must depend for their nourishment and provision; and that if it came not through thy hands, it could not come to theirs?  
There need no more words. I do not hear the Disciples stand upon the terms of their own necessity; Alas! Sir, it is too little for ourselves; whence shall we then relieve our own hunger? Give leave to our Charity to begin at home. But they willingly yield to the command of their Master; and put themselves upon his Providence for the sequel. When we have a charge from God, it is not for us to stand upon self-respects; in this case there is no such sure liberty as in a self-contempt. O God, when thou callest to us for our five loaves, we must forget our own interest: otherwise if we be more thirsty than obedient, our good turns evil; and much better had it been for us to have wanted that which we withhold from the owner.  
He that is the Master of the Feast marshal's the guests; He commanded the multitude to sit down on the grass. They obey, and expect. Oh marvellous Faith! So many thousands sit down, and address themselves to a meal, when they saw nothing but five poor barley loaves and two small fishes. None of them say, Sat down? to what? Here are the mouths, but where is the meat? We can soon be set, but whence shall we be served? Ere we draw our knives, let us see our cheer. But they meekly and obediently dispose themselves to their places, and look up to Christ for a miraculous purveyance. It is for all that would be Christ's followers, to lead the life of Faith; and, even where means appear not, to wait upon that merciful hand. Nothing is more easy then to trust God when our barns and coffers are full; and to say, Give us our daily bread, when we have it in our cupboard. But when we have nothing, when we know not how or whence to get any thing, then to depend upon an invisible bounty, this is a true and noble act of Faith. To cast away our own that we may immediately live upon Divine Providence, I know no warrant. But when the necessity is of God's making, we see our refuge; and happy are we if our confidence can fly to it, and rest in it. Yea fullness should be a Curse, if it should debar us from this dependence: at our best we must look up to this great householder of the world, and cannot but need his provision. If we have meat, perhaps not appetite; if appetite, it may be not digestion; or if that, not health, and freedom from pain; or if that, (perhaps from other occurrents) not life.  
The guests are set full of expectation. He that could have multiplied the bread in absence, in silence takes it and blesses it; that he might at once show them the Author and the means of this increase. It is thy blessing, O God, that maketh rich. What a difference do we see in men's estates? Some languish under great means, and enjoy not either their substance or themselves; others are cheerful and happy in a little. Second causes may not be denied their work; but the overruling power is above. The subordinateness of the creature doth not take away from the right, from the thank of the first mover.  
He could as well have multiplied the loaves whole; why would he rather do it in the breaking? Was it to teach us that in the distribution of our goods we should expect his blessing, not in their entireness and reservation? There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth, saith Solomon: Yea there is no man but increaseth by scattering. It is the grain thrown into the several furrows of the earth, which yields the rich interest unto the Husbandman: that which is tied up in his sack, or heaped in his granary, decreaseth by keeping. He that soweth liberally shall reap liberally.  
Away with our weak distrust. If Wealth came by us, giving were the way to want: now that God gives to the giver, nothing can so sure enrich us as our beneficence. He multiplied the bread not to keep, but to give; He gave it to the Disciples. And why not rather by his own hand to the multitude, that so the Miracle and thank might have been more immediate? Wherefore was this, O Saviour, but that thou mightest win respect to thy Disciples from the people? As great Princes, when they would ingratiate a Favourite, pass no suits but through his hands. What an honour was this to thy servants, that as thou wert Mediator betwixt thy Father and man, so thou wouldst have them in some beneficial occasion mediate betwixt men and thee? How fit a type is this of thy spiritual provision, that thou who couldst have fed the world by thine immediate word, wouldst by the hands of thy Ministers divide the bread of life to all hearers? Like as it was with the Law; well did the Israelites see and hear that thou couldst deliver that dreadful message with thine own mouth, yet in favour of their weakness thou wouldst treat with them by a Moses. Use of means derogates nothing from the efficacy of the principal Agent, yea adds to it. It is a strange weakness of our spiritual eyes, if we can look but to the next hand. How absurd had these guests been, if they had termined the thanks in the servitors, and had said, We have it from you, whence ye had it is no part of our care: we owe this favour to you; if you owe it to your Master, acknowledge your obligations to him, as we do unto you. But since they well knew that the Disciples might have handled this bread long enough ere any such effect could have followed, they easily find to whom they are beholden. Our Christian wisdom must teach us, whosoever be the means, to reserve our main thanks for the Author of our good.  
He gave the bread then to his Disciples, not to eat, not to keep, but to distribute. It was not their particular benefit he regarded in this gift, but the good of many.  
In every Feast each servitor takes up his dish, not to carry it aside into a corner for his own private repast; but to set it before the guests, for the honour of his Master: when they have done, his cheer begins. What shall we say to those injurious waiters, who fatten themselves with those concealed messes which are meant to others? Their table is made their snare; and these stolen morsels cannot but end in bitterness.  
Accordingly the Disciples set this fare before the guests. I do not see so much as Judas reserve a share to himself, whether out of hunger or distrust. Had not our Saviour commanded so free a distribution, their self-love would easily have taught them where to begin. Nature says, First thyself, than thy friends: either extremity or particular charge gives Grace occasion to alter the case. Far be it from us to think we have any claim in that which the owner gives us merely to bestow.  
I know not now whether more to wonder at the miraculous eating, or the miraculous leaving. Here were a whole host of guests, five thousand men; and in all likelihood no fewer women and children. Perhaps some of these only looked on. Nay, they did all eat. Perhaps every man a crumb, or a bit. Nay, they did eat to satiety; all were satisfied. So many must needs make clean work; of so little there could be left nothing. Yea, there were fragments remaining. Perhaps some crumbs or crusts, hardly to be discerned, much less gathered. Nay, twelve baskets full: more remained then was first set down. Had they eaten nothing, it was a just Miracle that so much should be left; had nothing remained, it was no less Miracle that so many had eaten, and so many satisfied: but now that so many bellies and so many baskets were filled, the Miracle was doubled. Oh work of a boundless Omnipotency! Whether this were done by creation or by conversion, uses to be questioned; but needs not. Whiles Christ multiplies the bread, it is not for us to multiply his Miracles. To make aught of nothing, is more than to add much unto something. It was therefore rather by turning of a former matter into these substances, then by making these substances of nothing.  
Howsoever, here is a marvellous provision made, a marvellous bounty of that provision, a no less marvellous extent of that bounty.  
Those that depend upon God, and busy themselves in his work, shall not want a due purveyance in the very desert. Our straight and confined beneficence reaches so far as to provide for our own: those of our Domestics which labour in our service do but justly expect and challenge their diet; whereas day-labourers are ofttimes at their own finding. How much more will that God who is infinite in mercy and power, take order for the livelihood of those that attend him? We see the birds of the air provided for by him; how rarely have we found any of them dead of hunger? yet what do they but what they are carried unto by natural instinct? How much more where, besides propriety, there is a rational and willing service? Shall the Israelites be fed with Manna, Eliah by the Ravens, the Widow by her multiplied meal and oil, Christ's clients in the wilderness with loaves and fishes? O God, whiles thou dost thus promerit us by thy Providence, let not us wrong thee by distrust.  
God's undertake cannot but be exquisite; those whom he professes to feed must needs have enough. The measure of his bounty cannot but run over. Doth he take upon him to prepare a table for his Israel in the desert? the bread shall be the food of Angels, the flesh shall be the delicates of Princes, Manna and Quails. Doth he take upon him to make wine for the marriage-feast of Cana? there shall be both store and choice; the vintage yields poor stuff to this. Will he feast his Auditors in the wilderness? if they have not dainties, they shall have plenty; They were all satisfied. Neither yet, O Saviour, is thy hand closed. What abundance of heavenly doctrine dost thou set before us? how are we feasted, yea pampered with thy celestial delicacies? Not according to our meanness, but according to thy state, are we fed. Thrifty and niggardly collations are not for Princes. We are full of thy goodness; oh, let our hearts run over with thanks.  
I do gladly wonder at this Miracle of thine, O Saviour, yet so as that I forget not mine own condition. Whence is it that we have our continual provision? One and the same munificent hand doth all. If the Israelites were fed with Manna in the desert, and with corn in Canaan, both were done by the same power and bounty. If the Disciples were fed by the loaves multiplied, and we by the grain multiplied, both are the act of one Omnipotence. What is this but a perpetual miracle, O God, which thou workest for our preservation? Without thee, there is no more power in the grain to multiply then in the loaf: it is thou that givest it a body at thy pleasure, even to every seed his own body; it is thou that givest fullness of bread and cleanness of teeth. It is no reason thy goodness should be less magnified because it is universal.  
One or two baskets could have held the five loaves and two fishes; not less than twelve can hold the remainders. The Divine munificence provides not for our necessity only, but for our abundance, yea superfluity. Envy and ignorance, whiles they make God the author of enough, are ready to impute the surplusage to another cause; as we commonly say of wine, that the liquor is God's, the excess Satan's.  
Thy table, O Saviour, convinces them, which had more taken away then set on: thy Blessing makes an estate not competent only, but rich. I hear of barns full of plenty, and presses bursting out with new wine, as the rewards of those that honour thee with their substance. I hear of heads anointed with oil, and cups running over. O God, as thou hast a free hand to give, so let us have a free heart to return thee the praise of thy Bounty.  
Those fragments were left behind. I do not see the people, when they had filled their bellies, cramming their pockets, or stuffing their wallets; yet the place was desert, and some of them doubtless had far home.  
It becomes true Disciples to be content with the present, not too solicitous for the future. O Saviour, thou didst not bid us beg bread for to morrow, but for to day: not that we should refuse thy bounty when thou pleasest to give; but that we should not distrust thy Providence for the need we may have.  
Even these fragments (though but of barley loaves and fish-bones) may not be left in the desert, for the compost of that earth whereon they were increased; but by our Saviour's holy and just command are gathered up. The liberal housekeeper of the world will not allow the loss of his orts: the children's bread may not be given to dogs: and if the crumbs fall to their share, it is because their smallness admits not of a collection. If those who out of obedience or due thrift have thought to gather up crumbs, have found them pearls, I wonder not: Surely both are alike the good creatures of the same Maker; and both of them may prove equally costly to us in their wilful mispence. But oh, what shall we say, that not crusts and crumbs, not loaves and dishes and cups, but whole patrimonies are idly lavished away; not merely lost, (this were more easy) but ill spent in a wicked riot upon dice, drabs, drunkards? Oh the fearful account of these unthrifty Bailiffs, which shall once be given in to our great Lord and Master, when he shall call us to a strict reckoning of all our talents! He was condemned that increased not the sum concredited to him; what shall become of him that lawlessly impairs it?  
Who gathered up these fragments but the twelve Apostles, every one his basket ●●ll? They were the servitors that set on this banquet at the command of Christ, they waited on the Tables, they took away.  
It was our Saviour's just care that those offals should not perish: but he well knew that a greater loss depended upon those scraps; a loss of glory to the omnipotent worker of that Miracle. The feeding of the multitude was but the one half of the work, the other half was in the remnant. Of all other it most concerns the successors of the Apostles to take care that the marvellous works of their God and Saviour may be improved to the best; they may not suffer a crust or crumb to be lost that may yield any glory to that Almighty agent.  
Here was not any morsel or bone that was not worthy to be a relic; every the least parcel whereof was no other than miraculous. All the ancient monuments of Gods supernatural power and mercy were in the keeping of Aaron and his sons. There is no servant in the Family but should be thriftily careful for his Master's profit; but most of all the Steward, who is particularly charged with this oversight. Woe be to us if we care only to gather up our own scraps, with neglect of the precious morsels of our Maker and Redeemer.   

The Walk upon the Waters.  
ALL elements are alike to their Maker. He that had well approved his power on the Land, will now show it in the Air and the Waters; he that had preserved the multitude from the peril of hunger in the Desert, will now preserve his Disciples from the peril of the tempest in the Sea.  
Where do we ever else find any compulsion offered by Christ to his Disciples? He was like the good Centurion; he said to one, Go, and he goeth. When he did but call them from their nets they came; and when he sent them by pairs into the Cities and Country of Ju●aea to preach the Gospel, they went. There was never errand whereon they went unwillingly: only now he constrained them to depart. We may easily conceive how loath they were to leave him; whether out of love, or of common civility. Peter's tongue did but (when it was) speak the heart of the rest; Master, thou knowest that I love thee. Who could choose but be in love with such a Master? and who can willingly part from what he loves? But had the respects been only common and ordinary, how unfit might it seem to leave a Master now towards night, in a wild place, amongst strangers, unprovided of the means of his passage? Where otherwise therefore he needed but to bid, now he constrains. O Saviour, it was ever thy manner to call all men unto thee; Come to me, all that labour and are heavy laden. When didst thou ever drive any one from thee? Neither had it been so now, but to draw them closer unto thee, whom thou seemedst for the time to abdicate. In the mean while, I know not whether more to excuse their unwillingness, or to applaud their obedience. As it shall be fully above, so it was proportionally here below; In thy presence (O Saviour) is the fullness of joy. Once, when thou askedst these thy Domestics whether they also would depart, it was answered thee by one tongue for all, Master, whither should we go from thee? thou hast the words of eternal life. What a death was it then to them to be compelled to leave thee? Sometimes it pleaseth the Divine goodness to lay upon his servants such commands as savour of harshness and discomfort; which yet both in his intention and in the event are no other than gracious and sovereign. The more difficulty was in the charge, the more praise was in the obedience. I do not hear them stand upon the terms of capitulation with their Master, nor pleading importunately for their stay; but instantly upon the command they yield and go. We are never perfect Disciples till we can depart from our reason, from our will; yea (O Saviour) when thou biddest us, from thyself.  
Neither will the multitude be gone without a dismission. They had followed him whiles they were hungry, they will not leave him now they are fed. Fain would they put that honour upon him, which to avoid he is fain to avoid them: gladly would they pay a Kingdom to him as their shot for their late banquet; he shuns both it and them. O Saviour, when the hour of thy Passion was now come, thou couldst offer thyself readily to thine apprehenders; and now when the glory of the world presses upon thee, thou runnest away from a Crown. Was it to teach us that there is less danger in suffering then in outward prosperity? What do we dote upon that worldly honour, which thou heldest worthy of avoidance and contempt?  
Besides this reservedness, it was devotion that drew Jesus aside. He went alone up to the mountain to pray. Lo, thou, to whom the greatest throng was a solitude in respect of the fruition of thy Father, thou who wert uncapable of distraction from him with whom thou wert one, wouldst yet so much act man as to retire for the opportunity of prayer: to teach us, who are nothing but wild thoughts and giddy distractedness, to go aside when we would speak with God. How happy is it for us that thou prayedst? O Saviour, thou prayedst for us, who have not Grace enough to pray for ourselves; not worth enough to be accepted when we do pray. Thy prayers which were most perfect and impetrative, are they by which our weak and unworthy prayers receive both life and favour. And now how assiduous should we be in our supplications who are empty of grace, full of wants; when thou, who wert a God of all power, praiedst for that which thou couldst command? Therefore do we pray, because thou praiedst: therefore do we expect to be graciously answered in our prayers, because thou didst pray for us here on earth, and now intercedest for us in Heaven.  
The evening was come; the Disciples looked long for their Master, and loath they were to have stirred without him: but his command is more than the strongest wind to fill their sails, and they are now gone. Their expectation made not the evening seem so long as our Saviour's devotion made it seem short to him. He is on the mount, they on the sea: yet whiles he was in the mount praying, and lifting up his eyes to his Father, he fails not to cast them about upon his Disciples tossed on the waves. Those allseeing eyes admit of no limits. At once he sees the highest Heavens, and the midst of the sea; the glory of his Father, and the misery of his Disciples. Whatever prospects present themselves to his view, the distress of his Followers is ever most noted.  
How much more dost thou now, O Saviour, from the height of thy glorious advancement behold us thy wretched servants tossed on the unquiet sea of this World, and beaten with the troublesome and threatening billows of Affliction? Thou foresawest their toil and danger are thou dismissedst them, and purposedly sendest them away that they might be tossed. Thou that couldst prevent our sufferings by thy power, wilt permit them in thy wisdom, that thou mayst glorify thy mercy in our deliverance, and confirm our Faith by the issue of our distresses.  
How do all things now seem to conspire to the vexing of thy poor Disciples? The night was sullen and dark, their Master was absent, the sea was boisterous, the winds were high and contrary. Had their Master been with them, howsoever the elements had raged, they had been secure. Had their Master been away, yet if the sea had been quiet or the winds fair, the passage might have been endured. Now both season, and sea, and wind, and their Master's desertion had agreed to render them perfectly miserable. Sometimes the Providence of God hath thought good so to order it, that to his best servants there appeareth no glimpse of comfort; but so absolute vexation, as if Heaven and earth had plotted their full affliction. Yea, O Saviour, what a dead night, what a fearful tempest, what an astonishing dereliction was that, wherein thou thyself cried'st out in the bitterness of thine anguished Soul, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Yet in all these extremities of misery, our gracious God intends nothing but his greater glory and ours; the Triumph of our Faith, the crown of our Victory.  
All that longsome and tempestuous night must the Disciples wear out in danger and horror, as given over to the winds and waves; but in the fourth watch of the night, when they were wearied out with toils and fears, comes deliverance.  
At their entrance into the ship, at the arising of the tempest, at the shutting in of the evening, there was no news of Christ: but when they have been all the night long beaten not so much with storms and waves as with their own thoughts, now in the fourth watch, (which was near to the morning) Jesus came unto them, and purposely not till then; that he might exercise their patience; that he might inure them to wait upon Divine Providence in cases of extremity; that their Devotions might be more whetted by delay; that they might give gladder welcome to their deliverance. O God, thus thou thinkest fit to do still. We are by turns in our sea, the winds bluster, the billows swell, the night and thy absence heighten our discomfort, thy time and ours is set; as yet it is but midnight with us; can we but hold out patiently till the fourth watch, thou wilt surely come and rescue us. Oh let us not faint under our sorrows, but wear out our three watches of tribulation with undaunted patience and holy resolution.  
O Saviour, our extremities are the seasons of thine aid. Thou camest at last; but yet so, as that there was more dread than joy in thy presence. Thy coming was both miraculous and frightful.  
Thou God of Elements passedst through the air, walkedst upon the waters. Whether thou meantest to terminate this Miracle in thy body, or in the waves which thou trodest upon; whether so lightning the one, that it should make no impression in the liquid waters, or whether so consolidating the other, that the pavemented waves yielded a firm causey to thy sacred feet to walk on, I neither determine nor inquire: thy silence ruleth mine; thy power was in either miraculous; neither know I in whether to adore it more. But withal give me leave to wonder more at thy passage then at thy coming. Wherefore camest thou but to comfort them? and wherefore then wouldst thou pass by them, as if thou hadst intended nothing but their dismay? Thine absence could not be so grievous as thy preterition: that might seem justly occasioned, this could not but seem willingly neglective. Our last conflicts have wont ever to be the sorest: as when after some dripping rain it powers down most vehemently, we think the weather is changing to serenity.  
O Saviour, we may not always measure thy meaning by thy semblance: sometimes what thou most intendest, thou showest least. In our Afflictions thou turnest thy back upon us, and hidest thy face from us, when thou most mindest our distresses. So Jonathan shot the arrows beyond David, when he meant them to him. So Joseph calls for Benjamin into bonds, when his heart was bound to him in the strongest affection. So the tender mother makes as if she would give away her crying child, whom she hugs so much closer in her bosom.  
If thou pass by us whiles we are struggling with the tempest, we know it is not for want of mercy. Thou canst not neglect us; Oh let not us distrust thee.  
What Object should have been so pleasing to the eyes of the Disciples as their Master; and so much the more as he showed his Divine power in this miraculous walk? But lo, contrarily, they are troubled: not with his presence, but with this form of presence.  
The supernatural works of God, when we look upon them with our own eyes, are subject to a dangerous misprision. The very Sunbeams to whom we are beholden for our sight, if we eye them directly, blind us. Miserable men! we are ready to suspect Truths, to run away from our safety, to be afraid of our comforts, to mis-know our best friends.  
And why are they thus troubled? They had thought they had seen a Spirit. That there have been such apparitions of Spirits, both good and evil, hath ever been a Truth undoubtedly received of Pagans, Jews, Christians; although in the blind times of Superstition there was much collusion mixed with some verities: Crafty men and lying spirits agreed to abuse the credulous world. But even where there was not Truth, yet there was Horror. The very Good Angels were not seen without much fear; their sight was construed to bode Death: how much more the Evil, which in their very nature are harmful and pernicious? We see not a Snake or a Toad without some recoiling of blood & sensible reluctation, although those creatures run away from us: how much more must our hairs stand upright and our senses boggle at the sight of a Spirit, whose both nature & will is contrary to ours, and protessedly bend to our hurt?  
But say it had been what they mistook it for, a Spirit; why should they fear? Had they well considered, they had soon found that evil spirits are nevertheless present, when they are not seen; and nevertheless harmful or malicious, when they are present unseen. Visibility adds nothing to their spite or mischief. And could their eyes have been opened, they had, with Elisha's servant, seen more with them then against them; a sure, though invisible, guard of more powerful Spirits, and themselves under the protection of the God of Spirits: so as they might have bidden a bold defiance to all the powers of Darkness. But, partly their Faith was yet but in the bud; and partly the presentation of this dreadful Object was sudden, and without the respite of a recollection and settlement of their thoughts.  
Oh the weakness of our frail Nature, who in the want of Faith, are affrighted with the visible appearance of those adversaries whom we profess daily to resist and vanquish, and with whom we know the Decree of God hath matched us in an everlasting conflict! Are not these they that ejected Devils by their command? Are not these of them that could say, Master, the evil spirits are subdued to us? Yet now when they see but an imagined spirit, they fear. What power there is in the eye to betray the heart!  
Whiles Goliath was mingled with the rest of the Philistin host, Israel camped boldly against them; but when that Giant stalks out single between the two armies, and fills and amases their eyes with his hideous stature, now they run away for fear. Behold, we are committed with Legions of Evil spirits, and complain not: Let but one of them give us some visible token of his presence, we shriek and tremble, and are not ourselves.  
Neither is our weakness more conspicuous than thy mercy, O God, in restraining these spiritual enemies from these dreadful and ghastly representations of themselves to our eyes. Might those infernal Spirits have liberty to appear how and when and to whom they would, certainly not many would be left in their wits, or in their lives. It is thy power and goodness to frail mankind that they are kept in their chains, and reserved in the darkness of their own spiritual being, that we may both oppugn and subdue them unseen.  
But oh the deplorable condition of reprobate souls! If but the imagined sight of one of these Spirits of darkness can so daunt the heart of those which are free from their power, what a terror shall it be to live perpetually in the sight, yea under the torture, of thousands, of legions, of millions of Devils? Oh the madness of wilful sinners, that will needs run themselves headily into so dreadful a damnation!  
It was high time for our Saviour to speak: What with the Tempest, what with the Apparition, the Disciples were almost lost with fear. How seasonable are his gracious redresses? Till they were thus affrighted, he would not speak; when they were thus affrighted, he would not hold his peace. If his presence were fearful, yet his word was comfortable; Be of good cheer, it is I: yea it is his word only which must make his presence both known and comfortable. He was present before; they mistook him, and feared: there needs no other erection of their drooping hearts but, It is I. It is cordial enough to us in the worst of our afflictions, to be assured of Christ's presence with us. Say but, It is I, O Saviour, and let evils do their worst; thou needest not say any more. Thy voice was evidence enough; so well were thy Disciples acquainted with the tongue of thee their Master, that, It is I, was as much as an hundred names. Thou art the good Shepherd; we are not of thy Flock, if we know thee not by thy voice from a thousand. Even this one is a great word, yea an ample style, It is I. The same tongue that said to Moses, I am hath sent thee, saith now to the Disciples, It is I; I your Lord and Master, I the commander of winds and waters▪ I the sovereign Lord of Heaven and earth, I the God of Spirits. Let Heaven be but as one scroll, and let it be written all over with titles, they cannot express more then, It is I. Oh sweet and seasonable word of a gracious Saviour, able to calm all tempests, able to revive all hearts! Say but so to my Soul, and, in spite of Hell, I am safe.  
No sooner hath Jesus said, I; then Peter answers, Master. He can instantly name him that did not name himself. Every little hint is enough to Faith. The Church sees her Beloved as well through the Lattice, as through the open Window. Which of all the Followers of Christ gave so pregnant testimonies upon all occasions of his Faith, of his Love to his Master, as Peter? The rest were silent, whiles he both owned his Master, and craved access to him in that liquid way. Yet what a sensible mixture is here of Faith & Distrust? It is Faith that said, Master; it was Distrust (as some have construed it) that said, If it be thou. It was Faith that said, Bid me come to thee; (implying that his word could as well enable as command) it was Faith that durst step down upon that watery pavement: it was Distrust that upon the sight of a mighty wind feared. It was Faith, that he walked; it was Distrust, that he sunk; it was Faith that said, Lord, save me. Oh the imperfect composition of the best Saint upon earth; as far from pure Faith, as from mere Infidelity! If there be pure earth in the centre, all upward is mixed with the other elements: contrarily, pure Grace is above in the glorified Spirits; all below is mixed with infirmity, with corruption. Our best is but as the Air; which never was, never can be at once fully enlightened: neither is there in the same Region one constant state of light. It shall once be noon with us, when we shall have nothing but bright beams of Glory; now it is but the dawning, wherein it is hard to say whether there be more light than darkness. We are now fair as the Moon, which hath some spots in her greatest beauty; we shall be pure as the Sun, whose face is all bright and glorious. Ever since the time that Adam set his tooth in the Apple, till our mouth be full of mould, it never was, it never can be other with us. Far be it from us to settle willingly upon the dregs of our Infidelity; far be it from us to be disheartened with the sense of our defects and imperfections: We believe; Lord, help our unbelief.  
Whiles I find some disputing the lawfulness of Peter's suit; others quarrelling his, If it be thou: let me be taken up with the wonder at the Faith, the fervour, the Heroical valour of this prime Apostle, that durst say, Bid me come to thee upon the waters. He might have suspected that the Voice of his Master might have been as easily imitated by that imagined Spirit as his Person; he might have feared the blustering tempest, the threatening billows, the yielding nature of that devouring element: but as despising all these thoughts of misdoubt, such is his desire to be near his Master, that he says, Bid me come to thee upon the waters. He says not, Come thou to me: this had been Christ's act, and not his. Neither doth he say, Let me come to thee: this had been his act, and not Christ's. Neither doth he say, Pray that I may come to thee, as if this act had been out of the power of either. But, Bid me come to thee. I know thou canst command both the waves and me: me to be so light that I shall not bruise the moist surface of the waves; the waves to be so solid that they shall not yield to my weight. All things obey thee: Bid me come to thee upon the waters.  
It was a bold spirit that could wish it, more bold that could act it. No sooner hath our Saviour said, Come, than he sets his foot upon the unquiet Sea; not fearing either the softness or the roughness of that uncouth passage. We are wont to wonder at the courage of that daring man who first committed himself to the Sea in a frail Bark, though he had the strength of an oaken plank to secure him: how valiant must we needs grant him to be, that durst set his foot upon the bare sea and shift his paces? Well did Peter know that he who bade him, could uphold him; and therefore he both sues to be bidden, and ventures to be upholden. True Faith tasks itself with difficulties, neither can be dismayed with the conceits of ordinary impossibilities? It is not the scattering of straws or casting of molehills, whereby the virtue of it is described, but removing of mountain. Like some courageous Leader, it desires the honour of a danger, and sues for the first onset: whereas the worldly heart freezes in a lazy or cowardly fear, and only casts for safety and ease.  
Peter sues, Jesus bids. Rather will he work Miracles, then disappoint the suit of a faithful man. How easily might our Saviour have turned over this strange request of his bold Disiple, and have said, What my Omnipotence can do is no rule for thy weakness? It is no less than presumption in a mere man, to hope to imitate the miraculous works of God and man. Stay thou in the ship, and wonder; contenting thyself in this, that thou hast a Master to whom the land and water is alike. Yet I hear not a check, but a Call; Come. The suit of Ambition is suddenly quashed in the Mother of the Zebedees'. The suits of Revenge prove no better in the mouth of the two fiery Disciples. But a suit of Faith, though high and seemingly unfit for us, he hath no power to deny. How much less, O Saviour, wilt thou stick at those things which lie in the very road of our Christianity? Never man said, Bid me to come to thee in the way of thy commandments, whom thou didst not both bid and enable to come.  
True Faith rests not in great and good desires, but acts and executes accordingly. Peter doth not wish to go, and yet stand still● but his foot answers his tongue, and instantly chaps down upon the waters. To sit still and wish, is for sluggish and cowardly spirits.  
Formal volitions, yea velleities of good, whiles we will not so muc●●● step out of the ship of our Nature to walk unto Christ, are but the faint motions of vain Hypocrisy. It will be long enough ere the gale of good wishes can carry us to our Haven. Ease slayeth the foolish. O Saviour, we have thy command to come to thee out of the ship of our natural corruption: Let no Sea affray us, let no tempest of Temptation withhold us. No way can be but safe, when thou art the End.  
Lo, Peter is walking upon the waves: two hands uphold him; the hand of Christ's Power, the hand of his own Faith; neither of them would do it alone. The hand of Christ's Power laid hold on him; the hand of his Faith laid hold on the Power of Christ commanding. Had not Christ's hand been powerful, that Faith had been in vain: Had not that Faith of his strongly fixed upon Christ, that Power had not been effectual to his preservation. Whiles we are here in the world, we walk upon the waters; still the same hands bear us up. If he let go his hold of us, we drown; if we let go our hold of him, we sink and shriek as Peter did here, who when he saw the wind boisterous, was afraid, and beginning to sink, cried, saying, Lord, save me.  
When he wished to be bidden to walk unto Christ, he thought of the waters; Bid me to come to thee on the waters: he thought not of the winds which raged on those waters; or if he thought of a stiff gale, yet that tempestuous and sudden gust was out of his account and expectation. Those evils that we are prepared for, have not such power over us as those that surprise us. A good waterman sees a dangerous billow coming towards him, and cuts it, and mounts over it with ease; the unheedy is overwhelmed. O Saviour, let my haste to thee be zealous, but not improvident; ere I set my foot out of the ship, let me foresee the Tempest: when I have cast the worst, I cannot either miscarry or complain.  
So soon as he began to fear, he began to sink: whiles he believed, the Sea was brass; when once he began to distrust, those waves were water. He cannot sink, whiles he trusts the power of his Master; he cannot but sink when he misdoubts it. Our Faith gives us as courage and boldness, so success too: our infidelity lays us open to all dangers, to all mischiefs.  
It was Peter's improvidence not to foresee, it was his weakness to fear, it was the effect of his fear to sink; it was his Faith that recollects itself, and breaks through his infidelity, and in sinking could say, Lord, save me. His foot could not be so swift in sinking, as his heart in imploring: he knew who could uphold him from sinking, and being sunk deliver him; and therefore he says, Lord, save me.  
It is a notable both sign and effect of true Faith, in sudden extremities to ejaculate holy desires; and with the wings of our first thoughts to fly up instantly to the throne of Grace for present succour. Upon deliberation it is possible for a man that hath been careless and profane, by good means to be drawn to holy dispositions: but on the sudden a man will appear as he is; whatever is most rife in the heart will come forth at the mouth. It is good to observe how our surprisals find us: the rest is but forced; this is natural. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. O Saviour, no evil can be swifter than my thought: my thought shall be upon thee, ere I can be seized upon by the speediest mischief: at least, if I overrun not evil, I shall overtake them.  
It was Christ his Lord whom Peter had offended in distrusting; it is Christ his Lord to whom he sues for deliverance. His weakness doth not discourage him from his refuge. O God, when we have displeased thee, when we have sunk in thy displeasure, whither should we fly for aid but to thee whom we have provoked? Against thee only is our sin; in thee only is our help. In vain shall all the powers of Heaven and earth conspire to relieve us, if thou withhold from our succour. As we offend thy Justice daily by our sins, so let us continually rely upon thy Mercy by the strength of our Faith; Lord, save us.  
The mercy of Christ is at once sought and found; Immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him. He doth not say, Hadst thou trusted me, I would have safely preserved thee, but since thou wilt needs wrong my power and care with a cowardly diffidence, sink and drown: but rather, as pitying the infirmity of his fearful Disciple, he puts out the hand for his relief. That hand hath been stretched forth for the aid of many a one that hath never asked it; never any asked it, to whose succour it hath not been stretched. With what speed, with what confidence should we fly to that sovereign bounty, from which never any suitor was sent away empty?  
Jesus gave Peter his hand; but withal he gave him a check: O thou of little faith, why doubtedst thou? As Peter's Faith was not pure, but mixed with some distrust; so our Saviour's help was not clear and absolute, but mixed with some reproof. A reproof, wherein there was both a censure and an expostulation; a censure of his Faith, an expostulation for his Doubt: both of them sore & heavy.  
By how much more excellent and useful a grace Faith is, by so much more shameful is the defect of it; and by how much more reason here was of confidence, by so much more blame-worthy was the Doubt. Now Peter had a double reason of his confidence; the command of Christ, the power of Christ: the one in bidding him to come; the other in sustaining him whiles he came. To misdoubt him whose will he knew, whose power he felt, was well worth a reprehension.  
When I saw Peter stepping forth upon the waters, I could not but wonder at his great Faith; yet behold, ere he can have measured many paces, the Judge of hearts taxes him for little Faith. Our mountains are but moats to God. Would my heart have served me to dare the doing of this that Peter did? Durst I have set my foot where he did? O Saviour, if thou foundest cause to censure the weakness and poverty of his Faith, what mayst thou well say to mine? They mistake that think thou wilt take up with any thing. Thou lookest for firmitude and vigour in those Graces which thou wilt allow in thy best Disciples, no less than truth.  
The first steps were confident, there was fear in the next. Oh the sudden alteration of our affections, of our dispositions! One pace varies our spiritual condition. What hold is there of so fickle creatures, if we be left never so little to ourselves? As this lower world wherein we are is the region of mutability; so are we (the living pieces of it) subject to a perpetual change. It is for the blessed Saints and Angels above to be fixed in good: Whiles we are here, there can be no constancy expected from us, but in variableness.  
As well as our Saviour loves Peter, yet he chides him. It is the fruit of his favour and mercy that we escape judgement, not that we escape reproof. Had not Peter found grace with his Master, he had been suffered to sink in silence; now he is saved with a check. There may be more love in frowns then in smiles: whom he loves he chastises. What is chiding but a verbal castigation? and what is chastisement but a real chiding? Correct me, O Lord, yet in thy judgement, not in thy fury. Oh let the righteous God smite me (when I offend) with his gracious reproofs; these shall be a precious oil that shall not break my head.   

The bloody Issue healed.  
THE time was, O Saviour, when a worthy woman offered to touch thee, and was forbidden: now a meaner touches thee with approbation and encouragement. Yet as there was much difference in that Body of thine which was the Object of that touch, (being now mortal and passable, then impassable and immortal) so there was in the Agents; this a stranger, that a familiar; this obscure, that famous.  
The same actions vary with time and other circumstances; and accordingly receive their dislike or allowance.  
Doubtless thou hadst herein no small respect to the faith of Jairus, unto whose house thou wert going. That good man had but one only Daughter, which lay sick in the beginning of his suit, ere the end, lay dead. Whiles she lived, his hope lived; her death disheartened it. It was a great work that thou meantest to do for him; it was a great word that thou saidst to him, Fear not; believe, and she shall be made whole. To make this good, by the touch of the verge of thy garment thou revivedst one from the verge of death. How must Jairus needs now think? He who by the virtue of his garment can pull this woman out of the paws of death which hath been twelve years dying; can as well by the power of his word pull my daughter (who hath been twelve years living) out of the jaws of death which hath newly seized on her. It was fit the good Ruler should be raised up with this handsel of thy Divine power, whom he came to solicit.  
That thou mightest lose no time, thou curedst in thy passage. The Sun stands not still to give his influences, but diffuses them in his ordinary motion. How shall we imitate thee, if we suffer our hands to be out of ure with good? Our life goes away with our time: we lose that which we improve not.  
The Patient laboured of an Issue of blood; a Disease that had not more pain than shame, nor more natural infirmity then Legal impurity. Time added to her grief; twelve long years had she languished under this woeful complaint. Besides the tediousness, diseases must needs get head by continuance; and so much more both weaken Nature and strengthen themselves, by how much longer they afflict us. So it is in the Soul, so in the State; Vices, which are the Sicknesses of both, when they grow inveterate, have a strong plea for their abode and uncontrollablenesse.  
Yet more, to mend the matter, Poverty (which is another disease) was superadded to her sickness: She had spent all she had upon Physicians. Whiles she had wherewith to make much of herself, and to procure good tendance, choice diet, and all the succours of a distressed languishment, she could not but find some mitigation of her sorrow: but now want began to pinch her no less than her distemper, and helped to make her perfectly miserable.  
Yet could she have parted from her substance with ease, her complaint had been the less. Could the Physicians have given her, if not health, yet relaxation and painlesnesse, her means had not been misbestowed: but now, she suffered many things from them; many an unpleasing potion, many tormenting incisions and divulsions did she endure from their hands: the Remedy was equal in trouble to the Disease.  
Yet had the cost and pain been never so great, could she have hereby purchased health, the match had been happy; all the world were no price for this commodity: but alas! her estate was the worse, her body not the better; her money was wasted, not her disease. Art could give her neither cure nor hope. It were injurious to blame that noble Science, for that it always speeds not. Notwithstanding all those sovereign remedies, men must (in their times) sicken and die. Even the miraculous Gifts of Healing could not preserve the owners from disease and dissolution.  
It were pity but that this woman should have been thus sick; the nature, the durableness, cost, pain, incurableness of her disease both sent her to seek Christ, and moved Christ to her cure. Our extremities drive us to our Saviour; his love draws him to be most present and helpful to our extremities. When we are forsaken of all succours and hopes, we are fittest for his redress. Never are we nearer to help, then when we despair of help. There is no fear, no danger but in our own insensibleness.  
This woman was a stranger to Christ; it seems she had never seen him. The report of his Miracles had lifted her up to such a confidence of his power and mercy, as that she said in herself, If I may but touch the hem of his garment, I shall be whole. The shame of her disease stopped her mouth from any verbal suit. Had she been acknown of her infirmity, she had been shunned and abhorred, and disdainfully put back of all the beholders (as doubtless where she was known, the Law forced her to live apart.) Now she conceals both her grief, and her desire, and her faith; and only speaks (where she may be bold) within herself, If I may but touch the hem of his garment, I shall be whole.  
I seek not mysteries in the virtue of the hem rather than of the garment. Indeed it was God's command to Israel, that they should be marked, not only in their skin, but in their clothes too: those fringes and ribbons upon the borders of their garments were for holy memorial of their duty, and Gods Law. But that hence she supposed to find more virtue and sanctity in the touch of the hem then of the coat, I neither dispute nor believe. It was the site, not the signification that she intimated; not as of the best part, but the utmost. In all likelihood, if there could have been virtue in the garment, the nearer to the body, the more. Here was then the praise of this woman's Faith, that she promiseth herself cure by the touch of the utmost hem. Whosoever would look to receive any benefit from Christ, must come in Faith: It is that only which makes us capable of any favour. Satan, the common ape of the Almighty, imitates him also in this point: All his charms and spells are ineffectual without the Faith of the user, of the receiver.  
Yea the endeavour and issue of all both humane and spiritual things depends upon our Faith. Who would commit a plant or seed to the earth, if he did not believe to have it nursed in that kindly bosom? What Merchant would put himself upon the guard of an inch-board in a furious Sea, if he did not trust to the faithful custody of that plank? Who would trade, or travel, or war, or marry, if he did not therein surely trust he should speed well? What benefit can we look to carry from a Divine exhortation, if we do not believe it will edify us? from a Sacramental banquet (the food of Angels) if we do not believe it will nourish our Souls? from our best Devotions, if we do not persuade ourselves they will fetch down blessings? Oh our vain and heartless services! if we do not say, May I drink but one drop of that heavenly Nectar, may I taste but one crumb of that bread of life, may I hear but one word from the mouth of Christ, may I send up but one hearty sigh or ejaculation of an holy desire to may God, I shall be whole.  
According to her resolution is her practice. She touched, but she came behind to touch; whether for humility, or her secrecy rather, as desiring to steal a cure unseen, unnoted. She was a Jewesse, and therefore well knew that her touch was (in this case) no better than a pollution; as hers, perhaps, but not of him. For on the one side, Necessity is under no positive law; on the other, the Son of God was not capable of impurity. Those may be defiled with a touch that cannot heal with a touch: he that was above Law is not comprised in the Law. Be we never so unclean, he may heal us; we cannot infect him. O Saviour, my Soul is sick and foul enough with the Spiritual impurities of sin: let me by the hand of Faith lay hold but upon the hem of thy garment, (thy Righteousness is thy garment) it shall be both-clean and whole.  
Who would not think but a man might lad up a dish of water out of the Sea unmissed? Yet that water (though much) is finite; those drops are within number: that Art which hath reckoned how many corns of sand would make up a World, could more easily compute how many drops of water would make up an Ocean; whereas the mercies of God are absolutely infinite, and beyond all possibility of proportion: And yet this bashful soul cannot steal one drop of mercy from this endless, boundless, bottomless Sea of Divine bounty, but it is felt and questioned; And Jesus said, Who touched me?  
Who can now say that he is a poor man that reckons his store, when that God, who is rich in mercy, doth so? He knows all his own Blessings, and keeps just tallies of our receipts; Delivered so much Honour to this man, to that so much Wealth; so much Knowledge to one, to another so much Strength. How carefully frugal should we be in the notice, account, usage of God's several favours, since his bounty sets all his gifts upon the file? Even the worst servant in the Gospel confessed his Talents, though he employed them not. We are worse than the worst, if either we mis-know, or dissemble, or forget them.  
Who now can forbear the Disciples reply? Who touched thee, O Lord? the multitude. Dost thou ask of one, when thou art pressed by many? In the midst of a throng, dost thou ask, Who touched me?  
Yea but yet some one touched me: All thronged me; but one touched me. How riddle-like soever it may seem to sound, they that thronged me touched me not; she only touched me that thronged me not, yea that touched me not. Even so, O Saviour, others touched thy body with theirs; she touched thy hem with her hand, thy Divine power with her Soul.  
Those two parts whereof we consist (the bodily, the spiritual) do in a sort partake of each other. The Soul is the man, and hath those parts, senses, actions which are challenged as proper to the Body. This spiritual part hath both an hand, and a touch; it is by the hand of Faith that the Soul toucheth: yea this alone both is, and acts all the spiritual senses of that immaterial and Divine part; this sees, hears, tasteth, toucheth God; and without this the Soul doth none of these. All the multitude then pressed Christ: he took not that for a touch, since Faith was away; only she touched him that believed to receive virtue by his touch. Outward fashionableness comes into no account with God; that is only done which the Soul doth. It is no hoping that virtue should go forth from Christ to us, when no hearty desires go forth from us to him. He that is a Spirit, looks to the deportment of that part which resembleth himself: as without it the body is dead, so without the actions thereof bodily Devotions are but carcases.  
What reason had our Saviour to challenge this touch? Some body touched me. The multitude (in one extreme) denied any touch at all: Peter (in another extreme) affirmed an over-touching of the multitude. Betwixt both, he who felt it can say, Some body touched me. Not all, as Peter; not none, as the multitude; but some body. How then, O Saviour, how doth it appear that some body touched thee? For I perceive virtue is gone out from me. The effect proves the act; virtue gone out evinces the touch. These two are in thee convertible: virtue cannot go out of thee but by a touch; and no touch can be of thee without virtue going out from thee. That which is a Rule in Nature, That every Agent works by a contact, holds spiritually too: Then dost thou, O God, work upon our Souls, when thou touchest our hearts by thy Spirit; then do we re-act upon thee, when we touch thee by the hand of our Faith and confidence in thee: and in both these virtue goes out from thee to us. Yet goes not so out, as that there is less in thee. In all bodily emanations, whose powers are but finite, it must needs follow, that the more is sent forth the less is reserved: but as it is in the Sun, which gives us light, yet loseth none ever the more (the luminosity of it being no whit impaired by that perpetual emission of light-some beams;) so much more is it in thee, the Father of lights. Virtue could not go out of thee without thy knowledge, without thy sending. Neither was it in a dislike, or in a grudging exprobration, that thou saidst, Virtue is gone out from me. Nothing could please thee better, then to feel virtue fetched out from thee by the Faith of the receiver. It is the nature and praise of good to be communicative: none of us would be other then liberal of our little, if we did not fear it would be lessened by imparting. Thou that knowest thy store so infinite, that participation doth only glorify and not diminish it, canst not but be more willing to give than we to receive. If we take but one drop of water from the Sea, or one corn of sand from the shore, there is so much (though insensibly) less: but were we capable of Worlds of virtue and benediction from that munificent hand, our enriching could no whit impoverish thee. Thou which wert wont to hold it much better to give then to receive, canst not but give gladly. Fear not, O my Soul, to lad plentifully at this Well, this Ocean of Mercy, which, the more thou takest, over flows the more.  
But why then, O Saviour, why didst thou thus inquire, thus expostulate? Was it for thy own sake; that the glory of the Miracle might thus come to light, which otherwise had been smothered in silence? Was it for Jairus his sake; that his depressed heart might be raised to a confidence in thee, whose mighty Power he saw proved by this Cure, whose Omniscience he saw proved by the knowledge of the Cure? Or was it chiefly for the Woman's sake; for the praise of her Faith, for the securing of her Conscience?  
It was within herself that she said, If I may but touch: none could hear this voice of the heart, but he that made it. It was within herself that the Cure was wrought: none of the beholders knew her complaint, much less her recovery; none noted her touch, none knew the occasion of her touch. What a pattern of powerful Faith had we lost, if our Saviour had not called this act to trial? As her modesty hid her disease, so it would have hid her virtue. Christ will not suffer this secrecy. Oh the marvellous, but free, dispensation of Christ! One while he enjoins a silence to his re-cured Patients, and is troubled with their divulgation of his favour; another while (as here) he will not lose the honour of a secret mercy, but fetches it out by his Inquisition, by his profession; Who hath touched me? for I perceive virtue is gone out from me. As we see in the great work of his Creation, he hath placed some Stars in the midst of Heaven, where they may be most conspicuous; others he hath set in the Southern obscurity, obvious to but few eyes: in the Earth, he hath planted some flowers and trees in the famous gardens of the World; others, no less beautiful, in untracked Woods or wild Deserts, where they are either not seen, or not regarded.  
O God, if thou have intended to glorify thyself by thy Graces in us, thou wilt find means to fetch them forth into the notice of the World; otherwise our very privacy shall content us, and praise thee.  
Yet even this great Faith wanted not some weakness. It was a poor conceit in this Woman, that she thought she might receive so sovereign a remedy from Christ without his heed, without his knowledge. Now that she might see she had trusted to a power which was not more bountiful than sensible, and whose goodness did not exceed his apprehension, but one that knew what he parted with, and willingly parted with that which he knew beneficial to so faithful a receiver, he can say, Some body hath touched me, for I perceive virtue is gone out from me. As there was an error in her thought, so in our Saviour's words there was a correction. His mercy will not let her run away with that secret offence. It is a great favour of God to take us in the manner, and to shame our closeness. We scour off the rust from a Weapon that we esteem, and prune the Vine we care for. O God, do thou ever find me out in my Sin; and do not pass over my least infirmities without a feeling controlment.  
Neither doubt I but that herein, O Saviour, thou didst graciously forecast the securing of the Conscience of this faithful (though over-seen) Patient; which might well have afterwards raised some just scruples, for the filching of a Cure, for Unthankfulness to the Author of her Cure; the continuance whereof she might have good reason to misdoubt, being surreptitiously gotten, ingratefully concealed. For prevention of all these dangers, and the full quieting of her troubled heart, how fitly, how mercifully didst thou bring forth this close business to the light, and clear it to the bottom? It is thy great mercy to foresee our perils, and to remove them ere we can apprehend the fear of them: as some skilful Physician, who perceiving a Fever or Frenzy coming, which the distempered Patient little misdoubts, by seasonable applications anticipates that grievous malady; so as the sick man knows his safety ere he can suspect his danger.  
Well might the Woman think, He who can thus cure, and thus know his cure, can as well know my name, and descry my person, and shame and punish my ingratitude. With a pale face therefore and a trembling foot she comes, and falls down before him, and humbly acknowledges what she had done, what she had obtained; But the Woman finding she was not hid, etc.  
Could she have perceived that she might have slily gone away with the Cure, she had not confessed it: So had she made God a loser of Glory, and herself an unthankful receiver of so great a Benefit.  
Might we have our own wills, we should be injurious both to God and ourselves. Nature lays such plots as would be sure to befool us; and is witty in nothing but deceiving herself. The only way to bring us home, is to find we are found, and to be convinced of the discovery of all our evasions: As some unskilful Thief that finds the owner's eye was upon him in his pilfering, lays down his stolen commodity with shame. Contrarily, when a man is possessed with a conceit of secrecy and cleanly escape, he is emboldened in his lewdness. The Adulterer chooses the twilight, and says, No eye shall see me; and joys in the sweetness of his stolen waters. O God, in the deepest darkness, in my most inward retiredness, when none sees me, when I see not myself, yet let me then see thine allseeing eye upon me: and if ever mine eyes shall be shut, or held with a prevailing Temptation, check me with a speedy reproof, that with this abashed Patient, I may come in, and confess my error, and implore thy mercy.  
It is no unusall thing for kindness to look sternly for the time, that it may endear itself more when it lists to be discovered. With a severe countenance did our Saviour look about him, and ask, Who touched me? When the woman comes in trembling, and confessing both her act and success, he clears up his brows, and speaks comfortably to her; Daughter, be of good cheer, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace. O sweet and seasonable word, fit for those merciful and Divine lips; able to secure any heart, to dispel any fears! Still, O Saviour, thou dost thus to us: when we fall down before thee in an awful dejectedness, thou rearest us up with a cheerful and compassionate encouragement; when thou findest us bold and presumptuous, thou lovest to take us down; when humbled, it is enough to have prostrated us. Like as that Lion of Bethel worries the disobedient Prophet, guards the poor Ass that stood quaking before him: Or like some mighty wind, that bears over a tall Elm or Cedar with the same breath that it raiseth a stooping Reed: Or like some good Physician, who finding the body obstructed and surcharged with ill humours, evacuates it, and when it is sufficiently pulled down, raises it up with sovereign Cordials.  
And still do thou so to my Soul; if at any time thou perceivest me stiff and rebellious, ready to face out my sin against thee, spare me not; let me smart, till I relent. But a broken and contrite heart, thou wilt not, O Lord, O Lord, do not reject.  
It is only thy Word which gives what it requires, comfort and confidence. Had any other shaken her by the shoulder, and cheered her up against those oppressive passions, it had been but waste wind. No voice but his who hath power to remit sin, can secure the heart from the conscience of sin, from the pangs of Conscience. In the midst of the sorrows of my heart, thy comforts, O Lord, thy comforts only have power to refresh my soul. Her cure was Christ's act, yet he gives the praise of it to her; Thy faith hath made thee whole. He had said before, Virtue is gone out from me; now he acknowledges a virtue inherent in her. It was his virtue that cured her, yet he graciously casts this work upon her Faith. Not that her Faith did it by way of merit, by way of efficiency, but by way of impetration. So much did our Saviour regard that Faith which he had wrought in her, that he will honour it with the success of her Cure. Such and the same is still the remedy of our spiritual diseases, our sins: By faith we are justified, by faith we are saved. Thou only, O Saviour, canst heal us; thou wilt not heal us but by our Faith: not as it issues from us, but as it appropriates thee. The sickness is ours, the remedy is ours: the sickness is our own by nature, the remedy ours by thy grace, both working and accepting it. Our Faith is no less from thee than thy Cure is from our Faith.  
Oh happy dismission, Go in peace! How unquiet had this poor soul formerly been? She had no outward peace with her Neighbours; they shunned and abhorred her presence in this condition; yea they must do so. She had no peace in Body; that was pained and vexed with so long and foul a disease. Much less had she peace in her Mind, which was grievously disquieted with sorrow for her sickness, with anger and discontentment at her torturing Physicians, with fear of the continuance of so bad a guest. Her Soul (for the present) had no peace, from the sense of her guiltiness in the carriage of this business; from the conceived displeasure of him to whom she came for comfort and redress. At once now doth our Saviour calm all these storms; and in one word and act restores to her peace with her Neighbours, peace in herself; peace in Body, in Mind, in Soul. Go in peace. Even so, Lord, it was for thee only, who art the Prince of Peace, to bestow thy peace where thou pleasest. Our body, mind, Soul, estate is thine, whether to afflict, or ease. It is a wonder if all of us do not ail somewhat. In vain shall we speak peace to ourselves, in vain shall the world speak peace to us, except thou say to us, as thou didst to this distressed soul, Go in peace.   

JAIRUS and his Daughter.  
HOw troublesome did the people's importunity seem to Jairus? That great man came to sue unto Jesus for his dying Daughter; the throng of the multitude intercepted him. Every man is most sensible of his own necessity. It is no straining courtesy in the challenge of our interest in Christ: there is no unmannerliness in our strife for the greatest share in his presence and benediction.  
That only Child of this Ruler lay a dying when he came to solicit Christ's aid, and was dead whiles he solicited it. There was hope in her sickness; in her extremity there was fear; in her death despair and impossibility (as they thought) of help. Thy daughter is dead, trouble not the Master. When we have to do with a mere finite power, this word were but just. He was a Prophet no less than a King, that said, Whiles the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. But since thou hast to do with an Omnipotent agent, know now, O thou faithless messenger, that death can be no bar to his power. How well would it have become thee to have said, Thy daughter is dead; but who can tell whether thy God and Saviour will not be gracious to thee that the child may revive? Cannot he in whose hands are the issues of death, bring her back again?  
Here were more Manners than Faith; Trouble not the Master. Infidelity is all for ease, and thinks every good work tedious. That which Nature accounts troublesome, is pleasing and delightful to Grace. Is it any pain for an hungry man to eat? O Saviour, it was thy meat and drink to do thy Father's will; and his will was that thou shouldest bear our griefs and take away our sorrows. It cannot be thy trouble which is our happiness, that we may still sue to thee.  
The messenger could not so whisper his ill news, but Jesus heard it. Jairus hears that he feared, and was now heartless with so sad tidings. He that resolved not to trouble the Master, meant to take so much more trouble to himself, and would now yield to a hopeless sorrow. He whose work it is to comfort the afflicted, rouzeth up the dejected heart of that pensive father; Fear not, believe only, and she shall be made whole. The word was not more cheerful than difficult. Fear not? Who can be insensible of so great an evil? Where death hath once seized, who can but doubt he will keep his hold? No less hard was it not to grieve for the loss of an only Child, than not to fear the continuance of the cause of that grief.  
In a perfect Faith there is no Fear: by how much more we fear, by so much less we believe. Well are these two then coupled, Fear not, believe only. O Saviour, if thou didst not command us somewhat beyond Nature, it were no thank to us to obey thee. While the child was alive, to believe that it might recover, it was no hard task; but now that she was fully dead, to believe she should live again, was a work not easy for Jairus to apprehend, though easy for thee to effect: yet must that be believed, else there is no capacity of so great a Mercy. As Love, so Faith is stronger than death; making those bonds no other then (as Samson did his withes) like threads of tow. How much natural impossibility is there in the return of these Bodies from the dust of their earth, into which through many degrees of corruption they are at the last mouldered? Fear not, O my Soul; believe only: it must, it shall be done.  
The sum of Jairus his first suit was for the Health, not for the Resuscitation of his Daughter: now that she was dead, he would, if he durst, have been glad to have asked her Life. And now, behold, our Saviour bids him expect both her Life and her Health; Thy daughter shall be made whole: alive from her death, whole from her disease.  
Thou didst not, O Jairus, thou daredst not ask so much as thou receivest. How glad wouldst thou have been, since this last news, to have had thy Daughter alive, though weak and sickly? Now thou shalt receive her not living only, but sound and vigorous. Thou dost not, O Saviour, measure thy gifts by our petitions, but by our wants and thine own mercies.  
This work might have been as easily done by an absent command; the Power of Christ was there whiles himself was away: but he will go personally to the place, that he might be confessed the Author of so great a Miracle. O Saviour, thou lovest to go to the house of mourning; thy chief pleasure is the comfort of the afflicted. What a confusion there is in worldly sorrow? The mother shrieks, the servants cry out, the people make lamentation, the minstrels howl and strike dolefully; so as the ear might question whether the Ditty or the Instrument were more heavy. If ever expressions of sorrow sound well, it is when Death leads the choir. Soon doth our Saviour charm this noise, and turns these unseasonable mourners (whether formal or serious) out of doors. Not that he dislikes Music, whether to condole or comfort; but that he had life in his eye, and would have them know that he held these Funeral ceremonies to be too early and long before their time. Give place, for the maid is not dead, but sleepeth. Had she been dead, she had but slept; now she was not dead, but asleep, because he meant this nap of death should be so short, and her awakening so speedy. Death and Sleep are alike to him, who can cast whom he will into the sleep of Death, and awake when and whom he pleaseth out of that deadly sleep.  
Before the people and domestics of Jairus held Jesus for a Prophet; now they took him for a Dreamer. Not dead, but asleep? They that came to mourn cannot now forbear to laugh. Have we piped at so many Funerals, and seen and lamented so many Corpses, and cannot we distinguish betwixt Sleep and Death? The eyes are set, the breath is gone, the limbs are stiff and cold. Who ever died, if she do but sleep? How easily may our Reason or Sense befool us in Divine matters? Those that are competent Judges in natural things, are ready to laugh God to scorn when he speaks beyond their compass; and are by him justly laughed to scorn for their unbelief. Vain and faithless men! as if that unlimited power of the Almighty could not make good his own word; and turn either Sleep into Death, or Death into Sleep, at pleasure. Ere many minutes they shall be ashamed of their error and incredulity.  
There were witnesses enough of her death, there shall not be many of her restoring. Three choice Disciples and the two Parents are only admitted to the view and testimony of this miraculous work. The eyes of those incredulous scoffers were not worthy of this honour. Our infidelity makes us incapable of the secret favours and the highest counsels of the Almighty.  
What did these scorners think and say, when they saw him putting the minstrels and people out of doors? Doubtless the maid is but asleep; the man fears lest the noise shall awake her; we must speak and tread softly that we disquiet her not: What will he and his Disciples do the while? Is it not to be feared they will startle her out of her rest? Those that are shut out from the participation of God's counsels, think all his words and projects no better than foolishness. But art thou, O Saviour, ever the more discouraged by the derision and censure of these scornful unbelievers? Because fools jeer thee, dost thou forbear thy work? Surely I do not perceive that thou heedest them, save for contempt; or carest more for their words then their silence. It is enough that thine act shall soon honour thee, and convince them. He took her by the hand, and called, saying, Maid, arise: and her spirit came again, and she arose straightway.  
How could that touch, that Call be other then effectual? He who made that hand, touched it; and he who shall once say, Arise ye dead, said now, Maid, arise. Death cannot but obey him who is the Lord of life. The Soul is ever equally in his hand who is the God of Spirits: it cannot but go and come at his command. When he says, Maid, arise, the now-dissolved spirit knows his office, his place, and instantly reassumes that room which by his appointment it had left.  
O Saviour, if thou do but bid my Soul to arise from the death of Sin, it cannot lie still; if thou bid my Body to arise from the grave, my Soul cannot but glance down from her Heaven, and animate it. In vain shall my sin or my grave offer to withhold me from thee.  
The Maid revives: not now to languish for a time upon her sickbed, and by some faint degrees to gather an insensible strength; but at once she arises from her death and from her couch, at once she puts off her fever with her dissolution, she finds her life and her feet at once, at once she finds her feet and her stomach. He commanded to give her meat. Omnipotency doth not use to go the pace of Nature. All God's immediate works are (like himself) perfect. He that raised her supernaturally, could have so fed her. It was never the purpose of his Power, to put ordinary Means out of office.   

The Motion of the two fiery Disciples repelled.  
THE time drew on wherein Jesus must be received up. He must take death in his way. Calvary is in his passage to mount Olivet. He must be lift up to the Cross, thence to climb into his Heaven. Yet this comes not into mention; as if all the thought of Death were swallowed up in this Victory over Death. Neither, O Saviour, is it otherwise with us, the weak members of thy mystical body. We must die, we shall be glorified. What if Death stand before us? we look beyond him at that transcendent Glory. How should we be dismayed with that pain which is attended with a blessed Immortality?  
The strongest receipt against Death is the happy estate that follows it; next to that is the fore-exspectation of it and resolution against it. He steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem: Jerusalem the nest of his enemies, the Amphitheatre of his conflicts, the fatal place of his death. Well did he know the plots and ambushes that were there laid for him, and the bloody issue of those designs: yet he will go, and goes resolved for the worst. It is a sure and wise way to send our thoughts before us, to grapple with those evils which we know must be encountered. The enemy is half overcome that is well prepared for. The strongest mischief may be outfaced with a seasonable fore-resolution. There can be no greater disadvantage than the suddenness of a surprisal. O God, what I have not the power to avoid, let me have the wisdom to expect.  
The way from Galilee to Judaea lay through the Region of Samaria, if not the City. Christ now towards the end of his Preaching could not but be attended with a multitude of followers: It was necessary there should be purveyors and harbingers to procure lodgings and provision for so large a troup. Some of his own retinue are addressed to this service: they seek not for palaces and delicates, but for houseroom and victuals. It was he whose the earth was and the fullness thereof, whose the Heavens are and the mansions therein; yet he, who could have commanded Angels, sues to Samaritans: He that filled and comprehended Heaven, sends for shelter in a Samaritan Cottage. It was thy choice, O Saviour, to take upon thee the shape, not of a Prince, but of a Servant. How can we either neglect means, or despise homeliness, when thou the God of all the World wouldst stoop to the suit of so poor a provision?  
We know well in what terms the Samaritans stood with the Jews; so much more hostile as they did more symbolise in matter of Religion: no Nations were mutually so hateful to each other. A Samaritane's bread was no better than Swines-flesh; their very fire and water was not more grudged then infectious. The looking towards Jerusalem was here cause enough of repulse. No enmity is so desperate as that which arises from matter of Religion. Agreement in some points, when there are differences in the main, doth but advance hatred the more.  
It is not more strange to hear the Son of God sue for a lodging, then to hear him repelled. Upon so churlish a denial, the two angry Disciples return to their Master on a fiery errand; Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from Heaven and consume them, as Elias did?  
The Sons of Thunder would be lightning strait; their zeal, whether as kinsmen or Disciples, could not brook so harsh a refusal. As they were naturally more hot than their fellows, so now they thought their Piety bade them be impatient.  
Yet they dare not but begin with leave, Master, wilt thou? His will must lead theirs; their choler cannot drive their wills before his: all their motion is from him only. True Disciples are like those artificial engines which go no otherwise then they are set; or like little Children, that speak nothing but what they are taught. O Saviour, if we have wills of our own, we are not thine. Do thou set me as thou wouldst have me go; do thou teach me what thou wouldst have me say or do.  
A mannerly preface leads in a faulty suit; Master, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from Heaven and consume them? Faulty, both in presumption, and in desire of private revenge. I do not hear them say, Master, will it please thee, who art the sole Lord of the Heavens and the Elements, to command fire from Heaven upon these men? but, Wilt thou that we command? As if, because they had power given them over diseases and unclean spirits, therefore Heaven and earth were in their managing. How easily might they be mistaken? Their large commission had the just limits. Subjects that have munificent grants from their Princes can challenge nothing beyond the words of their Patent. And if the fetching down fire from Heaven were less than the dispossessing of Devils, (since the Devil shall enable the Beast to do thus much) yet how possible is it to do the greater and stick at the less, where both depend upon a delegated power? The Magicians of Egypt could bring forth Frogs and Blood; they could not bring Lice: ordinary Corruption can do that which they could not.  
It is the fashion of our bold Nature, upon an inch given, to challenge an ell; and where we find ourselves graced with some abilities, to flatter ourselves with the faculty of more.  
I grant, Faith hath done as great things as ever Presumption undertook; but there is great difference in the enterprises of both. The one hath a warrant, either by instinct or express command; the other none at all. Indeed, had these two Disciples either meant, or said, Master, if it be thy pleasure to command us to call down fire from Heaven, we know thy word shall enable us to do what thou requirest; if the words be ours, the power shall be thine; this had been but holy, modest, faithful: but if they supposed there needed nothing save a leave only, and that (might they be but let loose) they could go alone, they presumed, they offended.  
Yet had they thus overshot themselves in some pious and charitable motion, the fault had been the less: now the act had in it both cruelty, and private revenge. Their zeal was not worthy of more praise, than their fury of censure. That fire should fall down from Heaven upon men, is a fearful thing to think of, and that which hath not been often done. It was done in the case of Sodom, when those five unclean Cities burned with the unnatural fire of hellish Lust: it was done two several times at the suit of Elijah: it was done (in an height of trial) to that great pattern of Patience. I find it no more, and tremble at these I find.  
But besides the dreadfulness of the judgement itself, who can but quake at the thought of the suddenness of this destruction, which sweeps away both Body and Soul in a state of unpreparation, of unrepentance; so as this fire should but begin a worse, this Heavenly flame should but kindle that of Hell?  
Thus unconceivably heavy was the revenge: but what was the offence? We have learned not to think any indignity light that is offered to the Son of God; but we know these spiritual affronts are capable of degrees. Had these Samaritans reviled Christ and his train, had they violently assaulted him, had they followed him with stones in their hands and blasphemies in their mouths, it had been a just provocation of so horrible a vengeance: Now the wrong was only negative, they received him not: And that, not out of any particular quarrel or dislike of his Person, but of his Nation only; the men had been welcome, had not their Country distasted. All the charge that I hear our Saviour give to his Disciples in case of their rejection, is, If they receive you not, shake off the dust of your feet. Yet this was amongst their own, and when they went on that sacred errand of publishing the Gospel of Peace. These were strangers from the commonwealth of Israel. This measure was not to Preachers, but to Travellers; only a mere inhospitality to misliked guests. Yet no less revenge will serve them then fire from Heaven.  
I dare say for you, ye holy sons of Zebedee, it was not your spleen, but your zeal, that was guilty of so bloody a suggestion: your indignation could not but be stirred to see the great Prophet and Saviour of the world so unkindly repelled: yet all this will not excuse you from a rash Cruelty, from an inordinate Rage.  
Even the best heart may easily be miscarried with a well-meant Zeal. No affection is either more necessary or better accepted. Love to any Object cannot be severed from hatred of the contrary: whence it is that all creatures which have the concupiscible part, have also the irascible adjoined unto it. Anger and displeasure is not so much an enemy, as a guardian and champion of Love. Whoever therefore is rightly affected to his Saviour, cannot but find much regret at his wrongs. O gracious and divine Zeal, the kindly warmth and vital temper of Piety, whither hast thou withdrawn thyself from the cold hearts of men? Or is this according to the just constitution of the old and decrepit age of the world, into which we are fallen? How many are there that think there is no wisdom but in a dull indifferency; and choose rather to freeze then burn? How quick and apprehensive are men in cases of their own indignities? how insensible of their Saviour's?  
But there is nothing so ill as the corruption of the best. Rectified zeal is not more commendable and useful, then inordinate and misguided is hateful and dangerous. Fire is a necessary and beneficial element; but if it be once misplaced, and have caught upon the beams of our houses or stacks of our corn, nothing can be more direful.  
Thus sometimes Zeal turns Murder, (They that kill you shall think they do God service) sometimes Frenzy, sometimes rude Indiscretion. Wholesome and blessed is that zeal that is well grounded and well governed: grounded upon the word of Truth, not upon unstable fancies; governed by wisdom and charity: Wisdom, to avoid rashness and excess; Charity, to avoid just offence.  
No motion can want a pretence. Elias did so; why not we? He was an holy Prophet: the occasion, the place abludes not much: there wrong was offered to a servant, here to his Master; there to a man, here to a God and man. If Elias then did it, why not we? There is nothing more perilous then to draw all the actions of Holy men into examples: For as the best men have their weaknesses; so they are not privileged from letting fall unjustifiable actions, Besides that, they may have had perhaps peculiar warrants signed from Heaven, whether by instict, or special command, which we shall expect in vain. There must be much caution used in our imitation of the best patterns, (whether in respect of the persons, or things;) else we shall make ourselves Apes, and our acts sinful absurdities.  
It is a rare thing for our Saviour to find fault with the errors of zeal, even where have appeared sensible weaknesses. If Moses in a sacred rage and indignation broke the Tables written with Gods own hand, I find him not checked. Here our meek Saviour turns back, and frowns upon his furious suitors, and takes them up roundly; Ye know not of what spirit ye are. The faults of uncharitableness cannot be swallowed up in zeal. If there were any colour to hide the blemishes of this misdisposition, it should be this crimson die. But he that needs not our Lie, will let us know he needs not our Injury, and hates to have a good cause supported by the violation of our Charity. We have no reason to disclaim our Passions: Even the Son of God chides sometimes, yea where he loves. It offends not that our Affections are moved: but that they are inordinate.  
It was a sharp word, Ye know not of what spirit ye are. Another man would not perhaps have felt it; a Disciple doth. Tender hearts are galled with that which the carnal mind slighteth. The spirit of Elias was that which they meant to assume and imitate: they shall now know their mark was mistaken. How would they have hated to think that any other but God's Spirit had stirred them up to this passionate motion? now they shall know it was wrought by that ill spirit whom they professed to hate.  
It is far from the good Spirit of God to stir up any man to private revenge or thirst of blood. Not an Eagle, but a Dove, was the shape wherein he chose to appear. Neither wouldst thou, O God, be in the whirlwind, or in the fire, but in the soft voice. O Saviour, what do we seek for any precedent but thine, whose name we challenge? Thou camest to thine own, thine own received thee not. Didst thou call for fire from Heaven upon them? didst thou not rather send down water from thy compassionate eyes, and weep for them by whom thou must bleed? Better had it been for us never to have had any spirit, than any but thine. We can be no other than wicked, if our mercies be cruelty.  
But is it the name of Elias (O ye Zelots) which ye pretend for a colour of your impotent desire? Ye do not consider the difference betwixt his Spirit and yours. His was extraordinary and heroical, besides the instinct or secret command of God for this act of his; far otherwise is it with you, who by a carnal distemper are moved to this furious suggestion. Those that would imitate God's Saints in singular actions, must see they go upon the same grounds. Without the same Spirit and the same warrant it is either a mockery or a sin to make them our Copies. Elias is no fit pattern for Disciples, but their Master. The Son of Man came not to destroy men's lives, but to save them.  
Then are our actions and intentions warrantable and praiseworthy, when they accord with his. O Saviour, when we look into those sacred Acts and monuments of thine, we find many a life which thou preservedst from perishing, some that had perished by thee recalled; never any by thee destroyed. Only one poor figtree (as the real Emblem of thy severity to the unfruitful) was blasted and withered by thy curse. But to man, how ever favourable and indulgent wert thou? So repelled as thou wert, so reviled, so persecuted, laid for, sold, betrayed, apprehended, arraigned, condemned, crucified; yet what one man didst thou strike dead for these heinous indignities? Yea when one of thine enemies lost but an ear in that ill quarrel, thou gavest that ear to him who came to take life from thee. I find some whom thou didst scourge and correct, as the sacrilegious money-changers; none whom thou killed'st. Not that thou either lovest not, or requirest not the duly-severe execution of justice. Whose sword is it that Princes bear but thine? Offenders must smart and bleed. This is a just sequel, but not the intention of thy coming; thy will, not thy drift.  
Good Princes make wholesome Laws for the well-ordering of their people: there is no authority without due coercion. The violation of these good Laws is followed with death, whose end was preservation, life, order: and this not so much for revenge of an offence past, as for prevention of future mischief.  
How can we then enough love and praise thy mercy, O thou preserver of men? How should we imitate thy saving and beneficent disposition towards mankind? as knowing, the more we can help to save, the nearer we come to thee that camest to save all; and the more destructive we are, the more we resemble him who is Abaddon, a murderer from the beginning.   

The Ten Lepers.  
THE Samaritans were tainted, not with Schism, but Heresy, but Paganism; our Saviour yet blaks them not, but makes use of the way as it lies, and bestows upon them the courtesy of some Miracles. Some kind of commerce is lawful even with those without. Terms of entireness and leagues of inward amity are here unfit, unwarrantable, dangerous; but civil respects, and wise uses of them for our convenience or necessity, need not, must not be forborn.  
Ten Lepers are here met: those that are excluded from all other society, seek the company of each other. Fellowship is that we all naturally affct, though even in Leprosy. Ever Lepers will flock to their fellows: where shall we find one spiritual Leper alone? Drunkards, profane persons, Heretics will be sure to consort with their matches. Why should not God's Saints delight in an holy communion? Why is it not our chief joy to assemble in good?  
Jews and Samaritans could not abide one another, yet here in Leprosy they accord; here was one Samaritan Leper with the Jewish: community of passion hath made them friends, whom even Religion disjoined. What virtue there is in misery, that can unite even the most estranged hearts!  
I seek not mystery in the number. These Ten are met together, and all meet Christ: not casually, but upon due deliberation; they purposely waited for this opportunity. No marvel if they thought no attendance long to be delivered from so loathsome and miserable a disease. Great Naaman could be glad to come from Syria to Judaea, in hope of leaving that hateful guest behind him. We are all sensible enough of our bodily infirmities. Oh that we could be equally weary of the sicknesses and deformities of our better part. Surely our spiritual maladies are no less than mortal, if they be not healed; neither can they heal alone. These men had died Lepers if they had not met with Christ.  
Oh Saviour, give us grace to seek thee, and patience to wait for thee; and then we know thou wilt find us, and we remedy.  
Where do these Lepers attend for Christ, but in a village? and that, not in the street of it, but in the entrance, in the passage to it. The Cities, the Towns were not for them; the Law of God had shut them out from all frequency, from all conversation. Care of safety and fear of infection was motive enough to make their neighbours observant of this piece of the Law. It is not the body only that is herein respected by the God of Spirits. Those that are spiritually contagious must be still and ever avoided; they must be separated from us, we must be separated from them: they from us, by just censures; or (if that be neglected) we from them, by a voluntary declination of their familiar conversation.) Besides the benefit of our safety, wickedness would soon be ashamed of itself if it were not for the encouragement of companions. Solitariness is the fittest antidote for spiritual infection. It were happy for the wicked man, if he could be separated from himself.  
These Lepers that came to seek Christ, yet finding him, they stand afar off; whether for reverence, or for security. God had enacted this distance. It was their charge, if they were occasioned to pass through the streets, to cry out, I am unclean. It was no less than their duty to proclaim their own infectiousness: there was not danger only, but sin in their approach.  
How happy were it, if in those wherein there is more peril, there were more remoteness, less silence? O God, we are all Lepers to thee, overspred with the loathsome scurf of our own corruptions: It becomes us well, in the conscience of our shame and vileness, to stand afar off. We cannot be too awful of thee, too much ashamed of ourselves.  
Yet these men, though they be far off in the distance of place, yet they are near in respect of the acceptance of their Prayer. The Lord is near unto all that call upon him in truth. O Saviour, whiles we are far off from thee, thou art near unto us. Never dost thou come so close to us, as when in an holy bashfulness we stand furthest off. Justly dost thou expect we should be at once bold and bashful. How boldly should we come to the throne of Grace, in respect of the grace of that throne? how fearfully, in respect of the awfulness of the Majesty of that throne, and that unworthiness which we bring with us into that dreadful presence?  
He that stands near may whisper; but he that stands afar off must cry aloud: so did these Lepers. Yet not so much distance as passion strained their throats. That which can give voice to the Dumb, can much more give loudness to the Vocal.  
All cried together: these ten voices were united in one sound; that their conjoined forces might expugn that Gracious ear. Had every man spoken singly for himself, this had made no noise, neither yet any show of a servant importunity: Now as they were all affected with one common disease, so they all set out their throats together, and (though Jews and Samaritans) agree in one joint supplication. Even where there are ten tongues, the word is but one; that the condescent may be universal. When we would obtain common favours, we may not content ourselves with private and solitary Devotions, but must join our spiritual forces together, and set upon God by troops. Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. No faithful Prayer goes away unrecompensed: but where many good hearts meet, the retribution must be needs answerable to the number of the petitioners. Oh holy and happy violence that is thus offered to Heaven! How can we want Blessings, when so many cords draw them down upon our heads?  
It was not the sound, but the matter, that carried it with Christ: if the sound were shrill, the matter was faithful; Jesus Master, have mercy upon us. No word can better become the mouth of the miserable. I see not where we can meet with fitter patterns. Surely, they were not verier Lepers than we: why do we not imitate them in their actions, who are too like them in our condition? Whither should we seek but to our Jesus? How should we stand aloof in regard of our own wretchedness? how should we lift up our voice in the fervour of our supplications? what should we rather sue for then mercy? Jesus Master, have mercy upon us.  
Oh gracious prevention of mercy, both had and given ere it can be asked! Jesus, when he saw them, said, Go show yourselves to the Priests. Their disease is cured ere it can be complained of; their showing to the Priest presupposes them whole; whole in his grant, though not in their own apprehension. That single Leper that came to Christ before, (Mat. 8. Luke 5.) was first cured in his own sense; and then was bid to go to the Priest for approbation of the Cure. It was not so with these; who are sent to the Judges of Leprosy, with an intention they shall in the way find themselves healed. There was a different purpose in both these: In the one, that the perfection of the Cure might be convinced, and seconded with a due sacrifice; in the other, that the Faith of the Patients might be tried in the way; which if it had not held as strong in the prosecution of their suit as in the beginning, had (I doubt) failed of the effect. How easily might these Lepers think, Alas, to what purpose is this? Show ourselves to the Priests? What can their eyes do? They can judge whether it be cured, (which we see yet it is not) they cannot cure it. This is not now to do: We have been seen enough, and loathed. What can their eyes see more than our own? We had well hoped that Jesus would have vouchsafed to call us to him, and to lay his hands upon us, and to have healed us. These thoughts had kept them Lepers still. Now shall their Faith and Obedience be proved by their submission both to this sudden command, and that Divine ordination.  
That former Leper was charged to show himself to the chief Priest, these to the Priests; either would serve: the original command runs, either to Aaron or to one of his Sons. But why to them? Leprosy was a bodily sickness; what is this to spiritual persons? Wherefore serve Physicians, if the Priests must meddle with diseases? We never shall find those Sacred persons to pass their judgement upon Fevers, Dropsies, Palsies, or any other bodily distemper: neither should they on this, were it not that this affection of the body is joined with a Legal uncleanness. Not as a sickness, but as an impurity must it come under their cognisance: neither this, without a further implication. Who but the successors of the Legal Priesthood are proper to judge of the uncleannesses of the Soul? Whether an act be sinful, or in what degree it is such; what grounds are sufficient for the comfortable assurance of Repentance, of forgiveness; what courses are fittest to avoid the danger of relapses, who is so like to know, so meet to judge, as our Teachers? Would we in these cases consult ofter with our spiritual Guides, and depend upon their faithful advices and well-grounded absolutions, it were safer, it were happier for us. Oh the dangerous extremity of our wisdom! Our hoodwinked Progenitors would have no eyes but in the heads of their ghostly Fathers: We think ourselves so quicksighted, that we pity the blindness of our able Teachers; none but ourselves are fit to judge of our own Leprosy.  
Neither was it only the peculiar judgement of the Priest that was here intended, but the thankfulness of the Patient: that by the sacrifice which he should bring with him, he might give God the glory of his sanation. O God, whomsoever thou curest of this spiritual Leprosy, it is reason he should present thee with the true Evangelical sacrifices, not of his praises only, but of himself, which are reasonable and living. We are still leprous if we do not first see ourselves foul, and then find ourselves thankfully serviceable.  
The Lepers did not, would not go of themselves, but are sent by Christ; Go and show yourselves. And why sent by him? Was it in obedience to the Law? was it out of respect to the Priesthood? was it for prevention of cavils? was it for conviction of gainsayers? or was it for confirmation of the Miracle? Christ that was above the Law would not transgress it; he knew this was his charge by Moses. How justly might he have dispensed with his own? but he will not: though the Law doth not bind the Maker, he will voluntarily bind himself. He was within the ken of his Consummatum est; yet would not anticipate that approaching end, but holds the Law on foot till his last pace. This was but a branch of the Ceremonial; yet would he not slight it, but in his own person gives example of a studious observation.  
How carefully should we submit ourselves to the Royal laws of our Creator, to the wholesome laws of our Superiors, whiles the Son of God would not but be so punctual in a Ceremony?  
Whiles I look to the Persons of those Priests, I see nothing but corruption, nothing but professed hostility to the true Messiah. All this cannot make thee, O Saviour, to remit any point of the observance due to their Places. Their Function was sacred, whatever their Persons were: though they have not the grace to give thee thy due, thou wilt not fail to give them theirs. How justly dost thou expect all due regard to thine Evangelicall Priesthood, who gavest so curious respect to the Legal? It were shame the Synagogue should be above the Church; or that Priesthood which thou meantest speedily to abrogate, should have more honour than that which thou meantest to establish and perpetuate.  
Had this duty been neglected, what clamours had been raised by his emulous adversaries? What scandals? though the fault had been the Patients, not the Physicians. But they that watched Christ so narrowly, and were apt to take so poor exceptions at his Sabbath-cures, at the unwashen hands of his Disciples, how much more would they have calumniated him if by his neglect the Law of Leprosy had been palpably transgressed? Not only evil must be avoided, but offence; and that not on our parts, but on others. That offence is ours, which we might have remedied.  
What a noble and irrefragable testimony was this to the power, to the truth of the Messiah? How can these Jews but either believe, or be made inexcusable in not believing? When they shall see so many Lepers come at once to the Temple, all cured by a secret will, without word or touch, how can they choose but say, This work is supernatural; no limited power could do this? How is he not God, if his power be infinite? Their own eyes shall be witnesses and Judges of their own conviction.  
The Cure is done by Christ more tightly then by Art or Nature; yet it is not publicly assured and acknowledged, till according to the Mosaical Law certain subsequent rites be performed. There is no admittance into the Congregation, but by sprinkling of blood. O Saviour, we can never be ascertained of our cleansing from that spiritual Leprosy wherewith our Souls are tainted, but by the sprinkling of thy most precious blood: wash us with that, and we shall be whiter than snow. This act of showing to the Priest was not more required by the Law then pre-required of these Lepers by our Saviour, for the trial of their Obedience. Had they now stood upon terms with Christ, and said, We will first see what cause there will be to show ourselves to the Priests; they need not see our lepry, we shall be glad they should see our Cure: do thou work that which we shall show, and bid us show what thou hast wrought: till then excuse us: it is our grief and shame to be seen too much; they had been still Lepers.  
It hath been ever God's wont by small Precepts to prove men's dispositions. Obedience is as well tried in a trifle, as in the most important charge; yea so much more, as the thing required is less: for ofttimes those who would be careful in main affairs, think they may neglect the smallest. What command soever we receive from God or our Superiors, we must not scan the weight of the thing, but the authority of the commander. Either difficulty or slightness are vain pretences for Disobedience.  
These Lepers are wiser; they obeyed, and went. What was the issue? As they went, they were healed. Lo, had they stood still, they had been Lepers; now they went, they are whole. What haste the Blessing makes to overtake their Obedience? This walk was required by the very Law, if they should have found themselves healed: what was it to prevent the time a little, and to do that sooner upon hopes which upon sense they must do after? The horror of the Disease adds to the grace of the Cure; and that is so much more gracious as the task is easier: It shall cost them but a walk. It is the bounty of that God whom we serve, to reward our worthless endeavours with infinite requitals. He would not have any proportion betwixt our acts and his remunerations.  
Yet besides this recompense of Obedience, O Saviour, thou wouldst herein have respect to thine own just Glory. Had not these Lepers been cured in the way, but in the end of their walk, upon their showing to the Priests, the Miracle had lost much light: perhaps the Priests would have challenged it to themselves, and have attributed it to their prayers; perhaps the Lepers might have thought it was thy purpose to honour the Priests as the instruments of that marvellous Cure. Now there can be no colour of any others participation, since the Leprosy vanishes in the way. As thy Power, so thy Praise admits of no partners.  
And now, methinks, I see what an amazed joy there was amongst these Lepers, when they saw themselves thus suddenly cured: each tells other what a change he feels in himself; each comforts other with the assurance of his outward clearness; each congratulates others happiness, and thinks, and says how joyful this news will be to their friends and families. Their society now serves them well to applaud and heighten their new felicity.  
The Miracle indifferently wrought upon all, is differently taken. All went forward (according to the appointment) toward the Priests, all were obedient; one only was thankful. All were cured, all saw themselves cured: their sense was alike, their hearts were not alike. What could make the difference but Grace? and who could make the difference of Grace but he that gave it? He that wrought the Cure in all, wrought the Grace not in all, but in one. The same act, the same motives, are not equally powerful to all: where the Ox finds grass, the Viper poison. We all pray, all hear; one goes away bettered, another cavils. Will makes the difference; but who makes the difference of wills but he that made them? He that creates the new Heart, leaves a stone in one bosom, puts flesh into another. It is not in him that willeth nor in him that runneth, but in God that hath mercy. O God, if we look not up to thee, we may come, and not be healed; we may be healed, and not be thankful.  
This one man breaks away from his fellows to seek Christ. Whiles he was a Leper, he consorted with Lepers; now that he is healed, he will be free. He saith not, I came with these men, with them I will go; if they will return, I will accompany them; if not, what should I go alone? as I am not wiser than they, so I have no more reason to be more thankful. There are cases wherein Singularity is not lawful only, but laudable. Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil. I and my house will serve the Lord. It is a base and unworthy thing for a man so to subject himself to others examples, as not sometimes to resolve to be an example to others. When either evil is to be done or good neglected, how much better is it to go the right way alone, then to err with company?  
Oh noble pattern of Thankfulness! what speed of retribution is here? No sooner doth he see his Cure, than he hasts to acknowledge it: the Benefit shall not die, not sleep in his hand. Late professions of our obligations favour of dulness and ingratitude. What a laborious and diligent officiousness is here? He stands not still, but puts himself to the pains of a return. What an hearty recognition of the blessing? His voice was not more loud in his suit then in his thanks. What an humble reverence of his Benefactor? He falls down at his feet: as acknowledging at once beneficence and unworthiness. It were happy for all Israel, if they could but learn of this Samaritan.  
This man is sent with the rest to the Priests. He well knew this duty a branch of the Law of Ceremonies, which he meant not to neglect: but his heart told him there was a Moral duty of professing thankfulness to his Benefactor, which called for his first attendance. First therefore he turns back, ere he will stir forward. Reason taught this Samaritan (and us in him) that ceremony must yield to substance, and that main points of Obedience must take place of all Ritual compliments.  
It is not for nothing that note is made of the Country of this thankful Leper; He was a Samaritan: The place is known and branded with the infamy of a Paganish mis-religion. Outward disadvantage of place or parentage cannot block up the way of God's Grace and free election; as contrarily the privileges of birth and nature avail us nothing in spiritual occasions.  
How sensible wert thou, O Saviour, of thine own beneficence? Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? The trouping of these Lepers together did not hinder thy reckoning. It is both justice and wisdom in thee to keep a strict account of thy favours. There is an wholesome and useful art of forgetfulness in us men, both of Benefits done, and of Wrongs offered. It is not so with God. Our injuries indeed he soon puts over; making it no small part of his style, that he forgives iniquities: but for his mercies, there is no reason he should forget them; they are worthy of more than our memory. His favours are universal over all his works; there is no creature that tastes not of his bounty; his Sun and Rain are for others besides his friends: but none of his good turns escapes either his knowledge or record. Why should not we (O God) keep a book of our receipts from thee, which agreeing with thine may declare thee bounteous, and us thankful?  
Our Saviour doth not ask this by way of doubt, but of exprobration? Full well did he count the steps of those absent Lepers; he knew where they were; he upbraids their ingratitude, that they were not where they should have been. It was thy just quarrel, O Saviour, that while one Samaritan returned, nine Israelites were healed and returned not. Had they been all Samaritans, this had been faulty; but now they were Israelites, their ingratitude was more foul than their Leprosy. The more we are bound to God, the more shameful is our unthankfulness. There is scarce one in ten that is careful to give God his own: this neglect is not more general than displeasing. Christ had never miss their presence, if their absence had not been hateful and injurious.   

The Pool of Bethesda,  
Meditated on in a Sermon preached at the Court before King James of Blessed memory.  

To the Reader.  
THe Reader may be pleased to understand, that my manner hath still been, first, to pass through all these Divine Histories by way of Sermons, and then after to gather the quintessence of those larger discourses into these forms of Meditations which he sees: Only I have thought good upon these two following heads (for some good reasons) to publish the Sermons in their own shape as they were delivered, without alteration. It seemed not amiss that some of those metals should be shown in the oar, whereof so great a quantity was presented in the wedge.   

The Pool of Bethesda.  
O Therwhere ye may look long, and see no Miracle; but here behold two Miracles in one view: the former, of the Angel curing Diseases; the later, of the God of Angels, Christ Jesus, preventing the Angel in his Cure. Even the first Christ wrought by the Angel; the second immediately by himself. The first is incomparable, for (as Montanus truly observes) there is no one miraculum perpetuum but this one, in the whole Book of God. Be content to spend this hour with me in the porches of Bethesda, and consider with me the Topography, the Aitiology, the Chronography of this Miracle. These three limit our speech and your patient attention. The Chronography (which is first in place and time) offers us two heads: 1. a Feast of the Jews; 2. Christ going up to the Feast. The Jews were full of holidays, both of God's institution and the Churches. Of God's, both weekly, monthly, anniversary. Weekly, that one of seven, which I would to God we had learned of them to keep better. In this regard it was that Seneca said, the Jews did Septimam aetatis partem perdere, lose the seventh part of their life. Monthly, the New moons, Numb. 18. Anniversary, Easter, Pentecost, and the September-feasts. The Churches, both the Purim by Mardocheus; and the Encaenia by Judas Maccabaeus, which yet Christ honoured by his solemnisation, John 10. Surely God did this for the cheerfulness of his people in his service: hence the Church hath laudably imitated this example. To have no Feasts is sullen: to have too many is Paganish and Superstitious. Neither would God have cast the Christian Easter upon the just time of the Jewish Pasch, and their Whitsuntide upon the Jewish Pentecost; if he would not have had these Feasts continued. And why should the Christian Church have less power than the Jewish Synagogue? Here was not a mere Feriation, but a Feasting; they must appear before God cum muneribus with gifts. The tenth part of their increase must be spent upon the three solemn Feasts, besides their former tithes to Levi, Deut. 14. 23. There was no holiday wherein they feasted above six hours: and in some of them Tradition urged them to their quantities of drink: And David, when he would keep holiday to the Ark, allows every Israelite a cake of bread, a piece of flesh, a bottle of wine; not a dry dinner (prandium caninum) not a mere drinking, of wine without meat, but to make up a perfect feast, Bread, Flesh, Wine, 2. Sam. 6. The true Purims of this Island are those two Feasts of August and November. He is no true Israelite that keeps them not, as the days which the Lord hath made. When are joy and triumphs seasonable if not at Feasts? but not excess. Pardon me, I know not how Feasts are kept at the Court: but, as Job, when he thought of the banquets of his Sons, says, It may be they have sinned; so let me speak at peradventures, If sensual immoderation should have set her foot into these Christian Feasts, let me at least say with indulgent Ely, Non est bona fama, filii, It is no good report, my sons. Do ye think that S: Paul's rule, Non in comessationibus & ebrietate, not in surfeiting and drunkenness, was for work-days only? The Jews had a conceit, that on their Sabbath and. Feast-days the Devils fled from their Cities ad montes umbrosoes, to the shady mountains. Let it not be said, that on our Christian Feasts they should è montibus aulam petere: and that he seeks, and finds not, loca arida, but madida. God forbid that Christians should sacrifice to Bacchus in stead of the everliving God: and that on the day when you should have been blown up by treacherous fire from earth to Heaven, you should fetch down the fire of God's anger from Heaven upon you by swilling and surfeits: God forbid. God's service is unum necessarium one thing necessary, saith Christ. Homo cbrius, superflua creatura, A drunken man is a superfluous creature, saith Ambrose. How ill do those two agree together? This I have been bold to say out of caution, not of reproof.    

Thus much, that there was a Feast of the Jews. Now, what Feast it was is questionable: whether the Pasch, as Irenaeus, and Beza with him, thinks, upon the warrant of John 4. 35. where our Saviour had said, Yet four months, and then comes harvest: or whether Pentecost, which was fifty days from the shaking of the sheaf (that was Easter Sunday) as cyril, chrysostom, Theophylact, Euthymius, and some later: or whether one of the September Feasts, as some others. The excellency of the Feast makes for Easter; the Feast 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. the number of Interpreters for Pentecost; the number of Feasts for September. For as God delighted in the number of seven, the seventh day was holy, the seventh year, the seventh seven year: so he showed it in the seventh month, which reserves his number still, September; the first day whereof was the Sabbath of Trumpets, the tenth dies expiationum, and on the fifteenth began the Feast of Tabernacles for seven days. It is an idleness to seek that which we are never the better when we have found. What if Easter? what if Tabernacles? what if Pentecost? what loss, what gain is this? Magnâ nos molestiâ Johannes liberasset, si unum adjecisset verbum, John had eased us of much trouble, if he had added but one word, saith Maldonat. But for us, God give them sorrow which love it: this is one of Saint Paul's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 vain disputations, that he forbids his Timothy; yea, (which is the subject thereof) one of them which he calls 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, foolish and unlearned questions, 2 Tim. 2. 23. Quantum mali facit nimia subtilitas? how much mischief is done by too much subtility? saith Seneca. These are for some idle Cloisterers that have nothing to do but to pick straws in Divinity: Like to Appian the Grammarian, that with long discourse would pick out of Homer's first verse of his Iliads, and the first word (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) the number of the books of Iliads and Odysseys; or like Didymus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that spent some of his four thousand books about, which was Homer's Country, who was Aeneas' true mother, what the age of Hecuba, how long it was betwixt Homer and Orpheus; or those wise Critics of whom Seneca speaks, that spent whole volumes, whether Homer or Hesiod were the elder. Non profuturam scientiam tradunt, they vent an unprofitable skill, as he said. Let us be content with the learned ignorance of what God hath concealed; and know, that what he hath concealed, will not avail us to know.  
Rather let us inquire why Christ would go up to the Feast. I find two silken cords that drew him up thither. 1 His Obedience. 2 His desire of manifesting his Glory.  
First, It was a general law, All males must appear thrice a year before the Lord. Behold, he was the God whom they went up to worship at the Feast; yet he goes up to worship. He began his life in obedience, when he came in his Mother's belly to Bethleem at the taxation of Augustus, and so he continues it. He knew his due. Of whom do the Kings of the earth receive tribute? of their own, or of strangers? Then their Sons are free. Yet he that would pay tribute to Caesar, will also pay this tribute of Obedience to his Father. He that was above the Law, yields to the Law: Legi satisfacere voluit, etsi non sub Lege, He would satisfy the Law, though he were not under the Law. The Spirit of God says, He learned Obedience in that he suffered. Surely also he taught obedience in that he did. This was his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to John Baptist, It becomes us to fulfil all Righteousness. He will not abate his Father one Ceremony. It was dangerous to go up to that Jerusalem which he had left before for their malice: yet now he will up again. His Obedience drew him up to that bloody Feast, wherein himself was sacrificed; how much more now, that he might sacrifice? What can we plead to have learned of Christ, if not his first Lesson, Obedience? The same proclamation that Gedeon made to Israel, he makes still to us, As ye see me do, so do ye. Whatsoever therefore God enjoins us, either immediately by himself, or mediately by his Deputies, if we will be Christians, we must so observe, as those that know themselves bound to tread in his steps that said, In the volume of thy Book it is written of me, I desired to do thy will, O God, Psal. 40. 6. I will have obedience (saith God) and not sacrifice. But where Sacrifice is Obedience, he will have Obedience in sacrificing. Therefore Christ went up to the Feast.  
The second motive was the manifestation of his Glory. If we be the light of the world, which are so much snuff, what is he that is the Father of lights? It was not for him to be set under the bushel of Nazareth, but upon the table of Jerusalem. Thither and then was the confluence of all the Tribes. Many a time had Christ passed by this man before, when the streets were empty; for there he lay many years; yet heals him not till now. He that sometimes modestly steals a Miracle with a Vide nè cui dixeris, See thou tell no man, that no man might know it; at other times does Wonders upon the Scaffold of the World, that no man might be ignorant, and bids proclaim it on the house tops. It was fit the world should be thus publicly convinced, and either won by belief, or lost by inexcusableness. Good the more common it is, the better. I will praise thee, saith David, in Ecclesia magna, in the great Congregation. Glory is not got in corners. No man (say the envious kinsmen of Christ) keeps close, and would be famous. No, nor that would have God celebrated. The best opportunities must be taken in glorifying him. He that would be Crucified at the Feast, that his Death and Resurrection might be more famous; will at the Feast do Miracles, that his Divine power might be approved openly. Christ is Flos campi, non horti, the flower of the field, and not of the garden, saith Bernard. God cannot abide to have his Graces smothered in us. I have not hid thy righteousness within my heart, saith the Psalmist. Absalon when he would be insigniter improbus notoriously wicked, does his villainy publicly in the eyes of the Sun, under no curtain but Heaven. He that would do notable service to God, must do it conspicuously. Nicodemus gained well by Christ, but Christ got nothing by him, so long as, like a night-bird, he never came to him but with owls and bats. Then he began to be a profitable Disciple, when he durst oppose the Pharisees in their condemnation of Christ, though indefinitely: but most, when in the night of his death the light of his Faith brought him openly to take down the Sacred Corpse before all the gazing multitude, and to embalm it. When we confess God's name, with the Psalmist, before Kings; when Kings, defenders of the Faith, profess their Religion in public and everlasting monuments to all nations, to all times; this is glorious to God, and in God to them. It is no matter how close evils be, nor how public good is.  
This is enough for the Chronography; the Topography follows. I will not here stand to show you the ignorance of the Vulgar translation, in joining probatica and piscina together, against their own fair Vatican copy, with other ancient: nor spend time to discuss whether 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 be here understood for the Substantive of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. it is most likely to be that Sheep-gate spoken of in Ezra: nor to show how ill piscina in the Latin answers the Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. ours turn it a pool, better than any Latin word can express it: nor to show you (as I might) how many public Pools were in Jerusalem: nor to discuss the use of this Pool, whether it were for washing the beasts to be sacrificed, or to wash the entrails of the Sacrifice; whence I remember Hierom fetches the virtue of the water, and in his time thought he discerned some redness, as if the blood spilt four hundred years before could still retain his first tincture in a liquid substance; besides that it would be a strange swimming pool that were brewed with blood, and this was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. This conceit arises from the error of the construction in mismatching 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Neither will I argue whether it should be Bethsida, or Bethzida, or Bethsheda, or Bethesda. If either you or myself knew not how to be rid of time, we might easily wear out as many hours in this Pool as this poor impotent man did years. But it is Edification that we affect, and not Curiosity. This Pool had five Porches. Neither will I run here with S. Austin into Allegories; that this Pool was the people of the Jews, Aquae multae, populus multus, and these five Porches the Law in the five books of Moses: nor stand to confute Adrichomius, which out of Josephus would persuade us that these five Porches were built by Solomon, and that this was stagnum Solomonis, for the use of the Temple. The following words show the use of the Porches; for the receipt of impotent, sick, blind, halt, withered, that waited for the moving of the water. It should seem it was walled about to keep it from cattle, and these five valuted entrances were made by some Benefactors for the more convenience of attendance. Here was the Mercy of God seconded by the Charity of men: if God will give Cure, they will give harbour. Surely it is a good matter to put our hand to Gods; and to further good works with convenience of enjoying them.  
Jerusalem was grown a City of blood, to the persecution of the Prophets, to a wilful despite of what belonged to her peace, to a profanation of God's Temple, to a mere formality in God's services: and yet here were public works of Charity in the midst of her streets. We may not always judge of the truth of Piety by charitable actions. Judas disbursed the money for Christ; there was no Traitor but he. The poor traveller that was robbed and wounded betwixt Jerusalem and Jericho, was passed over first by the Priest, than the Levite; at last the Samaritan came and relieved him: His Religion was naught, yet his act was good, the Priests and Levites Religion good, their uncharity ill. Novatus himself was a Martyr, yet a Schismatic. Faith is the soul, and good works are the breath, saith S. James: but as you see in a pair of bellows there is a forced breath without life; so in those that are puffed up with the wind of ostentation, there may be charitable works without Faith. The Church of Rome, unto her four famous Orders of Jacobins, Franciscans, Augustine's and Carmelites, hath added a fifth of Jesuits; and, like another Jerusalem, for those five Leprous and lazarly Orders hath built five porches; that if the water of any State be stirred, they may put in for a share. How many Cells and Convents hath she raised for these miserable Cripples? and now she thinks (though she exalt herself above all that is called God, though she dispense with and against God, though she fall down before every block and wafer, though she kill Kings and equivocate with Magistrates,) she is the only City of God. Digna est, nam struxit Synagogam, She is worthy, for she hath built a Synagogue. Are we more orthodox, and shall not we be as charitable? I am ashamed to think of rich Noblemen and Merchants that die and give nothing to our five porches of Bethesda. What shall we say? Have they made their Mammon their God, in stead of making friends with their Mammon to God? Even when they die will they not (like Ambrose's good Usurers) part with that which they cannot hold, that they may get that which they cannot lose? Can they begin their will, In Dei nomine, Amen; and give nothing to God? Is he only a Witness, and not a Legatee? Can we bequeath our Souls to Christ in Heaven, and give nothing to his Limbs on earth? And if they will not give, yet will they not lend to God? He that gives to the poor, Foeneratur Deo, lends to God. Will they put out to any but God? and then, when in stead of giving security, he receives with one hand and pays with another, receives our bequest and gives us glory? Oh damnable niggardliness of vain men, that shames the Gospel, and loses Heaven! Let me show you a Bethesda that wants porches. What truer house of effusion than the Church of God, which sheds forth waters of comfort, yea of life? Behold some of the porches of this Bethesda so far from building, that they are pulled down. It is a wonder if the demolished stones of God's House have not built some of yours, and if some of you have not your rich Suits guarded with Souls. There were wont to be reckoned three wonders of England, Ecclesia, Foemina, Lana, The Churches, the Women, the Wool. Foemina may pass still; who may justly challenge wonder for their Vanity, if not their Persons. As for Lana, if it be wonderful alone, I am sure it is ill joined with Ecclesia: The Church is fleeced, and hath nothing but a bare pelt left upon her back. And as for Ecclesia, either men have said with the Babylonians, Down with it, down with it even to the ground; or else in respect of the Maintenance, with Judas, ut quid perditio haec? why was this waist? How many remorseful souls have sent back, with Jacob's sons, their money in their Sacks mouths? How many great Testators have in their last Will returned the anathematised peculium of Impropriations to the Church, choosing rather to impair their heir then to burden their Souls? Dum times ne pro te patrimonium tuum perdas, ipse propatrimonio tuo peris, saith Cyprian, Whiles thou fearest to lose thy Patrimony for thy own good, thou perishest with thy patrimony. Ye great men, spend not all your time in building Castles in the air, or houses on the sand; but set your hands and purses to the building of the porches of Bethesda. It is a shame for a rich Christian to be like a Christmas-box, that receives all, and nothing can be got out till it be broken in pieces; or like unto a drowned man's hand, that holds whatsoever it gets. To do good and to distribute, forget not; for with such Sacrifices God is well pleased.  
This was the place, what was the use of it? All sorts of Patients were at the bank of Bethesda: where should Cripples be but at the spital? The sick, blind, lame, withered, all that did either morbo laborare or vitio corporis, complain of sickness or impotency, were there. In natural course, one receipt heals not all diseases, no nor one Agent; one is an Oculist, another a Bonesetter, another a Chirugion: But all diseases are alike to the supernatural power of God.  
Hypocrates, though the Prince of Physicians, yet swears by Aesculapius he will never meddle with cutting of the Stone. There is no Disease that Art will not meddle with: there are many that it cannot cure. The poor Haemorrhoissa was eighteen years in the Physicians hands, and had purged away both her body and her substance. Yea some it kills in stead of healing: whence one Hebrew word signifies both Physicians and dead men. But behold here all Sicknesses cured by one hand, and by one water. O all ye that are spiritually sick and diseased, come to the Pool of Bethesda, the blood of Christ. Do ye complain of the Blindness of your Ignorance? here ye shall receive clearness of Sight: of the distemper of Passions? here Ease: of the superfluity of your sinful Humours? here Evacuation: of the impotency of your Obedience? here Integrity: of the Dead witheredness of good Affections? here Life and Vigour. Whatsoever your infirmity be, come to the Pool of Bethesda, and be healed.  
All these may be cured; yet shall be cured at leisure; all must wait, all must hope in waiting. Methinks I see how enviously these Cripples look one upon another, each thinking other a let, each watching to prevent other, each hoping to be next; like emulous Courtiers, that gape and vie for the next preferment, and think it a pain to hope, and a torment to be prevented. But Bethesda must be waited on. He is worthy of his Crutches that will not stay God's leisure for his Cure. There is no virtue, no success without patience. Waiting is a familiar lesson with Courtiers: and here we have all need of it. One is sick of an overflowing of the Gall, another of a Tumour of Pride, another of the Tentigo of Lust, another of the Vertigo of Inconstancy, another of the choking Squinancy of Curses and Blasphemies; one of the Boulimy of Gluttony, another of the Pleuritical stitches of Envy; one of the contracting Cramp of Covetousness, another of the Atrophy of Unproficiency; one is hidebound with pride, another is consumed with Emulation, another rotten with Corrupt desires: and we are so much the sicker, if we feel not these distempers. Oh that we could wait at the Bethesda of God, attend diligently upon his Ordinances: we could no more fail of cure, than now we can hope for cure. We wait hard, and endure much for the Body. Quantis laboribus agitur ut longiore tempore laboretur! multi cruciatus suscipiuntur corri, ut panci dies adjiciantur incerti, What toil do we take that we may toil yet longer! we endure many certain pains for the addition of a few uncertain days, saith Austin. Why will we not do thus for the Soul? Without waiting it will not be. The Cripple (Act. 3. 4.) was bidden, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, look up to us. He looked up. It was cold comfort that he heard, Silver and Gold have I none: but the next clause made amends for all, Surge & ambula, rise and walk: and this was, because 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, he attended expecting, verse 5. Would we be cured? It is not for us to snatch at Bethesda, as a dog at Nilus; nor to draw water and away, as Rebecca; nor to set us a while upon the banks, as the Israelites by the rivers of Babylon: but we must dwell in God's house, wait at Bethesda. But what shall I say to you Courtiers, but even as Saint Paul to his Corinthians, Ye are full, ye are rich, ye are strong without us? Many of you come to this place not as to Bethel, the House of God, or Bethesda, the house of effusion; but as to Bethaven, the house of vanity. If ye have not lost your old wont, there are more words spoken in the outer closet by the hearers, then in the Chapel by the Preacher; as if it were Closet, quasi close set, in an Exchange, like communication of News. What, do ye think of Sermons as matters of formality, as very Superfluities, as your own idle Compliments, which either ye hear not, or believe not? What do ye think of yourselves? Have you only a postern to go to Heaven by yourselves, wherethrough ye can go, besides the foolishness of Preaching? or do ye sing that old Pelagian note, Quid nunc mihi opus est Deo? What need have I of God? What should I say to this but, Increpa, Domine. As for our household Sermons, our Auditors are like the fruit of a tree in an unseasonable year; or like a wood new felled, that hath some few spires left for standers some poles distance; or like the tithe sheaves in a field when the corn is gone, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. as he said. It is true, ye have more Sermons and more excellent than all the Courts under Heaven put together: but, as Austin said well, Quid mihi proderit bona res non utenti bene? What am I the better for a good thing if I use it not well? Let me tell you, all these forcible means not well used, will set you the further off from Heaven. If the Chapel were the Bethesda of promotion, what thronging would there be into it? Yea if it were but some mask-house, wherein a glorious (though momentany) show were to be presented, neither white staves nor halberds could keep you out. Behold here, ye are offered the honour to be (by this seed of Regeneration) the Sons of God. The Kingdom of heaven, the Crown of glory, the Sceptre of Majesty, in one word, Eternal life is here offered and performed to you. O let us not so far forget ourselves, as in the Ordinances of God to contemn our own Happiness. But let us know the time of our visitation: let us wait reverently and intentively upon this Bethesda of God; that when the Angel shall descend and move the Water, our Souls may be cured, and through all the degrees of Grace may be carried to the full height of their Glory.   

The first Part of the Meditations upon the Transfiguration of Christ.  
In a Sermon preached at Havering-Bower before K. James of Blessed memory.  
THere is not in all Divinity an higher speculation than this of Christ transfigured. Suffer me therefore to lead you up by the hand into Mount Tabor (for nearer to Heaven ye cannot come while ye are upon earth that you may see him glorious upon earth, the Region of his shame and abasement, who is now glorious in Heaven, the throne of his Majesty. He that would not have his Transfiguration spoken of till he were raised, would have it spoken of all the world over now that he is raised and ascended, that by this momentany glory we may judge of the eternal. The circumstances shall be to us as the skirts of the Hill, which we will climb up lightly; the Time, place, Attendants, Company. The Time, after six days; the Place, an high hill apart; the Attendants, Peter, James, John; the Company, Moses and Elias: which when we have passed, on the top of the hill shall appear to us that sight which shall once make us glorious, and in the mean time happy.  
All three Evangelists accord in the Terminus à quo, that it was immediately after those words, There be some of them that stand here, which shall not taste of death till they have seen the Son of Man come in his Kingdom. Wherein, methinks, the act comments upon the words. Peter, James and John, were these some: they tasted not of death, till they saw this Heavenly image of the Royalty of Christ glorified. But the Terminus quò disagrees a little. Matthew and Mark say, after six; Luke, post ferè octo: which as they are easily reconciled by the usual distinction of inclusiuè and exclusiuè, necessary for all computations, and Luke's about eight; so methinks, seem to intimate God's seventh day, the Sabbath: why should there be else so precise mention of six days after, and about eight, but to imply that day which was betwixt the sixth and eighth? God's day was fittest for so Divine a work: and well might that day which imported God's rest and man's glory, be used for the clear representation of the rest and glory of God and man. But in this conjecture (for aught I know) I go alone: I dare not be too resolute. Certainly it was the seventh, whether it were that seventh, the seventh after the promise of the glory of his Kingdom exhibited: and this perhaps not without a mystery. God teacheth both by words and acts, saith Hilary, that after six Ages of the world should be Christ's glorious appearance, and our transfiguration with him. But I know what our Saviour's farewell was, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, it is not for us to know. But if we may not know, we may conjecture; yet not above that we ought, faith S. Paul: we may not super sapere, as Tertullian's phrase is.  
For the Place, tradition hath taken it still for Tabor: I list not to cross it without warrant. This was an high Hill indeed; thirty furlongs high, saith Josephus; mirâ rotundi●ate sublimis, saith Hierome: and so steep, that some of our English travellers, that have desired to climbit of late, have been glad to give it up in the midway, and to measure the rest with their eyes, Doubtless this Hill was a Symbol of Heaven, being near it as in situation, in resemblance. Heaven is expressed usually by the name of God's hill: and Nature or this appellation taught the Heathens to figure it by their Olympus. All Divine affairs of any magnificence were done on Hills. On the hill of Sinai was the Law delivered: on the hill of Moriah was Isaac to be sacrificed; whence Abraham's posy is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in monte providebitur: on the hill of Rephidim stood Moses with the rod of God in his stretched hand, and figured him crucified upon the hill, whom Joshua figured victorious in the valley: on the hills of Ebal and Gerizim were the Blessings and Curses: on Carmel was Eliah's sacrifice. The Phrontisteria, Schools or Universities of the Prophets, were still Ramah and Gibeah, excelsa, High places. Who knows not that on the hill of Zion stood the Temple? I have looked up to the hills, saith the Psalmist. And Idolatry, in imitation, had their hill-altars. On the Mount of Olives was Christ wont to send up his Prayers, and sent up himself. And here Luke saith, he went up to an high hill to pray; not for that God makes difference of places, to whose immensity Heaven itself is a valley: (It was an heathenish conceit of those Aramites, that God is Deus montium, the God of the mountains) but because we are commonly more disposed to good by either the freedom of our scope to Heaven, or the awfulness or solitary silence of places, which (as one saith) strikes a kind of adoration into us, or by our local removal from this attractive body of the earth: howsoever, when the body sees itself above the earth, the eye of the Mind is more easily raised to her Heaven. It is good to take all advantage of place (setting aside superstition) to further our Devotion. Aaron and Hur were in the mountain with Moses, and held up his hands. Aaron (say some Allegorists) is mountainous; Hur, fiery: Heavenly Meditation and the fire of Charity must lift up our prayers to God. As Satan carried up Christ to an high hill to tempt him, so he carries up himself to be freed from temptation and distraction. If ever we would be transfigured in our disposition, we must leave the earth below, and abandon all worldly thoughts. Venite, ascendamus; Oh come, let us climb up to the hill, where God sees or is seen, saith devout Bernard. O all ye cares, distractions, thoughtfulness, labours, pains, servitudes, stay me here with this ass, my body, till I with the boy, that is, my Reason and Understanding, shall worship and return, saith the same Father, wittily alluding to the journey of Abraham for his sacrifice.  
Wherefore then did Christ climb up this high hill? Not to look about him, but, saith S. Luke, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to pray; not for prospect, but for devotion; that his thoughts might climb up yet nearer to Heaven. Behold how Christ entered upon all his great works with Prayers in his mouth. When he was to enter into that great work of his Humiliation in his Passion, he went into the Garden to pray; when he is to enter into this great work of his Exaltation in his Transfiguring, he went up into the mountain to pray: he was taken up from his knees to both. O noble example of Piety and Devotion to us! He was God that prayed: the God that he prayed to, he might have commanded; yet he prayed, that we men might learn of him to pray to him. What should we men dare to do without prayers, when he that was God would do nothing without them? The very heathen Poet could say, A Jove principium: and which of those verse-mongers ever durst write a ballad without imploring of some Deity? which of the heathens durst attempt any great enterprise, insalutato numine, without invocation and sacrifice? Saul himself would play the Priest, and offer a burnt-offering to the Lord, rather than the Philistines should fight with him unsupplicated; as thinking any devotion better than none; and thinking it more safe to sacrifice without a Priest, then to fight without Prayers. Ungirt, unblessed, was the old word; as not ready till they were girded, so not till they had prayed. And how dare we rush into the affairs of God or the State? how dare we thrust ourselves into actions either perilous or important, without ever lifting up our eyes and hearts unto the God of Heaven? Except we would say (as the devilish malice of Surius slanders that zealous Luther) Nec propter Deum haec res coepta est, nec propter Deum finietur, etc. This business was neither begun for God, nor shall be ended for him. How can God bless us if we implore him not? how can we prosper if he bless us not? How can we hope ever to be transfigured from a lump of corrupt flesh, if we do not ascend and pray? As the Samaritan woman said weakly, we may seriously, The well of mercies is deep: if thou hast nothing to draw with, never look to taste of the waters of life. I fear the worst of men, Turks, and the worst Turks, the Moors, shall rise up in Judgement against many Christians, with whom it is a just exception against any witness by their Law, that he hath not prayed six times in each natural day. Before the day break, they pray for day; when it is day, they give God thanks for day; at noon they thank God for half the day past; after that they pray for a good Sunset; after that they thank God for the day passed; and lastly, pray for a good night after their day. And we Christians suffer so many Suns and Moons to rise and set upon our heads, and never lift up our hearts to their Creator and ours, either to ask his blessing, or to acknowledge it. Of all men under Heaven, none had so much need to pray as Courtiers. That which was done but once to Christ, is always done to them. They are set upon the hill, and see the glory of the Kingdoms of the earth. But I fear it is seen of them as it is with some of the mariners, the more need, the less devotion.  
Ye have seen the Place, see the Attendants. He would not have many, because he would not have it yet know to all: hence was his intermination, and sealing up their mouths with a Nemini dicite, Tell no man. Not none, because he would not have it altogether unknown; and afterwards would have it known to all. Three were a legal number; in o'er duorum aut trium, in the mouth of two or three witnesses. He had eternally possessed the glory of his Father without any witnesses: in time the Angels were blessed with that sight; and after that two bodily, yet Heavenly, witnesses were allowed, Enoch and Elias. Now in his humanity he was invested with glory, he takes but three witnesses, and those earthly and weak, Peter, James, John. And why these? We may be too curious. Peter, because the eldest; John, because the dearest; James, because next Peter the zealousest: Peter, because he loved Christ most; John, because Christ most loved him; James, because next to both he loved, and was loved most. I had rather to have no reason, but, quia complacuit, because it so pleased him. Why may we not as well ask why he chose these twelve from others, as why he chose these three out of the twelve? If any Romanists will raise from hence any privilege to Peter, (which we could be well content to yield, if that would make them ever the honester men) they must remember that they must take company with them; which these Pompeian spirits cannot abide. As good no privilege as any partners. And withal, they must see him more taxed for his error in this act, then honoured by his presence at the act; whereas the Beloved Disciple saw and erred not. These same three which were witnesses of his Transfiguration in the mount, were witnesses of his Agony in the garden; all three, and these three alone, were present at both: but both times sleeping. These were arietes gregis, the Bell-wethers of the flock, as Austin calls them. Oh weak devotion of three great Disciples! These were Paul's three pillars, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Gal. 2. 9 Christ takes them up twice; once to be witnesses of his greatest Glory, once of his greatest extremity: they sleep both times. The other was in the night, more tolerable; this by day, yea in a light above day. chrysostom would fain excuse it to be an amazedness, not a sleep; not considering that they slept both at that Glory, and after in the Agony. To see that Master praying, one would have thought should have fetched them on their knees; especially to see those Heavenly affections look out at his Eyes; to see his Soul lifted up in his Hands in that transported fashion to Heaven. But now the hill hath wearied their ●ims, their body clogs their Soul, and they fall asleep. Whiles Christ saw Divine visions, they dreamt dreams; whiles he was in another world, ravished with the sight of his Father's Glory, yea of his own, they were in another world, a world of fancies, surprised with the cousin of death, sleep. Besides so Gracious an example, their own necessity (Bernard's reason) might have moved them to pray rather than their Master: and behold, in stead of fixing their eyes upon Heaven, they shut them; in stead of lifting up their hearts, their heads fall down upon their shoulders; and shortly, here was snorting in stead of sighs and prayers. This was not Abraham's or Elihu's ecstatical sleep, Job 33. not the sleep of the Church, a waking sleep; but the plain sleep of the eyes: and that not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a slumbering sleep, which David denies to himself, Psal. 132. but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a sound sleep, which Solomon forbids Prov. 6. 4. yea rather 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the dead sleep of Adam or Ionas, and, as Bernard had wont to say when he heard a Monk snort, they did carnaliter seu seculariter dormire. Prayer is an ordinary receipt for sleep. How prone are we to it, when we should mind Divine things? Adam slept in Paradise and lost a Rib: but this sleep was of God's giving, and this Rib was of God's taking. The good husband slept, and found tares. Eutychus slept, and fell. While Satan lulls us asleep (as he doth always rock the cradle when we sleep in our Devotions) he ever takes some good from us, or puts some evil in us, or endangers us a deadly fall. Away with this spiritual Lethargy. Bernard had wont to say that those which sleep are dead to men, those that are dead are asleep to God. But I say, those that sleep at Church are dead to God: so we preach their Funeral Sermons in stead of hortatory. And as he was wont to say, he lost no time so much as that wherein he slept; so let me add, there is no loss of time so desperate as of holy time. Think that Christ saith to thee at every Sermon, as he did to Peter, Etiam Petre dormis? Sleepest thou Peter? couldst thou not wake with me one hour? A slumbering and a drowsy heart do not become the business and presence of him that keepeth Israel, and slumbers not.  
These were the Attendants; see the Companions of Christ. As our glory is not consummate without Society; no more would Christ have his: therefore his Transfiguration hath two Companions, Moses, Elias. As S. Paul says of himself, Whether in the body or out of the body, I know not, God knows: so say I of these two. Of Eliah there may seem less doubt, since we know that his body was assumed to Heaven, and might as well come down for Christ's glory as go up for his own; although some grave Authors, as Calvin, Oecolampadius, Bale, Fulk, have held his body with Enoch's, resolved into their elements: sed ego non credulus illis. Enoch translatus est in carne, & Elias carneus raptus est in coelum, etc. Enoch was translated in the flesh, and Elias being yet in the flesh was taken into Heaven, saith Hierome in his Epistle ad Pammachium.  
And for Moses; though it be rare and singular, and Austin makes much scruple of it: yet why might not he after death return in his body to the glory of Christ's Transfiguration, as well as afterwards many of the Saints did to the glory of his Resurrection? I cannot therefore with the Gloss think, there is any reason why Moses should take another, a borrowed body, rather than his own. Heaven could not give two fitter Companions, more admirable to the Jews for their Miracles, more gracious with God for their Faith and Holiness: Both of them admitted to the conference with God in Horeb; both of them Types of Christ; both of them fasted forty days; both of them for the glory of God suffered many perils; both divided the waters; both the Messengers of God to Kings; both of them marvellous, as in their life, so in their end, A Chariot of Angels took away Elias; he was sought by the Prophets, and not found: Michael strove with the Devil for the body of Moses; he was sought for by the Jews, and not found: and now both of them are found here together on Tabor. This Elias shows himself to the Royal Prophet of his Church; this Moses shows himself to the true Michael: Moses the publisher of the Law, Elias the chief of the Prophets, show themselves to the God of the Law and Prophets. Alter populi informator aliquando, alter reformator quandoque, One the informer once of the people, the other the reformer sometimes, saith Tertull. in 4. adver. Marcionem. Alter initiator Veteris Testamenti, alter consummator Novi, One the first Register of the Old Testament, the other the shutter up of the New. I verily think, with Hilary, that these two are pointed at as the Forerunners of the second coming of Christ, as now they were the Foretellers of his departure: neither doubt I that these are the Two Witnesses which are alluded to in the Apocalypse; howsoever divers of the Fathers have thrust Enoch into the place of Moses. Look upon the place, Apoc. 11. 5. Who but Elias can be he of whom is said, If any man will hurt him, fire proceedeth out of his mouth and devoureth his enemies, alluding to 2 Kings 1? Who but Elias of whom is said, He hath power to shut the Heaven, that it rain not in the days of his prophesying, alluding to 1 Kings 18? Who but Moses of whom it is said, He hath power to turn the waters into blood, and smite the earth with all manner of plagues, alluding to Exod. 7, and 8? But take me aright; let me not seem a friend to the Publicans of Rome, an abettor of those Alcoran-like Fables of our Popish Doctors, who (not seeing the wood for trees) do haerere in cortice, stick in the bark, taking all concerning that Antichrist according to the letter. Odi, & arceo. So shall Moses and Elias come again in those Witnesses, as Elias is already come in John Baptist: their Spirits shall be in these Witnesses, whose Bodies and Spirits were witnesses both of the present Glory and future Passion of Christ. Doubtless many thousand Angels saw this sight, and were not seen; these two both saw and were seen. O how great an Happiness was it for these two great Prophets, in their glorified flesh to see their glorified Saviour, who before his Incarnation had spoken to them? to speak to that Man God of whom they were glorified, and to become Prophets not to men, but to God? And if Moses his face so shone before, when he spoke to him without a body in Mount Sinai, in the midst of the flames and clouds; how did it shine now, when himself glorified, speaks to him a man, in Tabor, in light and majesty? Elias hid his face before with a mantle when he passed by him in the Rock: now with open face he beholds him present, and in his own glory adores his. Let that impudent Martion, who ascribes the Law and Prophets to another God, and devises an hostility betwixt Christ and them, be ashamed to see Moses and Elias not only in colloquio, but in consortio claritatis, not only in conference, but in a partnership of brightness (as Tertull. speaks) with Christ; whom if he had misliked, he had his choice of all the Choir of Heaven; and now choosing them, why were they not in sordibus & tenebris, in rags and darkness? Sic inalienos demonstrat illos, dum secum habet; sic relinquendos docet quos sibi jungit; sic destruit quos de radiis suis exstruit. So doth he show them far from strangeness to him, whom he hath with him; so doth he teach them to be forsaken, whom he joins with himself; so doth he destroy those whom he graces with his beams of glory, saith that Father. His act verifies his word. Think not that I come to destroy the Law or the Prophets; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil them, Mat. 5. 17. Oh what consolation, what confirmation was this to the Disciples, to see such examples of their future Glory? such witnesses and adorers of the eternal Deity of their Master? They saw in Moses and Elias what they themselves should be. How could they ever fear to be miserable, that saw such precedents of their ensuing glory? how could they fear to die, that saw in others the happiness of their own change? The rich Glutton pleads with Abraham, that if one came to them from the dead, they will amend: Abraham answers, they have Moses and the Prophets, let them hear them. Behold, here is both Moses and the Prophets; and these too come from the dead: how can we now but be persuaded of the happy state of another world, unless we will make ourselves worse than the damned? See and consider that the Saints of God are not lost, but departed; gone into a far country with their Master, to return again richer and better than they went. Lest we should think this the condition of Elias only, that was rapt into Heaven, see here Moses matched with him, that died and was buried. And is this the state of these two Saints alone? Shall none be seen with him in the Tabor of Heaven but those which have seen him in Horeb and Carmel? O thou weak Christian, was only one or two limbs of Christ's body glorious in the Transfiguration, or the whole? He is the Head, we are the Members. If Moses and Elias were more excellent parts, Tongue, or Hand; let us be but Heels or Toes, his body is not perfect in glory without ours. When Christ, which is our life, shall appear, then shall we also appear with him in glory, Colos. 3. 4. How truly may we say to death, Rejoice not mine enemy, though I fall, yet shall I rise, yea I shall rise in falling? We shall not all sleep, we shall be changed, saith Saint Paul to his Thessalonians. Elias was changed, Moses slept; both appeared: to teach us, that neither our sleep nor change can keep us from appearing with him. When therefore thou shalt receive the sentence of death on Mount Nebo, or when the fiery Chariot shall come and sweep thee from this vale of mortality, remember thy glorious re-apparition with thy Saviour, and thou canst not but be comforted, and cheerfully triumph over that last Enemy; outfacing those terrors with the assurance of a blessed Resurrection to Glory. To the which, etc.   

The second Part of the Meditations upon the Transfiguration of Christ.  
In a Sermon preached at White-Hall before K. James of Blessed memory.  
IT falls out with this Discourse as with Mount Tabor itself; that it is more easily climbed with the eye, then with the foot. If we may not rather say of it, as Josephus did of Sinai, that it doth not only ascensus hominum, but aspectus fatigare, weary not only the steps but the very sight of men. We had thought not to spend many breaths in the skirts of the hill, the Circumstances; and it hath cost us one hours journey already: and we were glad to rest us, ere we can have left them below us. One pause more (I hope) will overcome them, and set us on the top. No Circumstance remains undiscussed but this one, What Moses and Elias did with Christ in their apparition. For they were not, as some sleepy attendants, (like the three Disciples in the beginning) to be there and see nothing; nor, as some silent spectators, mute witnesses, to see and say nothing: but, (as if their Glory had no whit changed their profession) they are Prophets still, and foretold his departure, as S. Luke tells us. Foretold, not to him which knew it before, yea which told it them; they could not have known it but from him; he was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Word of his Father: they told but that which he before had told his Disciples; and now these Heavenly witnesses tell it over again, for confirmation. Like as John Baptist knew Christ before; he was Vox clamantis, the voice of a crier, the other Verbum Patris, the Word of his Father; there is great affinity betwixt vox and verbum; yea this voice had uttered itself clearly, Ecce agnus Dei, Behold the Lamb of God: yet he sends his Disciples with an Art thou he? that he might confirm to them by him, that which he both knew and had said of him. So our Saviour follows his Forerunner in this, that what he knew and had told his Disciples, the other Elias, the typical John Baptist, and Moses must make good to their belief.  
This 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 departure of Christ was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a word both hard and harsh; hard to believe, and harsh in believing. The Disciples thought of nothing but a Kingdom; a Kingdom restored magnificently, interminably: and two of these three witnesses had so swallowed this hope, that they had put in for places in the State, to be his chief Peers. How could they think of a parting? The throne of David did so fill their eyes, that they could not see his Cross: and if they must let down this Pill, how bitter must it needs be? His presence was their joy and life; it was their death to think of his loss. Now therefore that they might see that his Sufferings and Death were not of any sudden impotence, but predetermined in Heaven, and revealed to the Saints, two of the most noted Saints in Heaven shall second the news of his departure; and that in the midst of his Transfiguration: that they could not choose but think, He that can be thus happy, needs not be miserable; that Passion which he will undergo, is not out of weakness, but out of Love. It is wittily noted by that sweet Chrysostom●, that Christ never lightly spoke of his Passion, but immediately before and after he did some great Miracle. And here answerably, in the midst of his miraculous Transfiguration, the two Saints speak of his Passion. A strange opportunity: In his highest Exaltation to speak of his Sufferings; to talk of Calvary in Tabor; when his Head shone with glory, to tell him how it must bleed with thorns; when his Face shone like the Sun, to tell him it must be blubbered and spat upon; when his Garments glisteren with that celestial brightness, to tell him they must be stripped and divided; when he was adored by the Saints of Heaven, to tell him how he must be scorned by the basest of men; when he was seen between two Saints, to tell him how he must be seen between two Malefactors: in a word, in the midst of his Divine Majesty, to tell him of his shame; and whilst he was Transfigured in the Mount, to tell him how he must be disfigured upon the Cross. Yet these two Heavenly Prophets found this the fittest time for this discourse: rather choosing to speak of his Sufferings in the height of his Glory, then of his Glory after his Sufferings. It is most seasonable in our best to think of our worst estate: for both that thought will be best digested when we are well; and that change will be best prepared for when we are the furthest from it. You would perhaps think it unseasonable for me, in the midst of all your Court-jollity to tell you of the days of mourning, and, with that great King, to serve in a Death's head amongst your Royal dishes, to show your Coffins in the midst of your Triumphs: yet these precedents above exception show me that no time is so fit as this. Let me therefore say to you, with the Psalmist, I have said, ye are Gods: if ye were transfigured in Tabor, could ye be more? but ye shall die like men: there is your 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. It was a worthy and witty note of Hierome, that amongst all trees, the Cedars are bidden to praise God, which are the tallest: and yet Dies Domini super omnes Cedros Libani, Esay 2. Ye gallants, whom a little yellow earth and the webs of that curious worm have made gorgeous without, and perhaps proud within, remember that ere long, as one worm decks you without, so another worm shall consume you within; and that both the earth that you prank up, and that earth wherewith you prank it, is running back into dust. Let not your high estate hide from you your fatal humiliation; let not your Purples hide from you your Winding-sheet: But even on the top of Tabor think of the depth of the Grave: think of your departure from men, while ye are advanced above men.  
We are now ascended to the top of the Hill. Let us therefore stand, and see, and wonder at this great sight: as Moses, to see the bush flaming, and not consumed; so we, to see the Humanity continuing itself in the midst of these beams of Glory. Christ was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, saith S. Paul, in the form of a servant; now for the time he was truly 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 transformed: That there is no cause why Maldonat should so inveigh against some of ours, yea of his own, as Jansenius, who translates it Transformation: for what is the external form but the figure? and their own Vulgar (as hotly as he takes it) reads it Philip. 2. 7. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, formam servi accipiens. There is no danger in this ambiguity. Not the substantial form, but the external fashion of Christ was changed: he having three forms (as Bernard distinguishes) contemptam, splendidam, Divinam, changeth here the first into the second. This is one of the rarest occurrences that ever befell the Saviour of the World. I am wont to reckon up these four principal Wonders of his life, Incarnation, Tentation, Transfiguration, and Agony: the first in the Womb of the Virgin, the second in the Wilderness, the third in the Mount, the fourth in the Garden: the first, that God should become man; the second, that God and man should be tempted and transported by Satan; the third, that man should be glorified upon earth; the last, that he which was man and God should sweat blood under the sense of God's wrath for man. And all these either had the Angels for witnesses, or the immediate voice of God. The first had Angels singing, the second Angel's ministering, the third the voice of God thundering, the fourth the Angels comforting: that it may be no wonder, the Earth marvels at those things whereat the Angels of Heaven stand amazed. Bernard makes three kinds of wonderful changes: Sublimitas in humilitatem, Height to lowliness, when the Word took flesh; Contemptibilitas in Majestatem, when Christ transformed himself before his Disciples; Mutabilitas in Aeternitatem, when he rose again, and ascended to Heaven to reign for ever. Ye see this is one of them: and as Tabor did rise out of the valley of Galilee, so this Exaltation did rise out of the midst of Christ's Humiliation. Other marvels do increase his dejection, this only makes for his Glory; and the glory of this is matchable with the humiliation of all the rest. That Face wherein before (saith Esay) there was no form▪ nor beauty, now shines as the Sun: That Face which men hid their faces from in contempt, now shines so, that mortal eyes could not choose but hide themselves from the lustre of it, and immortal receive their beams from it. He had ever in vultu sidereum quiddam, as Hierome speaks, a certain heavenly Majesty and port in his countenance, which made his Disciples follow him at first sight; but now here was the perfection of supercelestial brightness. It was a Miracle in the Three Children, that they so were delivered from the flames, that their very garments smelled not of the fire: it is no less Miracle in Christ, that his very garments were died Celestial, and did savour of his Glory: like as Aaron was so anointed on his head and beard, that his skirts were all perfumed. His clothes therefore shined as snow, yea (that were but a waterish white) as the Light itself, saith S. Mark and Matthew, in the most Greek Copies. That seamless coat, as it had no welt, so it had no spot. The King's Son is all fair, even without. O excellent Glory of his Humanity! The best Diamond or Carbuncle is hid with a case: but this brightness pierceth through all his garments, and makes them lightsome in him, which use to conceal light in others. Herod put him on in mockage 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Luke 23. not a white, but a bright robe (the ignorance whereof makes a show of disparity in the Evangelists:) but God the Father, to glorify him, cloaths his very garments with Heavenly splendour. Behold thou art fair (my beloved) behold thou art fair; and there is no spot in thee. Thine head is as fine gold, thy mouth is as sweet things, and thou art wholly delectable. Come forth, ye daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon, with the Crown wherewith his Father crowned him in the day of the gladness of his heart. O Saviour, if thou wert such in Tabor, what art thou in Heaven? If this were the glory of thy Humanity, what is the presence of thy Godhead? Let no man yet wrong himself so much as to magnify this happiness as another's, and to put himself out of the participation of this glory. Christ is our head, we are his members. As we all were in the First Adam, both innocent and sinning; so are we in the Second Adam, both shining in Tabor, and bleeding sweat in the Garden. And as we are already happy in him, so shall we be once in ourselves by and through him. He shall change our vile bodies, that they may be like his glorious body. Behold our Pattern, and rejoice; Like his glorious body. These very bodies that are now cloddy like the earth, shall once be bright as the Sun: and we that now see clay in one another's faces, shall then see nothing but Heaven in our countenances: and we that now set forth our bodies with clothes, shall then be clothed upon with Immortality, out of the wardrobe of Heaven. And if ever any painted face should be admitted to the sight of this Glory, (as I much fear it: yea I am sure God will have none but true faces in Heaven;) they would be ashamed to think that ever they had faces to daub with these beastly pigments, in comparison of this Heavenly complexion. Let us therefore look upon this flesh, not so much with contempt of what it was and is, as with a joyful hope of what it shall be. And when our courage is assaulted with the change of these bodies from healthful to weak, from living to dead; let us comfort ourselves with the assurance of this change from dust to incorruption. We are not so sure of death as of Transfiguration. All the days of our appointed time we will therefore wait, till our changing shall come.  
Now from the Glory of the Master, give me leave to turn your eyes to the Error of the Servant, who having slept with the rest, and now suddenly awaking, knoweth not whether he slept still. To see such a light about him, three so glittering persons before him, made him doubt now, as he did after, when he was carried by the Angel through the iron gate, whether it were a pleasing dream, or a real act. All slept, and now all waked; only Peter slept waking, and I know not whether more erred in his speech or in his sleep. It was a shame for a man to sleep in Tabor, but it is more a shame for a man to dream with his eyes open. Thus did Peter; Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us make us three Tabernacles. I could well say with Optatus in this or any other occasion, Ipsius Sancti Petri beatitudo veniam tribuat, dubito dicere peccasse tantam sanctitatem, Let blessed Peter pardon me, I fear to say so great Holiness offended. Yet since our adversaries are so over-partial to this worthy Saint, in whom they have as little as they boast much, that they can be content his praise should blemish the dignity of all the rest, yea that God himself is in danger to be a loser by the advancement of so dear a Servant; give me leave to lay my finger a little upon this blot. God would never have recorded that which it should be uncharitable for us to observe. It was the injurious kindness of Martion in honour of Peter, to leave out the story of Malchus, as Epiphanius notes: It shall be our blame, if we do not so note, that we benefit ourselves even by his imperfections. S. Mark's Gospel is said to be Peter's. O blessed Apostle, can it be any wrong to say of thee that which thou hast written of thyself, not for insultation, not for exprobration? God forbid but that men may be ashamed to give that to him which he hath denied to himself. Let me therefore not doubt to say (with reverence to so great a Saint) that as he spoke most, so he is noted to have erred most. Not to meddle with his sinking, striking, Judaizing; one while we find him carnally insinuating, another while carnally presuming; one while weakly denying, another while rashly misconstruing. Carnally insinuating; Master, favour thyself. Which though some Parasites of Rome would fain smooth up, that he in this showed his love to Christ, as before his Faith, out of S. Hierome and S. Austin; yet it must needs be granted, which Bernard saith, diligebat spiritum carnaliter, he loved the spirit in a carnal fashion. Let them choose whether they will admit Christ to have chid unjustly, or Peter worthy of chiding: Except perhaps, with Hilary, they will stop where they should not; Vade post me, spoken to Peter in approbation; Satana, non sapis quae Dei sunt, spoken to Satan in objurgation, Carnally presuming; Though all men, yet not I. If he had not presumed of his strength to stand, he had not fallen. And as one yawning makes many open mouths; so did his vain resolution draw on company: Likewise said the other Disciples. For his weak Denial; ye all know his simple negation, lined with an oath, faced with an imprecation. And here, that no man may need to doubt of an error, the Spirit of God saith, he knew not what he said: not only 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as Mark, what he should say; but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, saith Luke, what he did speak: whereof S. Mark gives the reason, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 they were amazedly affrighted. Amazedness may abate an error of speech, it cannot take it away. Besides astonishment, here was a fervour of spirit; a love to Christ's glory, and a delight in it: a fire, but misplaced, on the top of the chimney, not on the hearth; Praematura devotio, as Ambrose speaks, a devotion, but rash and heady. And if it had not been so, yet it is not in the power of a good intention to make a speech good. In this the matter failed: For what should such Saints do in earthly Tabernacles, in Tabernacles of his making? And if he could be content to live there without a tent (for he would have but three made) why did he not much more conceive so of those Heavenly guests? And if he spoke this to retain them, how weak was it to think their absence would be for want of houseroom? Or how could that at once be which Moses and Elias had told him, and that which he wished? For how should Christ both depart at Jerusalem, and stay in the Mount? Or if he would have their abode there, to avoid the sufferings at Jerusalem, how did he yet again sing over that song for which he had heard before, Come behind me, Satan? Or if it had been fit for Christ to have stayed there, how weakly doth he (which chrysostom observes) equalise the servant with the Master, the Saints with God? In a word, the best and the worst that can be said here of Peter is, that which the Psalmist saith of Moses, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 effutiit labiis, he spoke unadvisedly with his lips, Psal. 106. 33.  
Yet if any earthly place or condition might have given warrant to Peter's motion, this was it. Here was a Hill, the Emblem of Heaven; here were two Saints, the Epitome of Heaven; here was Christ, the God of Heaven. And if Peter might not say so of this, how shall we say of any other place, Bonum est esse hîc, It is good to be here? Will ye say of the Country, Bonum est esse hîc? there is melancholy dulness, privacy, toil. Will you say of the Court, Bonum est esse hîc? there dwells ambition, secret undermining, attendance, serving of humours and rhymes. Will ye say of the City, Bonum est esse hîc? there you find continual tumult, usury, cozenage in bargains, excess and disorder. Get you to the Wilderness, and say, It is good to be here. Even there evils will find us out. In nemore habit at Lupus, saith Bernard, In the wood dwells the Wolf: weariness and sorrow dwell every where. The rich man wallows amongst his heaps, and when he is in his Countinghouse, beset with piles of bags, he can say, Bonum est esse hîc: He worships these molten Images; his Gold is his God, his Heaven is his Chest: not thinking of that which Tertullian notes, Aurum ipsum quibusdam gentibus ad vincla servire, That some Countries make their very fetters of gold: yea so doth he, whilst he admires it, making himself the slave to his servant, Damnatus ad metalla, as the old Roman punishment was. Coacta servitus miserabilior, affectata miserior, Forced bondage is more worthy of pity, affected bondage is more miserable. And if God's hand touch him never so little, can his Gold bribe a disease, can his bags keep his head from aching, or the Gout from his joints? or doth his loathing stomach make a difference betwixt an earthen and silver dish? O vain desires, and impotent contentments of men, who place happiness in that which doth not only not save them from evils, but help to make them miserable! Behold their wealth feeds them with famine, recreates them with toil, cheers them with cares, blesses them with torments; and yet they say, Bonum est esse hîc. How are their sleeps broken with cares? how are their hearts broken with losses? Either Riches have wings, which in the clipping or pulling fly away, and take them to Heaven: or else their Souls have wings (Stulte, hac nocte, Thou fool, this night) and fly from their riches to Hell. Non Dominus, sed colonus, saith Seneca, Not the Lord, but the farmer. So that here are both perishing riches, and a perishing Soul. Uncertainty of riches (as S. Paul to his Timothy) and certainty of misery. And yet these vain men say, Bonum est esse hîc.  
The man of Honour, (that I may use Bernard's phrase) that hath Assuerus his proclamation made before him, which knows he is not only 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a certain great man, as Simon affected, but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the man, which Demosthenes was proud of, that sees all heads bare, and all knees bend to him, that finds himself out of the reach of envy, on the pitch of admiration, says, Bonum est esse hîc. Alas! how little thinks he of that which that good man said to his Eugenius, Non est quòd blandiatur celsitudo, ubi solicitudo major; what care we for the fawning of that greatness, which is attended with more care? King Henry the seventh's Emblem in all his buildings, (in the windows) was still a Crown in a bush of Thorns: I know not with what historical allusion; but sure, I think, to imply that great places are not free from great cares. Saul knew what he did, when he hid himself among the stuff. No man knoweth the weight of a Sceptre, but he that swayeth it. As for subordinate greatness, it hath so much less worth as it hath more dependence. How many sleepless nights, and restless days, and busy shifts doth their ambition cost them that affect eminence? Certainly, no men are so worthy of pity as they whose height thinks all other worthy of contempt. High places are slippery; and as it is easy to fall, so the ruin is deep, and the recovery difficult. Altiorem locum sortitus es, non tutiorem; sublimiorem, sed non sccuriorem, saith Bernard; Thou hast got an higher place, but not a safer; a loftier, but not more secure. Aulae culmen lubricum, The slippery ridge of the Court, was the old title of Honour. David's curse was, fiat via eorum tenebrae & lubricum, Let their way be made dark and slippery. What difference is there betwixt his curse and the happiness of the Ambitious, but this, That the way of the one is dark and slippery, the way of the other lightsome and slippery; that dark, that they may fall, this light, that they may see and be seen to fall? Please yourselves then, ye great ones, and let others please you in the admiration of your height. But if your goodness do not answer your greatness, Sera querela est, quoniam elevans allisisti me, It is a late complaint, Thou hast lift me up to cast me down. Your ambition hath but set you up a scaffold, that your misery might be more notorious. And yet these clients of Honour say, Bonum est esse hîc.  
The pampered Glutton, when he seeth his table spread with full bowls, with costly dishes and curious sauces, the dainties of all three elements, says, Bonum est esse hîc. And yet eating hath a satiety, and satiety a weariness: his heart is never more empty of contentment, then when his stomach is fullest of Delicates. When he is empty, he is not well till he be filled; when he is full, he is not well till he have got a stomach: Et momentanea blandimenta gulae stercoris fine condemnat, saith Hierome, And condemns all the momentany pleasures of his maw to the dunghill. And when he sits at his feasts of marrow and fat things, (as the Prophet speaks) his table, according to the Psalmists imprecation, is made his snare; a true snare every way. His Soul is caught in it with excess; his estate with penury; his Body with diseases. Neither doth he more plainly tear his meat in pieces with his teeth, than he doth himself: and yet this vain man says, Bonum est esse hîc.  
The petulant Wanton thinks it the only happiness that he may have his full scope to filthy dalliance. Little would he so do, if he could see his Strumpet as she is, her eyes the eyes of a Cockatrice, her hairs snakes, her painted face the visor of a fury, her heart snares, her hands bands, and her end wormwood, consumption of the flesh, destruction of the Soul, and the flames of lust ending in the flames of Hell. Since therefore neither Pleasures, nor Honour, not Wealth, can yield any true contentment to their best favourites, let us not be so unwise as to speak of this vale of misery, as Peter did of the hill of Tabor, Bonum est esse hîc.  
And if the best of earth cannot do it, why will ye seek it in the worst? How dare any of you great one seek to purchase contentment with Oppression, Sacrilege, Bribery, outfacing innocence and truth with power, damning your own Souls for but the humouring of a few miserable days? Filii hominum, usquequo gravi cord? ad quid diligitis vanitatem, & quaeritis mendacium? O ye sons of men, how long, etc. But that which moved Peter's desire (though with imperfection) shows what will perfect our desire and felicity: for if a glimpse of this Heavenly glory did so ravish this worthy Disciple, that he thought it happiness enough to stand by and gaze upon it; how shall we be affected with the contemplation, yea fruition of the Divine Presence? Here was but Tabor, there is Heaven; here were but two Saints, there many millions of Saints and Angels; here was Christ transfigured, there he sits at the right hand of Majesty; here was a representation, there a gift and possession of Blessedness. Oh that we could now forget the world, and fixing our eyes upon this better Tabor, say, Bonum est esse hîc. Alas! this life of ours, if it were not short, yet it is miserable; and if it were not miserable, yet it is short. Tell me, ye that have the greatest command on earth, whether this vile world have ever afforded you any sincere contentation. The world is your servant: if it were your Parasite, yet could it make you heartily merry? Ye delicatest Courtiers, tell me, if Pleasure itself have not an unpleasant tediousness hanging upon it, and more sting than honey. And whereas all happiness (even here below) is in the vision of God; how is our spiritual eye hindered, as the body is from his Object, by darkness, by false light, by aversion? Darkness; he that doth sin, is in darkness: False light; whilst we measure eternal things by temporary: Aversion; while, as weak eyes hate the light, we turn our eyes from the true and immutable good, to the fickle and uncertain. We are not on the hill, but the valley; where we have tabernacles, not of our own making, but of clay; and such as wherein we are witnesses of Christ, not transfigured in glory, but blemished with dishonour, dishonoured with oaths and blasphemies, recrucified with our sins; witnesses of God's Saints, not shining in Tabor, but mourning in darkness, and in stead of that Heavenly brightness, clothed with sackcloth and ashes. Then and there we shall have tabernacles not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, where we shall see how sweet the Lord is: we shall see the triumphs of Christ; we shall hear and sing the Hallelujahs of Saints. Quae nunc nos angit vesania, vitiorum sitire absinthium, etc. saith that devour Father. Oh how hath our corruption bewitched us, to thirst for this wormwood, to affect the shipwrecks of this world, to dote upon the misery of this fading life; and not rather to fly up to the felicity of Saints, to the society of Angels, to that blessed contemplation wherein we shall see God in himself, God in us, ourselves in him! There shall be no sorrow, no pain, no complaint, no fear, no death. There is no malice to rise against us, no misery to afflict us, no hunger, thirst, weariness, tentation to disquiet us. There, O there, one day is better than a thousand: There is rest from our labours, peace from our enemies, freedom from our sins. How many clouds of discontentment darken the Sunshine of our joy while we are here below? Vae nobis qui vivimus plangere quae pertulimus, dolere quae sentimus, timere quae exspectamus! Complaint of evils past, sense of present, fear of future, have shared our lives amongst them. Then shall we be semper laeti, semper satiati, always joyful, always satisfied with the vision of that God in whose presence there is fullness of joy, and at whose right hand are pleasures for evermore. Shall we see that heathen Cleombrotus abandoning his life, and casting himself down from the rock, upon an uncertain noise of immortality; and shall not we Christians abandon the wicked superfluities of life, the pleasures of sin, for that life which we know more certainly than this? What stick we at, my beloved? Is there a Heaven, or is there none? have we a Saviour there, or have we none? We know there is a Heaven, as sure as that there is an earth below us; we know we have a Saviour there, as sure as there are men that we converse with upon earth; we know there is happiness, as sure as we know there is misery and mutability upon earth. Oh our miserable sottishness and infidelity, if we do not contemn the best offers of the world, and lifting up our eyes and hearts to Heaven, say, Bonum est esse hîc!  
Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly. To him that hath purchased and prepared this Glory for us, together with the Father and Blessed Spirit, one Incomprehensible God, be all praise for ever. Amen.   

The Prosecution of the Transfiguration.  
BEfore, the Disciples eyes were dazzled with Glory; now the brightness of that glory is shaded with a Cloud. Frail and feeble eyes of mortality cannot look upon an Heavenly lustre. That Cloud imports both Majesty and Obscuration. Majesty; for it was the testimony of God's presence of old: the Cloud covered the Mountain, the Tabernacle, the Oracle. He that makes the clouds his Chariot, was in a cloud carried up into Heaven. Where have we mention of any Divine representation, but a Cloud is one part of it? What comes nearer to Heaven, either in place or resemblance? Obscuration; for as it showed there was a Majesty, and that Divine; so it showed them that the view of that Majesty was not for bodily eyes. Like as when some great Prince walks under a Canopy, that veil shows there is a Great person under it, but withal restrains the eye from a free sight of his person. And if the cloud were clear, yet it shaded them. Why then was this cloud interposed betwixt that glorious Vision and them, but for a check of their bold eyes?  
Had they too long gazed upon this resplendent spectacle, as their eyes had been blinded, so their hearts had perhaps grown to an overbold familiarity with that Heavenly Object. How seasonably doth the cloud intercept it? The wise God knows our need of these vicissitudes and alleys. If we have a light, we must have a cloud; if a light to cheer us, we must have a cloud to humble us. It was so in Sinai, it was so in Zion, it was so in Olivet; it shall never be but so. The natural day and night do not more duly interchange, than this light and cloud. Above we shall have the light without the cloud, a clear vision and fruition of God without all dim and sad interpositions: below we cannot be free from these mists and clouds of sorrow and misapprehension.  
But this was a bright cloud. There is difference betwixt the cloud in Tabor, and that in Sinai: This was clear, that darksome. There is darkness in the Law, there is light in the Grace of the Gospel. Moses was there spoken to in darkness; here he was spoken with in light. In that dark cloud there was terror; in this there was comfort. Though it were a Cloud then, yet it was bright; and though it were bright, yet it was a Cloud. With much light there was some shade. God would not speak to them concerning Christ out of darkness: neither yet would he manifest himself to them in an absolute brightness. All his appearances have this mixture. What need I other instance then in these two Saints? Moses spoke oft to God mouth to mouth: yet not so immediately, but that there was ever somewhat drawn as a curtain betwixt God and him; either fire in Horeb, or smoke in Sinai: so as his face was not more veiled from the people, than God's from him. Elias shall be spoken to by God, but in the Rock, and under a Mantle. In vain shall we hope for any revelation from God, but in a cloud. Worldly hearts are in utter darkness, they see not so much as the least glimpse of these Divine beams, not a beam of that inaccessible light: The best of his Saints see him here but in a cloud, or in a glass. Happy are we, if God have honoured us with these Divine representations of himself. Once, in his light we shall see light.  
I can easily think with what amazedness these three Disciples stood compassed in that bright Cloud, expecting some miraculous event of so Heavenly a Vision; when suddenly they might hear a voice sounding out of that Cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased, hear him. They need not be told whose that voice was; the place, the matter evinced it. No Angel in Heaven could, or durst have said so. How gladly doth Peter afterwards recount it? For he received from God the Father honour and glory, when there came such a voice to him from the excellent glory, This is my beloved Son, etc.  
It was only the ear that was here taught, not the eye. As of Horeb, so of Sinai, so of Tabor might God say, Ye saw no shape nor image in that day that the Lord spoke unto you. He that knows our proneness to idolatry, avoids those occasions which we might take to abuse our own fancies.  
Twice hath God spoken these words to his own Son from Heaven; once in his Baptism, and now again in his Transfiguration. Here not without some oppositive comparison; not Moses, not Elias, but This. Moses and Elias were Servants, this a Son: Moses and Elias were sons, but of grace and choice; this is that Son, the Son by nature. Other sons are beloved as of favour, and free election; this is The Beloved, as in the unity of his essence. Others are so beloved, that he is pleased with themselves; this so beloved, that in and for him he is pleased with mankind. As the relation betwixt the Father and the Son is infinite, so is the Love. We measure the intention of Love by the extension: the love that rests in the person affected alone, is but straight: true Love descends (like Aaron's Ointment) from the head to the skirts; to children, friends allies. O incomprehensible large love of God the Father to the Son, that for his sake he is pleased with the World! O perfect and happy complacence! Out of Christ there is nothing but enmity betwixt God and the Soul; in him there can be nothing but peace. When the beams are met in one centre, they do not only heat, but burn. Our weak love is diffused to many; God hath some, the world more; and therein wives, children, friends: but this infinite love of God hath all the beams of it united in one only Object, the Son of his Love. Neither doth he love any thing but in the participation of his Love, in the derivation from it. O God, let me be found in Christ, and how canst thou but be pleased with me?  
This one voice proclaims Christ at once the Son of God, the Reconciler of the world, the Doctor and Lawgiver of his Church. As the Son of God, he is essentially interessed in his Love: as he is the Reconciler of the world in whom God is well pleased, he doth most justly challenge our love and adherence: as he is the Doctor and Lawgiver, he doth justly challenge our audience, our obedience. Even so, Lord, teach us to hear and obey thee as our Teacher; to love thee and believe in thee as our Reconciler; and as the eternal Son of thy Father to adore thee.  
The light caused wonder in the Disciples; but the voice astonishment: They are all fall'n down upon their faces. Who can blame a mortal man to be thus affected with the voice of his Maker? Yet this word was but plausible and hortatory. O God, how shall flesh and blood be other then swallowed up with the horror of thy dreadful sentence of death? The Lion shall roar, who shall not be afraid? How shall those that have slighted the sweet voice of thine invitations, call to the rocks to hide them from the terror of thy Judgements?  
The God of mercies pities our infirmities. I do not hear our Saviour say, Ye lay sleeping one while upon the earth, now ye lie astonished: Ye could neither wake to see, nor stand to hear; now lie still and tremble. But he graciously touches and comforts them, Arise, fear not. That voice which shall once raise them up out of the earth, might well raise them up from it. That hand which by the least touch restored sight, limbs, life, might well restore the spirits of the dismayed. O Saviour, let that sovereign hand of thine touch us when we lie in the trances of our griefs, in the bed of our securities, in the grave of our sins, and we shall arise.  
They looking up, saw no man save Jesus alone: and that doubtless in his wont form. All was now gone, Moses, Elias, the Cloud, the Voice, the Glory: Tabor itself cannot be long blessed with that Divine light and those shining guests. Heaven will not allow to earth any long continuance of Glory. Only above is constant happiness to be looked for and enjoyed, where we shall ever see our Saviour in his unchangeable brightness; where the light shall never be either clouded or varied.  
Moses and Elias are gone, only Christ is left. The glory of the Law and the Prophets was but temporary, yea momentany; that only Christ may remain to us entire and conspicuous. They came but to give testimony to Christ; when that is done, they are vanished.  
Neither could these raised Disciples find any miss of Moses and Elias, when they had Christ still with them. Had Jesus been gone, and left either Moses or Elias, or both, in the Mount with his Disciples, that presence (though glorious) could not have comforted them. Now that they are gone, and he is left, they cannot be capable of discomfort. O Saviour, it matters not who is away, whiles thou art with us. Thou art God all-sufficient; what can we want when we want not thee? Thy presence shall make Tabor itself an Heaven; yea, Hell itself cannot make us miserable with the fruition of thee.   

The Woman taken in Adultery.  
WHat a busy life was this of Christ's? He spent the night in the mount of Olives, the day in the Temple: whereas the night is for a retired repose, the day for company; His retiredness was for prayer, his companiableness was for preaching. All night he watches in the Mount; all the morning he preaches in the Temple. It was not for pleasure that he was here upon earth; his whole time was penal and toilsome. How do we resemble him, if his life were all pain and labour, ours all pastime?  
He found no such fair success the day before. The multitude was divided in their opinion of him; messengers were sent and suborned to apprehend him: yet he returns to the Temple. It is for the sluggard or the coward to plead a Lion in the way: upon the calling of God, we must overlook and contemn all the spite and opposition of men. Even after an ill harvest we must sow; and after denials we must woe for God.  
This Sun of Righteousness prevents that other, and shines early with wholesome doctrines upon the Souls of his hearers. The Auditory is both thronged, and attentive. Yet not all with the same intentions: If the people came to learn, the Scribes and Pharisees came to cavil and carp at his teaching. With what a pretence of zeal and justice yet do they put themselves into Christ's presence? As lovers of Chastity and Sanctimony, and haters of Uncleanness, they bring to him a woman taken in the flagrance of her Adultery.  
And why the Woman rather? since the Man's offence was equal, if not more; because he should have had more strength of resistance, more grace not to tempt. Was it out of necessity? Perhaps, the man knowing his danger, made use of his strength to shift away, and violently broke from his apprehenders. Or was it out of cunning? in that they hoped for more likely matter to accuse Christ in the case of the woman, then of the man: for that they supposed his merciful disposition might more probably incline to compassionate her weakness, rather than the stronger vessel.  
Or was it rather out of partiality? Was it not then, as now, that the weakest soon suffers; and impotency lays us open to the malice of an enemy? Small flies hang in the webs, whiles wasps break through without control. The wand and the sheet are for poor offenders; the great either outface or out-buy their shame. A beggarly drunkard is haled to the Stocks, whiles the rich is chambered up to sleep out his surfeit.  
Out of these grounds is the woman brought to Christ: Not to the mount of Olives, not to the way, not to his private lodging; but to the Temple: and that not to some obscure angle; but into the face of the assembly.  
They pleaded for her death; the punishment which they would onwards inflict was her shame: which must needs be so much more, as there were more eyes to be witnesses of her guiltiness. All the brood of sin affects darkness and secrecy, but this more properly; the twilight, the night is for the adulterer. It cannot be better fitted then to be dragged out into the light of the Sun, and to be proclaimed with hoot and basons. Oh the impudence of those men who can make merry professions of their own beastliness, and boast of the shameful trophies of their Lust!  
Methinks I see this miserable Adulteress how she stands confounded amidst that gazing and disdainful multitude; how she hides her head, how she wipes her blubbered face and weeping eyes. In the mean time it is no dumb show that is here acted by these Scribes and Pharisees; they step forth boldly to her accusation; Master, this Woman was taken in adultery in the very act. How plausibly do they begin? Had I stood by and heard them, should I not have said, What holy, honest, conscionable men are these? what devout clients of Christ? with what reverence they come to him? with what zeal of justice? When he that made and ransacks their bosom tells me, All this is done but to tempt him. Even the falsest hearts will have the plausiblest mouths: like to Solomon's Courtesan, their lips drop as an hony-comb, and their mouth is smother than oil; but their end is bitter as wormwood.  
False and hollow Pharisees! he is your Master whom ye serve, not he whom ye tempt: only in this shall he be approved your Master, that he shall pay your wages, and give you your portion with hypocrites.  
The act of Adultery was her crime: to be taken in the very act, was no part of her sin, but the proof of her just conviction: yet her deprehension is made an aggravation of her shame. Such is the corrupt judgement of the world. To do ill troubles not men, but to be taken in doing it: unknown filthiness passes away with ease; it is the notice that perplexes them, not the guilt. But, O foolish sinners, all your packing and secrecy cannot so contrive it, but that ye shall be taken in the manner; your Conscience takes you so; the God of Heaven takes you so: and ye shall once find that your Conscience is more than a thousand witnesses, and God more than a thousand Consciences.  
They that complain of the act, urge the punishment; Now Moses in the Law commanded us that such should be stoned. Where did Moses bid so? Surely the particularity of this execution was without the book: Tradition and Custom enacted it, not the Law.  
Indeed Moses commanded death to both the offenders, not the manner of death to either. By analogy it holds thus: It is flatly commanded in the case of a Damsel betrothed to an Husband, and found not to be a Virgin; in the case of a Damsel betrothed, who being defiled in the city, cried not: Tradition and custom made up the rest; obtaining out of this ground, that all Adulterers should be executed by lapidation. The ancienter punishment was burning; death always, though in divers forms. I shame to think that Christians should slight that sin which both Jews and Pagans held ever deadly.  
What a mis-citation is this? Moses commanded. The Law was God's, not Moses'. If Moses were employed to mediate betwixt God and Israel, the Law is never the more his: He was the hand of God to reach the Law to Israel, the hand of Israel to take it from God. We do not name the water from the pipes, but from the spring. It is not for a true Israelite to rest in the second means, but to mount up to the supreme original of Justice. How reverend soever an opinion was had of Moses, he cannot be thus named without a shameful undervaluing of the royal Law of his Maker. There is no mortal man whose authority may not grow into contempt: that of the everliving God cannot but be ever sacred and inviolable. It is now with the Gospel, as it was then with the Law: the word is no other than Christ's, though delivered by our weakness; whosoever be the Crier, the Proclamation is the King's of Heaven. Whiles it goes for ours, it is no marvel if it lie open to despite.  
How captious a word is this, Moses said thus, what sayest thou? If they be not sure that Moses said so, why do they affirm it? and if they be sure, why do they question that which they know decided? They would not have desired a better advantage, than a contradiction to that received Lawgiver. It is their profession, We are Moses' disciples; and, We know that God spoke to Moses. It had been quarrel enough to oppose so known a Prophet. Still I find it the drift of the enemies of truth to set Christ and Moses together by the ears; in the matter of the Sabbath, of Circumcision, of Marriage and Divorce, of the use of the Law, of Justification by the Law, of the sense and extent of the Law, and where not? But they shall never be able to effect it: they two are fast and indissoluble friends on both parts for ever; each speaks for other, each establishes other; they are subordinate, they cannot be opposite; Moses faithful as a Servant, Christ as a Son. A faithful servant cannot be but officious to the Son. The true use we make of Moses is, to be our Schoolmaster to teach us, to whip us unto Christ; the true use we make of Christ is, to supply Moses. By him all that believe are justified from all things from which they could not be justified by the Law of Moses. Thus must we hold in with both, if we will have our part in either: so shall Moses bring us to Christ, and Christ to glory.  
Had these Pharisees out of simplicity and desire of resolution in a case of doubt, moved this question to our Saviour, it had been no less commendable than now it is blame-worthy.  
O Saviour, whither should we have recourse but to thine Oracle? Thou art the Word of the Father, the Doctor of the Church. Whiles we hear from others, What say Fathers? what say Councils? let them hear from us, What sayest thou?  
But here it was far otherwise: they came not to learn, but to tempt; and to tempt that they might accuse. Like their Father the Devil, who solicits to sin that he may plead against us for yieldance. Fain would these colloguing adversaries draw Christ to contradict Moses, that they might take advantage of his contradiction.  
On the one side they saw his readiness to tax the false glosses which their presumptuous Doctors had put upon the Law, with an, I say unto you: on the other, they saw his inclination to mercy and commiseration in all his courses, so far as to neglect even some circumstances of the Law, as to touch the Leper, to heal on the Sabbath, to eat with known sinners, to dismiss an infamous (but penitent) offender, to select and countenance two noted Publicans: and hereupon they might perhaps think that his compassion might draw him to cross this Mosaical institution.  
What a crafty bait is here laid for our Saviour? Such as he cannot bite at, and not be taken. It seems to them impossible he should avoid a deep prejudice either to his justice or mercy. For thus they imagine; Either Christ will second Moses in sentencing this woman to Death, or else he will cross Moses in dismissing her unpunished. If he command her to be stoned, he loses the honour of his clemency and Mercy; if he appoint her dismission, he loses the honour of his Justice. Indeed strip him of either of these, and he can be no Saviour.  
O the cunning folly of vain men, that hope to beguile wisdom itself!  
Silence and neglect shall first confound those men, whom after his answer will send away convicted. In stead of opening his mouth, our Saviour bows his body; and in stead of returning words from his lips, writes characters on the ground with his finger. O Saviour, I had rather silently wonder at thy gesture, then inquire curiously into the words thou wrotest, or the mysteries of thus writing: only herein I see thou meantest to show a disregard to these malicious and busy cavillers. Sometimes taciturnity and contempt are the best answers. Thou that hast bidden us Be wise as serpents, givest us this noble example of thy prudence. It was most safe that these tempters should be thus kept fasting with a silent disrespect, that their eagerness might justly draw upon them an ensuing shame.  
The more unwillingness they saw in Christ to give his answer, the more pressive and importunate they were to draw it from him. Now, as forced by their so zealous irritation, our Saviour rouzeth up himself, and gives it them home, with a reprehensory and stinging satisfaction; He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. As if his very action had said, I was loath to have shamed you; and therefore could have been willing not to have heard your ill-meant motion: but since you will needs have it, and by your vehemence force my justice, I must tell you, there is not one of you but is as faulty as she whom ye accuse; there is no difference, but that your sin is smothered in secrecy, hers is brought forth into the light. Ye had more need to make your own peace by an humble repentance, then to urge severity against another. I deny not but Moses hath justly from God imposed the penalty of death upon such heinous offences, but what then would become of you? If death be her due, yet not by those your unclean hands: your hearts know you are not honest enough to accuse.  
Lo, not the bird, but the fouler is taken. He says not, Let her be stoned; this had been against the course of his Mercy: he says not, Let her not be stoned; this had been against the Law of Moses. Now he so answers, that both his Justice and Mercy are entire; she dismissed, they shamed.  
It was the manner of the Jews, in those heinous crimes that were punished with Lapidation, that the witnesses and accusers should be the first that should lay hands upon the guilty: well doth our Saviour therefore choke these accusers with the conscience of their so foul incompetency. With what face, with what heart could they stone their own sin in another person?  
Honesty is too mean a term. These Scribes and Pharisees were noted for extraordinary and admired Holiness: the outside of their lives was not only inoffensive, but Saintlike and exemplary. Yet that allseeing eye of the Son of God, which found folly in the Angels, hath much more found wickedness in these glorious Professors. It is not for nothing that his eyes are like a flame of fire. What secret is there which he searches not? Retire yourselves, O ye foolish sinners, into your inmost closerts, yea (if you can) into the centre of the earth; his eye follows you, and observes all your carriages: no bolt, no bar, no darkness can keep him out. No thief was ever so impudent as to steal in the very face of the Judge. O God, let me see myself seen by thee, and I shall not dare to offend.  
Besides notice, here is exprobration. These men's sins, as they had been secret, so they were forgotten. It is long since they were done; neither did they think to have heard any more news of them. And now when time and security had quite worn them out of thought, he that shall once be their Judge, calls them to a back-reckoning.  
One time or other shall that just God lay our sins in our dish, and make us possess the sins of our youth. These things thou didst, and I kept silence; and thou thoughtest I was like unto thyself: but I will reprove thee, and set them in order before thee. The penitent man's sin lies before him for his humiliation; the impenitents, for his shame and confusion.  
The act of sin is transient, not so the guilt; that will stick by us, and return upon us, either in the height of our security, or the depth of our misery, when we shall be least able to bear it. How just may it be with God to take us at advantages, and then to lay his arrest upon us when we are laid up upon a former suit?  
It is but just there should be a requisition of innocence in them that prosecute the vices of others. The offender is worthy of stoning, but who shall cast them? How ill would they become hands as guilty as her own? What do they but smite themselves, who punish their own offences in other men? Nothing is more unjust or absurd, then for the beam to censure the moat, the oven to upbraid the kiln. It is a false and vagrant zeal that begins not first at home.  
Well did our Saviour know how bitter and strong a pill he had given to these false Justiciaries; and now he will take leisure to see how it wrought. Whiles therefore he gives time to them to swallow it, and put it over, he returns to his old gesture of a seeming inadvertency. How sped the receipt?  
I do no see any one of them stand out with Christ, and plead his own innocency; and yet these men (which is very remarkable) placed the fulfilling or violation of the Law only in the outward act. Their hearts misgave them, that if they should have stood out in contestation with Christ, he would have utterly shamed them, by displaying their old and secret sins; and have so convinced them by undeniable circumstances, that they should never have clawed of the reproach: And therefore when they heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, they went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last.  
There might seem to be some kind of mannerly order in this guilty departure: not all at once; lest they should seem violently chased away by this charge of Christ; now their slinking away one by one may seem to carry a show of a deliberate and voluntary discession. The eldest first: The ancienter is fitter to give then take example; and the younger could think it no shame to follow the steps of a grave foreman.  
O wonderful power of Conscience! Man can no more stand out against it, than it can stand out against God. The Almighty, whose substitute is set in our bosom, sets it on work to accuse. It is no denying when that says we are guilty; when that condemns us, in vain are we acquitted by the world. With what bravery did these Hypocrites come to set upon Christ? with what triumph did they insult upon that guilty soul? Now they are thunderstruck with their own Conscience, and drop away confounded; and well is he that can run away furthest from his own shame. No wicked man needs to seek out of himself for a Judge, Accuser, Witness, Tormentor.  
No sooner do these Hypocrites hear of their sins from the mouth of Christ, than they are gone. Had they been sincerely touched with a true remorse, they would have rather come to him upon their knees, and have said, Lord, we know and find that thou knowest our secret sins; this argues thy Divine Omniscience. Thou that art able to know our sins, art able to remit them. O pardon the iniquities of thy servants. Thou that accusest us, do thou also acquit us. But now instead hereof, they turn their back upon their Saviour, and haste away.  
An impenitent man cares not how little he hath either of the presence of God, or of the mention of his sins. O fools! if ye could run away from God, it were somewhat; but whiles ye move in him; what do ye? whither go ye? Ye may run from his Mercy, ye cannot but run upon his Judgement.  
Christ is left alone. Alone in respect of these complainants; not alone in respect of the multitude: there yet stands the mournful Adulteress. She might have gone forth with them; no body constrained her to stay: but that which sent them away, stayed her, Conscience. She knew her guiltiness was publicly accused, and durst not be by herself denied: as one that was therefore fastened there by her own guilty heart, she stirs not till she may receive a dismission.  
Our Saviour was not so busy in writing, but that he read the while the guilt and absence of those accusers; he that knew what they had done, knew no less what they did, what they would do. Yet, as if the matter had been strange to him, he lifts up himself, and says, Woman, where are thy accusers?  
How well was this sinner to be left there? Could she be in a safer place than before the Tribunal of a Saviour? Might she have chosen her refuge, whither should she rather have fled? O happy we, if when we are convinced in ourselves of our sins, we can set ourselves before that Judge who is our surety, our Advocate, our Redeemer, our ransom, our peace.  
Doubtless, she stood doubtful betwixt hope and fear; Hope, in that she saw her accusers gone; Fear, in that she knew what she had deserved: and now whiles she trembles in expectation of a sentence, she hears, Woman, where are thy accusers?  
Wherein our Saviour intends the satisfaction of all the hearers, of all the beholders: that they might apprehend the guiltiness, and therefore the unfitness, of the accusers; and might well see there was no warrantable ground of his further proceeding against her.  
Two things are necessary for the execution of a Malefactor, Evidence, Sentence; the one from Witnesses, the other from the Judge. Our Saviour asks for both. The accusation and proof must draw on the sentence; the sentence must proceed upon the evidence of the proof; Where are thy accusers? hath no man condemned thee? Had sentence passed legally upon the Adulteress, doubtless our Saviour would not have acquitted her: For as he would not intrude upon others offices, so he would not cross or violate the justice done by others. But now, finding the coast clear, he says, Neither do I condemn thee.  
What, Lord? Dost thou then show favour to foul offenders? Art thou rather pleased that gross sins should be blanched, and sent away with a gentle connivency? Far, far be this from the perfection of thy Justice. He that hence argues Adulteries not punishable by death, let him argue the unlawfulness of dividing of inheritances, because in the case of the two wrangling brethren thou saidst, Who made me a divider of inheritances? Thou declinedst the office, thou didst not dislike the act, either of parting lands, or punishing offenders. Neither was here any absolution of the woman from a sentence of death, but a dismission of her from thy sentence; which thou knewest not proper for thee to pronounce. Herein hadst thou respect to thy calling, and to the main purpose of thy coming into the world; which was neither to be an arbiter of Civil Causes, nor a judge of Criminal, but a Saviour of mankind; not to destroy the Body, but to save the Soul. And this was thy care in this miserable Offender; Go, and sin no more. How much more doth it concern us to keep within the bounds of our vocation, and not to dare to trench upon the functions of others? How can we ever enough magnify thy Mercy, who takest no pleasure in the death of a sinner? who so camest to save, that thou challengest us of unkindness for being miserable, Why will ye die, O house of Israel?  
But, O Son of God, though thou wouldst not then be a Judge, yet thou wilt once be: Thou wouldst not in thy first coming judge the sins of men, thou wilt come to judge them in thy second. The time shall come when upon that just and glorious Tribunal thou shalt judge every man according to his works. That we may not one day hear thee say, Go ye cursed, let us now hear thee say, Go, sin no more.   

The thankful Penitent.  
ONE while I find Christ invited by a Publican, now by a Pharisee. Wherever he went, he made better cheer than he found, in an happy exchange of spiritual repast for bodily.  
Who knows not the Pharisees to have been the proud enemies of Christ; men over-conceited of themselves, contemptuous of others; severe in show, Hypocrites in deed; strict Sectaries, insolent Justiciaries? Yet here one of them invites Christ; and that in good earnest. The man was not (like his fellows) captious, not ceremonious: had he been of their stamp, the omission of washing the feet had been mortal. No profession hath not yielded some good: Nicodemus and Gamaliel were of the same strain. Neither is it for nothing, that the Evangelist having branded this Sect for despising the counsel of God against themselves, presently subjoins this history of Simon the Pharisee, as an exempt man. O Saviour, thou canst find out good Pharisees, good Publicans, yea a good Thief upon the Cross; and that thou mayest find, thou canst make them so.  
At the best, yet he was a Pharisee, whose table thou here refusedst not. So didst thou in wisdom and mercy attemper thyself, as to become all things to all men, that thou mightest win some. Thy harbinger was rough, as in clothes, so in disposition; professedly harsh and austere: thyself wert mild and sociable. So it was fit for both. He was a preacher of Penance; thou the author of comfort and Salvation: He made way for Grace; thou gavest it. Thou hast bidden us to follow thyself, not thy forerunner. That than which Politics and time-servers do for earthly advantages, we will do for spiritual; frame ourselves to all companies, not in evil, but in good, yea in indifferent things. What wonder is it that thou, who cam'st down from Heaven to frame thyself to our nature, shouldst, whiles thou wert on earth, frame thyself to the several dispositions of men? Catch not at this▪ O ye licentious Hypocrites, men of all hours, that can eat with gluttons, drink with drunkards, sing with ribalds, scoff with profane scorners, and yet talk holily with the religious, as if ye had hence any colour of your changeable conformity to all fashions. Our Saviour never sinned for any man's sake, though for our sakes he was sociable, that he might keep us from sinning. Can ye so converse with lewd good fellows, as that ye repress their sins, redress their exorbitances, win them to God? now ye walk in the steps of him that stuck not to sit down in the Pharisees house.  
There sat the Saviour, and, Behold, a woman in the City that was a sinner. I marvel not that she is led in with a note of wonder; wonder, both on her part, and on Christ's. That any sinner, that a sensual sinner obdured in a notorious trade of evil, should voluntarily, out of a true remorse for her lewdness, seek to a Saviour, it is worthy of an accent of admiration. The noise of the Gospel is common; but where is the power of it? it hath store of hearers, but few Converts. Yet were there no wonder in her, if it were not with reference to the power and mercy of Christ; his power that thus drew the sinner; his mercy that received her. O Saviour, I wonder at her, but I bless thee for her; by whose only Grace she was both moved, and accepted.  
A sinner? Alas, who was not? who is not so? Not only in many things we sin all; but in all things we all let fall many sins. Had there been a woman not a sinner, it had been beyond wonder. One man there was that was not a sinner; even he that was more than man, that God and Man, who was the refuge of this sinner: but never woman that sinned not. Yet he said not, a Woman that had sinned, but, that was a sinner. An action doth not give denomination, but a trade. Even the wise Charity of Christians (much more the mercy of God) can distinguish between sins of infirmity, and practice of sin; and esteem us not by a transient act, but by a permanent condition.  
The woman was noted for a luxurious and incontinent life. What a deal of variety there is of sins? That which faileth cannot be numbered. Every sin continued deserves to brand the Soul with this style. Here one is picked out from the rest: she is not noted for Murder, for Theft, for Idolatry: only her Lust makes her a woman that was a sinner. Other Vices use not to give the owner this title, although they should be more heinous than it.  
Wantoness may flatter themselves in the indifferency or slightness of this offence; their Souls shall need no other conveyance to Hell then this: which cannot be so pleasing to Nature as it is hateful to God, who so speaks of it as if there were no sins but it, a Woman that was a sinner.  
She was a sinner, now she is not; her very presence argues her change. Had she been still in her old trade, she would no more have endured the sight of Christ, than that Devil did which cried out, Art thou come to torment me? Her eyes had been lamps and fires of Lust, not fountains of tears; her hairs had been nets to catch foolish lovers, not a towel for her Saviour's feet: yet still she carries the name of what she was: a scar still remains after the wound healed. Simon will be ever the Leper, and Matthew the Publican. How carefully should we avoid those actions which may ever slain us?  
What a difference there is betwixt the carriage and proceedings of God and men? The mercy of God, as it calleth those things that are not as if they were, so it calleth those things that were as if they were not; I will remember your iniquities no more. As some skilful Chirurgeon so sets the bone, or heals the sore, that it cannot be seen where the complaint was. Man's word is, that which is done cannot be undone: but the omnipotent goodness of God doth (as it were) undo our once-committed sins. Take away my iniquity, and thou shalt find none. What we were in ourselves, we are not to him; since he hath changed us from ourselves.  
O God, why should we be niggardly, where thou art liberal? why should we be reading those lines which thou hast not only crossed, but quite blotted, yea wiped out?  
It is a good word, she was a sinner. To be wicked is odious to God, Angels, Saints, men; to have been so, is blessed and glorious. I rejoice to look back, and see my Egyptians lying dead upon the shore, that I may praise the Author of my deliverance and victory. Else, it matters not what they were, what I was. O God, thou whose title is, I am, regardest the present. He befriends and honours us that says, Such ye were, but ye are washed.  
The place adds to the heinousness of the sin; In the City. The more public the fact is, the greater is the scandal. Sin is sin, though in a desert. Others eyes do not make the act more vile in itself; but the offence is multiplied by the number of beholders.  
I hear no Name of either the City or the Woman; she was too well known in her time. How much better is it to be obscure, then infamous? Herein, I doubt not, God meant to spare the reputation of a penitent Convert. He who hates not the person, but the sin, cares only to mention the sin, not the person. It is justice to prosecute the Vice, it is mercy to spare the Offender. How injurious a presumption is it for any man to name her whom God would have concealed? and to cast this aspersion on those whom God hath noted for holiness?  
The worst of this woman is past, She was a sinner; the best is to come, She sought out Jesus: where? In the house of a Pharisee. It was the most inconvenient place in the world for a noted sinner to seek Christ in.  
No men stood so much upon the terms of their own Righteousness; no men so scornfully disdained an infamous person. The touch of an ordinary (though honest) Jew was their pollution; how much more the presence of a Strumpet? What a sight was a known sinner to him, to whom his holiest neighbour was a sinner? How doth he (though a better Pharisee) look awry to see such a piece in his house, whiles he dares think, If this man were a Prophet, he would surely know what manner of woman this is? Neither could she fore-imagine less, when she ventured to press over the threshold of a Pharisee. Yet not the known austerity of the man, and her mis-welcome to the place, could affright her from seeking her Saviour even there. No disadvantage can defer the Penitent Soul from a speedy recourse to Christ. She says not, If Jesus were in the street, or in the field, or in the house of some humble Publican, or any where save with a Pharisee, I would come to him; now I will rather defer my access, then seek him where I shall find scorn and censure: but, as not fearing the frowns of that overlie Host, she thrusts herself into Simon's house to find Jesus. It is not for the distressed to be bashful; it is not for a believer to be timorous. O Saviour, if thy Spouse miss thee, she will seek thee through the streets; the blows of the watch shall not daunt her. If thou be on the other side of the water, a Peter will leap into the Sea, and swim to thee: if on the other side of the fire, thy blessed Martyrs will run through those flames to thee. We are not worthy of the comfort of thy presence, if wheresoever we know thou art, whether in prison, or in exile, or at the stake, we do not hasten thither to enjoy thee.  
The Place was not more unfit than the Time: a Pharisees house was not more unproper for a sinner, than a Feast was for humiliation. Tears at a Banquet are as Jigs at a Funeral. There is a season for all things. Music had been more apt for a Feast then mourning.  
The heart that hath once felt the sting of sin and the sweetness of remission, hath no power to delay the expressions of what it feels, and cannot be confined to terms of circumstance.  
Whence then was this zeal of her access? Doubtless she had heard from the mouth of Christ, in those heavenly Sermons of his, many gracious invitations of all troubled and labouring souls; she had observed how he vouchsafed to come under the roofs of despised Publicans, of professed enemies; she had noted all the passages of his power and mercy; and now deep remorse wrought upon her heart for her former viciousness. The pool of her Conscience was troubled by the descending Angel, and now she steps in for a cure. The arrow stuck fast in her Soul, which she could not shake out; and now she comes to this sovereign Dittanie, to expel it. Had not the Spirit of God wrought upon her ere she came, and wrought her to come, she had never either sought or found Christ. Now she comes in, and finds that Saviour whom she sought: she comes in, but not emptyhanded: though debauched, she was a Jewesse. She could not but have heard that she ought not to appear before the Lord empty. What then brings she? It was not possible she could bring to Christ a better present than her own Penitent Soul; yet, to testify that, she brings another, delicate both for the vessel and the contents, A box of Alabaster; a solid, hard, pure, clear marble, fit for the receipt of so precious an ointment: the ointment pleasant and costly; a composition of many fragrant Odours, not for medicine but delight.  
The Soul that is truly touched with the sense of its own sin, can think nothing too good, too dear for Christ. The remorsed sinner begins first with the tender of burnt-offerings, and calves of a year old; thence he ascends to Hecatombs, thousands of rams; and above that yet, to ten thousand rivers of oil; and, yet higher, could be content to give the first-fruit of his body to expiate the sin of his Soul. Any thing, every thing is too small a price for peace. O Saviour, since we have tasted how sweet thou art, lo, we bring thee the daintiest and costliest perfumes of our humble Obediences: yea, if so much of our blood, as this woman brought ointment, may be useful or pleasing to thy Name, we do most cheerfully consecrate it unto thee. If we would not have thee think Heaven too good for us, why should we stick at any earthly retribution to thee in lieu of thy great mercies?  
Yet here I see more than the price. This odoriferous presume was that wherewith she had wont to make herself pleasing to her wanton Lovers; and now she comes purposely to offer it up to her Saviour.  
As her love was turned another way from sensual to Divine, so shall her Ointment also be altered in the use: that which was abused to Luxury, shall now be consecrated to Devotion. There is no other effect in whatsoever true Conversion; As we have given our members servants to iniquity to commit iniquity, so shall we now give our members servants unto righteousness in holiness. If the dames of Israel, that thought nothing more worth looking on then their own faces, have spent too much time in their glasses; now they shall cast in those metals to make a Laver for the washing off their uncleannesses. If I have spent the prime of my strength, the strength of my wit, upon myself and vanity; I have bestowed my Alabaster-box amiss: Oh now teach me, my God and Saviour, to improve all my time, all my abilities to thy glory. This is all the poor recompense can be made thee for those shameful dishonours thou hast received from me.  
The Woman is come in; and now she doth not boldly face Christ, but, as unworthy of his presence, she stands behind. How could she in that site wash his feet with her tears? Was it that our Saviour did not sit at the Feast (after our fashion) but, according to the then-Jewish and Roman fashion, lay on the one side? Or was it that this phrase doth not so much import posture as presence? Doubtless, it was bashfulness and shame arising from the conscience of her own former wickedness that placed her thus. How well is the case altered? She had wont to look boldly in the face of her Lovers: now she dares not behold the awful countenance of her Saviour. She had wont to send her alluring beams forth into the eyes of her wanton paramours: now she casts her dejected eyes to the earth, and dares not so much as raise them up to see those eyes from which she desired commiseration. It was a true inference of the Prophet, Thou hast an whore's forehead, thou canst not blush: there cannot be a greater sign of whorishness than impudence. This woman can now blush; she hath put off the Harlot, and is turned true Penitent. Bashfulness is both a sign, and effect of Grace. O God, could we but bethink how wretched we are in Nature, how vile through our sins, how glorious, holy and powerful a God thou art, (before whom the brightest Angels hide their faces) we could not come but with a trembling awfulness into thy presence.  
Together with shame, here is sorrow: a sorrow testified by tears; and tears in such abundance, that she washes the feet of our Saviour with those streams of penitence; She began to wash his feet with tears. We hear when she began, we hear not when she ended. When the grapes are pressed, the juice runs forth: so when the mind is pressed, tears distil; the true juice of penitence and sorrow. These eyes were not used to such clouds, or to such showers; there was nothing in them formerly but sunshine of pleasure, beams of Lust: Now they are resolved into the drops of grief and contrition. Whence was this change, but from the secret working of God's Spirit? He caused his wind to blow, and the waters flowed; he smote the rock, and the waters gushed out. O God, smite thou this rocky Heart of mine, and the waters of Repentance shall burst forth in abundance.  
Never were thy feet, O Saviour, bedewed with more precious liquor then this of remorseful tears. These cannot be so spent, but that thou keepest them in thy bottle; yea thou returnest them back with interest of true comfort: They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy. Blessed are they that mourn. Lo this wet seedtime shall be followed with an harvest of happiness and glory.  
That this service might be complete, as her eyes were the Ewer, so her hair was the Towel for the feet of Christ. Doubtless at a Feast there was no want of the most curious linen for this purpose. All this was nothing to her: to approve her sincere Humility, and hearty devotion to Christ, her hair shall be put to this glorious office. The hair is the chief ornament of womanhood: the feet, as they are the lowest part of the body, so the meanest for account, and homeliest for employment: and lo, this Penitent bestows the chief ornament of her head, on the meanest office to the feet of her Saviour. That hair which she was wont to spread as a net to catch her amorous companions, is honoured with the employment of wiping the beautiful feet of him that brought the glad tidings of peace and salvation: and, might it have been any service to him to have licked the dust under those feet of his, how gladly would she have done it? Nothing can be mean that is done to the honour of a Saviour.  
Never was any hair so preferred as this. How I envy those locks that were graced with the touch of those Sacred feet; but much more those lips that kissed them? Those lips that had been formerly enured to the wanton touches of her lascivious Lovers, now sanctify themselves with the testimony of her humble homage and dear respects to the Son of God. Thus her ointment, hands, eyes, hair, lips are now consecrated to the service of Christ her Saviour, whom she had offended. If our satisfaction be not in some kind proportionable to our offence, we are no true Penitents.  
All this while I hear not one word fall from the mouth of this woman. What need her tongue speak, when her eyes spoke, her hands spoke, her gesture, her countenance, her whole carriage was vocal? I like this silent speaking well, when our actions talk, and our tongues hold their peace. The common practice is contrary; men's tongues are busy, but their hands are still. All their Religion lies in their tongue; their hands either do nothing, or ill: so as their profession is but wind, as their words. Wherefore are words but for expression of the mind? If that could be known by the eye or by the hand, the language of both were alike. There are no words amongst spirits; yet they perfectly understand each other. The Heavens declare the glory of God. All tongues cannot speak so loud as they that have none. Give me the Christian that is seen, and not heard. The noise that our tongue makes in a formality of profession, shall (in the silence of our hands) condemn us for Hypocrites.  
The Pharisee saw all this, but with an evil eye. Had he not had some Grace, he had never invited such a guest as Jesus; and if he had had Grace enough, he had never entertained such a thought as this of the guest he invited: If this man were a Prophet, he would have known what manner of woman it is that toucheth him; for she is a sinner.  
How many errors in one breath? Justly (O Simon) hath this one thought lost thee the thank of thy Feast. Belike, at the highest, thou judgedst thy guest but a Prophet; and now thou doubtest whether he were so much. Besides this undervaluation, how unjust is the ground of this doubt? Every Prophet knew not every thing; yea no Prophet ever knew all things. Elisha knew the very secrets of the Assyrian privy-chamber: yet he knew not the calamity of his worthy Hostess. The finite knowledge of the ablest Seer reaches but so far as it will please God to extend it. Well might he therefore have been a Prophet, and in the knowledge of greater matters not have known this.  
Unto this, how weakly didst thou, because of Christ's silent admission of the woman, suppose him ignorant of her quality? As if knowledge should be measured always by the noise of expression. Stay but a while, and thou shalt find that he well knew both her life and thy heart. Besides, how injuriously dost thou take this woman for what she was? not conceiving (as well thou mightest) were not this woman a Convert, she would never have offered herself into this presence. Her modesty and her tears bewray her change: and if she be changed, why is the censured for what she is not?  
Lastly, how strong did it savour of the leven of thy profession, that thou supposest (were she what she was) that it could not stand with the knowledge and holiness of a Prophet to admit of her least touch, yea of her presence? Whereas on the one side, outward conversation in itself makes no man unclean or holy, but according to the disposition of the patient; on the other, such was the purity and perfection of this thy glorious guest, that it was not possibly infectible, nor any way obnoxious to the danger of others sin. He that said once, Who touched me? in regard of virtue issuing from him, never said, Whom have I touched? in regard of any contagion incident to him. We sinful creatures, in whom the Prince of this world finds too much, may easily be tainted with other men's sins. He, who came to take away the sins of the world, was uncapable of pollution by sin. Had the woman then been still a sinner, thy censure of Christ was proud and unjust.  
The Pharisee spoke; but it was within himself: and now, behold, Jesus answering, said.  
What we think, we speak to our hearts, and we speak to God; and he equally hears, as if it came out of our mouths. Thoughts are not free. Could men know and convince them, they would be no less liable to censure then if they came forth clothed with words. God, who hears them, judges of them accordingly. So here, the heart of Simon speaks, Jesus answers.  
Jesus answers him, but with a Parable. He answers many a thought with Judgement; the blasphemy of the heart, the murder of the heart, the adultery of the heart are answered by him with real vengeance. For Simon, our Saviour saw his error was either out of simple ignorance or weak mistaking: where he saw no malice then, it is enough to answer with a gentle conviction. The convictive answer of Christ is by way of Parable. The wisdom of God knows how to circumvent us for our gain; and can speak that pleasingly by a prudent circumlocution, which right-down would not be digested. Had our Saviour said in plain terms, Simon, whether dost thou or this sinner love me more? the Pharisee could not for shame but have stood upon his reputation, and in a scorn of the comparison have protested his exceeding respects to Christ. Now, ere he is aware, he is fetched in to give sentence against himself for her whom he condemned. O Saviour, thou hast made us fishers of men; how should we learn of thee, so to bait our hooks, that they may be most likely to take? Thou the great householder of thy Church hast provided victuals for thy family, thou hast appointed us to dress them: if we do not so cook them as that they may fit the palates to which they are intended, we do both lose our labour and thy cost. The Parable is of two Debtors to one Creditor; the one owed a lesser sum, the other a greater; both are forgiven. It was not the purpose of him that propounded it, that we should stick in the bark. God is our Creditor, our sins our Debts; we are all Debtors, but one more deep than another. No man can pay this Debt alone; satisfaction is not possible: only remission can discharge us. God doth in mercy forgive as well the greatest as the least sins. Our love to God is proportionable to the sense of our remission. So then the Pharisee cannot choose but confess, that the more and greater the sin is, the greater mercy in the forgiveness; and the more mercy in the forgiver, the greater obligation and more love in the forgiven.  
Truth, from whose mouth soever it falls, is worth taking up. Our Saviour praises the true judgement of a Pharisee. It is an injurious indiscretion in those who are so prejudiced against the persons, that they reject the truth. He that would not quench the smoking flax, incourages even the least good. As the careful Chirurgeon strokes the arm ere he strikes the vein; so did Christ here, ere he convinces the Pharisee of his want of love, he graceth him with a fair approbation of his judgement. Yet the while turning both his face and his speech to the poor Penitent; as one that cared more for a true humiliation for sin, then for a false pretence of respect and innocence.  
With what a dejected and abashed countenance, with what earth-fixed eyes, do we imagine the poor woman stood, when she saw her Saviour direct his face and words to her?  
She that durst but stand behind him, and steal the falling of some tears upon his feet, with what a blushing astonishment doth she behold his sidereal countenance cast upon her? Whiles his eye was turned towards this Penitent, his speech was turned to the Pharisee concerning that Penitent, by him mistaken: Seest thou this Woman? He who before had said, If this man were a Prophet, he would have known what manner of Woman this is; now hears, Seest thou this Woman? Simon saw but her outside: Jesus lets him see that he saw her heart; and will thus convince the Pharisee that he is more than a Prophet, who knew not her conversation only, but her Soul. The Pharisee that went all by appearance, shall by her deportment see the proof of her good disposition: it shall happily shame him to hear the comparison of the wants of his own entertainments with the abundance of hers.  
It is strange that any of this formal Sect should be defective in their Lotions. Simon had not given water to so great a guest; she washes his feet with her tears. By how much the water of the eye was more precious than the water of the earth, so much was the respect and courtesy of this Penitent above the neglected office of the Pharisee. What use was there of a Towel, where was no water? She that made a fountain of her eyes, made precious nappery of her hair: that better flax shamed the linen in the Pharisees chest.  
A kiss of the cheek had wont to be pledge of the welcome of their guests. Simon neglects to make himself thus happy: she redoubles the kisses of her humble thankfulness upon the blessed feet of her Saviour. The Pharisee omits ordinary oil for the head: she supplies the most precious and fragrant oil to his feet.  
Now the Pharisee reads his own taxation in her praise; and begins to envy where he had scorned.  
It is our fault, O Saviour, if we mistake thee. We are ready to think, so thou have the substance of good usage, thou regardest not the compliments and ceremonies; whereas now we see thee to have both meat and welcome in the Pharisees house, and yet hear thee glance at his neglect of washing, kissing, anointing. Doubtless, omission of due circumstances in thy entertainment may deserve to lose our thanks. Do we pray to thee? do we hear thee preach to us? now we make thee good cheer in our house: but if we perform not these things with the fit decency of our outward carriages, we give thee not thy water, thy kisses, thy oil. Even meet ritual observances are requisite for thy full welcome.  
Yet how little had these things been regarded, if they had not argued the woman's thankful love to thee, and the ground of that love, sense of her remission, and the Pharisees default in both?  
Love and action do necessarily evince each other. True love cannot lurk long unexpressed: it will be looking out at the eyes, creeping out of the mouth, breaking out at the finger's ends, in some actions of dearness; especially those wherein there is pain and difficulty to the agent, profit or pleasure to the affected. O Lord, in vain shall we profess to love thee, if we do nothing for thee. Since our goodness cannot reach up unto thee, who art our glorious head; O let us bestow upon thy feet (thy poor Members here below) our tears, our hands, our ointment, and whatever our gifts or endeavours may testify our thankfulness and love to thee in them.  
O happy word! Her sins, which are many, are forgiven her. Methinks I see how this poor Penitent revived with this breath; how new life comes into her eyes, new blood into her cheeks, new spirits into her countenance: like unto our Mother Earth; when in that first confusion, God said, Let the earth bring forthgrasse, the herb that beareth seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit; all runs out into flowers, and blossoms, and leaves, and fruit. Her former tears said, Who shall deliver me from this body of death? Now her cheerful smiles say, I thank God through Jesus Christ my Lord.  
Seldomeever do we meet with so perfect a Penitent; seldom do we find so gracious a dismission. What can be wished of any mortal creature but Remission, Safety, Faith, Peace? All these are here met to make a contrite Soul happy. Remission, the ground of her Safety; Faith, the ground of her Peace; Safety and Salvation, the issue of her Remission; Peace, the blessed fruit of her Faith.  
O Woman, the presume that thou broughtest is poor and base in comparison of those sweet savours of rest and happiness that are returned to thee. Well was that ointment bestowed, wherewith thy Soul is sweetened to all Eternity.   

Martha and Mary.  
WE may read long enough ere we find Christ in an house of his own. The foxes have holes, and the birds have nests: he that had all, possessed nothing. One while I see him in a publicans house, then in a Pharisee's; now I find him at Martha's. His last entertainment was with some neglect, this with too much solicitude. Our Saviour was now in his way; the Sun might as soon stand still as he.  
The more we move, the liker we are to Heaven, and to this God that made it. His progress was to Jerusalem, for some holy Feast. He whose Devotion neglected not any of those sacred Solemnities, will not neglect the due opportunities of his bodily refreshing: as not thinking it meet to travel and preach harbourless, he diverts (where he knew his welcome) to the village of Bethanie. There dwelled the two devout Sisters, with their Brother his Friend Lazarus; their roof receives him. O happy house into which the Son of God vouchsafed to set his foot! O blessed women, that had the grace to be the Hostesses to the God of Heaven! How should I envy your felicity herein, if I did not see the same favour (if I be not wanting to myself) lying open to me? I have two ways to entertain my Saviour, in his Members, and in himself. In his Members, by Charity and Hospitablenesse; what I do to one of those his little ones, I do to him: In himself, by Faith; If any man open, he will come in and sup with him.  
O Saviour, thou stand'st at the door of our hearts, and knockst by the solicitations of thy Messengers, by the sense of thy Chastisements, by the motions of thy Spirit: if we open to thee by a willing admission and faithful welcome, thou wilt be sure to take up our Souls with thy gracious presence; and not to sit with us for a momentany meal, but to dwell with us for ever. Lo, thou didst but call in at Bethany; but here shall be thy rest for everlasting.  
Martha (it seems) as being the elder Sister, bore the name of the Housekeeper; Mary was her assistant in the charge. A Blessed pair; Sisters not more in Nature then Grace, in Spirit no less then in flesh. How happy a thing is it when all the parties in a family are jointly agreed to entertain Christ?  
No sooner is Jesus entered into the house than he falls to preaching: that no time may be lost, he stays not so much as till his meat be made ready; but whiles his bodily repast was in hand, provides spiritual food for his Hosts. It was his meat and drink to do the will of his Father: he fed more upon his own diet than he could possibly upon theirs; his best cheer was to see them spiritually fed. How should we, whom he hath called to this sacred Function, be instant in season and out of season? We are, by his sacred ordination, the Lights of the world. No sooner is the candle lighted, than it gives that light which it hath, and never intermits till it be wasted to the snuff.  
Both the Sisters for a time sat attentively listening to the words of Christ. Household occasions call Martha away: Mary sits still at his feet, and hears. Whether shall we more praise her Humility, or her Docility? I do not see her take a stool and sit by him, or a chair and sit above him; but, as desiring to show her heart was as low as her knees, she sits at his feet. She was lowly set, richly warmed with those Heavenly beams. The greater submission, the more Grace. If there be one hollow in the valley lower than another, thither the waters gather.  
Martha's house is become a Divinity-school: Jesus, as the Doctor, sits in the chair; Martha, Mary, and the rest, sit as Disciples at his feet. Standing implies a readiness of motion; Sitting, a settled composedness to this holy attendance.  
Had these two Sisters provided our Saviour never such delicates, and waited on his trencher never so officiously, yet had they not listened to his instruction, they had not bidden him welcome; neither had he so well liked his Entertainment.  
This was the way to feast him; to feed their ears by his Heavenly Doctrine: his best cheer is our proficiency; our best cheer is his Word. O Saviour, let my Soul be thus feasted by thee, do thou thus feast thyself by feeding me; this mutual diet shall be thy praise and my happiness.  
Though Martha was for the time an attentive hearer, yet now her care of Christ's entertainment carries her into the Kitchen; Mary sits still. Neither was Mary more devout than Martha busy: Martha cares to feast Jesus, Mary, to be feasted of him. There was more solicitude in Martha's active part; more piety in Mary's sedentary attendance: I know not in whether more zeal. Good Martha was desirous to express her joy and thankfulness for the presence of so blessed a Guest, by the actions of her careful and plenteous entertainment. I know not how to censure the Holy woman for her excess of care to welcome her Saviour. Sure she herself thought she did well; and out of that confidence fears not to complain to Christ of her Sister.  
I do not see her come to her Sister, and whisper in her ear the gread need of her aid; but she comes to Jesus, and in a kind of unkind expostulation of her neglect, makes her moan to him, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? Why did she not rather make her first address to her Sister? Was it for that she knew Mary was so tied by the ears with those adamantine chains that came from the mouth of Christ, that until his silence and dismission she had no power to stir? Or was it out of an honour and respect to Christ, that in his presence she would not presume to call off her Sister without his leave.  
Howsoever, I cannot excuse the holy Woman from some weaknesses. It was a fault to measure her Sister by herself, and apprehending her own act to be good, to think her Sister could not do well if she did not so too. Whereas Goodness hath much latitude. Ill is opposed to Good, not Good to Good. Neither in things lawful or indifferent are others bound to our examples. Marry might hear, Martha might serve, and both do well. Marry did not censure Martha for her rising from the feet of Christ, to prepare his meal: neither should Martha have censured Mary for sitting at Christ's feet, to feed her Soul. It was a fault, that she thought an excessive care of a liberal outward entertainment of Christ was to be preferred to a diligent attention to Christ spiritual entertainment of them. It was a fault, that she durst presume to question our Saviour of some kind of unrespect to her toil, Lord, dost thou not care? What sayest thou, Martha? dost thou challenge the Lord of Heaven and earth of incogitancy and neglect? Dost thou take upon thee to prescribe unto that infinite Wisdom, in stead of receiving directions from him? It is well thou mettest with a Saviour, whose gracious mildness knows how to pardon and pity the errors of our zeal.  
Yet I must needs say here wanted not fair pretences for the ground of this thy expostulation. Thou, the elder Sister, workest; Mary, the younger, sits still. And what work was thine but the hospital receipt of thy Saviour and his train? Had it been for thine own paunch, or for some carnal friends, it had been less excusable; now it was for Christ himself, to whom thou couldst never be too obsequious.  
But all this cannot deliver thee from the just blame of this bold subincusation; Lord, dost thou not care? How ready is our weakness upon every slight discontentment to quarrel with our best friend, yea with our good God; and the more we are put to it, to think ourselves the more neglected, and to challenge God for our neglect? Do we groan on the bed of our sickness, and languishing in pain complain of long hours and weary sides? strait we think, Lord, dost thou not care that we suffer? Doth God's poor Church go to wrack, whiles the ploughers ploughing on her back, make long furrows? Lord, dost thou not care? But know thou, O thou feeble and distrustful Soul, the more thou dost, the more thou sufferest, the more thou art cared for: neither is God ever so tender over his Church as when it is most exercised. Every pang and stitch and gird is first felt of him that sends it. O God, thou knowest our works, and our labour, and our patience: we may be ignorant and diffident; thou canst not but be gracious.  
It could not but trouble devout Mary to hear her Sister's impatient complaint; a complaint of herself to Christ, with such vehemence of passion, as if there had been such strangeness betwixt the two Sisters, that the one would do nothing for the other without an external compulsion from a Superior. How can she choose but think, If I have offended, why was I not secretly taxed for it in a sisterly familiarity? What if there have been some little omission? must the whole house ring of it before my Lord and all his Disciples? Is this carriage beseeming a Sister? Is my Devotion worthy of a quarrel? Lord, dost thou not care that I am injuriously censured? Yet I hear not a word of reply from that modest mouth. O holy Mary, I admire thy patient silence: thy Sister blames thee for thy Piety; the Disciples (afterwards) blame thee for thy Bounty and cost: not a word falls from thee in a just vindication of thine honour and innocence, but in an humble taciturnity thou leavest thine answer to thy Saviour.  
How should we learn of thee, when we are complained of for well-doing to seal up our lips, and to expect our righting from above?  
And how sure, how ready art thou, O Saviour, to speak in the cause of the dumb? Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things; but one thing is needful, and Mary hath chosen the better part.  
What needed Mary to speak for herself, when she had such an Advocate? Doubtless Martha was, as it were, divided from herself with the multiplicity of her careful thoughts: our Saviour therefore doubles her name in his compellation; that in such distraction he may both find and fix her heart. The good woman made full account that Christ would have sent away her Sister with a check, and herself with thanks: but now her hopes fail her; and though she be not directly reproved, yet she hears her Sister more approved than she; Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things. Our Saviour received courtesy from her in her diligent and costly entertainment; yet he would not blanche her error, and smooth her up in her weak misprision. No obligations may so enthrall us, as that our tongues should not be free to reprove faults where we find them. They are base and servile spirits that will have their tongue tied to their teeth.  
This glance towards a reproof implies an opposition of the condition of the two Sisters. Themselves were not more near in Nature, than their present humour and estate differed. One is opposed to many, necessary to superfluous, solicitude to quietness: Thou art careful and troubled about many things, one thing is necessary. How far then may our care reach to these earthly things? On the one side, O Saviour, thou hast charged us to take no thought what to eat, drink, put on; on the other, thy chosen Vessel hath told us, that he that provides not for his family hath denied the faith, and is worse than an Infidel. We may, we must care for many things; so that our care be for good, and well. For good, both in kind and measure; well, so as our care be free from distraction, from distrust. From distraction, that it hinder us not from the necessary duties of our general Calling; from distrust, that we misdoubt not God's providence whiles we employ our own. We cannot care for thee, unless we thus care for ourselves, for ours.  
Alas! how much care do I see every where, but how few Martha's? Her care was for her Saviour's entertainment, ours for ourselves. One finds perplexities in his Estate, which he desires to extricate; another beats his brains for the raising of his House: One busies his thoughts about the doubtful condition (as he thinks) of the Times, and casts in his anxious head the imaginary events of all things, opposing his hopes to his fears; another studies how to avoid the cross blows of an Adversary. Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things. Foolish men! why do we set our hearts upon the rack, and need not? why will we endure to bend under that burden, which more able shoulders have offered to undertake for our ease?  
Thou hast bidden us, O God, to cast our cares upon thee, with promise to care for us. We do gladly unload ourselves upon thee: O let our care be to depend on thee, as thine is to provide for us.  
Whether Martha be pitied or taxed for her sedulity, I am sure Mary is praised for her devotion: One thing is necessary. Not by way of negation, as if nothing were necessary but this: but by way of comparison, as that nothing is so necessary as this. Earthly occasions must veil to spiritual. Of those three main grounds of all our actions, Necessity, Convenience, Pleasure, each transcends other: Convenience carries it away from Pleasure, Necessity from Convenience, and one degree of Necessity from another. The degrees are according to the conditions of the things necessary. The condition of these earthly necessaries is, that without them we cannot live temporally; the condition of the spiritual, that without them we cannot live eternally. So much difference then as there is betwixt temporary and eternal, so much there must needs be betwixt the necessity of these bodily actions and those spiritual: Both are necessary in their kinds; neither must here be an opposition, but a subordination. The body and Soul must be friends, not rivals: we may not so ply the Christian, that we neglect the man.  
Oh the vanity of those men who neglecting that one thing necessary, affect many things superfluous! Nothing is needless with worldly minds but this one which is only necessary, the care of their Souls. How justly do they lose that they cared not for, whiles they over-care for that which is neither worthy nor possible to be kept?  
Neither is Mary's business more allowed than herself: She hath chosen the good part. It was not forced upon her, but taken up by her election. Martha might have sat still as well as she: She might have stirred about as well as Mary's will made this choice, not without the inclination of him who both gave this will and commends it. That will was before renewed; no marvel if it chose the good: though this were not in a case of good and evil, but of good and better. We have still this holy freedom, through the inoperation of him that hath freed us. Happy are we if we can improve this liberty to the best advantage of our Souls.  
The stability or perpetuity of good adds much to the praise of it. Martha's part was soon gone; the thank and use of a little outward Hospitality cannot long last: but Mary's shall not be taken away from her. The act of her hearing was transient, the fruit permanent; she now hears that which shall stick by her for ever.  
What couldst thou hear, O Holy Mary, from those Sacred lips, which we hear not still? That Heavenly Doctrine is never but the same, not more subject to change then the Author of it. It is not impossible that the exercise of the Gospel should be taken from us; but the benefit and virtue of it is as inseparable from our Souls as their Being. In the hardest times that shall stick closest to us; and till death, in death, after death shall make us happy.   

The Beggar that was born blind, cured.  
THE man was born blind. This Cure requires not Art, but Power; a power no less than infinite and Divine. Nature presupposeth a matter, though formless; Art looks for matter form to our hands: God stands not upon either. Where there was not an Eye to be healed, what could an Oculist do? It is only a God that can create. Such are we, O God, to all spiritual things: we want not sight, but eyes: it must be thou only that canst make us capable of illumination.  
The blind man sat begging. Those that have eyes and hands and feet of their own may be able to help themselves; those that want these helps must be beholden to the eyes, hands, feet of others. The impotent are cast upon our mercy: Happy are we, if we can lend limbs and senses to the needy. Affected beggary is odious: that which is of God's making justly challengeth relief.  
Where should this blind man sit begging, but near the Temple? At one gate sits a cripple, a blind man at another. Well might these miserable souls suppose that Piety and Charity dwelled close together: the two Tables were both of one quarry. Then are we best disposed to mercy towards our brethren, when we have either craved or acknowledged God's mercy towards ourselves. If we go thither to beg of God; how can we deny mites, when we hope for talents?  
Never did Jesus move one foot but to purpose. He passed by; but so as that his Virtue stayed: so did he pass by, that his eye was fixed. The blind man could not see him; he sees the blind man. His goodness prevents us, and yields better supplies to our wants. He saw compassionately; not shutting his eyes, not turning them aside, but bending them upon that dark and disconsolate Object. That which was said of the Sun, is much more true of him that made it, Nothing is hid from his light: but of all other things Miseries (especially of his own) are most intentively eyed of him. Could we be miserable unseen, we had reason to be heartless. O Saviour, why should we not imitate thee in this merciful improvement of our Senses? Woe be to those eyes that care only to gaze upon their own beauty, bravery, wealth; not abiding to glance upon the sores of Lazarus, the sorrows of Joseph, the dungeon of Jeremy, the blind Beggar at the gate of the Temple.  
The Disciples see the blind man too, but with different eyes: our Saviour for pity and cure, they for expostulation; Master, who did sin? this man or his Parents, that he is born blind? I like well that whatsoever doubt troubled them, they strait vent it into the ear of their Master. O Saviour, whiles thou art in Heaven, thy school is upon earth. Wherefore serve thy Priests lips but to preserve knowledge? What use is there of the tongue of the learned, but to speak a word in season? Thou teachest us still; and still we doubt, and ask, and learn.  
In one short question I find two Truths and two Falsehoods; the Truths implied, the Falsehoods expressed. It is true, that commonly man's suffering is for sin; that we may justly, and do often, suffer even for the sins of our Parents. It is false, that there is no other reason of our suffering but sin; that a man could sin actually before he was, or was before his being; or could beforehand suffer for his after-sins. In all likelihood that absurd conceit of the Transmigration of Souls possessed the very Disciples. How easily and how far may the best be miscarried with a common error? We are not thankful for our own illumination, if we do not look with charity and pity upon the gross mis-opinions of our brethren.  
Our Saviour sees, and yet will wink at so foul a misprision of his Disciples. I hear neither chiding nor conviction. He that could have enlightened their minds (as he did the world) at once, will do it by due leisure; and only contents himself here with a mild solution; Neither this man, nor his Parents. We learn nothing of thee, O Saviour, if not meekness. What a sweet temper should be in our carriage towards the weaknesses of others judgement? how should we instruct them without bitterness, and without violence of Passion expect the meet seasons of their better information? The tender Mother or Nurse doth not rate her little one for that he goes not well; but gives him her hand, that he may go better. It is the spirit of lenity that must restore and confirm the lapsed.  
The answer is direct and punctual; neither the sin of the man nor of his Parents bereft him of his eyes: there was an higher cause of this privation; the glory that God meant to win unto himself by redressing it. The Parents had sinned in themselves; the man had sinned in his first Parents: it is not the guilt of either that is guilty of this blindness. All God's afflictive acts are not punishments; some are for the benefit of the creature, whether for probation, or prevention, or reformation; all are for the praise, whether of his Divine Power, or Justice, or Mercy.  
It was fit so great a work should be ushered in with a preface. A sudden and abrupt appearance would not have beseemed so glorious a demonstration of Omnipotence. The way is made; our Saviour addresses himself to the Miracle: a Miracle not more in the thing done, then in the form of doing it.  
The matter used was clay. Could there be a meaner? could there be aught more unfit? O Saviour, how oft hadst thou cured blindnesses by thy word alone? how oft by thy touch? How easily couldst thou have done so here? Was this to show thy liberty, or thy power? Liberty, in that thou canst at pleasure use variety of means, not being tied to any; Power, in that thou couldst make use of contraries? Hadst thou pulled out a box and applied some medicinal ointment to the eyes, something had been ascribed to thy skill, more to the natural power of thy receipt: now thou madest use of clay, which had been enough to stop up the eyes of the seeing, the virtue must be all in thee, none in the means. The utter disproportion of this help to the Cure adds glory to the worker.  
How clearly didst thou hence evince to the world, that thou who of clay couldst make eyes, wert the same who of clay hadst made man? since there is no part of the body that hath so little analogy to clay as the eye; this clearness is contrary to that opacity. Had not the Jews been more blind than the man whom thou curedst, and more hard and stiff than the clay which thou mollifiedst, they had, in this one work, both seen and acknowledged thy Deity.  
What could the clay have done without thy tempering? It was thy spittle that made the clay effectual; it was that Sacred mouth of thine that made the spittle medicinal: the water of Siloe shall but wash off that clay which this inward moisture made powerful. The clay thus tempered, must be applied by the hand that made it, else it avails nothing.  
What must the blind man needs think, when he felt the cold clay upon the holes of his eyes? or (since he could not conceive what an eye was) what must the beholders needs think, to see that hollowness thus filled up? Is this the way to give either eyes or sight? Why did not the earth see with this clay as well as the man? What is there to hinder the sight, if this make it?  
Yet with these contrarieties must the Faith be exercised, where God intends the blessing of a Cure.  
It was never meant that this clay should dwell upon those pits of the eyes: it is only put on to be washed off; and that not by every water; none shall do it but that of Siloam, which signifies Sent; and if the man had not been sent to Siloam, he had been still blind. All things receive their virtue from Divine institution. How else should a piece of wheaten bread nourish the Soul? How should spring-water wash off spiritual filthiness? How should the foolishness of preaching save Souls? How should the absolution of God's Minister be more effectual than the breath of an ordinary Christian? Thou, O God, hast set apart these Ordinances; thy Blessing is annexed to them; hence is the ground of all our use, and their efficacy. Hadst thou so instituted, Jordan would as well have healed Blindness, and Siloam Leprosy.  
That the man might be capable of such a Miracle, his Faith is set on work; he must be led with his eyes daubed up to the pool of Siloam. He washes and sees. Lord, what did this man think when his eyes were now first given him? what a new world did he find himself now come into? how did he wonder at Heaven and earth, and the faces and shapes of all creatures, the goodly varieties of colours, the cheerfulness of the light, the lively beams of the Sun, the vast expansion of the air, the pleasant transparence of the water; at the glorious piles of the Temple, and stately palaces of Jerusalem? Every thing did not more please then astonish him. Lo, thus shall we be affected, and more, when the scales of our mortality being done away, we shall see as we are seen; when we shall behold the blessedness of that other world, the glory of the Saints and Angels, the infinite Majesty of the Son of God, the incomprehensible brightness of the all-glorious Deity. O my Soul, that thou couldst be taken up beforehand with the admiration of that which thou canst not as yet be capable of foreseeing.  
It could not be but that many eyes had been witnesses of this man's want of eyes. He sat begging at one of the Temple gates: not only all the City, but all the Country must needs know him; thrice a year did they come up to Jerusalem; neither could they come to the Temple and not see him. His very blindness made him noted. Deformities and infirmities of body do more easily both draw and fix the eye then an ordinary symmetry of parts.  
Besides his Blindness, his Trade made him remarkable; the importunity of his begging drew the eyes of the passengers. But of all other, the Place most notified him. Had he sat in some obscure village of Judaea, or in some blind lane of Jerusalem, perhaps he had not been heeded of many; but now that he took up his seat in the heart, in the head of the chief City, whither all resorted from all parts, what Jew can there be that knows not the blind beggar at the Temple gate? Purposely did our Saviour make choice of such a Subject for his Miracle; a man so poor, so public: the glory of the work could not have reached so far, if it had been done to the wealthiest Citizen of Jerusalem. Neither was it for nothing that the act and the man is doubted of and inquired into by the beholders; Is not this he that sat begging? Some said, It is he; others said, It is like him. No truths have received so full proofs as those that have been questioned. The want or the sudden presence of an eye (much more of both) must needs make a great change in the face; those little balls of light (which no doubt were more clear than Nature could have made them) could not but give a new life to the countenance. I marvel not it the neighbours, which had wont to see this dark visage led by a guide, and guided by a staff, seeing him now walking confidently alone out of his own inward light, and looking them cheerfully in the face, doubted whether this were he. The miraculous cures of God work a sensible alteration in men, not more in their own apprehension, then in the judgement of others. Thus in the redress of the Spiritual blindness, the whole habit of the man is changed. Where before his Face looked dull and earthly; now there is a sprightful cheerfulness in it, through the comfortable knowledge of God and Heavenly things: Whereas before his Heart was set upon worldly things; now he uses them, but enjoys them not: and that use is because he must, not because he would: Where before his fears and griefs were only for pains of body, or loss of estate or reputation; now they are only spent upon the displeasure of his God, and the peril of his Soul. So as now the neighbours can say, Is this the man? others, It is like him, it is not he.  
The late-blinde man hears, and now sees himself questioned; and soon resolves the doubt, I am he. He that now saw the light of the Sun, would not hide the light of Truth from others. It is an unthankful silence, to smother the works of God in an affected secrecy. To make God a loser by his bounty to us, were a shameful injustice. We ourselves abide not those sponges that suck up good turns unknown. O God, we are not worthy of our spiritual eyesight, if we do not publish thy mercies on the house top, and praise thee in the great congregation.  
Man is naturally inquisitive: we search studiously into the secret works of Nature; we pry into the reasons of the witty inventions of Art; but if there be any thing that transcends Art and Nature, the more high and abstruse it is, the more busy we are to seek into it. This thirst after hidden, yea forbidden, Knowledge did once cost us dear: but where it is good and lawful to know, inquiry is commendable; as here in these Jews, How were thine eyes opened? The first improvement of humane Reason is inquisition, the next is information and resolution: and if the meanest events pass us not without a question, how much less those that carry in them wonder and advantage?  
He that was so ready to profess himself the Subject of the Cure, is no niggard of proclaiming the Author of it; A man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed mine eyes, and sent me to Siloam to wash, and now I see. The blind man knew no more than he said, and he said what he apprehended, A man. He heard Jesus speak, he felt his hand; as yet he could look no further: upon his next meeting he saw God in this man. In matter of Knowledge, we must be content to creep ere we can go. As that other recovered blind man saw first men walk like trees, after like men; so no marvel if this man saw first this God only as man, after this man as God also. Onwards he thinks him a wonderful man, a mighty Prophet. In vain shall we either expect a sudden perfection in the understanding of Divine matters, or censure those that want it.  
How did this man know what Jesus did? He was then stone-blind; what distinction could he yet make of persons, of actions? True, but yet the blind man never wanted the assistance of others eyes; their relation hath assured him of the manner of his Cure: besides the contribution of his other Senses, his Ear might perceive the spittle to fall, and hear the enjoined command; his Feeling perceived the cold & moist clay upon his lids. All these conjoined gave sufficient warrant thus to believe, thus to report. Our ear is our best guide to a full apprehension of the works of Christ. The works of God the Father, his Creation and Government, are best known by the Eye: The works of God the Son, his Redemption and Mediation, are best known by the Eare. O Saviour, we cannot personally see what thou hast done here. What are the monuments of thine Apostles and Evangelists, but the relations of the blind man's guide, what and how thou hast wrought for us? On these we strongly rely, these we do no less confidently believe then if our very eyes had been witnesses of what thou didst and suffered'st upon earth. There were no place for Faith, if the Ear were not worthy of as much credit as the Eye.  
How could the neighbours do less than ask where he was that had done so strange a cure? I doubt yet with what mind; I fear, not out of favour. Had they been but indifferent, they could not but have been full of silent wonder, and inclined to believe in so Omnipotent an Agent. Now, as prejudiced to Christ, and partial to the Pharisees, they bring the late-blinde man before those professed enemies unto Christ.  
It is the preposterous Religion of the Vulgar sort to claw and adore those which have tyrannically usurped upon their Souls, though with neglect, yea with contempt, of God in his word, in his works. Even unjust authority will never want soothing up in whatsoever courses, though with disgrace and opposition to the Truth. Base minds where they find possession, never look after right.  
Our Saviour had picked out the Sabbath for this Cure. It is hard to find out any time wherein Charity is unseasonable. As Mercy is an excellent Grace, so the works of it are fittest for the best day. We are all born blind: the Font is our Siloam: no day can come amiss, but yet God's day is the properest for our washing and recovery.  
This alone is quarrel enough to these scrupulous wranglers, that an act of Mercy was done on that day wherein their envy was but seasonable.  
I do not see the man beg any more when he once had his eyes; no Burger in Jerusalem was richer than he. I hear him stoutly defending that gracious author of his Cure against the cavils of the malicious Pharisees: I see him as a resolute Confessor suffering excommunication for the name of Christ, and maintaining the innocence and honour of so Blessed a benefactor: I hear him read a Divinity Lecture to them that sat in Moses his chair, and convincing them of blindness, who punished him for seeing.  
How can I but envy thee, O happy man, who of a Patient, provest an Advocate for thy Saviour; whose gain of bodily sight made way for thy Spiritual eyes; who hast lost a Synagogue, and hast found Heaven; who being abandoned of Sinners, art received of the Lord of Glory?   

The stubborn Devil ejected.  
HOW different, 
Matth. 17. 14. compared with Mar. 9 14.  how contrary are our conditions here upon earth? Whiles our Saviour is transfigured on the Mount, his Disciples are perplexed in the valley. Three of his choice Followers were with him above, ravished with the miraculous proofs of his Godhead: nine other were troubled with the business of a stubborn Devil below.  
Much people was met to attend Christ, and there they will stay till he come down from Tabor. Their zeal and devotion brought them thither; their patient perseverance held them there. We are not worthy the name of his clients, if we cannot painfully seek him, and submissly wait his leisure.  
He that was now awhile retired into the Mount, to confer with his Father, and to receive the attendance of Moses and Elias, returns into the valley to the multitude. He was singled out awhile for prayer and contemplation; now he was joined with the multitude for their miraculous cure and Heavenly instruction. We that are his spiritual agents must be either preparing in the mount, or exercising in the valley; one while in the mount of Meditation, in the valley of Action another; alone to study, in the assembly to preach: here is much variety, but all is work.  
Moses when he came down from the hill, heard Music in the valley; Christ when he came down from the hill, heard discord. The Scribes (it seems) were setting hard upon the Disciples: they saw Christ absent, nine of his train left in the valley, those they fly upon. As the Devil, so his Imps, watch close for all advantages. No subtle enemy but will be sure to attempt that part where is likelihood of least defence, most weakness. When the Spouse misses him whom her Soul loveth, every watchman hath a buffet for her. O Saviour, if thou be never so little stepped aside, we are sure to be assaulted with powerful Temptations.  
They that durst say nothing to the Master, so soon as his back is turned fall foul upon his weakest Disciples. Even at the first hatching the Serpent was thus crafty, to begin at the weaker vessel: experience and time hath not abated his wit. If he still work upon silly Women laden with divers lusts, upon rude and ungrounded Ignorants, it is no other than his old wont.  
Our Saviour upon the skirts of the hill knew well what was done in the plain; and therefore hasts down to the rescue of his Disciples. The clouds and vapours do not sooner scatter upon the Sun's breaking forth, than these cavils vanish at the presence of Christ: in stead of opposition they are straigth upon their knees; here are now no quarrels, but humble salutations; and if Christ's question did not force theirs, the Scribes had found no tongue.  
Doubtless there were many eager Patients in this throng; none made so much noise as the father of the Demoniac. Belike upon his occasion it was that the Scribes held contestation with the Disciples. If they wrangled, he fues, and that from his knees. Whom will not need make both humble and eloquent? The case was woeful, and accordingly expressed. A son is a dear name; but this was his only son. Were his grief ordinary yet, the sorrow were the less; but he is a fearful spectacle of judgement, for he is Lunatic. Were this Lunacy yet merely from a natural distemper, it were more tolerable; but this is aggravated by the possession of a cruel spirit, that handles him in a most grievous manner. Yet were he but in the rank of other Demoniacs, the discomfort were more easy; but lo, this spirit is worse than all other his fellows; others are usually dispossessed by the Disciples, this is beyond their power. I be sought thy Disciples to cast him out, but they could not: therefore, Lord, have thou mercy on my Son. The despair of all other helps sends us importunately to the God of power. Here was his refuge; the strong man had gotten possession, it was only the stronger than he that can eject him. O God, spiritual wickednesses have naturally seized upon our Souls: all humane helps are too weak; only thy Mercy shall improve thy Power to our deliverance.  
What bowels could choose but yearn at the distress of this poor young man? Frenzy had taken his brain: that Disease was but health in comparison of the tyrannical possession of that evil spirit, wherewith it was seconded. Out of Hell there could not be a greater misery: his Senses are either bereavest, or else left to torment him; he is torn and racked, so as he foams and gnashes, he pines and languishes; he is cast sometimes into the fire, sometimes into the water. How that malicious Tyrant rejoices in the mischief done to the creature of God? Had earth had any thing more pernicious than fire and water, thither had he been thrown; though rather for torture, then dispatch. It was too much favour to die at once. O God, with how deadly enemies hast thou matched us? Abate thou their power, since their malice will not be abated.  
How many think of this case with pity and horror, and in the mean time are insensible of their own fearfuller condition?  
It is but oftentimes that the Devil would cast this young man into a temporary fire; he would cast the sinner into an eternal fire, whose everlasting burnings have no intermissions. No fire comes amiss to him; the fire of Affliction, the fire of Lust, the fire of Hell. O God, make us apprehensive of the danger of our sin, and secure from the fearful issue of sin.  
All these very same effects follow his spiritual possession. How doth he tear and rack them whom he vexes and distracts with inordinate cares and sorrows? How do they foam and gnash whom he hath drawn to an impatient repining at God's afflictive hand? How do they pine away who hourly decay and languish in Grace?  
Oh the lamentable condition of sinful Souls, so much more dangerous, by how much less felt!  
But all this while what part hath the Moon in this man's misery? How comes the name of that goodly Planet in question? Certainly these diseases of the brain follow much the course of this queen of moisture. That power which she hath in humours is drawn to the advantage of the malicious spirit; her predominancy is abused to his despite: whether it were for the better opportunity of his vexation, or whether for the drawing of envy and discredit upon so noble a creature. It is no news with that subtle enemy to fasten his effects upon those secondary causes which he usurps to his own purposes. Whatever be the means, he is the tormentor. Much wisdom needs to disstinguish betwixt the evil spirit abusing the good creature, and the good creature abused by the evil spirit.  
He that knew all things, asks questions; How long hath he been so? Not to inform himself; (That Devil could have done nothing without the knowledge, without the leave of the God of Spirits) but that by the confession of the Parent he might lay forth the woeful condition of the child; that the thank and glory of the Cure might be so much greater, as the complaint was more grievous. He answered, From a child.  
O God, how I adore the depth of thy wise and just and powerful dispensation? Thou that couldst say, I have loved Jacob, and Esau have I hated, ere the children had done good or evil, thoughtest also good, ere this Child could be capable of good or evil, to yield him over to the power of that Evil one. What need I ask for any other reason then that which is the rule of all Justice, thy Will? Yet even these weak eyes can see the just grounds of thine actions. That child, though an Israelite, was conceived and born in that sin which both could and did give Satan an interest in him. Besides, the actual sins of the Parents deserved this revenge upon that piece of themselves. Rather, O God, let me magnific this Mercy, that we and our s escape this Judgement, then question thy Justice, that some escape not. How just might it have been with thee, that we, who have given way to Satan in our sins, should have way and scope given to Satan over us in our punishments? It is thy praise that any of us are free; it is no quarrel that some suffer.  
Do I wonder to see Satan's bodily possession of this young man from a child, when I see his spiritual possession of every son of Adam from a longer date; not from a child, but from the womb, yea in it? Why should not Satan possess his own? we are all by nature the sons of wrath. It is time for us to renounce him in Baptism, whose we are till we be regenerate. He hath right to us in our first birth; our new birth acquits us from him, and cuts off all his claim. How miserable are they that have nothing but Nature? Better had it been to have been unborn, than not to be born again.  
And if this poor soul from an infant were thus miserably handled, having done none actual evil; how just cause have we to fear the like Judgements, who by many foul offences have deserved to draw this executioner upon us? O my Soul, thou hast not room enough for thankfulness to that good God, who hath not delivered thee up to that malignant Spirit.  
The distressed Father sits not still, neglects not means; I brought him to thy Disciples. Doubtless the man came first to seek for Christ himself; finding him absent, he makes suit to the Disciples. To whom should we have recourse in all our spiritual complaints but to the agents and messengers of God? The noise of the like cures had surely brought this man with much confidence to crave their succour; and now how cold was he at the heart, when he found that his hopes were frustrate? They could not cast him out. No doubt the Disciples tried their best, they laid their wont charge upon this dumb spirit; but all in vain. They that could come with joy and triumph to their Master, and say, The Devils are subject to us, find now themselves matched with a stubborn and refractory spirit. Their way was hitherto smooth and fair; they met with no rub till now. And now surely the father of the Demoniac was not more troubled at this event than themselves. How could they choose but fear lest their Master had with himself withdrawn that spiritual power which they had formerly exercised? Needs must their heart fail them with their success.  
The man complained not of their impotence: it were fond injurious to accuse them for that which they could not do: had the want been in their will, they had well deserved a querulous language; it was no fault to want power. Only he complains of the stubbornness, and laments the invincibleness of that evil spirit.  
I should wrong you, O ye blessed Followers of Christ, if I should say that, as Israel, when Moses was gone up into the Mount, lost their belief with their guide; so that ye, missing your Master (who was now ascended up to his Tabor) were to seek for your Faith. Rather the Wisdom of God saw reason to check your over-assured forwardness; and both to pull down your hearts by a just humiliation in the sense of your own weakness, and to raise up your hearts to new acts of dependence upon that sovereign power from which your limited virtue was derived.  
What was more familiar to the Disciples then ejecting of Devils? In this only it is denied them. Our good God sometimes finds it requisite to hold us short in those abilities whereof we make least doubt, that we may feel whence we had them. God will be no less glorified in what we cannot do, then in what we can do. If his Graces were always at our command, and ever alike, they would seem natural, and soon run into contempt: now we are justly held in an awful dependence upon that gracious hand, which so gives as not to cloy us, and so denies as not to discourage us.  
Who could now but expect that our Saviour should have pitied and bemoaned the condition of this sad father and miserable son, and have let fall some words of comfort upon them? In stead whereof I hear him chiding and complaining, O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you? Complaining, not of that woeful father and more woeful son; it was not his fashion to add affliction to the distressed, to break such bruised reeds; but of those Scribes, who upon the failing of the success of this suit, had insulted upon the disability of the Followers of Christ, and depraved his power: although perhaps this impatient father, seduced by their suggestion, might slip into some thoughts of distrust.  
There could not be a greater crimination then faithless and perverse: faithless, in not believing; perverse, in being obstinately set in their unbelief. Doubtless these men were not free from other notorious crimes: all were drowned in their Infidelity. Moral uncleannesses or violences may seem more heinous to men; none are so odious to God as these Intellectual wickednesses.  
What an happy change is here in one breath of Christ? How long shall I suffer you? Bring him hither to me. The one is a word of anger, the other of favour. His just indignation doth not exceed or impeach his Goodness. What a sweet mixture there is in the perfect simplicity of the Divine Nature? In the midst of judgement he remembers mercy, yea he acts it. His Sun shines in the midst of this storm. Whether he frown or whether he smile, it is all to one purpose, that he may win the incredulous and disobedient. Whither should the rigour of all our censures tend but to edification, and not to destruction? We are Physicians, we are not executioners; we give purges to cure, and not poisons to kill. It is for the just Judge to say one day to reprobate Souls, Depart from me; in the mean time it is for us to invite all that are spiritually possessed to the participation of mercy, Bring him hither to me.  
O Saviour, distance was no hindrance to thy work: why should the Demoniac be brought to thee? Was it that this deliverance might be the better evicted, and that the beholders might see it was not for nothing that the Disciples were opposed with so refractory a spirit? or was it that the Scribes might be witnesses of that strong hostility that was betwixt thee and that foul spirit, and be ashamed of their blasphemous slander? or was it that the father of the Demoniac might be quickened in that Faith which now, through the suggestion of the Scribes, begun to droop; when he should hear and see Christ so cheerfully to undertake and perform that whereof they had bidden him despair?  
The possessed is brought; the Devil is rebuked and ejected. That stiff spirit which stood out boldly against the commands of the Disciples, cannot but stoop to the voice of the Master: that power which did at first cast him out of Heaven, easily dispossesses him of an house of clay. The Lord rebuke thee, Satan, and then thou canst not but flee.  
The Disciples, who were not used to these affronts, cannot but be troubled at their mis-successe: Master, why could not we cast him out? Had they been conscious of any defect in themselves, they had never asked the question. Little did they think to hear of their Unbelief. Had they not had great Faith, they could not have cast out any Devils; had they not had some want of Faith, they had cast out this. It is possible for us to be defective in some Graces, and not to feel it.  
Although not so much their weakness is guilty of this unprevailing, as the strength of that evil spirit; This kind goes not out but by prayer and fasting. Weaker spirits were wont to be ejected by a command; this Devil was more sturdy and boisterous. As there are degrees of statures in men, so there are degrees of strength and rebellion in spiritual wickednesses. Here bidding will not serve, they must pray; and praying will not serve without fasting. They must pray to God that they may prevail; they must fast to make their prayer more servant, more effectual. We cannot now command, we can fast and pray. How good is our God to us, that whiles he hath not thought fit to continue to us those means which are less powerful for the dispossessing of the powers of darkness, yet hath he given us the greater? Whiles we can fast and pray, God will command for us; Satan cannot prevail against us.   

The Widow's mites.  
THE sacred wealth of the Temple was either in stuff, or in coin. For the one the Jews had an house, for the other a chest. At the concourse of all the males to the Temple thrice a year upon occasion of the solemn Feasts, the oblations of both kinds were liberal. Our Saviour, as taking pleasure in the prospect, sets himself to view those Offerings, whether for holy uses or charitable.  
Those things we delight in, we love to behold: The eye and the heart will go together. And can we think, O Saviour, that thy Glory hath diminished aught of thy gracious respects to our beneficence? or that thine acceptance of our Charity was confined to the earth? Even now that thou ●ittest at the right hand of thy Father's glory, thou ●eest every hand that is stretched out to the relief of thy poor Saints here below. And if vanity have power to stir up our Liberality out of a conceit to be seen of men, how shall Faith encourage our Bounty in knowing that we are seen of thee, and accepted by thee? Alas, what are we the better for the notice of those perishing and impotent eyes, which can only view the outside of our actions; or for that waste wind of applause which vanisheth in the lips of the speaker? Thine eye, O Lord, is piercing and retributive. As to see thee is perfect Happiness, so to be seen of thee is true contentment and glory.  
And dost thou, O God, see what we give thee, and not see what we take away from thee? Are our Offerings more noted than our Sacrileges? Surely thy Mercy is not more quicksighted than thy Justice. In both kinds our actions are viewed, our account is kept; and we are sure to receive Rewards for what we have given, and Vengeance for what we have defalked. With thine eye of Knowledge thou seest all we do; but what we do well, thou seest with thine eye of Approbation. So didst thou now behold these pious and charitable Oblations. How well wert thou pleased with this variety? Thou sawest many rich men give much; and one poor Widow give more than they in lesser room.  
The Jews were now under the Roman pressure; they were all tributaries, yet many of them rich; and those rich men were liberal to the common chest. Hadst thou seen those many rich give little, we had heard of thy censure: thou expectest a proportion betwixt the giver and the gift, betwixt the gift and the receipt: where that fails, the blame is just. That Nation (though otherwise faulty enough) was in this commendable. How bounteously open were their hands to the house of God? Time was, when their liberality was fain to be restrained by Proclamation; and now it needed no incitement: the rich gave much, the poorest gave more. He saw a poor widow casting in two mites. It was misery enough that she was a Widow. The married woman is under the careful provision of an Husband; if she spend, he earns: in that estate four hands work for her; in her viduity but two. Poverty added to the sorrow of her widowhood. The loss of some Husbands is supplied by a rich jointure; it is some allay to the grief that the hand is left full, though the bed be empty. This woman was not more desolate than needy. Yet this poor widow gives. And what gives she? An offering like herself, two mites; or, in our language, two half-farthing-tokens. Alas, good woman, who was poorer than thyself? wherefore was that Corban, but for the relief of such as thou? who should receive, if such give? Thy mites were something to thee, nothing to the Treasury. How ill is that gift bestowed, which dis-furnisheth thee, and adds nothing to the common stock? Some thrifty neighbour might perhaps have suggested this probable discouragement. Jesus publishes and applauds her bounty: He called his Disciples, and said unto them, Verily I say unto you, this woman hath cast in more than they all. Whiles the rich put in their offering, I see no Disciples called; it was enough that Christ noted their gifts alone: but when the Widow comes with her two mites, now the domestics of Christ are summoned to assemble, and taught to admire this munificence; a solemn preface makes way to her praise, and her Mites are made more precious than the others Talents. She gave more than they all. More, not only in respect of the Mind of the giver, but of the proportion of the gift, as hers. A mite to her was more than pounds to them: Pounds were little to them, two mites were all to her: They gave out of their abundance, she out of her necessity. That which they gave, left the heap less, yet an heap still; she gives all at once, and leaves herself nothing. So as she gave, not more than any, but more than they all. God doth not so much regard what is taken out, as what is left▪ O Father of mercies, thou lookest at once into the bottom of her heart and the bottom of her purse; and esteemest her gift according to both. As thou seest not as man, so thou valuest not as man: Man judgeth by the worth of the gift, thou judgest by the mind of the giver and the proportion of the remainder. It were wide with us if thou shouldst go by quantities. Alas, what have we but mites, and those of thine own lending? It is the comfort of our meanness, that our affections are valued and not our presents: neither haste thou said, God loves a liberal giver, but a cheerful. If I had more, O God, thou shouldst have it; had I less, thou wouldst not despise it, who acceptest the gift according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not.  
Yea, Lord, what have I but two mites, a Soul, and a Body? mere mites, yea, not so much, to thine Infiniteness, Oh that I could perfectly offer them up unto thee, according to thine own right in them, and not according to mine. How graciously wouldst thou be sure to accept them? how happy shall I be in thine acceptation?   

The ambition of the two Sons of Zebedee.  
HE who had his own time and ours in his hand, foreknew and foretold the approach of his dissolution. When men are near their end, and ready to make their Will, then is it seasonable to sue for Legacies. Thus did the Mother of the two Zebedees'; therein well approving both her Wisdom and her Faith: Wisdom, in the fit choice of her opportunity; Faith, in taking such an opportunity.  
The suit is half obtained that is seasonably made. To have made this motion at the entry into their attendance, had been absurd, and had justly seemed to challenge a denial. It was at the parting of the Angel, that Jacob would be blessed. The double spirit of Elijah is not sued for till his ascending.  
But, oh the admirable Faith of this good woman! When she heard the discourse of Christ's Sufferings and Death, she talks of his Glory; when she hears of his Cross, she speaks of his Crown. If she had seen Herod come and tender his Sceptre unto Christ, or the Elders of the Jews come upon their knees with a submissive proffer of their allegiance, she might have had some reason to entertain the thoughts of a Kingdom: but now whiles the sound of betraying, suffering, dying, was in her ear, to make account of and suit for a room in his Kingdom, it argues a belief able to triumph over all discouragements.  
It was nothing for the Disciples, when they saw him after his conquest of death and rising from the grave, to ask him, Master, wilt thou now restore the kingdom unto Israel? but for a silly woman to look through his future Death and Passion, at his Resurrection and Glory, it is no less worthy of wonder than praise.  
To hear a man in his best health and vigour to talk of his confidence in God, and assurance of Divine favour, cannot be much worth: but if in extremities we can believe above hope, against hope, our Faith is so much more noble as our difficulties are greater.  
Never sweeter presume arose from any altar, then that which ascended from Job's dunghill, I know that my Redeemer liveth.  
What a strange style is this that is given to this woman? It had been as easy to have said, the wife of Zebedee, or the sister of Mary or of Joseph, or (as her name was) plain Salome: but now, by an unusual description, she is styled The mother of Zebedee's children. Zebedee was an obscure man; she, as his wife, was no better; the greatest honour she ever had or could have, was to have two such sons as James and John; these give a title to both their Parents. Honour ascends as well as descends. Holy Children dignify the loins and womb from whence they proceed, no less than their Parents traduce honour unto them. Salome might be a good wife, a good huswife, a good woman, a good neighbour: all these cannot ennoble her so much as the mother of Zebedee's children.  
What a world of pain, toil, care, cost, there is in the birth and education of children? Their good proof requites all with advantage. Next to happiness in ourselves, is to be happy in a gracious Issue.  
The suit was the sons, but by the mouth of their mother: it was their best policy to speak by her lips. Even these Fishermen had already learned craftily to fish for promotion. Ambition was not so bold in them as to show her own face: the envy of the suit shall thus be avoided, which could not but follow upon their personal request. If it were granted, they had what they would; if not, it was but the repulse of a woman's motion: which must needs be so much more pardonable, because it was of a mother for her sons.  
It is not discommendable in parents to seek the preferment of their children. Why may not Abraham sue for an Ishmael? So it be by lawful means, in a moderate measure, in due order, this endeavour cannot be amiss. It is the neglect of circumstances that makes these desires sinful. Oh the madness of those Parents that care not which way they raise an house; that desire rather to leave their children great, then good; that are more ambitious to have their sons Lords on earth, than Kings in Heaven! Yet I commend thee, Salome, that thy first plot was to have thy sons Disciples of Christ, then after to prefer them to the best places of that attendance. It is the true method of Divine prudence, O God, first to make our children happy with the honour of thy service, and then to endeavour their meet advancement upon earth.  
The mother is but put upon this suit by her sons; their heart was in her lips. They were not so mortified by their continual conversation with Christ, hearing his Heavenly doctrine, seeing his Divine carriage, but that their minds were yet roving after temporal Honours. Pride is the inmost coat, which we put off last, and which we put on first. Who can wonder to see some sparks of weak and worldly desires in their holiest teachers, when the blessed Apostles were not free from some ambitious thoughts whiles they sat at the feet, yea in the bosom of their Saviour?  
The near kindred this woman could challenge of Christ might seem to give her just colour of more familiarity; yet now that she comes upon a suit, she submits herself to the lowest gesture of suppliants. We need not be taught that it is fit for petitioners to the Great, to present their humble supplications upon their knees. O Saviour, if this woman so nearly allied to thee according to the flesh, coming but upon a temporal occasion to thee, being as then compassed about with humane infirmities, adored thee ere she durst sue to thee; what reverence is enough for us that come to thee upon spiritual suits, sitting now in the height of Heavenly Glory and Majesty? Say then, thou wife of Zebedee, what is it that thou cravest of thine omnipotent kinsman? A certain thing. Speak out, woman; what is this certain thing that thou cravest? How poor and weak is this supplicatory anticipation to him that knew thy thoughts ere thou utteredst them, ere thou entertainedst them? We are all in this tune; every one would have something; such perhaps as we are ashamed to utter. The Proud man would have a certain thing; Honour in the world: the Covetous would have a certain thing too; Wealth and abundance: the Malicious would have a certain thing; Revenge on his enemies: the Epicure would have Pleasure and Long life; the Barren, Children; the Wanton, Beauty. Each one would be humoured in his own desire; though in variety, yea contradiction to other; though in opposition not more to God's will, than our own good.  
How this suit sticks in her teeth, and dare not freely come forth, because it is guilty of its own faultiness? What a difference there is betwixt the prayers of Faith, and the motions of Self-love and infidelity? Those come forth with boldness, as knowing their own welcome, and being well assured, both of their warrant and acceptation; these stand blushing at the door, not daring to appear; like to some baffled suit, conscious to its own unworthiness and just repulse. Our inordinate desires are worthy of a check: when we know that our requests are holy, we cannot come with too much confidence to the throne of Grace.  
He that knew all their thoughts afar off, yet, as if he had been a stranger to their purposes, asks, What wouldst thou? Our infirmities do then best shame us, when they are fetched out of our own mouths: Like as our Prayers also serve not to acquaint God with our wants, but to make us the more capable of his mercies.  
The suit is drawn from her; now she must speak. Grant that these my two sons may sit, one on thy right hand, the other on thy left, in thy Kingdom.  
It is hard to say, whether out of more pride or ignorance. It was as received as erroneous a conceit among the very Disciples of Christ, that he should raise up a Temporal Kingdom over the now-tributary and beslaved people of Israel. The Romans were now their masters; their fancy was, that their Messias should shake off this yoke, and reduce them to their former Liberty. So grounded was this opinion, that the two Disciples in their walk to Emmaus could say, We trusted it had been he that should have delivered Israel; and when, after his Resurrection, he was walking up mount Olivet towards Heaven, his very Apostles could ask him, if he would now restore that long-exspected Kingdom. How should we mitigate our censures of our Christian brethren, if either they mistake, or know not some secondary truths of Religion, when the domestic Attendants of Christ, who heard him every day till the very point of his Ascension, misapprehended the chief cause of his coming into the world, and the state of his Kingdom? If our Charity may not bear with small faults, what do we under his name that connived at greater? Truth is as the Sun; bright in itself, yet there are many close corners into which it never shined. O God, if thou open our hearts, we shall take in those beams: till thou do so, teach us to attend patiently for ourselves, charitably for others.  
These Fishermen had so much Courtship to know, that the right hand and the left of any Prince were the chief places of Honour. Our Saviour had said that his twelve Followers should sit upon twelve thrones, and judge the twelve Tribes of Israel. This good woman would have her two sons next to his person; the prime Peers of his Kingdom. Every one is apt to wish the best to his own. Worldly Honour is neither worth our suit, nor unworthy our acceptance. Yea, Salome, had thy mind been in Heaven, hadst thou intended this desired preeminence of that celestial state of Glory, yet I know not how to justify thine ambition. Wouldst thou have thy sons preferred to the Father of the faithful, to the blessed Mother of thy Saviour? That very wish were presumptuous. For me, O God, my ambition shall go so high as to be a Saint in Heaven, and to live as holily on earth as the best; but for precedency of Heavenly honour, I do not, I dare not affect it. It is enough for me, if I may lift up my head amongst the heels of thy Blessed Ones.  
The mother asks, the sons have the answer. She was but their tongue, they shall be her ears. God ever imputes the acts to the first mover, rather than to the instrument.  
It was a sore check, Ye know not what ye ask. In our ordinary communication to speak idly, is sin; but in our suits to Christ to be so inconsiderate, as not to understand our own petitions, must needs be a foul offence.  
As Faith is the ground of our Prayers, so Knowledge is the ground of our Faith. If we come with indigested requests, we profane that Name we invoke.  
To convince their unfitness for Glory, they are sent to their impotency in Suffering; Are ye able to drink of the cup whereof I shall drink, and to be baptised with the Baptism wherewith I am baptised? O Saviour, even thou who wert one with thy Father, hast a Cup of thine own: never Potion was so bitter as that which was mixed for thee. Yea, even thy draught is stinted; it is not enough for thee to sip of this Cup, thou must drink it up to the very dregs. When the vinegar and gall were tendered to thee by men, thou didst but kiss the cup; but when thy Father gave into thine hands a potion infinitely more distasteful, thou (for our health) didst drink deep of it even to the bottom, and saidst, It is finished. And can we repine at those unpleasing draughts of Affliction that are tempered for us sinful men, when we see thee, the Son of thy Father's love, thus dieted? We pledge thee, O Blessed Saviour, we pledge thee, according to our weakness, who hast begun to us in thy powerful suffereings. Only do thou enable us (after some four faces made in our reluctation) yet at last willingly to pledge thee in our constant Sufferings for thee.  
As thou must be drenched within, so must thou be baptised without. Thy Baptism is not of water, but of blood; both these came from thee in thy Passion: we cannot be thine, if we partake not of both. If thou hast not grudged thy precious blood to us, well mayest thou challenge some worthless drops from us.  
When they talk of thy Kingdom, thou speakest of thy bitter Cup, of thy bloody Baptism. Suffering is the way to reigning. Through many tribulations must we enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. There was never wedge of gold that did not first pass the fire; there was never pure grain that did not undergo the flail. In vain shall we dream of our immediate passage from the pleasures and jollity of earth to the glory of Heaven. Let who will hope to walk upon Roses and Violets to the throne of Heaven; O Saviour, let me trace thee by the tract of thy Blood, and by thy red steps follow thee to thine eternal rest and Happiness.  
I know this is no easy task; else thou hadst never said, Are ye able? Who should be able if not they that had been so long blessed with thy presence, informed by thy doctrine, and (as it were) beforehand possessed of their Heaven in thee? Thou hadst never made them judges of their power, if thou couldst not have convinced them of their weakness: Alas, how full of feebleness is our body, and our mind of impatience? If but a Bee sting our flesh, it swells; and if but a tooth ache, the head and heart complain. How small trifles make us weary of ourselves? What can we do without thee? without thee what can we suffer? If thou be not, O Lord, strong in my weakness, I cannot be so much as weak; I cannot so much as be. Oh, do thou prepare me for my day, and enable me to my trials: I can do all things through thee that strengthenest me.  
The motion of the two Disciples was not more full of infirmity than their answer, We are able. Out of an eager desire of the Honour, they are apt to undertake the condition. The best men may be mistaken in their own powers. Alas, poor men! when it came to the issue, they ran away, and I know not whether one without his coat. It is one thing to suffer in speculation, another in practice. There cannot be a worse sign then for a man in a carnal presumption to vaunt of his own abilities. How justly doth God suffer that man to be foiled purposely, that he may be ashamed of his own vain self-confidence? O God, let me ever be humbly dejected in the sense of mine own insufficiency; let me give all the Glory to thee, and take nothing to myself but my infirmities.  
Oh the wonderful mildness of the Son of God He doth not rate the two Disciples, either for their ambition in suing, or presumption in undertaking: but leaving the worst, he takes the best of their answer; and omitting their errors, incourages their good intentions; Ye shall drink indeed of my cup, and be baptised with my baptism: but to sit on my right hand and my left, is not mine to give, but to them for whom it is prepared of my Father. I know not whether there be more mercy in the concession, or satisfaction in the denial. Were it not an high Honour to drink of thy Cup, O Saviour, thou hadst not forepromised it as a favour. I am deceived if what thou grantest were much less than that which thou deniest. To pledge thee in thine own Cup, is not much less dignity and familiarity then to sit by thee. If we suffer with thee, we shall also reign together with thee. What greater promotion can flesh and blood be capable of, than a conformity to the Lord of Glory? Enable thou me to drink of thy Cup, and then set me where thou wilt.  
But, O Saviour, whiles thou dignifiest them in thy grant, dost thou disparage thyself in thy denial? Not mine to give? Whose is it, if not thine? If it be thy Fathers, it is thine. Thou, who art Truth, hast said, I and my Father are one. Yea, because thou art one with the Father, it is not thine to give to any save those for whom it is prepared of the Father. The Father's preparation was thine, his gift is thine; the Decree of both is one. That eternal counsel is not alterable upon our vain desires. The Father gives these Heavenly honours to none but by thee; thou givest them to none but according to the Decree of thy Father. Many degrees there are of celestial Happiness. Those supernal Mansions are not all of an height. That Providence which hath varied our stations upon earth, hath pre-ordered our seats above. O God, admit me within the walls of thy new Jerusalem, and place me wheresoever thou pleasest.   

The Tribute money paid.  
ALL these other Histories report the Power of Christ; this shows both his Power and Obedience: his Power over the creature; his Obedience to civil Powers. 
Luc. 4. 31. compared with 38.  Capernaum was one of his own Cities; there he made his chief abode, in Peter's house: to that Host of his therefore do the Toll-gatherers repair for the Tribute. When that great Disciple said, We have left all, he did not say, We have abandoned all, or sold, or given away all: but we have left, in respect of managing, not of possession; not in respect of right, but of use and present fruition; so left, that upon just occasion we may resume; so left, that it is our due, though not our business. Doubtless he was too wise to give away his own, that he might borrow of a stranger. His own roof gave him shelter for the time, and his Master with him. Of him, as the Housholder, is the Tribute required; and by and for him is it also paid. I inquire not either into the occasion, or the sum. What need we make this exaction sacrilegious? as if that half-shekel which was appointed by God to be paid by every Israelite to the use of the Tabernacle and Temple, were now diverted to the Roman Exchequer. There was no necessity that the Roman Lords should be tied to the Jewish reckonings; it was free for them to impose what payments they pleased upon a subdued people: when great Augustus commanded the world to be taxed, this rate was set. The mannerly Collectors demand it first of him with whom they might be more bold; Doth not your Master pay tribute? All Capernaum knew Christ for a great Prophet; his Doctrine had ravished them, his Miracles had astonished them: yet when it comes to a money-matter, his share is as deep as the rest. Questions of profit admit no difference. Still the Sacred Tribe challengeth reverence: who cares how little they receive, how much they pay? Yet no man knows with what mind this demand was made; whether in a churlish grudging at Christ's immunity, or in an awful compellation of the servant rather than the Master.  
Peter had it ready what to answer. I hear him not require their stay till he should go in and know his Master's resolution; but, as one well acquainted with the mind and practice of his Master, he answers, Yes.  
There was no truer paymaster of the King's deuce than he that was King of Kings. Well did Peter know that he did not only 〈◊〉, but preach tribute. When the Herodians laid twigs for him, as supposing that so great a Prophet would be all for the liberty and exemption of God's chosen people, he chokes them with their own coin, and told them the stamp argued the right; Give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's.  
O Saviour, how can thy servants challenge that freedom which thyself had not? who that pretends from thee can claim homage from those to whom thou gavest it? If thou by whom King's reign forbarest not to pay tribute to an heathen Prince, what power under thee can deny it to those that rule for thee?  
That demand was made without doors. No sooner is Peter come in, than he is prevented by his Master's question, What thinkest thou, Simon, of whom do the Kings of the earth receive tribute? of their own children, or of strangers? This very interrogation was answer enough to that which Peter meant to move: he that could thus know the heart, was not in true right liable to humane exactions.  
But, O Saviour, may I presume to ask what this is to thee? Thou hast said, My Kingdom is not of this world; how doth it concern thee what is done by the Kings of the earth, or imposed upon the sons of earthly Kings? Thou wouldst be the Son of an humble Virgin; and choosest not a Royal state, but a servile. I dispute not thy natural right to the throne, by thy lineal descent from the loins of Juda and David: what should I plead that which thou wavest? It is thy Divine Royalty and Sonship which thou here justly urgest; the argument is irrefragable and convictive. If the Kings of the earth do so privilege their children that they are free from all tributes and impositions; how much more shall the King of Heaven give this immunity to his only and natural Son? so as in true reason I might challenge an exemption for me and my train. Thou mightest, O Saviour, and no less challenge a tribute of all the Kings of the earth to thee, by whom all powers are ordained: Reason cannot mutter against this claim; the creature owes itself and whatsoever it hath to the Ma●er, he owes nothing to it. Then are the children free. He that hath right to all, needs not pay any thing; else there should be a subjection in Sovereignty, and men should be debtors to themselves. But this right was thine own peculiar, and admits no partners; why dost thou speak of children, as of more, and extending this privilege to Peter, sayest, Lest we scandalise them? Was it for that thy Disciples, being of thy robe, might justly seem interessed in the liberties of their Master? Surely no otherwise were they children, no otherwise free. Away with that fanatical conceit, which challenges an immunity from secular commands and taxes, to a spiritual and adoptative Sonship: no earthly Saintship can exempt us from tribute to whom tribute belongeth. There is a freedom, O Saviour, which our Christianity calls us to affect; a freedom from the yoke of sin and Satan, from the servitude of our corrupt affections: we cannot be Sons if we be not thus free. O free thou us by thy free Spirit from the miserable bondage of our Nature, so shall the children be free: but as to these secular duties, no man is less free than the children. O Saviour, thou wert free, and wouldst not be so; thou wert free by natural right, wouldst not be free by voluntary dispensation, Lest an offence might be taken. Surely had there followed an offence, it had been taken only, and not given, Woe be to the man by whom the offence cometh: It cometh by him that gives it; it cometh by him that takes it when it is not given: no part of this blame could have cleaved unto thee either way.  
Yet such was thy goodness, that thou wouldst not suffer an offence unjustly taken at that which thou mightest justly have denied. How jealous should we be even of others perils? how careful so to moderate out power in the use of lawful things, that our Charity may prevent others scandals? to Temit of our own right for another's safety? Oh the deplorable condition of those wilful m●●, who care not what blocks they lay in the way to Heaven, not forbearing by a known lewdness to draw others into their own damnation!  
To avoid the unjust offence even of very Publicans, Jesus will work a Miracle. Peter is sent to the sea; and that not with a net, but with an hook. The Disciple was now in his own trade. He knew a net might enclose many fishes, an hook could take but one: with that hook must he go angle for the tribute-money. A fish shall bring him a stater in her mouth; and that fish that bites first. What an unusual bearer is here? what an unlikely element to yield a piece of ready coin?  
Oh that Omnipotent power which could command the fish to be both his Treasurer to keep his Silver, and his Purveyour to bring it! Now whether, O Saviour, thou causedst this fish to take up that shekel out of the bottom of the sea, or whether by thine Almighty word thou mad'st it in an instant in the mouth of that fish, it is neither possible to determine, nor necessary to inquire. I rather adore thine infinite Knowledge and Power, that couldst make use of unlikeliest means; that couldst serve thyself of the very fishes of the sea, in a business of earthly and civil employment. It was not out of need that thou didst this: (though I do not find that thou ever affectedst a full purse.) What veins of Gold or Mines of Silver did not lie open to thy command? But out of a desire to teach Peter, that whiles he would be tributary to Caesar, the very fish of the sea was tributary to him. How should this encourage our dependence upon that Omnipotent hand of thine, which hath Heaven, earth, sea at thy disposing? Still thou art the same for thy members which thou wert for thyself the Head. Rather than offence shall be given to the world by a seeming neglect of thy dear Children, thou wilt cause the very fowls of Heaven to bring them meat, and the fish of the sea to bring them money. O let us look up ever to thee by the eye of our Faith; and not be wanting in our dependence upon thee, who canst not be wanting in thy Providence over us.   

LAZARUS Dead.  
OH the Wisdom of God in penning his own Story! The Disciple whom Jesus loved comes after his fellow-Evangelists, that he might glean up those rich ears of History which the rest had passed over. That Eagle soars high, and towers up by degrees. It was much to turn water into wine; but it was more to seed five thousand with five loaves. It was much to restore the Ruler's son; it was more to cure him that had been thirty eight years a Cripple. It was much to cure him that was born blind; it was more to raise up Lazarus that had been so long dead. As a stream runs still the stronger and wider, the nearer it comes to the Ocean whence it was derived; so didst thou, O Saviour, work the more powerfully, the nearer thou drewest to thy Glory. This was, as one of thy last, so of thy greatest Miracles; when thou wert ready to die thyself, thou raisedst him to life who smelled strong of the grave. None of all the Sacred Histories is so full and punctual as this, in the report of all circumstances. Other Miracles do not more transcend Nature, than this transcends other Miracles.  
This alone was a sufficient eviction of thy Godhead, O blessed Saviour: none but an infinite power could so far go beyond Nature, as to recall a man four days dead from, not a mere privation, but a settled corruption. Earth must needs be thine, from which thou raisest his body; Heaven must needs be thine, from whence thou fetchest his Spirit. None but he that created man, could thus make him new.  
Sickness is the common preface to death; no mortal nature is exempted from this complains; even Lazarus, whom Jesus loved, is sick. What can strength of Grace or dearness of respect prevail against disease, against dissolution?  
It was a stirring message that Mary sent to Jesus, He whom thou lovest is sick: as if she would imply, that his part was noless deep in Lazarus then hers. Neither doth she say, He that loves thee is sick; but, he whom thou lovest: not pleading the merit of Lazarus his affection to Christ, but the mercy and favour of Christ to him. Even that other reflection of love had been no weak motive; for, O Lord, thou hast said, Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him. Thy goodness will not be behind us for love, who professest to love them that love thee. But yet the argument is more forcible from thy love to us; since thou hast just reason to respect every thing of thine own, more than aught that can proceed from us. Even we weak men, what can we stick at where we love? Thou, O infinite God, art Love itself. Whatever thou hast done for us is out of thy love: the ground and motive of all thy mercies is within thyself, not in us; and if there be aught in us worthy of thy love, it is thine own, not ours; thou givest what thou acceptest. Jesus well heard the first groan of his dear Lazarus; every short breath that he drew, every sigh that he gave was upon account: yet this Lord of Life lets his Lazarus sicken, and languish, and die; not out of neglect or impotence, but out of power and resolution. This sickness is not to death. He to whom the issues of death belong, knows the way both into it and out of it. He meant that sickness should be to death in respect of the present condition, not to death in respect of the event; to death in the process of Nature, not to death in the success of his Divine power, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby. O Saviour, thy usual style is, the Son of man; thou that wouldst take up our infirmities, wert willing thus to hide thy Godhead under the course weeds of our Humanity: but here thou sayest, That the Son of God might be glorified. Though thou wouldst hide thy Divine glory, yet thou wouldst not smother it. Sometimes thou wouldst have thy Sun break forth in bright gleams, to show that it hath no less light even whiles it seems kept in by the clouds. Thou wert now near thy Passion; it was most seasonable for thee at this time to set forth thy just title. Neither w●s this an act that thy Humanity could challenge to itself; but far transcending all finite powers. To die, was an act of the Son of man; to raise from death, was an act of the Son of God.  
Neither didst thou say merely, that God, but, that the Son of God might be glorified. God cannot be glorified unless the Son be so. In very natural Relations, the wrong or disrespect offered to the child reflects upon the father, as contrarily the parents upon the child; how much more where the love and respect is infinite? where the whole essence is communicated with the entireness of relation?  
O God, in vain shall we tender our Devotions to thee indefinitely, as to a glorious and incomprehensible Majesty, if we kiss not the Son, who hath most justly said, Ye believe in the Father, believe also in me.  
What an happy family was this? I find none upon earth so much honoured; Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. It is no standing upon terms of precedency: the Spirit of God is not curious in marshalling of places. Time was, when Mary was confessed to have chosen the better part; here Martha is named first, as most interessed in Christ's love: for aught appears all of them were equally dear. Christ had familiarly lodged under their roof. How fit was that to receive him, whose in-dwellers were hospital, pious, unanimous▪ Hospital, in the glad entertainment of Jesus and his train; Pious, in their Devotions; Unanimous, in their mutual Concord. As contrarily he bal●s and hates that house which is taken up with uncharitableness, profaneness, contention.  
But, O Saviour, how doth this agree? thou lovedst this Family: yet hearing of their distress, thou heldest off two days more from them? Canst thou love those thou regardest not? canst thou regard them from whom thou willingly absentest thyself in their necessity? Behold, thy love as it is above ours, so it is oft against ours. Even out of very affection art thou not seldom absent. None of thine but have sometimes cried, How long, Lord? What need we instance, when thine eternal Father did purposely estrange his face from thee, so as thou cried'st out of forsaking?  
Here thou wouldst knowingly delay, whether for the greatning of the Miracle, or for the strengthening of thy Disciples Faith.  
Hadst thou gone sooner, and prevented the death, who had known whether strength of Nature, and not thy miraculous power, had done it? Hadst thou overtaken his death by this quickening visitation, who had known whether this had been only some qualm or ecstasy, and not a perfect dissolution? Now this large gap of time makes thy work both certain and glorious.  
And what a clear proof was this beforehand to thy Disciples, that thou wert able to accomplish thine own Resurrection on the third day, who wert able to raise up Lazarus on the fourth? The more difficult the work should be, the more need it had of an omnipotent confirmation.  
He that was Lord of our times and his own, can now, when he found it seasonable, 
Vide Chap. 10. ver. 31, 39  say, Let us go into Judaea again. Why left he it before? was it not upon the heady violence of his enemies? Lo, the stones of the Jews drove him thence: the love of Lazarus and the care of his Divine glory drew him back thither.  
We may, we must be wise as serpents, for our own preservation; we must be careless of danger when God calls us to the hazard. It is far from God's purpose to give us leave so far to respect ourselves, as that we should neglect him. Let Judaea be all snares, all crosses; O Saviour, when thou callest us, we must put our lives into our hands, and follow thee thither.  
This journey thou hast purposed and contrived; but what needest thou to acquaint thy Disciples with thine intent? Where didst thou ever (besides here) make them of counsel with thy voyages? Neither didst thou say, How think you if I go? but, Let us go. Was it for that thou, who knewest thine own strength, knewest also their weakness? Thou wert resolute, they were timorous: they were sensible enough of their late peril, and fearful of more; there was need to fore-arm them with an expectation of the worst, and preparation for it. Surprisal with evils may endanger the best constancy. The heart is apt to fail, when it finds itself entrapped in a sudden mischief.  
The Disciples were dearly affected to Lazarus; they had learned to love where their Master loved: yet now when our Saviour speaks of returning to that region of peril, they pull him by the sleeve, and put him in mind of the violence offered unto him; Master, the Jews of late sought to stone thee, and goest thou thither again?  
No less than thrice in the fore going Chapter did the Jews lift up their hands to murder him by a cruel lapidation. Whence was this rage and bloody attempt of theirs? Only for that he taught them the truth concerning his Divine nature, and gave himself the just style of the Son of God. How subject carnal hearts are to be impatient of Heavenly verityes? Nothing can so much fret that malignant spirit which rules in those breasts, as that Christ should have his own. If we be persecuted for his Truth, we do but suffer with him with whom we shall once reign.  
However the Disciples pleaded for their Master's safety, yet they aimed at their own; they well knew their danger was enwrapped in his. It is but a cleanly colour that they put upon their own fear. This is held but a weak and base Passion; each one would be glad to put off the opinion of it from himself, and to set the best face upon his own impotency.  
Thus whitelivered men that shrink and shift from the Cross, will not want fair pretences to evade it. One pleads the peril of many dependants; another the disfurnishing the Church of succeeding abettors: each will have some plausible excuse for his sound skin. What error did not our Saviour rectify in his followers? Even that fear which they would have dissembled, is graciously dispelled by the just consideration of a sure and inevitable Providence. Are there not twelve hours in the day, which are duly set and proceed regularly for the direction of all the motions and actions of men? So in this course of mine which I must run on earth, there is a set and determined time wherein I must work, and do my Fathers will. The Sun that guides these hours is the determinate counsel of my Father, and his calling to the execution of my charge: whiles I follow that, I cannot miscarry, no more than a man can miss his known way at high noon: this while, in vain are either your dissuasions or the attempts of enemies; they cannot hurt, ye cannot divert me.  
The journey than holds to Judaea; his attendants shall be made acquainted with the occasion. He that had formerly denied the deadliness of Lazarus his sickness, would not suddenly confess his death; neither yet would he altogether conceal it: so will he therefore confess it, as that he will shadow it out in a borrowed expression; Lazarus our friend sleepeth. What a sweet title is here both of death, and of Lazarus? Death is a sleep; Lazarus is our friend. Lo, he says not, my friend, but ours; to draw them first into a gracious familiarity and communion of friendship with himself: for what doth this import but, Ye are my friends, and Lazarus is both my friend and yours? Our friend.  
Oh meek and merciful Saviour, that disdainest not to stoop so low, as that whiles thou thoughtest it no robbery to be equal unto God, thou thoughtest it no disparagement to match thyself with weak and wretched men! Our friend Lazarus. There is a kind of parity in Friendship. There may be Love where is the most inequality; but friendship supposes pairs: yet the Son of God says of the sons of men, Our friend Lazarus. Oh what an high and happy condition is this for mortal men to aspire unto, that the God of Heaven should not be ashamed to own them for friends! Neither saith he now abruptly, Lazarus our friend is dead; but, Lazarus our friend sleepeth.  
O Saviour, none can know the estate of life or death so well as thou that art the Lord of both. It is enough that thou tellest us death is no other than sleep: that which was wont to pass for the cousin of death, is now itself. All this while we have mistaken the case of our dissolution: we took it for an enemy, it proves a friend; there is pleasure in that wherein we supposed horror.  
Who is afraid after the weary toils of the day, to take his rest by night? or what is more refreshing to the spent traveller then a sweet sleep? It is our infidelity, our impreparation that makes death any other then advantage. Even so, Lord, when thou seest I have toiled enough, let me sleep in peace: and when thou seest I have slept enough, awake me, as thou didst thy Lazarus; But I go to awake him. Thou saidst not, Let us go to awake him: those whom thou wilt allow companions of thy way, thou wilt not allow partners of thy work; they may be witnesses, they cannot be actors. None can awake Lazarus out of this sleep but he that made Lazarus. Every mouse or gnat can raise us up from that other sleep; none but an Omnipotent power from this. This sleep is not without a dissolution. Who can command the Soul to come down and meet the body, or command the body to piece with itself and rise up to the Soul, but the God that created both? It is our comfort and assurance (O Lord) against the terrors of death and tenacity of the grave, that our Resurrection depends upon none but thine Omnipotence.  
Who can blame the Disciples if they were loath to return to Judaea? Their last entertainment was such as might justly dishearten them. Were this (as literally taken) all the reason of our Saviour's purpose of so perilous a voyage, they argued not amiss, If he sleep, he shall do well. Sleep in sickness is a good sign of Recovery. For extremity of pain bars our rest: when Nature therefore finds so much respiration, she justly hopes for better terms. Yet it doth not always follow, If he sleep, he shall do well: How many have died in Lethargies? how many have lost in sleep what they would not have forgone waking? Adam slept and lost his rib; Samson slept and lost 〈◊〉 strength; Saul slept and lost his weapon; Ishbosheth and Holofe●●● slept and lost their heads. In ordinary course it holds well; here they mistook and erred. The misconstruction of the words of Christ led them into an unseasonable and erroneous suggestion. Nothing can be more dangerous then to take the speeches of Christ according to the sound of the Letter: one error will be sure to draw on more; and if the first be never so slight the last may be important.  
Wherefore are words but to express meanings? why do we speak but to be understood? Since than our Saviour saw himself not rightly construed, he delivers himself planly, Lazarus is dead. Such is thy manner, O thou eternal Word of thy Father, in all thy sacred expressions. Thine own mouth is thy best commentary: what thou hast more obscurely said in one passage, thou interpretest more clearly in another. Thou art the Sun, which givest us that light whereby we see thyself.  
But how modestly dost thou discover thy Deity to thy Disciples? not upon the first mention of Lazarus his death, instantly professing thy Power and will of his resuscitation; but contenting thyself only to intimate thy Omniscience, in that thou couldst in that absence and distance know and report his departure, they shall gather the rest, and cannot choose but think, We serve a Master that knows all things, and he that knows all things can do all things.  
The absence of our Saviour from the deathbed of Lazarus was not casual, but voluntary; yea, he is not only willing with it, but glad of it; I am glad for your sakes that I was not there. How contrary may the affections of Christ and ours be, and yet be both good? The two worthy Sisters were much grieved at our Saviour's absence, as doubting it might savour of some neglect; Christ was glad of it, for the advantage of his Disciples Faith. I cannot blame them that they were thus sorry; I cannot but bless him that he was thus glad. The gain of their Faith in so Divine a Miracle was more than could be countervailed by their momentany sorrow. God and we are not alike affected with the same events; He laughs where we mourn, he is angry where we are pleased.  
The difference of the affections arises from the difference of the Objects, which Christ and they apprehend in the same occurrence. Why are the Sister's sorrowful? because upon Christ absence Lazarus died. Why was Jesus glad he was not there? for the benefit which he saw would accrue to their Faith. There is much variety of prospect in every act, according to the several intentions and issues thereof, yea even in the very same eyes. The father sees his son combating in a Duel for his Country; he sees blows and wounds on the one side, he sees renown and victory on the other: he grieves at the wounds, he rejoices in the Honour. Thus doth God in all our Afflictions: he sees our tears, and hears our groans, and pities us; but withal he looks upon our Patience, our Faith, our Crown, and is glad that we are afflicted.  
O God, why should not we conform our diet unto thine? When we lie in pain and extremity, we cannot but droop under it; but do we find ourselves increased in true Mortification, in Patience, in Hope, in a constant reliance on thy Mercies? Why are we not more joyed in this then dejected with the other? since the least grain of the increase of Grace is more worth than can be equalled with whole pounds of bodily vexation.  
O strange consequence! Lazarus is dead; nevertheless, Let us go unto him. Must they not needs think, What should we do with a dead man? What should separate, if death cannot? Even those whom we loved dearliest, we avoid once dead; now we lay them aside under the board, and thence send them out of our houses to their grave. Neither hath Death more horror in it then noisomeness; and if we could entreat our eyes to endure the horrid aspect of Death in the face we loved, yet can we persuade our scent to like that smell 〈◊〉 arises up from their corruption? Oh love stronger than Death! Behold here a friend whom the very Grave cannot sever.  
Even those that write the longest and most passionate dates of their amity, subscribe but, your friend till death; and if the ordinary strain of humane friendship will stretch yet a little further, it is but to the brim of the grave: thither a friend may follow us, and see us bestowed in this house of our Age; but there he leaves us to our worms and dust. But for thee, O Saviour, the grave-stone, the earth, the coffin are no bounders of thy dear respects; even after death, and burial, and corruption thou art graciously affected to those thou lovest. Besides the Soul (whereof thou sayest not, Let us go to it, but, Let it come to us) there is still a gracious regard to that dust which was and shall be a part of an undoubted member of that mystical body whereof thou art the Head. Heaven and earth yields no such friend but thyself. O make me ever ambitious of this Love of thine; and ever unquiet till I feel myself possessed of thee.  
In the mouth of a mere man this word had been incongruous, Lazarus is dead, yet let us go to him; in thine, O almighty Saviour, it was not more loving then seasonable; since I may justly say of thee, thou hast more to do with the dead then with the living: for, both they are infinitely more, and have more inward communion with thee, and thou with them. Death cannot hinder either our passage to thee, or thy return to us. I joy to think the time is coming, when thou shalt come to every of our graves, and call us up out of our dust, and we shall hear thy voice, and live.   

LAZARUS Raised.  
GReat was the opinion that these devout Sisters had of the Power of Christ: as if Death durst not show her face to him, they suppose his presence had prevented their Brother's dissolution. And now the news of his approach begins to quicken some late hopes in them. Martha was ever the more active: She that was before so busily stirring in her house to entertain Jesus, was now as nimble to go forth of her house to meet him; She in whose face joy had wont to smile upon so Blessed a Guest, now salutes him with the sighs and tears and blubbers and wrings of a disconsolate mourner. I know not whether the speeches of her greeting had in them more sorrow or Religion. She had been well catechised before; even she also had sat at Jesus his feet; and can now give good account of her Faith in the Power and Godhead of Christ, in the certainty of a future Resurrection. This Conference hath yet taught her more, and raised her heart to an expectation of some wonderful effect. And now she stands not still, but hastes back into the Village to her Sister; carried thither by the two wings of her own hopes and her Saviour's commands. The time was, when she would have called off her Sister from the feet of that Divine Master, to attend the household occasions; now she runs to fetch her out of the house to the feet of Christ.  
Doubtless Martha was much affected with the presence of Christ; and as she was overjoyed with it herself, so she knew how equally welcome it would be to her Sister: yet she doth not ring it out aloud in the open Hall, but secretly whispers this pleasing tidings in her Sister's ear, The Master is come and calleth for thee. Whether out of modesty, or discretion. It is not fit for a woman to be loud and clamorous: nothing beseems that Sex better than silence and bashfulness; as not to be too much seen, so not to be heard too far. Neither did Modesty more charm her tongue then Discretion; whether in respect to the guests, or to Christ himself. Had those guests heard of Christ's being there, they had either out of fear or prejudice withdrawn themselves from him; neither durst they have been witnesses of that wonderful Miracle, as being overawed with that Jewish edict which was out against him: or perhaps they had withheld the Sisters from going to him, against whom they knew how highly their Governors were incensed. Neither was she ignorant of the danger of his own person, so lately before assaulted violently by his enemies at Jerusalem: She knew they were within the smoke of that bloody City, the nest of his enemies; she holds it not therefore fit to make open proclamation of Christ's presence, but rounds her Sister secretly in the ear. Christianity doth not bid us abate any thing of our wariness and honest policies; yea it requires us to have no less of the Serpent then of the Dove.  
There is a time when we must preach Christ on the housetop; there is a time when we must speak him in the ear, and (as it were) with our lips shut. Secrecy hath no less use than Divulgation. She said enough, The Master is come, and calleth for thee. What an happy word was this which was here spoken? what an high favour is this that is done; that the Lord of Life should personally come and call for Mary? yet such as is not appropriated to her. Thou comest to us still, O Saviour, if not in thy bodily presence, yet in thy spiritual; thou callest us still, if not in thy personal voice, yet in thine Ordinances. It is our fault, if we do not as this good woman, arise quickly, and come to thee. Her friends were there about her, who came purposely to condole with her; her heart was full of heaviness: yet so soon as she hears mention of Christ, she forgets friends, Brother, grief, cares, thoughts, and hasts to his presence.  
Still was Jesus standing in the place where Martha left him. Whether it be noted to express Mary's speed, or his own wise and gracious resolutions; his presence in the Village had perhaps invited danger, and set off the intended witnesses of the work: or it may be to set forth his zealous desire to dispatch the errand he came for; that as Abraham's faithful servant would not receive any courtesy from the house of Bethuel, till he had done his Master's business concerning Rebeccah, so thou, O Saviour, wouldst not so much as enter into the house of these two Sisters in Bethany, till thou hadst effected this glorious work which occasioned thee thither. It was thy meat and drink to do the will of thy Father; thy best Entertainment was within thyself. How do we follow thee, if we suffer either pleasures or profits to take the wall of thy services?  
So good women were well worthy of kind friends. No doubt Bethany, being not two miles distant from Jerusalem, could not but be furnished with good acquaintance from the City: these knowing the dearness, and hearing of the death of Lazarus, came over to comfort the sad Sisters. Charity together with the common practice of that Nation calls them to this duty. All our distresses expect these good offices from those that love us; but of all others Death, as that which is the extremest of evils, and makes the most fearful havoc in families, cities, kingdoms, worlds. The complaint was grievous, I looked for some to comfort me, but there was none. It is some kind of ease to sorrow, to have partners; as a burden is lightened by many shoulders; or as clouds scattered into many drops, easily vent their moisture into air. Yea the very presence of friends abates grief. The peril that arises to the heart from Passion is the fixedness of it, when, like a corrosiving plaster, it eats in into the sore. Some kind of remedy it is, that it may breathe out in good society.  
These friendly neighbours seeing Mary hasten forth, make haste to follow her. Martha went forth before; I saw none go after her: Mary stirs; they are at her heels. Was it for that Martha being the elder Sister, and the huswife of the family, might stir about with less observation? or was it that Mary was the more passionate, and needed the more heedy attendance? However their care and intentiveness is truly commendable; they came to comfort her, they do what they came for. It contents them not to sit still and chat within doors, but they wait on her at all turns. Perturbations of Mind are diseases: good keepers do not only tend the Patient in bed, but when he sits up, when he tries to walk; all his motions have their careful assistance. We are no true friends, if our endeavours of the redress of distempers in them we love be not assiduous and unweariable.  
It was but a loving suspicion, She is gone to the grave to weep there. They well knew how apt passionate minds are to take all occasions to renew their sorrow; every Object affects them. When she saw but the Chamber of her dead Brother, strait she thinks, there Lazarus was wont to lie, and then she wept afresh; when the Table, There Lazarus was wont to sit, and then new tears arise; when the Garden, There Lazarus had wont to walk, and now again she weeps. How much more do these friends suppose the Passions would be stirred with the sight of the Grave, when she must needs think, There is Lazarus? O Saviour, if the place of the very dead corpse of our friend have power to draw our hearts thither, and to affect us more deeply; how should our hearts be drawn to and affected with Heaven, where thou sittest at the right hand of thy Father? There (O thou which wert dead and art alive) is thy body and thy Soul present, and united to thy glorious Deity. Thither, O thither let our access be; not to mourn there, (where is no place for sorrow) but to rejoice with joy unspeakable and glorious, and more and more to long for that thy beatifical presence.  
Their indulgent love mistook Mary's errand; their thoughts (how kind soever) were much too low: whiles they supposed she went to a dead Brother, she went to a living Saviour. The world hath other conceits of the actions and carriage of the regenerate then are truly intended, setting such constructions upon them as their own carnal reason suggests: they think them dying, when behold they live; sorrowful, when they are always rejoicing; poor, whiles they make many rich. How justly do we appeal from them as incompetent Judges, and pity those misinterpretations which we cannot avoid?  
Both the Sisters met Christ; not both in one posture: Mary is still noted as for more Passion, so for more Devotion; she that before sat at the feet of Jesus, now falls at his feet. That presence had wont to be familiar to her, and not without some outward homeliness; now it fetches her upon her knees, in an awful veneration: whether out of a reverend acknowledgement of the secret excellency and power of Christ; or out of a dumb intimation of that suit concerning her dead Brother, which she was afraid to utter. The very gesture itself was supplicatory. What position of body can be so fit for us, when we make our address to our Saviour? It is an irreligious unmannerliness for us to go less. Where the heart is affected with an awful acknowledgement of Majesty, the body cannot but bow.  
Even before all her neighbours of Jerusalem doth Mary thus fall down at the feet of Jesus; so many witnesses as she had, so many spies she had of that forbidden observance. It was no less than Excommunication for any body to confess him: yet good Mary, not fearing the informations that might be given by those Jewish Gossips, adores him; and in her silent gesture says, as much as her Sister had spoken before, Thou art the Christ, the Son of God. Those that would give Christ his right, must not stand upon scrupulous fears. Are we naturally timorous? Why do we not fear the denial, the exclusion of the Almighty? Without shall be the fearful.  
Her humble prostration is seconded by a lamentable complaint; Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. The Sisters are both in one mind, both in one speech; and both of them in one speech bewray both strength and infirmity: strength of Faith, in ascribing so much power to Christ, that his presence could preserve from death; infirmity, in supposing the necessity of a presence for this purpose. Why, Mary, could not thine Omnipotent Saviour as well in absence have commanded Lazarus to live? Is his hand so short, that he can do nothing but by contaction? If his Power were finite, how could he have forbidden the seizure of death? if infinite, how could it be limited to place, or hindered by distance? It is a weakness of Faith to measure success by means, and means by presence, and to tie effects to both, when we deal with an Almighty agent. Finite causes work within their own sphere; all places are equally near, and all effects equally easy to the infinite. O Saviour, whiles thou now sittest gloriously in Heaven, thou dost no less impart thyself unto us then if thou stoodst visibly by us, then if we stood locally by thee: no place can make difference of thy virtue and aid.  
This was Mary's moan; no motion, no request sounded from her to her Saviour. Her silent suit is returned with a mute answer; no notice is taken of her error. Oh that marvellous mercy that connives at our faulty infirmities! All the reply that I hear of is, a compassionate groan within himself. O blessed Jesus, thou that wert free from all sin, wouldst not be free from strong affections. Wisdom and Holiness should want much work, if even vehement passions might not be quitted from offence. Marry wept; her tears drew on tears from her friends; all their tears united drew groans from thee. Even in thine Heaven thou dost no less pity our sorrows: thy glory is free from groans, but abounds with compassion and mercy: if we be not sparing of our tears, thou canst not be insensible of our sorrows. How shall we imitate thee, if, like our looking-glass, we do not answer tears, and weep on them that weep upon us?  
Lord, thou knewest (in absence) that Lazarus was dead, and dost thou not know where he was buried? Surely thou wert further off when thou sawst and reportedst his death, than thou wert from the grave thou inquiredst of; thou that knewest all things, yet askest what thou knowest, Where have ye laid him? Not out of need, but out of will: that as in thy sorrow, so in thy question thou mightest depress thyself in the opinion of the beholders for the time, that the glory of thine instant Miracle might be the greater, the less it was expected. It had been all one to thy Omnipotence to have made a new Lazarus out of nothing; or in that remoteness to have commanded Lazarus, wheresoever he was, to come forth: but thou wert neither willing to work more miracle than was requisite, nor yet unwilling to fix the minds of the people upon the expectation of some marvellous thing that thou meantest to work; and therefore askest, Where have you laid him?  
They are not more glad of the question, then ready for the answer; Come and see. It was the manner of the Jews, as likewise of those Egyptians among whom they had sojourned, to lay up the dead bodies of their friends with great respect; more cost was wont to be bestowed on some of their graves then on their houses: as neither ashamed then, nor unwilling to show the decency of their sepulture, they say, Come and see. More was hoped for from Christ then a mere view; they meant and expected that his eye should draw him on to some further action. O Saviour, whiles we desire our spiritual resuscitation, how should we labour to bring thee to our grave? how should we lay open our deadness before thee, and bewray to thee our impotence and senselesness? Come, Lord, and see what a miserable carcase I am; and by the power of thy mercy raise me from the state of my corruption.  
Never was our Saviour more submisly dejected then now immediately before he would approve and exalt the Majesty of his Godhead. To his groans and inward grief he adds his tears. Anon they shall confess him a God; these expressions of Passions shall onwards evince him to be a man. The Jews construe this well, See how he loved him. Never did any thing but love fetch tears from Christ. But they do foully misconstrue Christ in the other; Could not he that opened the eyes of him that was born blind, have caused that even this man should not have died? Yes, know ye, O vain and importune questionists, that he could have done it with ease. To open the eyes of a man born blind was more than to keep a sick man from dying: this were but to uphold and maintain Nature from decaying; that were to create a new sense, and to restore a deficiency in Nature. To make an eye was no whit less difficult than to make a man: he that could do the greater might well have done the less. Ye shall soon see this was not for want of power. Had ye said, Why would he not? why did he not? the question had been fairer, and the answer no less easy; For his own greater glory. Little do ye know the drift whether of God's acts, or delays; and ye know as much as you are worthy. Let it be sufficient for you to understand that he who can do all things, will do that which shall be most for his own honour.  
It is not improbable that Jesus, who before groaned in himself for compassion of their tears, now groaned for their incredulity. Nothing could so much afflict the Saviour of men as the sins of men. Could their external wrongs to his body have been separated from offence against his Divine person, their scornful indignities had not so much affected him. No injury goes so deep as our spiritual provocations of our God. Wretched men! why should we grieve the good Spirit of God in us? why should we make him groan for us that died to redeem us?  
With these groans, O Saviour, thou camest to the grave of Lazarus. The door of that house of Death was strong and impenetrable. Thy first word was, Take away the stone. Oh weak beginning of a mighty Miracle! If thou meantest to raise the dead, how much more easy had it been for thee to remove the grave-stone? One grain of Faith in thy very Disciples was enough to remove mountains; and dost thou say, Take away the stone? I wis, there was a greater weight that lay upon the body of Lazarus then the stone of his Tomb; the weight of Death and Corruption: a thousand rocks and hills were not so heavy a load as this alone: why then dost thou stick at this shovelfull? Yea, how easy had it been for thee to have brought up the body of Lazarus through the stone, by causing that marble to give way by a sudden rarefaction? But thou thoughtest best to make use of their hands rather: whether for their own more full conviction; for had the stone been taken away by thy Followers, and Lazarus thereupon walked forth, this might have appeared to thy malignant enemies to have been a set match betwixt thee, the Disciples and Lazarus: or whether for the exercise of our Faith, that thou mightest teach us to trust thee under contrary appearances. Thy command to remove the stone seemed to argue an impotence; strait that seeming weakness breaks forth into an act of Omnipotent power. The homeliest shows of thine humane infirmity are ever seconded with some mighty proofs of thy Godhead; and thy Miracle is so much more wondered at, by how much it was less expected.  
It was ever thy just will that we should do what we may. To remove the stone or to untie the napkin was in their power; this they must do: to raise the dead was out of their power; this therefore thou wilt do alone. Our hands must do their utmost, ere thou wilt put to thine.  
O Saviour, we are all dead and buried in the grave of our sinful Nature. The stone of obstination must be taken away from our hearts, ere we can hear thy reviving voice: we can no more remove this stone then dead Lazarus could remove his; we can add more weight to our graves. O let thy faithful agents by the power of thy Law, and the grace of thy Gospel take off the stone, that thy voice may enter into the grave of miserable corruption.  
Was it a modest kind of mannerliness in Martha, that she would not have Christ annoyed with the ill sent of that stale carcase? or was it out of distrust of reparation, since her brother had passed all the degrees of corruption, that she says, Lord, by this time he stinketh, for he hath been dead four days? He that understood hearts, found somewhat amiss in that intimation; his answer had not endeavoured to rectify that which was utterly faultless. I fear the good woman meant to object this as a likely obstacle to any further purposes or proceedings of Christ. Weak faith is still apt to lay blocks of difficulties in the way of the great works of God.  
Four days were enough to make any corpse noisome. Death itself is not unsavoury; immediately upon dissolution the body retains the wont sweetness: it is the continuance under death that is thus offensive. Neither is it otherwise in our Spiritual condition: the longer we lie under our sin, the more rotten and corrupt we are. He who upon the fresh commission of his sin recovers himself by a speedy repentance, yields no ill sent to the nostrils of the Almighty. The Candle that is presently blown in again offends not; it is the snuff which continues choked with its own moisture that sends up unwholesome and odious fumes. O Saviour, thou wouldst yield to death, thou wouldst not yield to corruption: Ere the fourth day thou wert risen again. I cannot but receive many deadly foils; but oh, do thou raise me up again ere I shall pass the degrees of rottenness in my sins and trespasses.  
They that laid their hands to the stone doubtless held now still awhile, and looked one while on Christ, another while upon Martha, to hear what issue of resolution would follow upon so important an objection: when they find a light touch of taxation to Martha, Said not I to thee, that if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see the glory of God? That holy woman had before professed her belief, as Christ had professed his great intentions; both were now forgotten: and now our Saviour is fain to revive both her memory and Faith; Said not I to thee? The best of all Saints are subject to fits of unbelief and oblivion; the only remedy whereof must be the inculcation of God's merciful promises of their relief and supportation. O God, if thou hast said it, I dare believe; I dare cast my Soul upon the belief of every word of thine. Faithful art thou which hast promised, who wilt also do it.  
In spite of all the unjust discouragements of Nature we must obey Christ's command. Whatever Martha suggests, they remove the stone, and may now see and smell him dead, whom they shall soon see revived. The sent of the corpse is not so unpleasing to them, as the perfume of their obedience is sweet to Christ. And now when all impediments are removed, and all hearts ready for the work, our Saviour addresses to the Miracle.  
His eyes begin; they are lift up to Heaven. It was the malicious mis-suggestion of his enemies, that he looked down to Beelzebub: the beholders shall now see whence he exspects and derives his power; and shall by him learn whence to expect and hope for all success. The heart and the eye must go together: he that would have aught to do with God, must be sequestered and lifted up from earth.  
His Tongue seconds his Eye; Father. Nothing more stuck in the stomach of the Jews, then that Christ called himself the Son of God; this was imputed to him for a Blasphemy, worthy of stones. How seasonably is this word spoken in the hearing of these Jews, in whose sight he will be presently approved so? How can ye now, O ye cavillers, except at that title which ye shall see irrefragably justified? Well may he call God Father, that can raise the dead out of the grave. In vain shall ye snarl at the style, when ye are convinced of the effect.  
I hear of no Prayer, but a Thanks for hearing. Whiles thou saidst nothing, O Saviour, how doth thy Father hear thee? Was it not with thy Father and thee, as it was with thee and Moses? Thou saidst, Let me alone Moses, when he spoke not. Thy will was thy Prayer. Words express our hearts to men, Thoughts to God. Well didst thou know, out of the self-fameness of thy will with thy Fathers, that if thou didst but think in thine heart that Lazarus should rise, he was now raised. It was not for thee to pray vocally and audibly, lest those captious hearers should say, thou didst all by entreaty, nothing by power. Thy thanks overtake thy desires; ours require time and distance: our thanks arise from the Echo of our prayers resounding from Heaven to our hearts; Thou, because thou art at once in earth and Heaven, and know'st the grant to be of equal paces with the request, most justly thankest in praying.  
Now ye cavilling Jews are thinking strait, Is there such distance betwixt the Father and the Son? is it so rare a thing for the Son to be heard, that he pours out his thanks for it as a blessing unusual? Do ye not now see that he who made your heart, knows it, and anticipates your fond thoughts with the same breath? I knew that thou hearest me always; but I said this for their sakes, that they might believe.  
Merciful Saviour, how can we enough admire thy goodness, who makest our belief the scope and drift of thy doctrine and actions! Alas, what wert thou the better if they believed thee sent from God? what wert thou the worse if they believed it not? Thy perfection and glory stands not upon the slippery terms of our approbation or dislike; but is real in thyself, and that infinite, without possibility of our increase or diminution. We, we only are they that have either the gain or loss in thy receipt or rejection: yet so dost thou affect our belief, as if it were more thine advantage then ours.  
O Saviour, whiles thou spak'st to thy Father, thou liftedst up thine eyes; now thou art to speak unto dead Lazarus, thou liftedst up thy voice, and criedst aloud, Lazarus, come forth. Was it that the strength of the voice might answer to the strength of the affection? since we faintly require what we care not to obtain, and vehemently utter what we earnestly desire. Was it that the greatness of the voice might answer to the greatness of the work? Was it that the hearers might be witnesses of what words were used in so miraculous an act; no magical incantations, but authoritative and Divine commands? Was it to signify that Lazarus his Soul was called from far? the speech must be loud that shall be heard in another world. Was it in relation to the estate of the body of Lazarus, whom thou hadst reported to sleep; since those that are in a deep and dead sleep cannot be awaked without a loud call? Or was it in a representation of that loud voice of the last Trumpet, which shall sound into all graves, and raise all flesh from their dust?  
Even so still, Lord, when thou wouldst raise a Soul from the death of sin and grave of corruption, no easy voice will serve. Thy strongest commands, thy loudest denunciations of Judgements, the shrillest and sweetest promulgations of thy Mercies, are but enough.  
How familiar a word is this, Lazarus, come forth? no other than he was wont to use whiles they lived together. Neither doth he say, Lazarus, revive; but, as if he supposed him already living, Lazarus, come forth: To let them know, that those who are dead to us, are to and with him alive; yea in a more entire and feeling society, then whiles they carried their clay about them. Why do I fear that separation which shall more unite me to my Saviour?  
Neither was the word more familiar than commanding, Lazarus, come forth, Here is no suit to his Father, no adjuration to the deceased, but a flat and absolute injunction, Come forth. O Saviour, that is the voice that I shall once hear sounding into the bottom of my grave, and raising me up out of my dust; that is the voice that shall pierce the rocks, and divide the mountains, and fetch up the dead out of the lowest deeps. Thy word made all; thy word shall repair all. Hence, all ye diffident fears; he whom I trust is Omnipotent.  
It was the Jewish fashion to enwrap the corpse in linen, to tie the hands and feet, and to cover the face of the dead. The Fall of man (besides weakness) brought shame upon him; ever since, even whiles he lives, the whole Body is covered; but the Face, because some sparks of that extinct Majesty remain there, is wont to be left open. In death (all those poor remainders being gone, and leaving deformity and gastliness in the room of them) the Face is covered also.  
There lies Lazarus bound in double fetters: One Almighty word hath loosed both; and now he that was bound came forth. He whose power could not be hindered by the chains of death, cannot be hindered by linen bonds: He that gave life, gave motion, gave direction: He that guided the Soul of Lazarus into the body, guided the body of Lazarus without his eyes, moved the feet without the full liberty of his regular paces: no doubt the same power slackened those swathing-bands of death, that the feet might have some little scope to move, though not with that freedom that followed after. Thou didst not only, O Saviour, raise the body of Lazarus, but the Faith of the beholders. They cannot deny him dead, whom they saw rising; they see the signs of death, with the proofs of life. Those very swaths convinced him to be the man that was raised. Thy less Miracle confirms the greater; both confirm the Faith of the beholders. O clear and irrefragable example of our resuscitation! Say now, ye shameless Sadducees, with what face can ye deny the Resurrection of the body, when ye see Lazarus after four-days death rising up out of his grave? And if Lazarus did thus start up at the bleating of this Lamb of God, that was now every day preparing for the slaughter-house; how shall the dead be roused up out of their graves by the roaring of that glorious and immortal Lion, whose voice shall shake the powers of Heaven, and move the very foundations of the earth?  
With what strange amazedness do we think that Martha and Mary, the Jews and the Disciples looked to see Lazarus come forth in his winding-sheet, shackled with his linen fetters, and walk towards them? Doubtless fear and horror strove in them, whether should be for the time more predominant. We love our friends dearly; but to see them again after their known death, and that in the very robes of the grave, must needs set up the hair in a kind of uncouth rigour. And now, though it had been most easy for him that broke the adamantine fetters of death, to have broke in pieces those linen ligaments wherewith his raised Lazarus was encumbered; yet he will not do it but by their hands. He that said, Remove the stone, said, Loose Lazarus. He will not have us expect his immediate help in that we can do for ourselves. It is both a laziness, and a presumptuous tempting of God, to look for and extraordinary and supernatural help from God, where he hath enabled us with common aid.  
What strange salutations do we think there were betwixt Lazarus and Christ that had raised him; betwixt Lazarus and his Sisters and neighbours and friends? what amazed looks? what unusual compliments? For Lazarus was himself at once: here was no leisure of degrees to reduce him to his wont perfection; neither did he stay to rub his eyes, and stretch his benumbed limbs, nor take time to put off that dead sleep wherewith he had been seized; but instantly he is both alive, and fresh, and vigorous: if they do but let him go, he walks so as if he had ailed nothing, and receives and gives mutual gratulations. I leave them entertaining each other with glad embraces, with discourses of reciprocal admiration, with praises and adorations of that God and Saviour that had fetched him into life.   

Christ's Procession to the Temple.  
NEver did our Saviour take so much state upon him as now that he was going towards his Passion: other journeys he measured on foot, without noise or train; this with a Princely equipage and loud acclamation. Wherein yet, O Saviour, whether shall I more wonder at thy Majesty, or thine Humility; that Divine Majesty which lay hid under so humble appearance, or that sincere Humility which veiled so great a glory? Thou, O Lord, whose chariots are twenty thousand, even thousands of Angels, wouldst make choice of the silliest of beasts to carry thee in thy last and Royal Progress. How well is thy birth suited with thy triumph? Even that very Ass whereon thou rodest was prophesied of; neither couldst thou have made up those vaticall Predictions without this conveyance. O glorious, and yet homely pomp!  
Thou wouldst not lose aught of thy right; thou that wast a King, wouldst be proclaimed so: but that it might appear thy Kingdom was not of this world, thou that couldst have commanded all worldly magnificence, thoughtest fit to abandon it.  
In stead of the Kings of the earth, who reigning by thee might have been employed in thine attendance, the people are thine heralds; their homely garments are thy foot-cloth and carpets; their green boughs the strew of thy way; those Palms which were wont to be born in the hands of them that triumph, are strewed under the feet of thy beast. It was thy greatness and honour to contemn those glories which worldly hearts were wont to admire.  
Justly did thy Followers hold the best ornaments of the earth worthy of no better than thy treading upon; neither could they ever account their garments so rich, as when they had been trampled upon by thy carriage. How happily did they think their backs disrobed for thy way? How gladly did they spend their breath in acclaming thee? Hosanna to the Son of David: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord. Where now are the great Masters of the Synagogue, that had enacted the ejection of whosoever should confess Jesus to be the Christ? Lo here bold and undaunted clients of the Messiah, that dare proclaim him in the public road, in the open streets. In vain shall the impotent enemies of Christ hope to suppress his glory: as soon shall they with their hand hide the face of the Sun from shining to the world, as withhold the beams of his Divine truth from the eyes of men by their envious opposition. In spite of all Jewish malignity, his Kingdom is confessed, applauded, blessed.  
O thou fairer than the children of men, in thy Majesty ride on prosperously, because of truth and meekness and righteousness: and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things.  
In this Princely (and yet poor and despicable) pomp doth our Saviour enter into the famous City of Jerusalem; Jerusalem noted of old for the seat of Kings, Priests, Prophets: of Kings, for there was the throne of David; of Priests, for there was the Temple; of Prophets, for there they delivered their errands, and left their blood. Neither know I whether it were more wonder for a Prophet to perish out of Jerusalem, or to be safe there. Thither would Jesus come as a King, as a Priest, as a Prophet: acclamed as a King; teaching the people, and foretelling the woeful vastation of it, as a Prophet; and as a Priest taking possession of his Temple, and vindicating it from the foul profanations of Jewish Sacrilege. Oft before had he come to Jerusalem without any remarkable change, because without any semblance of State; now that he gives some little glimpse of his Royalty, the whole City was moved. When the Sages of the East brought the first news of the King of the Jews, Herod was troubled and all Jerusalem with him; and now that the King of the Jews comes himself (though in so mean a port) there is a new commotion. The silence and obscurity of Christ never troubles the world; he may be an underling without any stir: but if he do but put forth himself never so little to bear the least sway amongst men, now their blood is up; the whole City is moved. Neither is it otherwise in the private oeconomy of the Soul. O Saviour, whiles thou dost, as it were, hide thyself, and lie still in the heart, and takest all terms contentedly from us, we entertain thee with no other than a friendly welcome; but when thou once beginnest to ruffle with our Corruptions, and to exercise thy Spiritual power in the subjugation of our vile Affections, now all is in a secret uproar, all the angles of the heart are moved.  
Although, doubtless, this commotion was not so much of tumult, as of wonder. As when some uncouth sight presents itself in a populous street, men run, and gaze, and throng, and inquire; the feet, the tongue, the eyes walk; one spectator draws on another, one asks and presses another; the noise increases with the concourse, each helps to stir up others expectation: such was this of Jerusalem.  
What means this strangeness? Was not Jerusalem the Spouse of Christ? Had he not chosen her out of all the earth? Had he not begotten many children of her, as the pledges of their love? How justly mayest thou now, O Saviour, complain with that mirror of Patience, My breath was grown strange to my own wife, though I entreated her for the children's sake of my own body? Even of thee is that fulfilled, which thy chosen Vessel said of thy Ministers, Thou art made a gazingstock to the world, to Angels, and to men.  
As all the world was bound to thee for thy Incarnation and residence upon the face of the earth, so especially Judaea, to whose limits thou confinedst thyself; and therein, above all the rest, three Cities, Nazaret, Capernaum, Jerusalem, on whom thou bestowedst the most time, and cost of preaching, and miraculous works. Yet in all three thou receivedst not strange Entertainment only, but hostile. In Nazaret they would have cast thee down headlong from the mount: In Capernaum they would have bound thee: In Jerusalem they crucified thee at last, and now are amazed at thy presence. Those places and persons that have the greatest helps and privileges afforded to them, are not always the most answerable in the return of their thankfulness. Christ's being amongst us doth not make us happy, but his welcome. Every day may we hear him in our streets, and yet be as new to seek as these Citizens of Jerusalem; Who is this?  
Was it a question of applause, or of contempt, or of ignorance? Applause of his abettors, contempt of the Scribes and Pharisees, ignorance of the multitude? Surely his abettors had not been moved at this sight; the Scribes and Pharisees had rather envied then contemned: The multitude doubtless inquired seriously, out of a desire of information. Not that the citizens of Jerusalem knew not Christ, who was so ordinary a guest, so noted a Prophet amongst them. Questionless this question was asked of that part of the train which went before this Triumph, whiles our Saviour was not yet in sight, which ere long his presence had resolved. It had been their duty to have known to have attended Christ, yea to have published him to others: since this is not done, it is well yet that they spend their breath in an inquiry. No doubt there were many that would not so much as leave their shopboard, and step to their doors or their windows, to say, Who is this? as not thinking it could concern them who passed by, whiles they might sit still. Those Greeks were in some way to good, that could say to Philip, We would see Jesus. O Saviour, thou hast been so long amongst us, that it is our just shame if we know thee not. If we have been slack hitherto, let our zealous inquiry make amends for our neglect. Let outward pomp and worldly glory draw the hearts and tongues of carnal men after them; Oh let it be my care and happiness to ask after nothing but thee.  
The attending Disciples could not be to seek for an answer; which of the Prophets have not put it into their mouths? Who is this? Ask Moses, and he shall tell you, The seed of the Woman that shall break the Serpent's head. Ask our Father Jacob, and he shall tell you, The Shiloh of the tribe of Judah. Ask David, and he shall tell you, The King of glory. Ask Esay, he shall tell you, Immanuel, Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of peace. Ask Jeremy, and he shall tell you, The righteous Branch. Ask Daniel, he shall tell you, The Messiah. Ask John the Baptist, he shall tell you, The Lamb of God. If ye ask the God of the Prophets, he hath told you, This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. Yea, if all these be too good for you to consult with, the Devils themselves have been forced to say, I know who thou art, even that Holy One of God. On no side hath Christ left himself without a testimony; and accordingly the Multitude here have their answer ready, This is Jesus, the Prophet of Nazaret in Galilee.  
Ye undervalue your Master, O ye well-meaning Followers of Christ: A Prophet? yea, more than a Prophet? John Baptist was so, yet was but the harbinger of this Messiah. This was that God by whom the Prophets were both sent and inspired. Of Nazaret, say you? ye mistake him: Bethleem was the place of his Birth, the proof of his Tribe, the evidence of his Messiahship. If Nazareth were honoured by his preaching, there was no reason he should be dishonoured by Nazareth. No doubt, he whom you confessed, pardoned the error of your confession. Ye spoke but according to the common style: the two Disciples in their walk to Emmaus, after the Death and Resurrection of Christ, give him no other title. This belief passed current with the people; and thus high even the vulgar thoughts could then rise: and, no doubt, even thus much was for that time very acceptable to the Father of Mercies. If we make profession of the Truth according to our knowledge, though there be much imperfection in our apprehension and delivery, the mercy of our good God takes it well; not judging us for what we have not, but accepting us in what we have. Shouldst thou, O God, stand strictly upon the punctual degrees of knowledge, how wide would it go with millions of Souls? for besides much error in many, there is more ignorance. But herein do we justly magnify and adore thy Goodness, that where thou findest diligent endeavour of better information matched with an honest simplicity of heart, thou passest by our unwilling defects, and crownest our well-meant confessions.  
But oh the wonderful hand of God in the carriage of this whole business! The people proclaimed Christ first a King; and now they proclaim him a Prophet. Why did not the Roman bands run into arms upon the one? why did not the Scribes and Pharisees and the envious Priesthood mutiny upon the other? They had made Decrees against him, they had laid wait for him; yet now he passes in state through their streets, acclamed both a King and Prophet, without their reluctation. What can we impute this unto, but to the powerful and overruling arm of his Godhead? He that restrained the rage of Herod and his Courtiers upon the first news of a King born, now restrains all the opposite powers of Jerusalem from lifting up a finger against this last and public avouchment of the Regal and Prophetical Office of Christ. When flesh and blood have done their worst, they can be but such as he will make them: If the Legions of Hell combine with the Potentates of the earth, they cannot go beyond the reach of their tether: Whether they rise or sit still, they shall by an insensible ordination perform that will of the Almighty which they least think of, and most oppose.  
With this humble pomp and just acclamation, O Saviour, dost thou pass through the streets of Jerusalem to the Temple. Thy first walk was not to Herod's Palace, or to the Market-places or Burses of that populous City, but to the Temple; whether it were out of duty, or out of need: As a good Son when he comes from far, his first alighting is at his Father's house; neither would he think it other then preposterous, to visit strangers before his friends, or friends before his Father. Besides that the Temple had more use of thy presence: Both there was the most disorder, and from thence, as from a corrupt spring, it issued forth into all the channels of Jerusalem. A wise Physician inquires first into the state of the head, heart, liver, stomach, the vital and chief parts, ere he asks after the petty symptoms of the meaner and less-concerning members. Surely all good or evil begins at the Temple. If God have there his own, if men find there nothing but wholesome instruction, holy example, the Commonwealth cannot want some happy tincture of Piety, Devotion, Sanctimony; as that fragrant perfume from Aaron's head sweetens his utmost skirts. Contrarily, the distempers of the Temple cannot but affect the Secular state. As therefore the good Husbandman, when he sees the leaves grow yellow, and the branches unthriving, looks presently to the root; so didst thou, O holy Saviour, upon sight of the disorders spread over Jerusalem and Judaea, address thyself to the rectifying of the Temple.  
No sooner is Christ alighted at the gate of the outer Court of his Father's house, than he falls to work: Reformation was his errand; that he roundly attempts. That holy ground was profaned by sacrilegious bartering: within the third court of that Sacred place was a public Mart held; here was a throng of buyers and sellers, though not of all commodities, (the Jews were not so irreligious) only of those things which were for the use of Sacrifice. The Israelites came many of them from far; it was no less from Dan to Beersheba then the space of an hundred and threescore miles; neither could it be without much inconvenience for them to bring their Bullocks, Sheep, Goats, Lambs, meal, oil, and such other holy provision with them up to Jerusalem: Order was taken by the Priests, that these might for money be had close by the Altar; to the ease of the offerer, and the benefit of the seller, and perhaps no disprofit to themselves. The pretence was fair, the practice unsufferable. The great owner of the Temple comes to vindicate the reputation and rights of his own house; and in an indignation at that so foul abuse, lays fiercely about him, and with his three-stringed scourge whips out those Sacrilegious chapmen, casts down their tables, throws away their baskets, scatters their heaps, and sends away their customers with smart and horror.  
With what fear and astonishment did the repining offenders look upon so unexpected a Justicer, whiles their conscience lashed them more than those cords, and the terror of that meek chastiser more affrighted them then his blows? Is this that mild and gentle Saviour that came to take upon him our stripes, and to undergo the chastisements of our peace? Is this that quiet Lamb, which before his shearers openeth not his mouth? See now how his eyes sparkle with holy anger, and dart forth beams of indignation in the faces of these guilty Collybists: see how his hands deal strokes and ruin. Yea, thus, thus it became thee, O thou gracious Redeemer of men, to let the world see, thou hast not lost thy Justice in thy Mercy; that there is not more lenity in thy forbearances, than rigour in thy just severity; that thou canst thunder, as well as shine.  
This was not thy first act of this kind; at the entrance of thy public work thou beganst so as thou now shutest up, with purging thine House. Once before had these offenders been whipped out of that holy place▪ which now they dare again defile. Shame and smart is not enough to reclaim obdured offenders. Gainful sins are not easily checked, but less easily mastered. These bold flies, where they are beaten off, will alight again. He that is filthy will be filthy still.  
Oft yet had our Saviour been (besides this) in the Temple, and often had seen the same disorder; he doth not think fit to be always whipping. It was enough thus twice to admonish and chastise them before their ruin. That God who hates sin always, will not chide always, and strikes more seldom; but he would have those few strokes perpetual monitors; and if those prevail not, he smites but once. It is his uniform course, first the Whip, and if that speed not, than the Sword.  
There is a reverence due to God's House for the Owners sake, for the services sake. Secular and profane actions are not for that Sacred roof, much less uncivil and beastly. What but Holiness can become that place which is the beauty of Holiness?  
The fairest pretences cannot bear out a sin with God. Never could there be more plausible colours cast upon any act; the convenience, the necessity of provisions for the Sacrifice: yet through all these do the fiery eyes of our Saviour see the foul Covetousness of the Priests, the Fraud of the Money-changers, the intolerable abuse of the Temple. Common eyes may be cheated with easy pretexts; but he that looks through the heart at the face, justly answers our Apologies with scourges.  
None but the hand of public authority must reform the abuses of the Temple. If all be out of course there, no man is barred from sorrow; the grief may reach to all, the power of reformation only to those whom it concerneth. It was but a just question, though ill propounded to Moses, Who made thee a Judge or a Ruler? We must all imitate the zeal of our Saviour; we may not imitate his correction. If we strike uncalled, we are justly stricken for our arrogation, for our presumption. A tumultuary remedy may prove a medicine worse than the disease.  
But what shall I say of so sharp and imperious an act from so meek an Agent? Why did not the Priests and Levites (whose this gain partly was) abett these money-changers, and make head against Christ? why did not those multitudes of men stand upon their defence, and wrest that whip out of the hand of a seemingly-weak and unarmed Prophet; but in stead thereof run away like sheep from before him, not daring to abide his presence, though his hand had been still? Surely, had these men been so many armies, yea, so many Legions of Devils, when God will astonish and chase them, they cannot have the power to stand and resist. How easy is it for him that made the heart, to put either terror or courage into it at pleasure? O Saviour, it was none of thy least Miracles, that thou didst thus drive out a world of able offenders in spite of their gain and stomackful resolutions; their very profit had no power to stay them against thy frowns. Who hath resisted thy will? men's hearts are not their own: they are, they must be such as their Maker will have them.   

The Figtree cursed.  
WHen in this State our Saviour had rid through the streets of Jerusalem, that evening he lodged not there. Whether he would not, that after so public an acclamation of the people he might avoid all suspicion of plots or popularity (Even unjust jealousies must be shunned; neither is there less wisdom in the prevention, then in the remedy of evils:) or whether he could not, for want of an invitation; Hosanna was better ●heap than an Entertainment; and perhaps the envy of so stomached a Reformation discouraged his hosts. However he goes that evening supperless out of Jerusalem. O unthankful Citizens! Do ye thus part with your no less meek than glorious King? His title was not more proclaimed in your streets then your own ingratitude. If he have purged the Temple, yet your hearts are foul. There is no wonder in men's unworthiness; there is more than wonder in thy mercy, O thou Saviour of men, that wouldst yet return thither where thou wert so palpably disregarded. If they gave thee not thy Supper, thou givest them their Breakfast: If thou mayst not spend the night with them, thou wilt with them spend the day. O love of unthankful Souls, not discourageable by the most hateful indignities, by the basest repulses! What burden canst thou shrink under, who canst bear the weight of ingratitude?  
Thou that givest food to all things living, art thyself hungry. Martha, Mary and Lazarus kept not so poor an house, but that thou mightest have eaten something at Bethany. Whether thine haste outran thine appetite; or whether on purpose thou forbarest repast, to give opportunity to thine ensuing Miracle, I neither ask, nor resolve. This was not the first time that thou wast hungry. As thou wouldst be a man, so thou wouldst suffer those infirmities that belong to Humanity. Thou camest to be our High priest; it was thy act and intention, not only to intercede for thy people, but to transfer unto thyself as their sins, so their weaknesses and complaints. Thou knowest to pity what thou hast felt. Are we pinched with want? we endure but what thou didst, we have reason to be patient; thou induredst what we do, we have reason to be thankful.  
But what shall we say to this thine early hunger? The morning, as it is privileged from excess, so from need; the stomach is not wont to rise with the body. Surely, as thy occasions were, no season was exempted from thy want: thou hadst spent the day before in the holy labour of thy Reformation; after a supperless departure thou spentest the night in Prayer; no meal refreshed thy toil. What do we think much to forbear a morsel, or to break a sleep for thee, who didst thus neglect thyself for us?  
As if meat were no part of thy care, as if any thing would serve to stop the mouth of hunger, thy breakfast is expected from the next Tree. A Figtree grew by the way side, full grown, well spread, thick leaved, and such as might promise enough to a remote eye: thither thou camest to seek that which thou foundst not; and not findig what thou soughtest, as displeased with thy disappointment, cursedst that plant which deluded thy hopes. Thy breath instantly blasted that deceitful tree; it did (no otherwise then the whole world must needs do) wither and die with thy Curse.  
O Saviour, I had rather wonder at thine actions then discuss them. If I should say that as man, thou either knewest not or consideredst not of this fruitlesness, it could no way prejudice thy Divine Omniscience; this infirmity were no worse than thy weariness or hunger: It was no more disparagement to thee to grow in Knowledge, then in stature; neither was it any more disgrace to thy perfect Humanity, that thou (as man) knewst not all things at once, then that thou wert not in thy childhood at thy full growth. But herein I doubt not to say, it is more likely thou camest purposely to this Tree, knowing the barrenness of it answerable to the season, and fore-resolving the event; that thou mightest hence ground the occasion of so instructive a Miracle: like as thou knewest Lazarus was dying, was dead, yet wouldst not seem to take notice of his dissolution, that thou mightest the more glorify thy Power in his resuscitation. It was thy willing and determined disappointment for a greater purpose.  
But why didst thou curse a poor tree for the want of that fruit which the season yielded not? If it pleased thee to call for that which it could not give, the Plant was innocent; and if innocent, why cursed? O Saviour, it is fitter for us to adore then to examine. We may be saucy in inqui●●g after thee, and fond in answering for thee.  
If that season were not for a ripe fruit, yet for some fruit it was. Who knows not the nature of the Figtree to be always bearing? That plant (if not altogether barren) yields a continual succession of increase; whiles one fig is ripe, another is green; the same bough can content both our taste and our hope. This tree was defective in both, yielding nothing but an empty shade to the mis-hoping traveller.  
Besides that, I have learned that thou, O Saviour, wert wont not to speak only, but to work Parables. And what was this other than a real Parable of thine? All this while hadst thou been in the world; thou hadst given many proofs of thy Mercy (the earth was full of thy Goodness) none of thy Judgements: now, immediately before thy Passion, thou thoughtest fit to give this double demonstration of thy just austerity. How else should the world have seen thou canst be severe as well as meek and merciful? And why mightest not thou, who madest all things, take liberty to destroy a plant for thine own Glory? Wherefore serve thy best creatures but for the praise of thy Mercy and Justice? What great matter was it if thou, who once saidst, Let the earth bring forth the herb yielding seed, and the tree yielding the fruit of its own kind, shouldst now say, Let this fruitless tree wither? All this yet was done in figure: In this act of thine I see both an Emblem, and a Prophecy. How didst thou herein mean to teach thy Disciples how much thou hatest an unfruitful profession, and what judgements thou meantest to bring upon that barren generation? Once before hadst thou compared the Jewish nation to a Figtree in the midst of thy vineyard, which after three years' expectation and culture yielding no fruit, was by thee, the Owner, doomed to a speedy excision; now thou actest what thou then saidst. No tree abounds more with leaf and shade; no Nation abounded more with Ceremonial observations and semblances of Piety. Outward profession, where there is want of inward truth and real practice, doth but help to draw on and aggravate judgement. Had this Figtree been utterly bear and leafless, it had perhaps escaped the Curse. Hear this, ye vain Hypocrites, that care only to show well; never caring for the sincere truth of a Conscionable Obedience: your fair outside shall be sure to help you to a Curse.  
That which was the fault of this tree, is the punishment of it, fruitlesness: Let no fruit grow on thee hence forward for ever. Had the boughs been appointed to be torn down, and the body split in pieces, the doom had been more easy; and that juicy plant might yet have recovered, and have lived to recompense this deficiency: now it shall be what it was, fruitless. Woe be to that Church or Soul that is punished with her own Sin. Outward plagues are but favour in comparison of Spiritual judgements.  
That Curse might well have stood with a long continuance; the Tree might have lived long, though fruitless: but no sooner is the word passed, than the leaves flag and turn yellow, the branches wrinkle and shrink, the bark discolours, the root dries, the plant withers.  
O God, what creature is able to abide the blasting of the breath of thy displeasure? Even the most great and glorious Angels of Heaven could not stand one moment before thine anger, but perished under thy wrath everlastingly. How irresistible is thy Power? how dreadful are thy Judgements? Lord, chastise my fruitlesness, but punish it not; at least, punish it, but curse it not, lest I whither and be consumed.   

Christ betrayed.  
SUCH an eyesore was Christ that raised Lazarus, and Lazarus whom Christ raised, to the envious Priests, Scribes, Elders of the Jews, that they consult to murder both: Whiles either of them lives, neither can the glory of that Miracle die, nor the shame of the oppugners.  
Those malicious heads are laid together in the Parlour of Caiaphas. Happy had it been for them, if they had spent but half those thoughts upon their own Salvation, which they misemployed upon the destruction of the innocent. At last this results, that Force is not their way; Subtlety and Treachery must do that which should be vainly attempted by Power.  
Who is so fit to work this feat against Christ as one of his own? There can be no Treason where is not some Trust. Who so fit among the domestics as he that bore the bag, and overloved that which he bore? That heart which hath once enslaved itself to red and white earth, made be may any thing. Who can trust to the power of good means, when Judas, who heard Christ daily, whom others heard to preach Christ daily, who daily saw Christ's Miracles, and daily wrought Miracles in Christ's name, is (at his best) a Thief, and ere long a Traitor? That crafty and malignant spirit which presided in that bloody counsel, hath easily found out a fit instrument for this Hellish plot. As God knows, so Satan guesses, who are his, and will be sure to make use of his own. If Judas were Christ's domestic, yet he was Mammon's servant: he could not but hate that Master whom he formally professed to serve, whiles he really served that master which Christ professed to hate. He is but in his trade, whiles he is bartering even for his Master; What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you? Saidst thou not well, O Saviour, I have chosen you twelve, and one of you is a Devil? Thou that knewest to distinguish betwixt men and spirits, callest Judas by his right name. Lo, he is become a tempter to the worst of evils.  
Wretched Judas! whether shall I more abhor thy treachery, or wonder at thy folly? What will they, what can they give thee valuable to that head which thou proferest to sale? Were they able to pay, or thou capable to receive all those precious metals that are laid up in the secret cabins of the whole earth, how were this price equivalent to the worth of him that made them? Had they been able to have fetched down those rich and glittering spangles of Heaven, and to have put them into thy fist, what had this been to weigh with a God? How basely therefore dost thou speak of chaffering for him whose the world was? What will ye give me? Alas, what were they? what had they, miserable men, to pay for such a purchase? The time was, when he that set thee on work could say, All the kingdoms of the earth, and the glory of them are mine; and I give them to whom I please: all these will I give thee. Had he now made that offer to thee in this woeful bargain, it might have carried some colour of a temptation: and even thus it had been a match ill made. But for thee to tender a trade of so invaluable a commodity to these pelting petty chapmen for thirty poor silverlings, it was no less base than wicked.  
How unequal is this rate? Thou that valuedst Mary's ointment which she bestowed upon the feet of Christ at three hundred pieces of silver, sellest thy Master, on whom that precious odour was spent, at thirty. Worldly hearts are penny-wise, and pound-foolish: they know how to set high prizes upon the worthless trash of this world; but for Heavenly things, or the God that owns them, these they shamefully undervalue.  
And I will deliver him unto you. False and presumptuous Judas! it was more than thou couldst do; thy price was not more too low than thy undertaking was too high. Had all the powers of Hell combined with thee, they could not have delivered thy Master into the hands of men. The act was none but his own; all that he did, all that he suffered was perfectly voluntary. Had he pleased to resist, how easily had he with one breath blown thee and thy complices down into their Hell? It is no thank to thee that he would be delivered. O Saviour, all our safety, all our comfort depends not so much upon thine act as upon thy will: in vain should we have hoped for the benefit of a forced redemption.  
The bargain is driven, the price paid. Judas returns, and looks no less smoothly upon his Master and his fellows then as if he had done no differvice. What cares he? his heart tells him he is rich, though it tell him he is false. He was not now first an Hypocrite. The Passeover is at hand; no man is so busy to prepare for it, or more devoutly forward to receive it, then Judas.  
Oh the sottishness and obdurenesse of this son of Perdition! How many proofs had he formerly of his Master's Omniscience? There was no day wherein he saw not that thoughts and things absent came familiar under his cognisance: yet this Miscreant dares plot a secret villainy against his person, and face it: if he cannot be honest, yet he will be close. That he may be notoriously impudent, he shall know he is descried: whiles he thinks fit to conceal his treachery, our Saviour thinks not fit to conceal the knowledge of that treacherous conspiracy; Verily, I say unto you that one of you shall betray me. Who would not think but that discovered wickedness should be ashamed of itself? Did not Judas (think we) blush, and grow pale again, and cast down his guilty eyes, and turn away his troubled countenance at so galling an intimation? Custom of sin steels the brow, and makes it uncapable of any relenting impressions. Could the other Disciples have discerned any change in any one of their faces, they had not been so sorrowfully affected with the charge. Methinks I see how intentively they bent their eyes upon each other, as if they would have looked through those windows down into the bosom; with what self-confidence, with what mutual jealousy they perused each others foreheads: and now, as rather thinking fit to distrust their own innocence than their Master's assertion, each trembles to say, Lord, is it I? It is possible there may lurk secret wickedness in some blind corner of the heart, which we know not of: It is possible that time and temptation working upon our corruption, may at last draw us into some such sin as we could not fore-believe. Whither may we not fall, if we be left to our own strength? It is both wise and holy to misdoubt the worst: Lord, is it I?  
In the mean time, how fair hath Judas (all this while) carried with his fellows? Had his former life bewrayed any falsehood or misdemeanour, they had soon found where to pitch their just suspicion: now Judas goes for so honest a man, that every Disciple is rather ready to suspect himself then him. It is true, he was a thief; but who knows that besides his Maker? The outsides of men are no less deceitful than their hearts. It is not more unsafe to judge by outward appearances, than it is uncharitable not to judge so.  
Oh the headstrong resolutions of wickedness, not to be checked by any opposition! Who would not but have thought, if the notice of an intended evil could not have prevented it, yet that the threats of judgement should have affrighted the boldest offender? Judas can sit by, and hear his Master say, Woe be to the man by whom the Son of man is betrayed; it had been better for that man never to have been born, and is no more blanked then very innocence; but thinks, What care I? I have the money; I shall escape the shame: the fact shall be close, the match gainful: it will be long ere I get so much by my service; if I fare well for the present, I shall shift well enough for the future. Thus secretly he claps up another bargain; he makes a covenant with death, and with Hell an agreement. O Judas, didst thou ever hear aught but truth fall from the mouth of that thy Divine Master? Canst thou distrust the certainty of that dreadful menace of vengeance? How then durst thou persist in the purpose of so flagitious and damnable a villainy? Resolved sinners run on desperately in their wicked courses; and have so bend their eyes upon the profit or pleasure of their mischievous projects, that they will not see Hell lie open before them in the way.  
As if that shameless man meant to outbrave all accusations, and to outface his own heart, he dares ask too, Master, is it I? No Disciple shall more zealously abominate that crime than he that fosters it in his bosom. Whatever the Searcher of hearts knows by him, is locked up in his own breast: to be perfidious is nothing, so he may be secret: his Master knows him for a Traitor, it is not long that he shall live to complain; his fellows think him honest: all is well, whiles he is well esteemed. Reputation is the only care of false hearts, not truth of being, not conscience of merit; so they may seem fair to men, they care not how foul they are to God.  
Had our Saviour only had this knowledge at the second hand, this boldness had been enough to make him suspect the credit of the best intelligence: Who could imagine that a guilty man dared thus browbeat a just accusation? Now he whose piercing and unfailing eyes see things as they are, not as they seem, can peremptorily convince the impudence of this hollow questionist with a direct affirmation; Thou hast said. Foolish traitor! couldst thou think that those blear eyes of thine would endure the beams of the Sun, or that counterfeit slip, the fire? was it not sufficient for thee to be secretly vicious, but thou must presume to contest with an Omniscient accuser? Hast thou yet enough? Thou supposedst thy crime unknown. To men it was so; had thy Master been no more, it had been so to him: now his knowledge argues him Divine. How dared thou yet resolve to lift up thy hand against him, who knows thine offence, and can either prevent or revenge it? As yet the charge was private, either not heard, or not observed by thy fellows: it shall be at first whispered to one, and at last known to all. Bashful and penitent sinners are fit to be concealed; shame is meet for those that have none.  
Curiosity of Knowledge is an old disease of humane nature: besides, Peter's zeal would not let him dwell under the danger of so doubtful a crimination; he cannot but sit on thorns, till he know the man. His signs ask what his voice dare not. What law requires all followers to be equally beloved? Why may not our favours be freely dispensed where we like best, without envy, without prejudice? None of Christ's train could complain of neglect; John is highest in grace. Blood, affection, zeal, diligence have endeared him above his fellows. He that is dearest in respect, is next in place: in that form of side-sitting at the Table, he leaned on the bosom of Jesus. Where is more love, there may be more boldness. This secrecy and entireness privileges John to ask that safely, which Peter might not without much inconvenience and peril of a check. The beloved Disciple well understands this silent language, and dares put Peter's thought into words. Love shutteth out fear. O Saviour, the confidence of thy Goodness emboldens us not to shrink at any suit. Thy love shed abroad in our hearts bids us ask that which in a stranger were no better than presumption. Once, when Peter asked thee a question concerning John, What shall this man do? he received a short answer, What is that to thee? Now, when John asks thee a question (no less seemingly curious) at Peter's instance, Who is it that betrays thee? however thou mightest have returned him the same answer, (since neither of their persons was any more concerned) yet thou condescendest to a mild and full (though secret) satisfaction. There was not so much difference in the men, as in the matter of the demand. No occasion was given to Peter of moving that question concerning John; the indefinite assertion of treason amongst the Disciples was a most just occasion of moving John's question for Peter and himself. That which therefore was timorously demanded, is answered graciously; He it is to whom I shall give a sop, when I have dipped it. And he gave the sop to Judas. How loath was our Saviour to name him whom he was not unwilling to design? All is here expressed by dumb signs; the hand speaks what the tongue would not. In the same language wherein Peter asked the question of John, doth our Saviour shape an answer to John: what a beck demanded, is answered by a sop.  
O Saviour, I do not hear thee say, Look on whomsoever I frown, or to whomsoever I do a public affront, that is the man; but, To whomsoever I shall give a sop. Surely a by-stander would have thought this man deep in thy books, and would have construed this act as they did thy tears for Lazarus, See how he loves him. To carve a man out of thine own dish, what could it seem to argue but a singularity of respect? Yet, lo, there is but one whom thou hatest, one only Traitor at thy board; and thou givest him a sop. The outward Gifts of God are not always the proofs of his Love; yea, sometimes are bestowed in displeasure. Had not he been a wise Disciple that should have envied the great favour done to Judas, and have stomached his own preterition? So foolish are they, who measuring God's affection by temporal benefits, are ready to applaud prospering wickedness, and to grudge outward blessings to them which are uncapable of any better.  
After the sop, Satan entered into Judas. Better had it been for that treacherous Disciple to have wanted that morsel: Not that there was any malignity in the bread, or that the sop had any power to convey Satan into the receiver, or that by a necessary concomitance that evil spirit was in or with it. Favours ill used make the heart more capable of further evil. That wicked spirit commonly takes occasion by any of God's gifts, to assault us the more eagerly. After our Sacramental morsel, if we be not the better, we are sure the worse. I dare not say, yet I dare think that Judas, comparing his Master's words and John's whisper with the tender of this sop, and finding himself thus denoted, was now so much the more irritated to perform what he had wickedly purposed. Thus Satan took advantage by the sop of a further possession. Twice before had that evil spirit made a palpable entry into that lewd heart. First, in his Covetousness and Theft; those sinful habits could not be without that author of ill: then in his damnable resolution, and plot of so heinous a conspiracy against Christ. Yet now (as if it were new to begin) After the sop Satan entered. As in every gross sin which we entertain, we give harbour to that evil spirit; so in every degree of growth in wickedness, new hold is taken by him of the heart. No sooner is the foot over the threshold, than we enter into the house: when we pass thence into the inner rooms, we make still but a perfect entrance. At first Satan entered, to make the house of Judas' heart his own; now he enters into it as his own. The first purpose of sin opens the gates to Satan; consent admits him into the entry; full resolution of sin gives up the keys to his hands, and puts him into absolute possession. What a plain difference there is betwixt the regenerate and evil heart? Satan lays siege to the best by his Tentations; and sometimes upon battery and breach made enters: the other admits him by willing composition. When he is entered upon the Regenerate, he is entertained with perpetual skirmishes, and by an holy violence at last repulsed: in the other he is plausibly received, and freely commandeth. Oh the admirable meekness of this Lamb of God I see not a frown, I hear not a check; but, What thou dost, do quickly. Why do we startle at our petty wrongs, and swell with anger, and break into furious revenges upon every occasion, when the pattern of our Patience lets not fall one harsh word upon so soul & bloody a Traitor? Yea, so fairly is this carried, that the Disciples as yet can apprehend no change; they innocently think of commodities to be bought: when Christ speaks of their Master sold, and, as one that longs to be out of pain, hastens the pace of his irreclamable conspirator, That thou dost, do quickly. It is one thing to say, Do what thou intendest, and another to say, Do quickly what thou dost. There was villainy in the deed; the speed had no sin, the time was harmless, whiles the man and the act was wicked. O Judas, how happy had it been for thee, if thou hadst never done what thou perfidiously intendedst? but since thou wilt needs do it, delay is but a torment.  
That steely heart yet relents not; the obfirmed Traitor knows his way to the High Priest's hall and to the garden; the watchword is already given, Hail Master, and a kiss. Yet more Hypocrisy? yet more presumption upon so overstrained a lenity? How knewest thou, O thou false Traitor, whether that Sacred cheek would suffer itself to be defiled with thine impure touch? Thou well foundst thy treachery was unmasked; thine heart could not be so false to thee as not to tell thee how hateful thou wert. Go, kiss and adore those silverlings which thou art too sure of; the Master whom thou hast sold is not thine. But oh the impudence of a deplored sinner! That tongue which hath agreed to sell his Master, dares say, Hail; and those lips that have passed the compact of his death, dare offer to kiss him whom they had covenanted to kill. It was God's charge of old, Kiss the Son, lest he be angry. O Saviour, thou hadst reason to be angry with this kiss; the scourges, the thorns, the nails, the spear of thy Murderers were not so painful, so piercing, as this touch of Judas: all these were in this one alone. The stabs of an Enemy cannot be so grievous as the skin-deep wounds of a Disciple.   

The Agony.  
WHAT a Preface do I find to my Saviour's Passion? an Hymn, and an Agony: a cheerful Hymn, and an Agony no less sorrowful. An Hymn begins, both to raise and testify the courageous resolutions of his Suffering; an Agony follows, to show that he was truly sensible of those extremities wherewith he was resolved to grapple. All the Disciples bore their part in that Hymn; it was fit they should all see his comfortable & Divine Magnanimity wherewith he entered into those sad lists: only Three of them shall be allowed to be the witnesses of his Agony; only those three that had been the witnesses of his glorious Transfiguration. That sight had well forearmed and prepared them for this: how could they be dismayed to see his trouble, who there saw his Majesty? how could they be dismayed to see his body now sweat, which they had then seen to shine? how could they be daunted to see him now accosted with Judas and his train, whom they then saw attended with Moses and Elias? how could they be discouraged to hear the reproaches of base men, when they had heard the voice of God to him from that excellent glory, This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased?  
Now before these eyes this Sun begins to be overcast with clouds; He began to be sorrowful and very heavy. Many sad thoughts for mankind had he secretly hatched, and yet smothered in his own breast; now his grief is too great to keep in: My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. O Saviour, what must thou needs feel when thou saidst so? Feeble minds are apt to bemoan themselves upon light occasions; the grief must needs be violent that causeth a strong heart to break forth into a passionate complaint. Woe is me, what a word is this for the Son of God? Where is that Comforter which thou promisedst to send to others? where is that thy Father of all mercies and God of all comfort, in whose presence is the fullness of joy, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore? where are those constant and cheerful resolutions of a fearless walking through the valley of the shadow of death? Alas! if that face were not hid from thee whose essence could not be disunited, these pangs could not have been. The Sun was withdrawn awhile, that there might be a cool, though not a dark night, as in the world, so in thy breast; withdrawn in respect of sight, not of being. It was the hardest piece of thy sufferings, that thou must be disconsolate.  
But to whom dost thou make this moan, O thou Saviour of men? Hard is that man driven that is fain to complain to his inferiors. Had Peter, or James, or John thus bewailed himself to thee, there had been ease to their Soul in venting itself; thou hadst been both apt to pity them, and able to relieve them: but now in that thou lamentest thy case to them, alas! what issue couldst thou expect? They might be astonished with thy grief; but there is neither power in their hands to free thee from those sorrows, nor power in their compassion to mitigate them. Nay, in this condition what could all the Angels of Heaven (as of themselves) do to succour thee? What strength could they have but from thee? What creature can help when thou complainest? It must be only the stronger that can aid the weak.  
Old and holy Simeon could foresay to thy Blessed Mother, that a sword should pierce through her Soul; but, alas! how many swords at once pierce thine? Every one of these words is both sharp and edged; My Soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. What humane Soul is capable of the conceit of the least of those sorrows that oppressed thine? It was not thy body that suffered now: the pain of body is but as the body of pain; the anguish of the Soul is as the Soul of anguish. That, and in that thou suffered'st: where are they that dare so far disparage thy Sorrow, as to say thy Soul suffered only in sympathy with thy body; not immediately, but by participation; not in its self, but in its partner? Thou best knewest what thou feltest, and thou that feltest thine own pain canst cry out of thy Soul. Neither didst thou say, My Soul is troubled; so it often was, even to tears: but, My Soul is sorrowful; as if it had been before assaulted, now possessed with grief. Nor yet this in any tolerable moderation; changes of Passion are incident to every humane Soul: but, Exceeding sorrowful. Yet there are degrees in the very extremities of evils: those that are most vehement, may yet be capable of a remedy, at least a relaxation; thine was past these hopes, Exceeding sorrowful unto death.  
What was it, what could it be, O Saviour, that lay thus heavy upon thy Divine Soul? Was it the fear of Death? was it the fore-felt pain, shame, torment of thine ensuing Crucifixion? Oh poor and base thoughts of the narrow hearts of cowardly and impotent mortality! How many thousands of thy blessed Martyrs have welcomed no less tortures with smiles and gratulations, and have made a sport of those exquisite cruelties which their very Tyrants thought unsufferable? Whence had they this strength but from thee? If their weakness were thus undaunted and prevalent, what was thy power? No, no: It was the sad weight of the sin of mankind; it was the heavy burden of thy Father's wrath for our sin that thus pressed thy Soul, and wrung from thee these bitter expressions.  
What can it avail thee, O Saviour, to tell thy grief to men? who can ease thee, but he of whom thou saidst, My Father is greater than I? Lo, to him thou turnest; O Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.  
Was not this that prayer (O dear Christ) which in the days of thy flesh thou offeredst up with strong crying and tears to him that was able to save thee from death? Surely this was it. Never was cry so strong; never was God thus solicited. How could Heaven choose but shake at such a Prayer from the Power that made it? How can my heart but tremble to hear this suit from the Captain of our Salvation? O thou that saidst, I and my Father are one, dost thou suffer aught from thy Father but what thou wouldst, what thou determinedst? was this Cup of thine either casual or forced? wouldst thou wish for what thou knewest thou wouldst not have possible? Far, far be these misraised thoughts of our ignorance and frailty. Thou camest to suffer, and thou wouldst do what thou camest for: yet since thou wouldst be a man, thou wouldst take all of man, save sin: it is but humane (and not sinful) to be loath to suffer what we may avoid. In this velleity of thine, thou wouldst show what that Nature of ours which thou hadst assumed could incline to wish; but in thy resolution, thou wouldst show us what thy victorious thoughts raised and assisted by thy Divine power had determinately pitched upon; Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt. As man thou hadst a Will of thine own: no humane Soul can be perfect without that main faculty. That will, which naturally could be content to incline towards an exemption from miseries, gladly vails to that Divine will whereby thou art designed to the chastisements of our peace. Those pains which in themselves were grievous, thou embracest as decreed: so as thy fear hath given place to thy love and obedience. How should we have known these evils so formidable, if thou hadst not in half a thought inclined to deprecate them? How could we have avoided so formidable and deadly evils, if thou hadst not willingly undergone them? We acknowledge thine holy fear, we adore thy Divine fortitude.  
Whiles thy Mind was in this fearful agitation, it is no marvel if thy Feet were not fixed. Thy place is more changed than thy thoughts. One while thou walkest to thy drowsy Attendants, and stirrest up their needful vigilancy; then thou returnest to thy passionate Devotions, thou fallest again upon thy face. If thy body be humbled down to the earth, thy Soul is yet lower; thy prayers are so much more vehement as thy pangs are; And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground. O my Saviour, what an agony am I in, whiles I think of thine? What pain, what fear, what strife, what horror was in thy Sacred breast? How didst thou struggle under the weight of our sins, that thou thus sweatest, that thou thus bleedest? All was peace with thee: thou wert one with thy coeternal and coessential Father; all the Angels worshipped thee; all the powers of Heaven and earth awfully acknowledged thine Infiniteness. It was our person that feoffed thee in this misery and torment; in that thou sustainedst thy Father's wrath and our curse. If eternal death be unsufferable, if every sin deserve eternal death, what, O what was it for thy Soul in this short time of thy bitter Passion to answer those millions of eternal deaths which all the sins of all mankind had deserved from the just hand of thy Godhead? I marvel not if thou bleedest a sweat, if thou sweatest blood: If the moisture of that Sweat be from the Body, the tincture of it is from the Soul. As there never was such another Sweat, so neither can there be ever such a Suffering. It is no wonder if the Sweat were more than natural, when the Suffering was more than humane.  
O Saviour, so willing was that precious blood of thine to be let forth for us, that it was ready to prevent thy Persecutors; and issued forth in those pores, before thy wounds were opened by thy Tormentors. O that my heart could bleed unto thee with true inward compunction for those sins of mine which are guilty of this thine Agony, and have drawn blood of thee both in the Garden and on the Cross. Woe is me: I had been in Hell, if thou hadst not been in thine Agony; I had scorched, if thou hadst not sweat. Oh let me abhor my own wickedness, and admire and bless thy Mercy.  
But, O ye blessed Spirits which came to comfort my conflicted Saviour, how did ye look upon the Son of God, when ye saw him labouring for life under these violent temptations? with what astonishment did ye behold him bleeding whom ye adored? In the Wilderness, after his Duel with Satan, ye came and ministered unto him; and now in the Garden, whiles he is in an harder combat, ye appear to strengthen him. O the wise and marvellous dispensation of the Almighty! Whom God will afflict, an Angel shall relieve; the Son shall suffer, the Servant shall comfort him; the God of Angels droupeth, the Angel of God strengthens him.  
Blessed Jesus, if as Man thou wouldst be made a little lower than the Angels; how can it disparage thee to be attended and cheered up by an Angel? Thine Humiliation would not disdain comfort from meaner hands. How free was it for thy Father to convey seasonable consolations to thine humbled Soul, by whatsoever means? Behold, though thy Cup shall not pass, yet it shall be sweetened. What if thou see not (for the time) thy Father's face? yet thou shalt feel his hand. What could that Spirit have done without the God of Spirits? O Father of Mercies, thou mayest bring thine into Agonies, but thou wilt never leave them there. In the midst of the sorrows of my heart thy comforts shall refresh my Soul. Whatsoever be the means of my supportation, I know and adore the Author.   

Peter and Malchus: or, Christ Apprehended.  
WHerefore, O Saviour, didst thou take those three choice Disciples with thee from their fellows, but that thou expectedst some comfort from their presence? A seasonable word may sometimes fall from the meanest attendant; and the very society of those we trust carries in it some kind of contentment. Alas! what broken reeds are men? Whiles thou art sweeting in thine Agony, they are snorting securely. Admonitions, threats, entreaties cannot keep their eyes open. Thou tellest them of danger, they will needs dream of ease; and though twice roused (as if they had purposed this neglect) they carelessly sleep out thy sorrow and their own peril. What help hast thou of such Followers? In the mount of thy Transfiguration they slept, and besides fell on their faces, when they should behold thy glory, and were not themselves for fear; in the garden of thine Agony, they fell upon the ground for drowsiness, when they should compassionate thy sorrow, and lost themselves in a stupid sleepiness. Doubtless even this disregard made thy prayers so much more fervent. The less comfort we find on earth, the more we seek above. Neither soughtst thou more than thou foundest: Lo, thou wert heard in that which thou fearedst. An Angel supplies men; that Spirit was vigilant whiles thy Disciples were heavy. The exchange was happy.  
No sooner is this good Angel vanished, than that domestic Devil appears: Judas comes up, and shows himself in the head of those miscreant troops. He whose too much honour it had been to be a Follower of so Blessed a Master, affects now to be the leader of this wicked rabble. The Sheep's fleece is now cast off; the Wolf appears in his own likeness. He that would be false to his Master, would be true to his Chapmen: Even evil spirits keep touch with themselves. The bold Traitor dare yet still mix Hypocrisy with Villainy; his very salutations and kisses murder. O Saviour, this is no news to thee. All those who under a show of Godliness practise impiety, do still betray thee thus. Thou who hadst said, One of you is a Devil, didst not now say, Avoid Satan; but, Friend, wherefore art thou come? As yet, Judas, it was not too late. Had there been any the least spark of Grace yet remaining in that perfidious bosom, this word had fetched thee upon thy knees. All this Sunshine cannot thaw an obdurate heart. The sign is given, Jesus is taken. Wretched Traitor! why wouldst thou for this purpose be thus attended? and ye foolish Priests and Elders! why sent you such a band, and so armed for this apprehension? One messenger had been enough for a voluntary prisoner. Had my Saviour been unwilling to be taken, all your forces (with all the Legions of Hell to help them) had been too little: since he was willing to be attached, two were too many. When he did but say, I am he, that easy breath alone routed all your troops, and cast them to the earth, whom it might as easily have cast down into Hell. What if he had said, I will not be taken? where had ye been? or what could your swords and staves have done against Omnipotence?  
Those Disciples that failed of their vigilance, failed not of their courage: they had heard their Master speak of providing swords, and now they thought it was time to use them: Shall we smite? They were willing to fight for him with whom they were not careful to watch: but of all other Peter was most forward; in stead of opening his lips, he unsheaths his sword; and in stead of Shall I? smites. He had noted Malchus, a busy servant of the High priest, too ready to second Judas, and to lay his rude hands upon the Lord of Life: against this man his heart rises, and his hand is lift up. That ear which had too-officiously listened to the unjust and cruel charge of his wicked Master, is now severed from that worse head which it had mis-served.  
I love and honour thy zeal, O blessed Disciple: Thou couldst not brook wrong done to thy Divine Master. Had thy life been dearer to thee then his safety, thou hadst not drawn thy sword upon a whole troup. It was in earnest that thou saidst, Though all men, yet not I; and, Though I should die with thee, yet I will not deny thee. Lo, thou art ready to die upon him that should touch that Sacred person; what would thy life now have been in comparison of renouncing him? Since thou wert so fervent, why didst thou not rather fall upon that treachour that betrayed him, than that Sergeant that arrested him? Surely the sin was so much greater, as the plot of mischief is more than the execution; as a Domestic is nearer than a Stranger; as the treason of a Friend is worse than the forced enmity of an Hireling. Was it that the guilty wretch upon the fact done subduced himself, and shrouded his false head under the wings of darkness? Was it that thou couldst not so suddenly apprehend the odious depth of that Villainy, and instantly hate him that had been thy old companion? Was it that thy amazedness as yet conceived not the purposed issue of this seizure, and astonishedly waited for the success? Was it that though Judas were more faulty, yet Malchus was more imperiously cruel? Howsoever, thy Courage was awaked with thyself; and thy heart was no less sincere than thine hand was rash. Put up again thy sword into his place; for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. Good intentions are no warrant for our actions. O Saviour, thou canst at once accept of our meanings, and censure our deeds. Could there be an affection more worth encouragement than the love to such a Master? Could there be a more just cause wherein to draw his sword then in thy quarrel? Yet this love, this quarrel cannot shield Peter from thy check: thy meek tongue smites him gently, who had furiously smote thine enemy; Put up thy sword.  
It was Peter's sword; but to put up, not to use: there is a sword which Peter may use; but it is of another metal. Our weapons are, as our warfare, spiritual: if he smite not with this, he incurs no less blame than for smiting with the other; as for this material sword, what should he do with it that is not allowed to strike? When the Prince of Peace bade his Followers sell their coat and buy a sword, he meant to insinuate the need of these arms, not their improvement; and to teach them the danger of the time, not the manner of the repulse of danger. When they therefore said, Behold, here are two swords; he answered, It is enough: he said not, Go buy more. More had not been enough, if a bodily defence had been intended: David's tower had been too straight to yield sufficient furniture of this kind. When it comes to use, Peter's one sword is too much: Put up thy sword. Indeed there is a temporal sword; and that sword must be drawn, else wherefore is it? but drawn by him that bears it; and he bears it that is ordained to be an avenger, to execute wrath upon him that doth evil; for he bears not the sword in vain. If another man draw it, it cuts his fingers; and draws so much blood of him that unwarrantably wields it, as that he who takes the sword shall perish with the sword. Can I choose but wonder how Peter could thus strike unwounded? how he, whose first blow made the fray, could escape hewing in pieces from that band of Ruffians? This could not have been, if thy power, O Saviour, had not restrained their rage; if thy seasonable and sharp reproof had not prevented their revenge.  
Now, for aught I see, Peter smarts no less than Malchus: neither is Peter's ear less smitten by the mild tongue of his Master, than Malchus his ear by the hand of Peter. Weak Disciple! thou hast zeal, but not according to knowledge: there is not more danger in this act of thine, than inconsideration and ignorance. The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it? Thou drawest thy sword to rescue me from suffering. Alas! if I suffer not, what would become of thee? what would become of mankind? where were that eternal and just Decree of my Father, wherein I am a Lamb slain from the beginning of the world? Dost thou go about to hinder thine own and the whole world's Redemption? Did I not once before call thee Satan for suggesting to me this immunity from my Passion? and dost thou now think to favour me with a real opposition to this great and necessary work? Canst thou be so weak as to imagine that this Suffering of mine is not free and voluntary? Canst thou be so injurious to me as to think I yield, because I want aid to resist? Have I not given to thee and to the world many undeniable proofs of my Omnipotence? Didst thou not see how easy it had been for me to have blown away these poor forces of my adversaries? Dost thou not know that if I would require it, all the glorious troops of the Angels of Heaven (any one whereof is more than worlds of men) would presently show themselves ready to attend and rescue me? Might this have stood with the Justice of my Decree, with the Glory of my Mercy, with the Benefit of man's Redemption, it had been done; my Power should have triumphed over the impotent malice of my enemies: but now, since that eternal Decree must be accomplished, my Mercy must be approved, mankind must be ransomed; and this cannot be done without my Suffering. Thy wel-meant valour is no better than a wrong to thyself, to the world, to me, to my Father.  
O gracious Saviour, whiles thou thus smitest thy Disciple, thou healest him whom thy Disciple smote. Many greater Miracles hadst thou done; none that bewrayed more mercy and meekness than this last Cure: of all other this ear of Malchus hath the loudest tongue to blazon the praise of thy Clemency and Goodness to thy very enemies. Wherefore came that man but in an hostile manner to attach thee? Besides his own, what favour was he worthy of for his Master's sake? And if he had not been more forward than his fellows, why had not his skin been as whole as theirs? Yet, even amidst the throng of thine apprehenders, in the heat of their violence, in the height of their malice, and thine own instant peril of death, thou healest that unnecessary ear, which had been guilty of hearing Blasphemies against thee, and receiving cruel and unjust charges concerning thee. O Malchus, could thy ear be whole, and not thy heart broken and contrite with remorse for rising up against so merciful and so powerful an hand? Could thou choose but say, O blessed Jesus, I see it was thy Providence that preserved my head, when my ear was smitten; it is thine Almighty Power that hath miraculously restored that ear of mine which I had justly forfeited: this head of mine shall never be guilty of plotting any further mischief against thee; this ear shall never entertain any more reproaches of thy name; this heart of mine shall ever acknowledge and magnify thy tender mercies thy Divine Omnipotence? Could thy fellows see such a demonstration of Power and Goodness with unrelenting hearts? Unthankful Malchus, and cruel soldiers! ye were worse wounded, and felt it not. God had struck your breasts with a fearful obduration, that ye still persist in your bloody enterprise. And they that had laid hold on Jesus, led him away, etc.   

Christ before Caiaphas.  
THat Traitor whom his own cord made (soon after) too fast, gave this charge concerning Jesus, Hold him fast. Fear makes his guard cruel: they bind his hands, and think no twist can be strong enough for this Samson. Fond Jews, and Soldiers! if his own will had not tied him faster than your cords, though those Manacles had been the stiffest cables or the strongest iron, they had been but threads of tow. What eyes can but run over to see those hands that made Heaven and Earth, wrung together and bruised with those merciless cords; to see him bound, who came to restore us to the liberty of the Sons of God; to see the Lord of Life contemptuously dragged through the streets, first to the house of Annas, then from thence to the house of Caiaphas, from him to Pilate, from Pilate to Herod, from Herod back again to Pilate, from Pilate to his calvary: whiles in the mean time the base rabble and scum of the incensed multitude runs after him with shouts and scorns? The act of death hath not in it so much misery and horror, as the pomp of death.  
And what needed all this pageant of Cruelty? wherefore was this state and lingering of an unjust execution? Was it for that their malice held a quick dispatch too much Mercy? Was it for that, whiles they meant to be bloody, they would fain seem just? A sudden violence had been palpably murderous: now the colour of a legal process guilds over all their deadly spite; and would seem to render them honest, and the accused guilty.  
This attachment, this convention of the innocent was a true nightwork; a deed of so much darkness was not for the light. Old Annas and that wicked Bench of gray-headed Scribes and Elders can be content to break their sleep to do mischief: Envy and malice can make noon of midnight. It is resolved he shall die; and now pretences must be sought that he may be cleanly murdered. All evil begins at the Sanctuary: The Priests and Scribes and Elders are the first in this bloody scene; they have paid for this head, and now long to see what they shall have for their thirty silverlings. The Bench is set in the Hall of Caiaphas: False witnesses are sought for, and hired: they agree not, but shame their suborners. Woe is me, what safety can there be for Innocence, when the evidence is wilfully corrupted? What State was ever so pure, as not to yield some miscreants, that will either sell or lend an oath? What a brand hath the wisdom of God set upon falsehood, even dissonance and distraction? whereas Truth ever holds together, and jars not whiles it is itself. O Saviour, what a perfect innocence was in thy Life, what an exact purity in thy Doctrine, that malice itself cannot so much as devise what to slander? It were hard if Hell should not find some Factors upon earth. At last two Witnesses are brought in, that have learned to agree with themselves, whiles they differed from truth; they say the same, though false; This fellow said, I am able to destroy the Temple of God, and build it again in three days. Perjured wretches! Were these the terms that you heard from that Sacred mouth? Said he formally thus as ye have deposed? It is true, he spoke of a Temple, of destroying, of building, of three days; but did he speak of that Temple, of his own destroying, of a material building in that space? He said, Destroy ye: Ye say, I am able to destroy. He said, this Temple of his body: Ye say, the Temple of God. He said, I will make up this Temple of my body in three days: Ye say, I am able in three days to build this material Temple of God. The words were his, the sentence yours: The words were true, the evidence false. So whiles you report the words and misreport the sense, ye swear a true falsehood, and are truly forsworn. Where the resolutions are fixed, any colour will serve. Had those words been spoken, they contained no crime; had he been such as they supposed him, a mere man, the speech had carried a semblance of ostentation, no semblance of Blasphemy: yet how vehement is Caiaphas for an answer? as if those words had already battered that sacred pile, or the protestation of his ability had been the highest treason against the God of the Temple. That infinite Wisdom knew well how little satisfaction there could be in answers, where the sentence was determined; Jesus held his peace. Where the asker is unworthy, the question captious, words bootless, the best answer is silence.  
Erewhile his just and moderate speech to Annas was returned with a buffet on the cheek, now his silence is no less displeasing. Caiaphas' was not more malicious than crafty: what was in vain attempted by witnesses, shall be drawn out of Christ's own mouth; what an accusation could not effect, an adjuration shall; I adjure thee by the living God, that thou tell us whether thou be the Christ, the Son of God. Yea, this was the way to screw out a kill answer. Caiaphas, thy mouth was impure, but thy charge is dreadful. Now if Jesus hold his peace, he is cried down for a profane disregarder of that awful Name; if he answer, he is ensnared: an affirmation is death; a denial worse than death. No, Caiaphas, thou shalt well know it was not fear that all this while stopped that Gracious mouth: thou speakest to him that cannot fear those faces he hath made: he that hath charged us to confess him, cannot but confess himself; Jesus saith unto him, Thou hast said. There is a time to speak, and a time to keep silence. He that is the Wisdom of his Father, hath here given us a pattern of both. We may not so speak as to give advantage to cavils; we may not be so silent as to betray the Truth. Thou shalt have no more cause, proud and insulting Caiaphas, to complain of a speechless prisoner: now thou shalt hear more than thou demandedst; Hereafter shall ye see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of Heaven. There spoke my Saviour; the voice of God, and not of man. Hear now, insolent High Priest, and be confounded. That Son of man whom thou seest, is the Son of God whom thou canst not see: That Son of man, that Son of God, that God and man whom thou now seest standing despicably before thy Consistorial seat in a base dejectedness, him shalt thou once with horror and trembling see majestically sitting on the Throne of Heaven, attended with thousand thousands of Angels, and coming in the clouds to that dreadful Judgement, wherein thyself amongst other damned malefactors shalt be presented before that glorious tribunal of his, and adjudged to thy just torments.  
Go now, wretched Hypocrite, and rend thy garments; whiles in the mean time thou art worthy to have thy Soul rend from thy body, for thy spiteful Blasphemy against the Son of God. Onwards thy pretence is fair, and such as cannot but receive applause from thy compacted crew; What need have we of witnesses? behold, now ye have heard his Blasphemy. What think ye? And they answered and said, He is guilty of death.  
What heed is to be taken of men's judgement? So light are they upon the balance, that one dram of prejudice or forestalment turns the scales. Who were these but the grave Benchers of Jerusalem, the Synod of the choice Rabbis of Israel? yet these pass sentence against the Lord of Life; sentence of that death of his, whereby (if ever) they shall be redeemed from the murder of their sentence.  
O Saviour, this is not the last time wherein thou hast received cruel dooms from them that profess Learning and Holiness. What wonder is it if thy weak members suffer that which was endured by so perfect an head? What care we to be judged by man's day, when thou, who art the Righteous Judge of the world, wert thus misjudged by men? Now is the fury of thy malignant enemies let loose upon thee: what measure can be too hard for him that is denounced worthy of death? Now those foul mouths defile thy Blessed Face with their impure spittle, the venomous froth of their malice; now those cruel hands are lifted up to buffet thy Sacred Cheeks; now scorn and insultation triumphs over thine humble Patience, Prophesy unto us, thou Christ, who it is that smote thee. O dear Jesus, what a beginning is here of a Passion? There thou stand'st bound, condemned, spat upon, buffeted, derided by malicious sinners. Thou art bound, who camest to lose the bands of death; thou art condemned, whose sentence must acquit the world; thou art spat upon, that art fairer than the sons of men; thou art buffeted, in whose mouth was no guile; thou art derided, who art clothed with Glory and Majesty.  
In the mean while, how can I enough wonder at thy infinite Mercy, who in the midst of all these woeful indignities couldst find a time to cast thine eyes back upon thy frail and ingrateful Disciple; and in whose gracious ear Peter's Cock sounded louder than all these reproaches? O Saviour, thou who in thine apprehension couldst forget all thy danger, to correct and heal his over-lashing, now in the heat of thy arraignment and condemnation canst forget thy own misery, to reclaim his error; and by that seasonable glance of thine eye, to strike his heart with a needful remorse. He that was lately so valiant to fight for thee, now the next morning is so cowardly as to deny thee: He shrinks at the voice of a Maid, who was not daunted with the sight of a Band. O Peter, had thy slip been sudden, thy fall had been more easy: Premonition aggravates thy offence; that stone was foreshowed thee whereat thou stumbledst: neither did thy warning more add to thy guilt, than thine own fore-resolution. How didst thou vow, though thou shouldst die with thy Master, not to deny him? Hadst thou said nothing, but answered with a trembling silence, thy shame had been the less. Good purposes, when they are not held, do so far turn enemies to the entertainer of them, as that they help to double both his sin and punishment.  
Yet a single denial had been but easy; thine (I fear to speak it) was lined with swearing and execration. Whence then, oh whence was this so vehement and peremptory disclamation of so gracious a Master? What such danger had attended thy profession of his attendance? One of thy fellows was known to the highpriest for a Follower of Jesus; yet he not only came himself into that open Hall, in view of the Bench, but treated with the Maid that kept the door to let thee in also. She knew him what he was; and could therefore speak to thee, as brought in by his mediation, Art not thou also one of this man's Disciples? Thou also supposes the first acknowledged such; yet what crime, what danger was urged upon that noted Disciple? What could have been more to thee? Was it that thy heart misgave thee thou mightest be called to account for Malchus? It was no thank to thee that that ear was healed; neither did there want those that would think how near that ear was to the head. Doubtless, that busy fellow himself was not far off, and his fellows and kinsmen would have been apt enough to follow thee (besides thy Discipleship) upon a bloodshed, a riot, a rescue. Thy conscience hath made thee thus unduly timorous: and now, to be sure to avoid the imputation of that affray, thou renouncest all knowledge of him in whose cause thou foughtest. Howsoever the sin was heinous. I tremble at such a Fall of so great an Apostle. It was thou, O Peter, that buffetedst thy Master more than those Jews; it was to thee that he turned the cheek from them, as to view him by whom he most smarted: he felt thee afar off, and answered thee with a look; such a look as was able to kill and revive at once. Thou hast wounded me (mayest thou now say) O my Saviour, thou hast wounded my heart with one of thine eyes: that one Eye of thy Mercy hath wounded my heart with a deep remorse for my grievous sin, with an indignation at my unthankfulness; that one glance of thine hath resolved me into the tears of sorrow and contrition. Oh that mine eyes were fountains, and my cheeks channels that shall never be dried! And Peter went out, and wept bitterly.   

Christ before Pilate.  
WEll worthy were these Jews to be tributary; they had cast off the yoke of their God, and had justly earned this Roman servitude. Tiberius had befriended them too well with so favourable a Governor as Pilate. Had they had the power of life and death in their hands, they had not been beholden to an Heathen for a Legal murder. I know not whether they more repine at this slavery, or please themselves to think how cleanly they can shift off this blood into another's hand. These great Masters of Israel flock from their own Consistory to Pilat's Judgment-hall. The Sentence had been theirs, the Execution must be his; and now they hope to bear down Jesus with the stream of that frequent confluence.  
But what ails you, O ye Rulers of Israel, that ye stand thus thronging at the door? why do ye not go in to that public room of Judicature, to call for that Justice ye came for? Was it for that ye would not defile yourselves with the contagion of an Heathen roof? Holy men! your Consciences would not suffer you to yield to so impure an act; your Passeover must be kept, your persons must be clean: whiles ye expect Justice from the man, ye abhor the pollution of the place. Woe to you Priests, Scribes, Elders, Hypocrites; can there be any roof so unclean as that of your own breasts? Not Pilat's walls, but your hearts are impure. Is Murder your errand, and do you stick at a local infection? God shall smite you, ye whited walls. Do ye long to be stained with blood, with the blood of God? and do ye fear to be defiled with the touch of Pilat's pavement? Doth so small a gnat stick in your throats, whiles ye swallow such a Camel of flagitious wickedness? Go out of yourselves, ye false dissemblers, if ye would not be unclean. Pilate, onwards, hath more cause to fear lest his walls should be defiled with the presence of so prodigious Monsters of Impiety.  
That plausible Governor condescends to humour their Superstition: They dare not come in to him; he yields to go forth to them. Even Pilate begins justly, What accusation bring you against this man? It is no judging of Religion by the outward demeanour of men; there is more Justice amongst Romans then amongst Jews. These malicious Rabbis thought it enough that they had sentenced Jesus; no more was now expected but a speedy execution. If he were not a malefactor, we would not have delivered him up unto thee. Civil Justice must be their hangman. It is enough conviction that he is delivered up to the secular powers. Themselves have judged, these other must kill. Pilate and Caiaphas have changed places: this Pagan speaks that Law and Justice which that High priest should have done; and that High priest speaks those murdering incongruities which would better have beseemed the mouth of a Pagan. What needs any new trial? Dost thou know, Pilate, who we are? Is this the honour that thou givest to our sacred Priesthood? Is this thy valuation of our Sanctity? Had the basest of the vulgar complained to thee, thou couldst but have put them to a review. Our Place and Holiness looked not to be disinherited. If our scrupulous Consciences suspect thy very walls, thou mayest well think there is small reason to suspect our Consciences. Upon a full hearing, ripe deliberation, and exquisitely-judicial proceeding, we have sentenced this Malefactor to death: there needs no more from thee but thy command of Execution. Oh monster, whether of Malice or Unjustice! Must he then be a Malefactor whom ye will condemn? Is your bare word ground enough to shed blood? Whom did ye ever kill but the righteous? By whose hands perished the Prophets? The word was but mistaken; ye should have said, If we had not been Malefactors, we had never delivered up this innocent man unto thee.  
It must needs be notoriously unjust which very Nature hath taught Pagans to abhor. Pilate sees and hates this bloody suggestion and practice. Do ye pretend Holiness, and urge so injurious a violence? If he be such as ye accuse him, where is his conviction? If he cannot be legally convicted, why should he die? Do you think I may take your complaint for a crime? If I must judge for you, why have you judged for yourselves? Could ye suppose that I would condemn any man unheard? If your Jewish Laws yield you this liberty, the Roman Laws yield it not to me. It is not for me to judge after your laws, but after our own. Your prejudgment may not sway me. Since ye have gone so far, be ye your own carvers of Justice; Take ye him and judge him according to your law.  
O Pilate, how happy had it been for thee, if thou hadst held thee there? thus thou hadst washed thy hands more clean then in all thy basons. Might Law have been the rule of this Judgement, and not Malice, this blood had not been shed. How palpably doth their tongue bewray their heart? It is not lawful for us to put any man to death. Pilate talks of Judgement, they talk of Death. This was their only aim: Law was but a colour, Judgement was but a ceremony; Death was their drift, and without this nothing. Bloodthirsty Priests and Elders! it is well that this power of yours is restrained: no Innocence could have been safe, if your lawless will had had no limits. It were pity this sword should be in any but just and sober hands. Your fury did not always consult with Law: what Law allowed your violence to Stephen, to Paul and Barnabas, and your deadly attempts against this Blessed Jesus whom ye now persecute? How lawful was it for you to procure that death which ye could not inflict? It is all the care of Hypocrites to seek umbrages and pretences for their hateful purposes; and to make no other use of Laws (whether Divine or humane) but to serve turns.  
Where death is fore-resolved, there cannot want accusations. Malice is not so barren as not to yield crimes enough. And they began to accuse him, saying, We found this fellow perverting the nation; and forbidding to give tribute unto Casear, saying that he himself is Christ and King.  
What accusations saidst thou, O Pilate? Heinous & capital. Thou mightest have believed our confident intimation: but since thou wilt needs urge us to particulars, know that we come furnished with such an indictment as shall make thine ears glow to hear it. Besides that Blasphemy whereof he hath been condemned by us, this man is a Seducer of the people, a raiser of Sedition, an usurper of Sovereignty. O impudent suggestion! What marvel is it, O Saviour, if thine honest servants beloaded with slanders, when thy most innocent person escaped not so shameful criminations? Thou a perverter of the Nation, who taughtest the way of God truly? Thou a forbidder of Tribute, who payedst it, who prescribedst it, who provedst it to be Caesar's due? Thou a challenger of temporal Sovereignty, who avoidedst it, renouncedst it, professedst to come to serve? Oh the forehead of Malice! Go, ye shameless traducers, and swear that Truth is guilty of all Falsehood, Justice of all Wrong; and that the Sun is the only cause of Darkness, Fire of Cold.  
Now Pilate startles at the Charge. The name of Tribute, the name of Caesar is in mention: These potent spells can fetch him back to the common Hall, and call Jesus to the Bar. There, O Saviour, stand'st thou meekly to be judged, who shalt once come to judge the quick and the dead. Then shall he before whom thou stoodst guiltless and dejected, stand before thy dreadful Majesty guilty and trembling.  
The name of a King, of Caesar, is justly tender and awful; the least whisper of an Usurpation or disturbance is entertained with a jealous care. Pilate takes this intimation at the first bound; Art thou then the King of the Jews? He felt his own freehold now touched, it was time for him to stir. Daniel's Weeks were now famously known to be near expiring. Many arrogant and busy spirits (as Judas of Galilee, Theudas, and that Egyptian Seducer) taking that advantage, had raised several Conspiracies, set up new titles to the Crown, gathered Forces to maintain their false claims. Perhaps Pilate supposed some such business now on foot, and therefore asks so curiously, Art thou the King of the Jews?  
He that was no less Wisdom than Truth, thought it not best either to affirm or deny at once. Sometimes it may be extremely prejudicial to speak all truths. To disclaim that Title suddenly which had been of old given him by the Prophets, at his Birth by the Eastern Sages, and now lately at his Procession by the acclaming multitude, had been injurious to himself; to profess and challenge it absolutely, had been unsafe, and needlessly provoking. By wise and just degrees therefore doth he so affirm this truth, that he both satisfies the inquirer, and takes off all peril and prejudice from his assertion. Pilate shall know him a King; but such a King as no King needs to fear, as all Kings ought to acknowledge and adore: My Kingdom is not of this world. It is your mistaking, O ye earthly Potentates, that is guilty of your fears. Herod hears of a King born, and is troubled; Pilate hears of a King of the Jews, and is incensed. Were ye not ignorant, ye could not be jealous: Had ye learned to distinguish of Kingdoms, these suspicions would vanish.  
There are Secular Kingdoms, there are Spiritual; neither of these trenches upon other: your Kingdom is Secular, Christ's is Spiritual; both may, both must stand together. His Laws are Divine, yours civil: His Reign is eternal, yours temporal: the glory of his Rule is inward, and stands in the Graces of Sanctification, Love, Peace, Righteousness, Joy in the Holy Ghost; yours in outward pomp, riches, magnificence: His Enemies are the Devil, the World, the Flesh; yours are bodily usurpers, and external peace-breakers: His Sword is the power of the Word and Spirit, yours material: His rule is over the Conscience, yours over bodies and lives: He punishes with Hell, ye with temporal death or torture. Yea so far is he from opposing your Government, that by him ye Kings reign: your Sceptres are his; but to maintain, not to wield, not to resist. O the unjust fears of vain men! He takes not away your earthly Kingdoms, who gives you Heavenly; he discrowns not the Body, who crowns the Soul; his intention is not to make you less great, but more happy,  
The charge is so fully answered, that Pilate acquits the prisoner. The Jewish Masters stand still without; their very malice dares not venture their pollution in going in to prosecute their accusation. Pilate hath examined him within; and now comes forth to these eager complainants, with a cold answer to their overhot expectation; I find in him no fault at all. O noble testimony of Christ's Innocence from that mouth which afterwards doomed him to death! What a difference there is betwixt a man as he is himself, and as he is the servant of others wills? It is Pilat's tongue that says, I find in him no fault at all: It is the Jews tongue in Pilat's mouth that says, Let him be crucified. That cruel sentence cannot blot him whom this attestation cleareth. Neither doth he say, I find him not guilty in that whereof he is accused; but gives an universal acquittance of the whole carriage of Christ, I find in him no fault at all. In spite of Malice, Innocence shall find abettors. Rather than Christ shall want witnesses, the mouth of Pilate shall be opened to his justification. How did these Jewish bloodsuckers stand thunder-stricken with so unexpected a word? His absolution was their death; his acquital their conviction. No fault, when we have found Crimes? no fault at all, when we have condemned him for capital offences? How palpably doth Pilate give us the lie? How shamefully doth he affront our authority and disparage our justice? So ingenuous a testimony doubtless exasperated the fury of these Jews: the fire of their indignation was sevenfold more intended with the sense of their repulse.  
I tremble to think how just Pilate as yet was, and how soon after depraved; yea how merciful together with that Justice. How said would he have freed Jesus, whom he found faultless? Corrupt custom, in memory of their deliverance from Egyptian bondage, allowed to gratify the Jews with the free delivery of some one prisoner. (Tradition would be encroaching: the Paschal Lamb was monument enough of that happy rescue: men affect to have something of their own.) Pilate was willing to take this advantage of dismissing Jesus. That he might be the more likely to prevail, he proposeth him with the choice and nomination of so notorious a Malefactor as he might justly think uncapable of all mercy; Barrabas, a Thief, a Murderer, a Seditionary; infamous for all, odious to all. Had he propounded some other innocent prisoner, he might have feared the election would be doubtful; he cannot misdoubt the competition of so prodigious a Malefactor. Then they all cried again, Not him, but Barrabas.  
O Malice beyond all example shameless and bloody! Who can but blush to think that an Heathen should see Jews so impetuously unjust, so savagely cruel? He knew there was no fault to be found in Jesus; he knew there was no Crime that was not to be found in Barrabas: yet he hears (and blushes to hear) them say, Not him, but Barrabas. Was not this (think we) out of similitude of condition? Every thing affects the like to itself; every thing affects the preservation of that it liketh. What wonder is it then if ye Jews, who profess yourselves the murderers of that Just One, favour a Barrabas? O Saviour, what a kill indignity was this for thee to hear from thine own Nation? Hast thou refused all Glory, to put on shame and misery for their sakes? Hast thou disregarded thy Blessed self, to save them? and do they refuse thee for Barrabas? Hast thou said, Not Heaven, but Earth; not Sovereignty, but Service; not the Gentile, but the Jew? and do they say, Not him, but Barrabas? Do ye thus requite the Lord, O ye foolish people and unjust? Thus were thine ears and thine eyes first crucified; and through them was thy Soul wounded even to death, before thy death; whiles thou sawest their rage, and heardst their noise of Crucify, crucify.  
Pilate would have chastised thee. Even that had been a cruel mercy from him; for what evil hadst thou done? But that cruelty had been true mercy to this of the Jews, whom no blood would satisfy but that of thy heart. He calls for thy Fault, they call for thy Punishment; as proclaiming thy Crucifixion is not intended to satisfy Justice, but Malice, They cried the more, Crucify him, Crucify him.  
As their clamour grew, so the Precedents Justice declined. Those Graces that lie loose and ungrounded, are easily washed away with the first tide of Popularity. Thrice had that man proclaimed the Innocence of him whom he now inclines to condemn, willing to content the people. Oh the foolish aims of Ambition! Not God, not his Conscience come into any regard; but the People. What a base Idol doth the proud man adore? even the Vulgar, which a base man despiseth. What is their applause but an idle wind? what is their anger but a painted fire? O Pilate, where now is thyself and thy people? whereas a good conscience would have stuck by thee for ever, and have given thee boldness before the face of that God which thou and thy people shall never have the Happiness to behold.  
The Jews have played their first part; the Gentiles must now act theirs. Cruel Pilate, who knew Jesus was delivered for envy, accused falsely, maliciously pursued, hath turned his proffered chastisement into scourging; Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged him. Woe is me, dear Saviour; I feel thy lashes; I shrink under thy painful whip; thy nakedness covers me with shame and confusion. That tender and precious body of thine is galled and torn with cords. Thou that didst of late water the garden of Gethsemani with the drops of thy bloody sweat, dost now bedew the pavement of Pilat's Hall with the showers of thy blood. How fully hast thou made good thy word, I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair; I hid not my face from shame and spitting? How can I be enough sensible of my own stripes? these blows are mine; both my sins have given them, and they give remedies to my sins. He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes are we healed. O blessed Jesus, why should I think strange to be scourged with tongue or hand, when I see thee bleeding? what lashes can I fear either from Heaven or earth, since thy scourges have been born for me, and have sanctified them to me? Now, dear Jesus, what a world of insolent reproaches, indignities, tortures, art thou entering into? To an ingenuous and tender disposition scorns are torment enough; but here pain helps to perfect thy misery, their despite.  
Who should be actors in this whole bloody execution, but grim and barbarous Soldiers, men enured to cruelty, in whose faces were written the characters of Murder, whose very trade was killing, and whose looks were enough to prevent their hands? These, for the greater terror of their concourse, are called together; and whether by the connivance or the command of their wicked Governor, or by the instigation of the malicious Jews, conspire to anticipate his death with scorns, which they will after inflict with violence.  
O my Blessed Saviour, was it not enough that thy Sacred body was stripped of thy garments, and walled with bloody stripes, but that thy Person must be made the mocking-stock of thine insulting enemies, thy Back disguised with purple robes, thy Temples wounded with a thorny Crown, thy Face spate upon, thy Cheeks buffeted, thy Head smitten, thy Hand sceptred with a reed, thyself derided with wry mouths, bended knees, scoffing acclamations? Insolent Soldiers! whence is all this jeering and sport, but to flout Majesty? All these are the ornaments and ceremonies of a Royal Inauguration, which now in scorn ye cast upon my despised Saviour. Go on, make yourselves merry with this jolly pastime. Alas! long ago ye now feel whom ye scorned. Is he a King, think you, whom ye thus played upon? Look upon him with gnashing and horror, whom ye looked at with mockage and insultation. Was not that Head fit for your Thorns, which you now see crowned with Glory and Majesty? Was not that Hand fit for a Reed, whose iron Sceptre crushes you to death? Was not that Face fit to be spate upon, from the dreadful aspect whereof ye are ready to desire the mountains to cover you?  
In the mean time, whither, O whither dost thou stoop, O thou coeternal Son of thine eternal Father? whither dost thou abase thyself for me? I have sinned, and thou art punished; I have exalted myself, and thou art dejected; I have clad myself with shame, and thou art stripped; I have made myself naked, and thou art clothed with robes of dishonour; my head hath devised evil, and thine is pierced with thorns; I have smitten thee, and thou art smitten for me; I have dishonoured thee, and thou for my sake art scorned; Thou art made the sport of men for me, that have deserved to be insulted on by Devils.  
Thus disguised, thus bleeding, thus mangled, thus deformed art thou brought forth, whether for compassion, or for a more universal derision, to the furious multitude, with an Ecce homo, Behold the man: look upon him, O ye merciless Jews; see him in his shame, in his wounds and blood, and now see whether ye think him miserable enough. Ye see his Face blue and black with buffeting, his Eyes swollen, his Cheeks beslabbered with spittle, his Skin torn with scourges, his whole Body bathed in blood; and would ye yet have more? Behold the man; the man whom ye envied for his greatness, whom ye feared for his usurpation: Doth he not look like a King? is he not royally dressed? See whether his magnificence do not command reverence from you. Would ye wish a Finer King? Are ye not afraid he will wrest the Sceptre out of Caesar's hand? Behold the man.  
Yea, and behold him well, O thou proud Pilate, O ye cruel Soldiers, O ye insatiable Jews. Ye see him base, whom ye shall see glorious: the time shall surely come wherein ye shall see him in another dress: he shall shine whom ye now see to bleed; his Crown cannot be now so ignominious and painful, as it shall be once majestical and precious; ye who now bend your knees to him in scorn, shall see all knees both in Heaven and in earth and under the earth to bow before him in an awful adoration; ye that now see him with contempt, shall behold him with horror.  
What an inward war do I yet find in the breast of Pilate? His Conscience bids him spare, his Popularity bids him kill. His Wife warned by a Dream, warns him to have no hand in the blood of that just man; the importunate multitude presses him for a sentence of death. All shifts have been tried to free the man whom he hath pronounced innocent: All violent motives are urged to condemn that man whom malice pretends guilty.  
In the height of this strife, when Conscience and moral Justice were ready to sway Pilat's distracted heart to a just dismission, I hear the Jews cry out, If thou let this man go, thou art not Caesar's friend. There is the word that strikes it dead: it is now no time to demur any more. In vain shall we hope that a carnal heart can prefer the care of his Soul to the care of his safety and honour, God to Caesar. Now Jesus must die: Pilate hasts into the Judgement hall; the Sentence sticks no longer in his teeth, Let him be crucified.  
Yet how foul so ever his Soul shall be with this fact, his hands shall be clean; He took water and washed his hands before the multitude, saying, I am innocent of the blood of this just person: see ye to it. Now all is safe I wis: this is expiation enough; water can wash off blood, the hands can cleanse the heart: protest thou art innocent, and thou canst not be guilty. Vain Hypocrite! canst thou think to escape so? Is Murder of no deeper die? Canst thou dream waking thus to avoid the charge of thy wife's dream? Is the guilt of the blood of the Son of God to be wiped off with such ease? What poor shifts do foolish sinners make to beguile themselves? Any thing will serve to charm the Conscience, when it lists to sleep.  
But, O Saviour, whiles Pilate thinks to wash off the guilt of thy blood with water, I know there is nothing that can wash off the guilt of this his sin but thy blood. Oh do thou wash my Soul in that precious bath, and I shall be clean, Oh Pilate, if that very blood which thou shedst do not wash off the guilt of thy bloodshed, thy water doth but more defile thy Soul, and intent that fire wherewith thou burnest.  
Little did the desperate Jews know the weight of that blood, which they were so forward to wish upon themselves and their children. Had they deprecated their interest in that horrible murder, they could not so easily have avoided the vengeance: but now that they fetch it upon themselves by a willing execration, what should I say, but that they long for a curse? it is pity they should not be miserable. And have ye not now felt, O Nation worthy of plagues, have ye not now felt what blood it was whose guilt ye affected? Sixteen hundred years are now passed since you wished yourselves thus wretched: have ye not been ever since the hate and scorn of the world? Did ye not live (many of you) to see your City buried in ashes, and drowned in blood? to see yourselves no Nation? Was there ever people under Heaven that was made so famous a spectacle of misery and desolation? Have ye yet enough of that blood which ye called for upon yourselves and your children? Your former cruelties, uncleannesses, Idolatries cost you but some short Captivities; God cannot but be just: this Sin under which you now lie groaning and forlorn, must needs be so much greater than these, as your vastation is more; and what can that be other than the murder of the Lord of Life? Ye have what ye wished: be miserable till ye be penitent.   

The Crucifixion.  
THe sentence of Death is past, and now who can with dry eyes behold the sad pomp of my Saviour's bloody execution? All the streets are full of gazing spectators, waiting for this rueful sight. At last, O Saviour, there thou comest out of Pilat's gate, bearing that which shall soon bear thee. To expect thy Cross was not torment enough; thou must carry it. All this while thou shalt not only see, but feel thy death before it come; and must help to be an agent in thine own Passion. It was not out of favour, that those scornful robes being stripped off, thou art led to death in thine own clothes. So was thy face besmeared with blood, so swollen and discoloured with buffet, that thou couldst not have been known, but by thy wont habit. Now thine insulting enemies are so much more imperiously cruel, as they are more sure of their success. Their merciless torment have made thee half dead already: yet now, as if they had done nothing, they begin afresh; and will force thy weakened and fainting nature to new tasks of pain. The transverse of thy Cross (at least) is upon thy shoulder: when thou canst scarce go, thou must carry. One kicks thee with his foot, another strikes thee with his staff, another drags thee hastily by thy cord, and more than one spur on thine unpitied weariness with angry commands of haste. Oh true form and state of a servant! All thy former actions, O Saviour, were (though painful, yet) free; this, as it is in itself servile, so it is tyrannously enforced: Enforced yet more upon thee by thy own Love to mankind, then by their power and despite. It was thy Father that laid upon thee the iniquity of us all: It was thine own Mercy that caused thee to bear our sins upon the Cross, and to bear the Cross (with the curse annexed to it) for our sins. How much more voluntary must that needs be in thee, which thou requirest to be voluntarily undertaken by us? It was thy charge, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. Thou didst not say, Let him bear his cross as forceably imposed by another; but, Let him take up his cross, as his free burden: free in respect of his heart, not in respect of his hand: so free, that he shall willingly undergo it, when it is laid upon him; not so free as that he shall lay it upon himself unrequired. O Saviour, thou didst not snatch the Cross out of the Soldier's hands, and cast it upon thy shoulder; but when they laid it on thy neck, thou underwentest it. The constraint was theirs, the will was thine. It was not so heavy to them, or to Simon, as it was to thee; they felt nothing but the wood, thou feltest it clogged with the load of the sins of the whole world. No marvel if thou faintedst under that sad burden; thou that bearest up the whole earth by thy word, didst sweat, and pant, and groan under this unsupportable carriage. O blessed Jesus, how could I be confounded in myself to see thee, after so much loss of blood and over-toilednesse of pain, languishing under that fatal tree? And yet why should it more trouble me to see thee sinking under thy Cross now, then to see thee anon hanging upon thy Cross? In both thou wouldst render thyself weak and miserable, that thou mightest so much the more glorify thy infinite mercy in suffering.  
It is not out of any compassion of thy misery, or care of thine ease, that Simon of Cyrene is forced to be the porter of thy Cross; it was out of their own eagerness of thy dispatch: thy feeble paces were too slow for their purpose; their thirst after thy blood made them impatient of delay. If thou have wearily struggled with the burden of thy shame all along the streets of Jerusalem, when thou comest once past the gates, an helper shall be deputed to thee: the expedition of thy death was more sweet to them, than the pain of a lingering passage. What thou saidst to Judas, they say to the Executioner, What thou dost, do quickly. Whiles thou yet livest, they cannot be quiet, they cannot be safe: to hasten thine end, they lighten thy carriage.  
Hadst thou done this out of choice which thou didst out of constraint, how I should have envied thee, O Simon of Cyrene, as too happy in the honour to be the first man that bore that Cross of thy Saviour, wherein millions of blessed Martyrs have (since that time) been ambitious to succeed thee? Thus to bear thy Cross for thee, O Saviour, was more than to bear a crown from thee. Could I be worthy to be thus graced by thee, I should pity all other glories.  
Whiles thou thus passest, O dear Jesus, the streets and ways resound not all with one note. If the malicious Jews and cruel Soldiers insulted upon thee, and either haled or railed thee on with a bitter violence, thy faithful Followers were no less loud in their moans and ejulations; neither would they endure that the noise of their cries and lamentations should be drowned with the clamour of those reproaches: but especially thy Blessed Mother, and those other zealous associates of her own Sex, were most passionate in their wail. And why should I think that all that devout multitude which so lately cried Hosanna in the streets, did not also bear their part in these public condolings? Though it had not concerned thyself, O Saviour, thine ears had been still more open to the voice of grief then of malice: and so thy lips also are open to the one, shut to the other; Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. Who would not have thought, O Saviour, that thou shouldst have been wholly taken up with thine own sorrows? The expectation of so bitter a Death had been enough to have overwhelmed any Soul but thine: yet even now can thy gracious eye find time to look beyond thine own miseries, at theirs; and to pity them, who, insensible of their own ensuing condition, mourned for thine now present. They see thine extremity, thou foreseest theirs; they pour out their sorrow upon thee, thou divertest it upon themselves. We silly creatures walk blindefolded in this vale of tears, and little know what evil is towards us: only what we feel we know; and whiles we feel nothing, can find leisure to bestow our commiseration on those who need it perhaps less than ourselves. Even now, O Saviour, when thou wert within the view of thy Calvary, thou canst foresee and pity the vastation of thy Jerusalem; and givest a sad Prophecy of the imminent destruction of that City which lately had cost thee tears, and now shall cost thee blood. It is not all the indign cruelty of men that can rob thee of thy Mercy.  
Jerusalem could not want Malefactors, though Barrabas was dismissed. That all this execution might seem to be done out of the zeal of Justice, two capital offenders, adjudged to their Gibbet, shall accompany thee, O Saviour, both to thy death and in it. They are led manacled after thee, as less criminous: no stripes had disabled them from bearing their own Crosses. Long ago was this unmeet society foretold by thine Evangelical Seer, He was taken from prison and from judgement; He was cut out of the land of the living; He made his grave with the Wicked. O blessed Jesus, it had been disparagement enough to thee to be forted with the best of men (since there is much sin in the perfectest, and there could be no sin in thee;) but to be matched with the scum of mankind, whom vengeance would not let to live, is such an indignity as confounds my thoughts. Surely there is no Angel in Heaven but would have been proud to attend thee; and what could the earth afford worthy of thy train? yet malice hath suited thee with company next to Hell; that their viciousness might reflect upon thee, and their Sin might slain thine Innocence. Ye are deceived, O ye fond Judges: This is the way to grace your dying malefactors; this is not the way to disgrace him whose guiltlessness and perfection triumphed over your injustice: his presence was able to make your Thiefs happy; their presence could no more blemish him then your own. Thus guarded, thus attended, thus accompanied art thou, Blessed Jesus, led to that loathsome and infamous hill, which now thy last blood shall make Sacred: now thou settest thy foot upon that rising ground which shalt prevent thine Olivet, whence thy Soul shall first ascend into thy Glory.  
There whiles thou art addressing thyself for thy last Act, thou art presented with that bitter and farewell-potion wherewith dying Malefactors were wont to have their senses stupefied, that they might not feel the torments of their execution. It was but the common mercy of men to alleviate the death of Offenders; since the intent of their last doom is not so much pain, as dissolution.  
That draught, O Saviour, was not more welcome to the guilty then hateful unto thee. In the vigour of all thine inward and outward senses, thou wouldst encounter the most violent assaults of death, and scornedst to abate the least touch of thy quickest apprehension. Thou well knewest that the work thou wentest about would require the use of all thy powers; it was not thine ease that thou soughtest, but our Redemption; neither meantest thou to yield to thy last enemy, but to resist and to overcome him: which that thou mightest do the more gloriously, thou challengedst him to do his worst; and in the mean time wouldst not disfurnish thyself of any of thy powerful faculties. This greatest combat that ever was shall be fought on even hand: neither wouldst thou steal that Victory which thou now atchievedst over Death and Hell. Thou didst but touch at this cup; it is a far bitterer than this that thou art now drinking up to the dregs: thou refusedst that which was offered thee by men, but that which was mixed by thine eternal Father (though mere Gall and Wormwood) thou didst drink up to the last drop. And therein, O Blessed Jesus, lies all our health and salvation. I know not whether I do more suffer in thy pain, or joy in the issue of thy Suffering.  
Now, even now, O Saviour, art thou entering into those dreadful lists, and now art thou grappling with thy last enemy; as if thou hadst not suffered till now, now thy bloody Passion begins: a cruel expoliation begins that violence. Again do these grim and merciless Soldiers lay their rude hands upon thee, and strip thee naked; again are those bleeding wales laid open to all eyes; again must thy Sacred body undergo the shame of an abhorred nakedness. Lo, thou that clothest man with raiment, beasts with hides, fishes with scales and shells, earth with flowers, Heaven with Stars, art despoiled of clothes, and standest exposed to the scorn of all beholders. As the First Adam entered into his Paradise, so dost thou (the Second Adam) into thine, naked; and as the First Adam was clothed with Innocence when he had no clothes, so wert thou (the Second) too: and more than so; thy nakedness, O Saviour, cloaths our Souls not with Innocence only, but with Beauty. Hadst not thou been naked, we had been clothed with confusion. O happy nakedness, whereby we are covered from shame! O happy shame, whereby we are invested with glory! All the beholders stand wrapped with warm garments; thou only art stripped to tread the winepress alone. How did thy Blessed Mother now wish her veil upon thy shoulders? and that Disciple who lately ran from thee naked, wished in vain that his loving pity might do that for thee, which fear forced him to for himself.  
Shame is succeeded with Pain. Oh the torment of the Cross! Methinks I see and feel, how having fastened the transverse to the body of that fatal Tree, and laid it upon the ground, they racked and strained thy tender and sacred Limbs, to fit the extent of their fore-appointed measure; and having tentered out thine arms beyond their natural reach, how they fastened them with cords, till those strong iron nails (which were driven up to the head through the palms of thy Blessed hands) had not more firmly then painfully fixed thee to the Gibbet. The tree is raised up, and now not without a vehement concussion settled in the mortise. Woe is me, how are thy joints and sinews torn, and stretched till they crack again, by this torturing distension? how doth thine own weight torment thee, whiles thy whole body rests upon this forced and dolorous hold, till thy nailed feet bear their part in a no less afflictive supportation? How did the rough iron pierce thy Soul, whiles passing through those tender and sensible parts it carried thy flesh before it, and as it were riveted it to that shameful Tree?  
There now, O dear Jesus, there thou hangest between Heaven and earth, naked, bleeding, forlorn, despicable, the spectacle of miseries, the scorn of men. Be abashed, O ye Heavens and earth, and all ye creatures wrap up yourselves in horror and confusion, to see the shame and pain and curse of your most pure and Omnipotent Creator. How could ye subsist, whiles he thus suffers in whom ye are? O Saviour, didst thou take flesh for our Redemption to be thus indignly used, thus mangled, thus tortured? Was this measure fit to be offered to that Sacred body that was conceived by the Holy Ghost of the pure substance of an immaculate Virgin? Woe is me; that which was unspotted with sin, is all blemished with humane cruelty, and so woefully disfigured, that the Blessed Mother that bore thee could not now have known thee; so bloody were thy Temples, so swollen and discoloured was thy Face, so was the skin of thy whole body streaked with red and blue stripes, so did thy thorny diadem shade thine Heavenly countenance, so did the streams of thy blood cover and deform all thy parts. The eye of Sense could not distinguish thee, O dear Saviour, in the nearest proximity to thy Cross: the eye of Faith sees thee in all this distance; and by how much more ignominy, deformity, pain it finds in thee, so much more it admires the glory of thy mercy. Alas! is this the Head that is decked by thine eternal Father with a Crown of pure gold, of immortal and incomprehensible Majesty, which is now bushed with thorns? Is this the Eye that saw the Heavens opened, and the Holy Ghost descending upon that head, that saw such resplendence of Heavenly brightness on mount Tabor, which now begins to be overclouded with death? Are these the Ears that heard the voice of thy Father owning thee out of Heaven, which now tingle with buffet, and glow with reproaches, and bleed with thorns? Are these the Lips that spoke as never man's spoke, full of grace and power, that called out dead Lazarus, that ejected the stubbornest Devils, that commanded the cure of all diseases, which now are swollen with blows, and discoloured with blueness and blood? Is this the Face that should be fairer than the sons of men, which the Angels of Heaven so desired to see, and can never be satisfied with seeing, that is thus foul with the nasty mixtures of sweat, and blood, and spittings on? Are these the Hands that stretched out the Heavens as a curtain, that by their touch healed the lame, the deaf, the blind, which are now bleeding with the nails? Are these the Feet which walked lately upon the liquid pavement of the sea, before whose footstool all the Nations of the earth are bidden to worship, that are now so painfully fixed to the Cross? O cruel and unthankful mankind, that offered such measure to the Lord of Life! O infinitely merciful Saviour, that wouldst suffer all this for unthankful mankind! That fiends should do these things to guilty souls, it is (though terrible, yet) just; but that men should do thus to the Blessed Son of God, it is beyond the capacity of our horror.  
Even the most hostile dispositions have been only content to kill; Death hath sated the most eager malice: thine enemies, O Saviour, held not themselves satisfied, unless they might enjoy thy torment. Two Thiefs are appointed to be thy companions in death; thou art designed to the midst, as the chief malefactor: on whether hand soever thou lookest, thine eye meets with an hateful partner. But, O Blessed Jesus, how shall I enough admire and celebrate thy infinite Mercy, who madest so happy an use of this Jewish despite, as to improve it to the occasion of the Salvation of one, and the comfort of millions? Is not this, as the last, so the greatest specialty of thy wonderful compassion, to convert that dying Thief? with those nailed hands to snatch a Soul out of the mouth of Hell? Lord, how I bless thee for this work? how do I stand amazed at this, above all other the demonstrations of thy Goodness and Power? The Offender came to die: nothing was in his thoughts but his guilt and torment: whiles he was yet in his blood, thou saidst, This Soul shall live. Ere yet the intoxicating Potion could have time to work upon his brain, thy Spirit infuses Faith into his heart. He that before had nothing in his eye but present death and torture, is now lifted up above his Cross in a blessed ambition; Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy Kingdom. Is this the voice of a Thief, or of a Disciple? Give me leave, O Saviour, to borrow thine own words; Verily I have not found so great faith, no not in all Israel. He saw thee hanging miserably by him, and yet styles thee Lord; he saw thee dying, yet talks of thy Kingdom; he felt himself dying, yet talks of a future remembrance. O Faith stronger than death, that can look beyond the Cross at a Crown; beyond dissolution at a remembrance of Life and Glory! Which of thine eleven were heard to speak so gracious a word to thee in these thy last pangs? After thy Resurrection and knowledge of thine impassable condition it was not strange for them to talk of thy Kingdom; but in the midst of thy shameful death, for a dying malefactor to speak of thy reigning, and to implore thy remembrance of himself in thy Kingdom, it is such an improvement of Faith as ravisheth my Soul with admiration. O blessed Thief, that hast thus happily stolen Heaven! How worthy hath thy Saviour made thee to be a partner of his sufferings, a pattern of undauntable belief, a spectacle of unspeakable mercy? This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise. Before I wondered at thy Faith; now I envy at thy Felicity. Thou cravedst a remembrance; thy Saviour speaks of a present possession, This day: thou suedst for remembrance as a favour to the absent; thy Saviour speaks of thy presence with him: thou spakest of a Kingdom; thy Saviour of Paradise. As no Disciple could be more faithful, so no Saint could be happier. O Saviour, what a precedent is this of thy free and powerful grace? Where thou wilt give, what unworthiness can bar us from Mercy? when thou wilt give, what time can prejudice our vocation? who can despair of thy goodness, when he that in the morning was posting towards Hell, is in the evening with thee in Paradise? Lord, he could not have spoken this to thee, but by thee, and from thee. What possibility was there for a thief to think of thy Kingdom, without thy Spirit? That good Spirit of thine breathed upon this man, breathed not upon his fellow; their trade was alike, their sin was alike, their state alike, their cross alike, only thy Mercy makes them unlike: One is taken, the other is refused. Blessed be thy Mercy in taking one; blessed be thy Justice in leaving the other. Who can despair of that Mercy? who cannot but tremble at that Justice?  
Now, O ye cruel Priests and Elders of the Jews, ye have full leisure to feed your eyes with the sight ye so much longed for; there is the blood ye purchased: and is not your malice yet glutted? Is not all this enough, without your taunts and scoffs and sports at so exquisite a misery? The people, the passengers are taught to insult, where they should pity. Every man hath a scorn ready to cast at a dying innocent. A generous nature is more wounded with the tongue, then with the hand. O Saviour, thine ear was more painfully pierced then thy brows, or hands, or feet. It could not but go deep into thy Soul, to hear these bitter and girding reproaches from them thou camest to save.  
But, alas! what sleabiting were these in comparison of those inward torments which thy Soul felt in the sense and apprehension of thy Father's wrath for the sins of the whole world, which now lay heavy upon thee for satisfaction? This, oh this was it that pressed thy Soul as it were to the nethermost hell. Whiles thine eternal Father looked lovingly upon thee, what didst thou, what neededst thou to care for the frowns of men or Devils? but when he once turned his face from thee, or bent his brows upon thee, this, this was worse than death. It is no marvel now, if darkness were upon the face of the whole earth, when thy Father's face was eclipsed from thee by the interposition of our sins. How should there be light in the world without, when the God of the world, the Father of lights, complains of the want of light within? That word of thine, O Saviour, was enough to fetch the Sun down out of Heaven, and to dissolve the whole frame of Nature, when thou criedst, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Oh what pangs were these, dear Jesus, that drew from thee this complaint? Thou well knewest nothing could be more cordial to thine enemies, then to hear this sad language from thee: they could see but the outside of thy sufferings; never could they have conceived so deep an anguish of thy Soul, if thy own lips had not expressed it. Yet as not regarding their triumph, thou thus pourest out thy sorrow: and when so much is uttered, who can conceive what is felt?  
How is it then with thee, O Saviour, that thou thus astonishest men and Angels with so woeful a quiritation? Had thy God left thee? Thou not long since saidst, I and my Father are One: Are ye now severed? Let this thought be as far from my Soul, as my Soul from Hell. No more can thy Blessed Father be separated from thee, then from his own Essence. His Union with thee is eternal; his Vision was intercepted: He could not withdraw his Presence, he would withdraw the influence of his comfort. Thou, the Second Adam, stoodst for mankind upon this Tree of the Cross, as the First Adam stood and fell for mankind under the Tree of Offence. Thou barest our sins; thy Father saw us in thee, and would punish us in thee, thee for us: how could he but withhold comfort where he intended chastisement? Herein therefore he seems to forsake thee for the present, in that he would not deliver thee from that bitter Passion which thou wouldst undergo for us. O Saviour, hadst thou not been thus forsaken, we had perished; thy dereliction is our safety: and however our narrow Souls are not capable of the conceit of thy pain and horror; yet we know there can be no danger in the forsaking, whiles thou canst say, My God. He is so thy God as he cannot be ours: all our right is by Adoption, thine by Nature; thou art one with him in eternal Essence, we come in by Grace and merciful election: yet whiles thou shalt enable me to say, My God, I shall hope never to sink under thy desertions.  
But whiles I am transported with the sense of thy Sufferings, O Saviour, let me not forget to admire those sweet Mercies of thine which thou powredst out upon thy Persecutors. They rejoice in thy death, and triumph in thy misery, and scoff at thee in both: In stead of calling down fire from Heaven upon them, thou heapest coals of fire upon their heads; Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. They blaspheme thee, thou prayest for them; they scorn, thou pitiest; they sin against thee, thou prayest for their forgiveness; they profess their malice, thou pleadest their ignorance. O compassion without example, without measure, fit for the Son of God, the Saviour of men! Wicked and foolish Jews! ye would be miserable, he will not let you: ye would fain pull upon yourselves the guilt of his blood, he deprecates it: ye kill, he sues for your remission and life. His tongue cries louder than his blood, Father, forgive them. O Saviour, thou couldst not but be heard. Those who out of ignorance and simplicity thus persecuted thee, find the happy issue of thine intercession. Now I see whence it was that three thousand souls were converted soon after at one Sermon. It was not Peter's speech, it was thy prayer, that was thus effectual. Now they have grace to know and confess whence they have both forgiveness and salvation, and can recompense their blasphemies with thanksgiving. What sin is there, Lord, whereof I can despair of the remission, or what offence can I be unwilling to remit, when thou prayest for the forgiveness of thy murderers and blasphemers?  
There is no day so long but hath his evening. At last, O blessed Saviour, thou art drawing to an end of these painful sufferings, when spent with toil and torment thou criest out, I thirst. How shouldst thou do other? O dear Jesus, how shouldst thou do other than thirst? The night thou hadst spent in watching, in prayer, in agony, in thy conveyance from the Garden to Jerusalem, from Annas to Caiaphas, from Caiaphas to Pilate, in thy restless answers, in buffet and stripes; the day in arraignments, in haling from place to place, in scourge, in stripping, in robing and disrobing, in bleeding, in tugging under thy Cross, in wound and distension, in pain and passion: No marvel if thou thirstedst. Although there was more in this drought than thy need: It was no less requisite thou shouldst thirst, then that thou shouldst die: Both were upon the same predetermination, both upon the same prediction. How else should that word be verified, Psal. 22. 14, 15. All my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax, it is melted in the midst of my bowels: My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death? Had it not been to make up that word whereof one jot cannot pass, though thou hadst felt this thirst, yet thou hadst not bewrayed it. Alas! what could it avail to bemoan thy wants to insulting enemies, whose sport was thy misery? How should they pity thy thirst, that pitied not thy bloodshed? It was not their favour that thou expectedst herein, but their conviction. O Saviour, how can we, thy sinful servants, think much to be exercised with hunger and thirst, when we hear thee thus complain?  
Thou that not long since proclaimedst in the Temple, If any man thirst, let him come to me and drink: He that believeth in me, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living waters, now thyself thirstest: Thou in whom we believe, complainest to want some drops; thou hadst the command of all the waters both above the firmament and below it, yet thou wouldst thirst. Even so, Lord, thou that wouldst die for us, wouldst thirst for us. O give me to thirst after those waters which thou promisest, whatever become of those waters which thou wouldst want. The time was, when craving water of the Samaritan, thou gavest better then that thou askedst. Oh give me to thirst after that more precious Water; and so do thou give me of that water of life, that I may never thirst again.  
Blessed God, how marvellously dost thou contrive thine own affairs? Thine enemies whiles they would despite thee, shall unwittingly justify thee and convince themselves. As thou fore saidst, In thy thirst, they gave thee vinegar to drink. Had they given thee Wine, thou hadst not taken it; the night before thou hadst taken leave of that comfortable liquor, resolving to drink no more of that sweet juice till thou shouldst drink it new with them in thy Father's Kingdom. Had they given thee Water, they had not fulfilled that prediction, whereby they were self-condemned. I know not now, O dear Jesus, whether this last draught of thine were more pleasing to thee or more distasteful: Distasteful in itself (for what liquor could be equally harsh?) pleasing, in that it made up those Sufferings thou wert to endure, and those Prophecies thou wert to fulfil.  
Now there is no more to do, thy full consummation of all predictions, of all types and ceremonies, 
For the full explication whereof, I refer my Reader to my Passion Sermon, wherein the particularities are largely discussed.  of all sufferings, of all satisfactions is happily both effected and proclaimed; nothing now remains but a voluntary, sweet and Heavenly resignation of thy Blessed Soul into the hands of thine eternal Father, and a bowing of thine head for the change of a better Crown, and a peaceable obdormition in thy bed of ease and honour, and an instant entrance into rest, triumph, Glory.  
And now, O blessed Jesus, how easily have carnal eyes all this while mistaken the passages and intentions of this thy last and most glorious work? Our weakness could hitherto see nothing here but pain and ignominy; now my better-inlightned eyes see in this elevation of thine both honour and happiness. Lo, thou that art the Mediator betwixt God and man, the reconciler of Heaven and earth, art lift up betwixt earth and Heaven, that thou mightest accord both. Thou that art the great Captain of our Salvation, the conqueror of all the adverse powers of death and hell, art exalted upon this Triumphal chariot of the Cross, that thou mightest trample upon death, and drag all those Infernal Principalities manacled after thee. Those arms which thine enemies meant violently to extend, are stretched forth for the embracing of all mankind that shall come in for the benefit of thine all-sufficient redemption. Even whiles thou sufferest, thou reignest. Oh the impotent madness of silly men! They think to disgrace thee with wry faces, with tongues put out, with bitter scoffs, with poor wretched indignities; when in the mean time the Heavens declare thy righteousness, O Lord, and the earth shows forth thy power. The Sun pulls in his light, as not abiding to see the sufferings of his Creator; the Earth trembles under the sense of the wrong done to her Maker; the Rocks ren●, the veil of the Temple tears from the top to the bottom; shortly, all the frame of the world acknowledges the dominion of that Son of God whom man despised.  
Earth and Hell have done their worst. O Saviour, thou art in thy Paradise, and triumphest over the malice of men and Devils: The remainders of thy Sacred person are not yet free. The Soldiers have parted thy garments, and cast lots upon thy seamless coat (those poor spoils cannot so much enrich them as glorify thee, whose Scriptures are fulfilled by their barbarous sortitions.) The Jews sue to have thy bones divided; but they sue in vain. No more could thy garments be whole than thy body could be broken. One inviolable Decree overrules both. Foolish executioners! ye look up at that crucified Body, as if it were altogether in your power and mercy; nothing appears to you but impotence and death: little do ye know what an irresistible guard there is upon that Sacred corpse; such as if all the Powers of Darkness shall band against, they shall find themselves confounded. In spite of all the gates of Hell that word shall stand, Not a bone of him shall be broken.  
Still the infallible Decree of the Almighty leads you on to his own ends, through your own ways. Ye saw him already dead, whom ye came to dispatch: those bones therefore shall be whole, which ye had had no power to break. But yet, that no piece either of your cruelty or of Divine prediction may remain unsatisfied, he whose bones may not be impaired, shall be wounded in his flesh; he whose Ghost was yielded up, must yield his last blood; One of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith there came out blood and water. Malice is wont to end with life; here it overlives it. Cruel man! what means this so late wound? what commission hadst thou for this bloody act? Pilate had given leave to break the bones of the living, he gave no leave to gore the side of the dead: what wicked supererogation is this? what a superfluity of maliciousness? To what purpose did thy spear pierce so many hearts in that one? why wouldst thou kill a dead man? Methinks the Blessed Virgin, and those other passionate associates of hers, and the Disciple whom Jesus loved, together with the other of his fellows, the friends and followers of Christ, and especially he that was so ready to draw his sword upon the troup of his Master's apprehenders, should have work enough to contain themselves within the bounds of patience at so savage a stroke: their sorrow could not choose but turn to indignation, and their hearts could not but rise (as even mine doth now) at so impertinent a villainy. How easily could I rave at that rude hand? But, O God, when I look up to there, and consider how thy holy and wise Providence so overrules the most barbarous actions of men, that (besides their will) they turn beneficial, I can at once hate them, and bless thee. This very wound hath a mouth to speak the Messiahship of my Saviour, and the truth of thy Scripture, They shall look at him whom they have pierced. Behold now the Second Adam sleeping, and out of his side form the Mother of the living, the Evangelical Church. Behold the Rock which was smitten, and the waters of life gushed forth. Behold the fountain that is set open to the house of David, for sin and for uncleanness; a fountain not of water only, but of blood too. O Saviour, by thy water we are washed, by thy blood we are redeemed. Those two Sacraments which thou didst institute alive, flow also from thee dead, as the last memorial of thy Love to thy Church: the water of Baptism, which is the laver of Regeneration; the blood of the new Testament shed for remission of sins: and these, together with the Spirit that gives life to them both, are the three Witnesses on earth, whose attestation cannot fail us. Oh precious and sovereign wound, by which our Souls are healed! Into this cleft of the rock let my Dove fly and enter, and there safely hide herself from the talons of all the birds of prey.  
It could not be but that the death of Christ, contrived and acted at Jerusalem in so solemn a Festival, must needs draw a world of beholders: The Romans, the Centurion and his band, were there as actors, as supervisors of the Execution. Those strangers were no otherwise engaged, then as they that would hold fair correspondence with the Citizens where they were engarisoned: their freedom from prejudice rendered them more capable of an ingenuous construction of all events. Now when the Centurion and they that were with him that watched Jesus saw the Earthquake, and the things that were done, they feared greatly, and glorified God, and said, Truly this was the Son God.  
What a marvellous concurrence is here of strong and irrefragable convictions? Meekness in suffering, Prayer for his murderers, a faithful resignation of his Soul into the hands of his Heavenly Father, the Sun eclipsed, the Heavens darkened, the earth trembling, the graves open, the rocks rend, the veil of the Temple torn; who could go less than this, Truly this was the Son of God? He suffers patiently; this is through the power of Grace; many good men have done so through his enabling. The frame of Nature suffers with him; this is proper to the God of Nature, the Son of God.  
I wonder not that these men confessed thus; I wonder that any Spectator confessed it not: these proofs were enough to fetch all the world upon their knees, and to have made all mankind a Convert. But all hearts are not alike; no means can work upon the wilfully-obdured. Even after this the Soldier pierced that Blessed side; and whiles Pagans relented, Jews continued impenitent. Yet even of that Nation, those beholders whom envy and partiality had not interessed in this slaughter, were stricken with just astonishment, and smote their breasts, and shook their heads, and by passionate gesture spoke what their tongues durst not. How many must there needs be, in this universal concourse, of them whom he had healed of diseases, or freed from Devils, or miraculously fed, or some way obliged in their persons or friends? These, as they were deeply affected with the mortal indignities which were offered to their acknowledged Messiah; so they could not but be ravished with wonder at those powerful demonstrations of the Deity of him in whom they believed; and strangely distracted in their thoughts, whiles they compared those Sufferings with that Omnipotence. As yet their Faith and Knowledge was but in the bud or in the blade. How could they choose but think, Were he not the Son of God, how could these things be? and if he were the Son of God, how could he die? His Resurrection, his Ascension, should soon after perfect their belief; but in the mean time their hearts could not but be conflicted with thoughts hard to be reconciled. Howsoever they glorify God, and stand amazed at the expectation of the issue.  
But above all other, O thou Blessed Virgin, the Holy Mother of our Lord, how many swords pierced thy Soul, whiles standing close by his Cross thou sawest thy dear Son and Saviour thus indignly used, thus stripped, thus stretched, thus nailed, thus bleeding, thus dying, thus pierced? How did thy troubled heart now recount what the Angel Gabriel had reported to thee from God in the message of thy blessed Conception of that Son of God? How didst thou think of the miraculous formation of that thy Divine burden by the power of the Holy Ghost? How didst thou recall those prophecies of Anna and Simeon concerning him, and all those supernatural works of his, the irrefragable proofs of his Godhead? and laying all these together, with the miserable infirmities of his Passion, how wert thou crucified with him? The care that he took for thee in the extremity of his torments, could not choose but melt thy heart into sorrow: But oh, when in the height of his pain and misery thou heardst him cry out, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? what a cold horror possessed thy Soul? I cannot now wonder at thy qualms and swoonings; I could rather wonder that thou survivedst so sad an hour. But when recollecting thyself, thou sawest the Heavens to bear a part with thee in thy mourning, and feltest the earth to tremble no less than thyself, and foundst that the dreadful concussion of the whole frame of Nature proclaimed the Deity of him that would thus suffer and die, and remembredst his frequent predictions of drinking this bitter cup, and of being baptised thus in blood; thou beganst to take heart, and to comfort thyself with the assured expectation of the glorious issue. More than once had he foretold thee his victorious Resurrection. He who had openly professed Ionas for his type, and had forepromised in three days to raise up the ruined Temple of his Body, had doubtless given more full intimation unto thee, who hadst so great a share in that sacred body of his. The just shall live by Faith. Lo, that Faith of thine in his ensuing Resurrection, and in his triumph over death, gives thee life, and cheers up thy drooping Soul, and bids it in an holy confidence to triumph over all thy fears and sorrows; and him whom thou now seest dead and despised, represents unto thee living, immortal, glorious.   

The Resurrection.  
GRace doth not ever make show where it is. There is much secret riches both in the earth and sea, which never eye saw. I never heard any news till now of Joseph of Arimathea: yet was he eminently both rich, and wise, and good; a worthy, though close Disciple of our Saviour. True Faith may be wisely reserved, but will not be cowardly. Now he puts forth himself and dares beg the Body of Jesus. Death is wont to end all quarrels. Pilat's heart tells him he hath done too much already, in sentencing an innocent to death: no doubt that Centurion had related unto him the miraculous symptoms of that Passion. He that so unwillingly condemned Innocence, could rather have wished that just man alive, then have denied him dead. The body is yielded, and taken down; and now, that which hung naked upon the Cross, is wrapped in fine linen; that which was soiled with sweat and blood, is curiously washed and embalmed. Now even Nicodemus comes in for a part, and fears not the envy of a good profession. Death hath let that man lose, whom the Law formerly overawed with restraint. He hates to be a night-bird any longer; but boldly flies forth, and looks upon the face of the Sun, and will be now as liberal in his Odours, as he was before niggardly in his Confession. O Saviour, the earth was thine and the fullness of it; yet as thou hadst not an house of thine own whiles thou livedst, so thou hadst not a grave when thou wert dead. Joseph that rich Councillor lent thee his: lent it so, as it should never be restored: thou took'st it but for a while; but that little touch of that Sacred Corpse of thine made it too good for the owner.  
O happy Joseph, that hadst the honour to be Landlord of the Lord of life! how well is thy houseroom repaid with a mansion not made with hands, eternal in the heavens? Thy Garden and thy Tomb were hard by Calvary, where thou couldst not fail of many monitions of thy frailty. How oft hadst thou seasoned that new Tomb with sad and savoury meditations? and hadst oft said within thyself, Here I shall once lie down to my last rest, and wait for my Resurrection? Little didst thou then think to have been disappointed by so Blessed a guest; or that thy grave should be again so soon empty, and in that emptiness uncapable of any mortal in-dweller. How gladly dost thou now resign thy grave to him in whom thou livest, and who liveth for ever, whose Soul is in Paradise, whose Godhead every where? Hadst thou not been rich before, this gift had enriched thee alone, and more ennobled thee then all thine earthly Honour. Now great Princes envy thy bounty, and have thought themselves happy to kiss the stones of that rock which thou thus hewedst, thus bestowedst.  
Thus purely wrapped and sweetly embalmed lies the precious body of our Saviour in Joseph's new vault. Are ye now also at rest, O ye Jewish Rulers? Is your malice dead and buried with him? Hath Pilate enough served your envy and revenge? Surely it is but a common hostility that can die; yours surviveth death, and puts you upon a further project. The chief Priests and Pharisees came together unto Pilate, saying, Sir, we remember that this Deceiver said whiles he was yet alive, After three days I will rise again: Command therefore that the Sepulchre be made sure till the third day; lest his Disciples come by night, and steal him away, and say to the people, he is risen.  
How full of terrors and inevitable perplexities is guiltiness? These men were not more troubled with envy at Christ alive, then now with fear of his Resurrection. And what can now secure them? Pilate had helped to kill him; but who shall keep him from rising? Wicked and foolish Jews! how fain would ye fight against God, and your own hearts? How gladly would ye deceive yourselves, in believing him to be a Deceiver whom your consciences knew to be no less true than powerful? Lazarus was still in your eye: That man was no phantasm; his death, his reviving was undeniable; the so fresh resuscitation of that dead body after four day's dissolution was a manifest conviction of Omnipotence. How do ye vainly wish that he could deceive you in the fore-reporting of his own Resurrection? Without a Divine power he could have raised neither Lazarus nor himself: with and by it, he could as well raise himself as Lazarus. What need we other witnesses then your own mouths? That which he would do, ye confess he foretold; that the truth of his word might answer the power of this deed, and both of them might argue him the God of Truth and Power, and yourselves enemies to both. And now what must be done? The Sepulchre must be secured, and you with it: An huge stone, a strong guard must do the deed: and that stone must be sealed, that guard of your own designing. Methinks I hear the Soldiers and busy Officers, when they were rolling that other weighty stone (for such we probably conceive) to the mouth of the vault with much toil and sweat and breathlesness, how they bragged of the sureness of the place and unremovableness of that load; and when that so choice a Watch was set, how they boasted of their valour and vigilance, and said, they would make him safe from either rising or stealing. Oh the madness of impotent men, that think by either wile or force to frustrate the will and designs of the Almighty! How justly doth that wise and powerful Arbiter of the world laugh them to scorn in Heaven, and befool them in their own vain devices? O Saviour, how much evidence had thy Resurrection wanted, if these enemies had not been thus maliciously provident? how irrefragable is thy rising made by these bootless endeavours of their prevention?  
All this while the devout Maries keep close, and silently spend their Sabbath in a mixture of grief and hope. How did they wear out those sad hours in bemoaning themselves each to other; in mutual relations of the patient sufferings, of the happy expiration of their Saviour, of the wonderful events both in the Heavens and earth that accompanied his Crucifixion, of his frequent and clear Predictions of his Resurrection? And now they have gladly agreed (so soon as the time will give them leave) in the dawning of the Sunday morning to visit that dear Sepulchre. Neither will they go emptyhanded? She that had bestowed that costly Alabaster-box of Ointment upon their Saviour alive, hath prepared no less precious Odours for him dead.  
Love is restless and fearless. In the dark of night these good Women go to buy their spices, and ere the daybreak are gone out of their houses towards the Tomb of Christ to bestow them. This Sex is commonly fearful; it was much for them to walk alone in that unsafe season: yet, as despising all fears and dangers, they thus spend the night after their Sabbath. Might they have been allowed to buy their Perfumes on the Sabbath, or to have visited that holy Tomb sooner, can we think they would have stayed so long? can we suppose they would have cared more for the Sabbath then for the Lord of the Sabbath, who now kept his Sabbath in the Grave? Sooner they might not come, later they would not, to present their last homage to their dead Saviour. Had these holy women known their Jesus to be alive, how had they hasted, who made such speed to do their last offices to his sacred Corpse? For us, we know that our Redeemer liveth; we know where he is. O Saviour, how cold and heartless is our love to thee, if we do not hast to find thee in thy Word and Sacraments; if our Souls do not fly up to thee in all holy Affections into thy Heaven?  
Of all the Women Marry Magdalen is first named, and in some Evangelists alone: She is noted above her fellows. None of them were so much obliged, none so zealously thankful: Seven Devils were cast out of her by the command of Christ. That Heart which was freed from Satan by that powerful dispossession, was now possessed with a free and gracious bounty to her deliverer. Twice at the least hath she poured out her fragrant and costly Odours upon him. Where there is a true sense of favour and beneficence, there cannot but be a fervent desire of retribution. O Blessed Saviour, could we feel the danger of every sin, and the malignity of those spiritual possessions from which thou hast freed us, how should we pour out ourselves into thankfulness unto thee?  
Every thing here had horror. The Place, both solitary and a Sepulchre: Nature abhors, as the visage, so the region of Death and Corruption. The Time, Night; only the Moon gave them some faint glimmering, (for this being the seventeenth day of her age, afforded some light to the later part of the night.) The Business, the visitation of a dead Corpse. Their zealous Love hath easily overcome all these. They had followed him in his Sufferings when the Disciples-left him; they attended him to his Cross weeping; they followed him to his Grave, and saw how Joseph laid him: even there they leave him not, but, ere it be daylight, return to pay him the last tribute of their duty. How much stronger is Love then death? O Blessed Jesus, why should not we imitate thy love to us? Those whom thou lovest, thou lovest to the end, yea in it, yea after it: even when we are dead, not our Souls only, but our very dust is dearly respected of thee. What condition of thine should remove our affections from thy person in Heaven, from thy limbs on earth?  
Well did these worthy Women know what Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus had done to thee; they saw how curiously they had wrapped thee, how preciously they had embalmed thee: yet, as not thinking others beneficence could be any just excuse of theirs, they bring their own Odours to thy Sepulture to be perfumed by the touch of thy Sacred body. What thank is it to us that others are obsequious to thee, whiles we are slack or niggardly? We may rejoice in others forwardness; but if we rest in it, how small joy shall it be to us, to see them go to Heaven without us?  
When on the Friday-evening they attended Joseph to the intombing of Jesus, they marked the place, they marked the passage, they marked that inner grave-stone which the owner had fitted to the mouth of that tomb; which all their care is now to remove; Who shall roll away the stone? That other more weighty load wherewith the vault was barred, the seal, the guard set upon both, came not perhaps into their knowledge; this was the private plot of Pilate and the Priests, beyond the reach of their thoughts.  
I do not hear them say, How shall we recover the charges of our Odours? or, How shall we avoid the envy and censure of our angry Elders, for honouring him whom the Governors of our Nation have thought worthy of condemnation? The only thought they now take is, Who shall roll away the stone? Neither do they stay at home and move this doubt, but when they are well forward on their way, resolving to try the issue. Good hearts cannot be so solicitous for any thing under Heaven, as for removing those impediments which lie between them and their Saviour. O Blessed Jesus, thou who art clearly revealed in Heaven, art yet still both hid and sealed up from too many here on earth: Neither is it some thin veil that is spread between thee and them, but an huge stone; even a true stone of offence lies rolled upon the mouth of their hearts. Yea, if a second weight were superadded to thy Grave here, no less than three spiritual bars are interposed betwixt them and thee above; Idleness, Ignorance, Unbelief. Who shall roll away these stones, but the same power that removed thine? O Lord, remove that our Ignorance, that we may know thee; our Idleness, that we may seek thee; our Unbelief, that we may find and enjoy thee.  
How well it succeeds when we go faithfully and conscionably about our work, and leave the issue to God? Lo, now God hath removed the cares of these holy Women, together with the grave-stone. To the wicked that falls out which they feared, to the Godly that which they wished and cared for, yea more. Holy cares ever prove well; the worldly dry the bones, and disappoint the hopes. Could these good Visitants have known of a greater stone sealed, of a strong watch set, their doubts had been doubled: now God goes beyond their thoughts, and at once removes that which both they did and might have feared: The stone is removed, the seal broken, the watch fled. What a scorn doth the Almighty God make of the impotent designs of men? They thought, the stone shall make the grave sure, the seal shall make the stone sure, the guard shall make both sure: Now when they think all safe, God sends an Angel from Heaven above, the earth quakes beneath, the stone rolls away, the Soldiers stand like carcases, and when they have got heart enough to run away, think themselves valiant; the Tomb is opened, Christ is risen, they confounded. Oh the vain projects of silly men! as if with one shovelfull of mire they would damn up the Sea; or with a clout hanged forth they would keep the Sun from shining. Oh these Spiders-webs, or houses of Cards which fond children have (as they think) skilfully framed, which the least breath breaks and ruins! Who are we, sorry worms, that we should look in any business to prevail against our Creator? What creature is so base that he cannot arm against us to our confusion? The Lice and Frogs shall be too strong for Pharaoh, the Worms for Herod. There is no wisdom nor counsel against the Lord.  
Oh the marvellous pomp and magnificence of our Saviour's Resurrection! The earth quakes, the Angel appears; that it may be plainly seen that this Divine person now rising had the command both of earth and Heaven. At the dissolution of thine Humane nature, O Saviour, was an Earthquake; at the reuniting of it is an Earthquake; to tell the world that the God of Nature then suffered, and had now conquered. Whiles thou layest still in the earth, the earth was still; when thou camest to fetch thine own, The earth trembled at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob. When thou our true Samson awakedst, and foundst thyself tied with these Philistian cords, and rousedst up, and brakest those hard and strong twists with a sudden power, no marvel if the room shook under thee.  
Good cause had the earth to quake, when the God that made it powerfully calls for his own flesh from the usurpation of her bowels. Good cause had she to open her graves and yield up her dead in attendance to the Lord of Life, whom she had presumed to detain in that cell of her darkness. What a seeming impotence was here, that thou, who art the true Rock of thy Church, shouldst lie obscurely shrouded in Joseph's rock? thou that art the true cornerstone of thy Church, shouldst be shut up with a double stone, the one of thy grave, the other of thy vault? thou, by whom we are sealed to the day of our Redemption, shouldst be sealed up in a blind cavern of earth? But now what a demonstration of power doth both the world and I see in thy glorious Resurrection? The rocks tear, the graves open, the stones roll away, the dead rise and appear, the Soldiers flee and tremble, Saints and Angels attend thy rising. O Saviour, thou layest down in weakness, thou risest in power and glory; thou layest down like a man, thou risest like a God.  
What a lively image hast thou herein given me of the dreadful Majesty of the general Resurrection and thy second appearance? Than not the earth only, but the powers of Heaven shall be shaken: not some few graves shall be open, and some Saints appear; but all the bars of death shall be broken, and all that sleep in their graves shall awake, and stand up from the dead before thee: not some one Angel shall descend; but thou, the great Angel of the Covenant, attended with thousand thousands of those mighty Spirits. And if these stout Soldiers were so filled with terror at the feeling of an Earthquake and the sight of an Angel, that they had scarce breathe left in them for the time to witness them alive; where shall thine enemies appear, O Lord, in the day of thy terrible appearance, when the earth shall reel and vanish, and the elements shall be on a flame about their ears, and the Heavens shall wrap up as a scroll?  
O God, thou mightest have removed this stone by the force of thine Earthquake, as well as rive other rocks; yet thou wouldst rather use the Ministry of an Angel: or, thou that gavest thyself life, and gavest being both to the stone and to the earth, couldst more easily have removed the stone then moved the earth; but it was thy pleasure to make use of an Angel's hand. And now he that would ask why thou wouldst do it rather by an Angel then by thyself, may as well ask why thou didst not rather give thy Law by thine own immediate hand then by the ministration of Angels; why by an Angel thou struckest the Israelites with plagues, the Assyrians with the sword; why an Angel appeared to comfort thee after thy Temptation and Agony, when thou wert able to comfort thyself; why thou usest the influences of Heaven to fruiten the earth; why thou imployest Second causes in all events, when thou couldst do all things alone. It is good reason thou shouldst serve thyself of thine own; neither is there any ground to be required whether of their motion or rest, besides thy will.  
Thou didst raise thyself, the Angels removed the stone. They that could have no hand in thy Resurrection, yet shall have an hand in removing outward impediments; not because thou needst, but because thou wouldst: like as thou alone didst raise Lazarus, thou badst others let him lose. Works of Omnipotency thou reservest to thine own immediate performance; ordinary actions thou dost by subordinate means.  
Although this act of the Angels was not merely with respect to thee; but partly to those devout Women, to ease them of their care, to manifest unto them thy Resurrection. So officious are those glorious Spirits, not only to thee their Maker, but even to the meanest of thy servants, especially in the furtherance of all their spiritual designs. Let us bring our Odours, they will be sure to roll away the stone. Why do not we imitate them in our forwardness to promote each others Salvation? We pray to do thy will here as they do in Heaven: if we do not act our wishes, we do but mock thee in our Devotions.  
How glorious did this Angel of thine appear? The terrified Soldiers saw his face like lightning, both they and the Women saw his garments shining, bright, and white as snow: such a presence became his errand. It was fit that, as in thy Passion the Sun was darkened, and all Creatures were clad with heaviness, so in thy Resurrection the best of thy Creatures should testify their joy and exsultation in the brightness of their habit; that as we on festival-days put on our best clothes, so thine Angels should celebrate this blessed Festivity with a meet representation of Glory. They could not but enjoy our joy, to see the work of man's Redemption thus fully finished: and if there be mirth in Heaven at the conversion of one sinner, how much more when a world of sinners is perfectly ransomed from death, and restored to Salvation? Certainly, if but one or two appeared, all rejoiced, all triumphed. Neither could they but be herein sensible of their own happy advantage, who by thy mediation are confirmed in their glorious estate; since thou by the blood of thy Cross and power of thy Resurrection hast reconciled things not in earth only, but in Heaven.  
But, above all other, the Love of thee their God and Saviour must needs heighten their joy, and make thy Glory theirs. It is their perpetual work to praise thee: how much more now when such an occasion was offered as never had been since the world began, never could be after? when thou the God of Spirits hadst vanquished all the spiritual powers of darkness, when thou the Lord of Life hadst conquered death for thee and all thine, so as they may now boldly insult over their last enemy, O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?  
Certainly, if Heaven can be capable of an increase of joy and felicity, never had those Blessed Spirits so great a cause of triumph and gratulation as in this day of thy glorious Resurrection. How much more, O dear Jesus, should we men, whose flesh thou didst assume, unite, revive, for whose sake and in whose stead thou didst vouchsafe to suffer and die, whose arrearages thou payedst in death, and acquittedst in thy Resurrection, whose Souls are discharged, whose Bodies shall be raised by the power of thy rising; how much more should we think we have cause to be overjoyed with the happy memory of this great work of thy Divine Power and unconceivable Mercy?  
Lo now, how weak soever I am in myself, yet in the confidence of this victorious Resurrection of my Saviour I dare boldly challenge and defy you, O all ye adverse Powers. Do the worst ye can to my Soul; in despite of you it shall be safe.  
Is it Sin that threats me? Behold, this Resurrection of my Redeemer publishes my discharge. My Surety was arrested and cast into the prison of his Grave: had not the utmost farthing of mine arrearages been paid, he could not have come forth. He is come forth: the Sum is fully satisfied. What danger can there be of a discharged Debt?  
Is it the Wrath of God? Wherefore is that but for sin? If my sin be defrayed, that quarrel is at an end: and if my Saviour suffered it for me, how can I fear to suffer it in myself? That infinite Justice hates to be twice paid. He is risen, therefore he hath satisfied. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died; yea rather, that is risen.  
Is it Death itself? Lo, my Saviour that overcame death by dying, hath triumphed over him in his Resurrection. How can I now fear a conquered enemy? What harm is there in the Serpent, but for his sting? The sting of death is sin: that is pulled out by my powerful Redeemer, it cannot now hurt me; it may refresh me to carry this cool Snake in my bosom.  
O then, my dear Saviour, I bless thee for thy Death; but I bless thee more for thy Resurrection. That was a work of wonderful Humility, of infinite Mercy; this was a work of infinite Power: In that was humane Weakness; in this Divine Omnipotence: In that thou didst die for our sins; in this thou didst rise again for our Justification.  
And now how am I conformable to thee, if when thou art risen I lie still in the grave of my Corruptions? How am I a limb of thy body, if whiles thou hast that perfect dominion over death, death hath dominion over me; if whiles thou art alive and glorious, I lie rotting in the dust of death? I know the locomotive faculty is in the Head: by the power of the Resurrection of thee our Head, all we thy Members cannot but be raised. As the earth cannot hold my body from thee in the day of the Second Resurrection, so cannot sin withhold my Soul from thee in the First. How am I thine, if I be not risen? and if I be risen with thee, why do I not seek the things above, where thou sittest at the right hand of God?  
The Vault or Cave which Joseph had hewn out of the rock was large, capable of no less than ten persons: upon the mouth of it Eastward was that great stone rolled; within it, at the right hand, in the North part of the Cave, was hewn out a receptacle for the body, three handfuls high from the pavement; and a stone was accordingly fitted for the cover of that Grave.  
Into this Cave the good Women (finding the stone rolled away) descended to seek the body of Christ; and in it saw the Angels. This was the Goal to which Peter and John ran, finding the spoils of death, the grave clothes wrapped up, and the napkin that was about the head folded up together and laid in a place by itself: and as they came in haste, so they returned with wonder.  
I marvel not at your speed, O ye blessed Disciples, if upon the report of the Women ye ran, yea flew upon the wings of zeal, to see what was become of your Master. Ye had wont to walk familiarly together in the attendance of your Lord: now society is forgotten; and, as for a wager, each tries the speed of his legs, and with neglect of other, vies who shall be first at the Tomb.  
Who would not but have tried masteries with you in this case, and have made light touches of the earth to have held paces with you? Your desire was equal; but John is the younger, his limbs are more nimble, his breath more free: he first looks into the Sepulchre, but Peter goes down first. O happy competition who shall be more zealous in the enquiry after Christ! Ye saw enough to amaze you, not enough to settle your Faith. How well might you have thought, Our Master is not subduced, but risen. Had he been taken away by others hands, this fine linen had not been left behind: Had he not himself risen from this bed of earth, he had not thus wrapped up his night-cloaths, and laid them sorted by themselves. What can we doubt, when he foretold us he would rise? O Blessed Jesus, how wilt thou pardon our errors? how should we pardon and pity the errors of each other in lesser occasions, whenas yet thy prime and dearest Disciples, after so much Divine instruction, knew not the Scriptures, that thou must rise again from the dead? They went away more astonished then confident; more full of wonder as yet then of belief.  
There is more strength of zeal (where it takes) in the weaker Sex. Those holy Women, as they came first, so they stayed last: especially devout Mary Magdalene stands still at the mouth of the Cave weeping. Well might those tears have been spared, if her Knowledge had been answerable to her Affection, her Faith to her Fervour. Withal, (as our eye will be where we love) she stoops, and looks down into that dear Sepulchre.  
Holy desires never but speed well. There she sees two glorious Angels, the one sitting at the head, the other at the feet where the body of Jesus had lain. Their shining brightness showed them to be no mortal creatures: besides that Peter and John had but newly come out of the Sepulchre, and both found and left it empty in her sight, which was now suddenly filled with those celestial guests. That white linen wherewith Joseph had shrouded the Sacred body of Jesus, was now shamed with a brighter whiteness.  
Yet do I not find the good Woman ought appalled with that inexspected glory. So was her heart taken up with the thought for her Saviour, that she seemed not sensible of whatsoever other Objects. Those tears which she did let drop into the Sepulchre, send up back to her the voice of those Angels, Woman, why weepest thou? God and his Angels take notice of every tear of our Devotion. The sudden wonder hath not dried her eyes, nor charmed her tongue: She freely confesseth the cause of her grief to be the missing of her Saviour; They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him. Alas, good Mary, how dost thou lose thy tears? of whom dost thou complain, but of thy best friend? who hath removed thy Lord but himself? who but his own Deity hath taken away that humane body out of that region of death? Neither is he now laid any more, he stands by thee whose removal thou complainest of. Thus many a tender and humbled Soul afflicts itself with the want of that Saviour whom it hath, and feeleth not.  
Sense may be no judge of the bewailed absence of Christ. Do but turn back thine eye, O thou Religious Soul, and see Jesus standing by thee, though thou knewst not that it was Jesus. His habit was not his own. Sometimes it pleases our Saviour to appear unto his not like himself: his holy disguises are our trials. Sometimes he will seem a Stranger, sometimes an Enemy; sometimes he offers himself to us in the shape of a poor man, sometimes of a distressed Captive. Happy is he that can discern his Saviour in all forms. Marry took him for a Gardener. Devout Magdalene, thou art not much mistaken. As it was the trade of the First Adam to dress the Garden of Eden, so was it the trade of the Second to tend the Garden of his Church. He digs up the soil by seasonable Afflictions, he sows in it the seeds of Grace, he plants it with gracious motions, he waters it with his Word, yea with his own blood, he weeds it by wholesome censures. O Blessed Saviour, what is it that thou neglectest to do for this selected enclosure of thy Church? As in some respect thou art the true Vine, and thy Father the Husbandman; so also in some other we are the Vine, and thou art the Husbandman. Oh be thou such to me as thou appearedst unto Magdalene: break up the fallows of my Nature, implant me with Grace, prune me with meet corrections, bedew me with the former and latter rain; do what thou wilt to make me fruitful.  
Still the good Woman weeps, and still complains, and passionately inquires of thee, O Saviour, for thyself. How apt are we, if thou dost never so little vary from our apprehensions, to mis-know thee, and to wrong ourselves by our mis-opinions? All this while hast thou concealed thyself from thine affectionate client; thou sawest her tears, and heardest her importunities and inquiries: at last (as it was with Joseph, that he could no longer contain himself from the notice of his brethren) thy compassion causes thee to break forth into a clear expression of thyself by expressing her name unto herself; Marry. She was used as to the name, so to the sound, to the accent. Thou spakest to her before, but in the tone of a stranger; now of a friend, of a Master. Like a good Shepherd, thou callest thy sheep by their name, and they know thy voice. What was thy call of her, but a clear pattern of our Vocation?  
As her, so thou callest us; first, familiarly, effectually. She could not begin with thee otherwise then in the compellation of a stranger; it was thy mercy to begin with her. That correction of thy Spirit is sweet and useful, Now after ye have known God, 
Gal. 4. 9  or rather are known of him. We do know thee, O God, but our active knowledge is after our passive; first we are known of thee, than we know thee that knewest us. And as our Knowledge, so is our Calling, so is our Election; thou beginnest to us in all, and most justly sayest, You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you. When thou wouldst speak to this Devout client as a stranger, thou spakest aloof; Woman, whom seekest thou? now when thou wouldst be known to her, thou callest her by her name, Mary. General invitations and common mercies are for us as men; but where thou givest Grace as to thine elect, thou comest close to the Soul, and winnest us with dear and particular intimations.  
That very name did as much as say, Know him of whom thou art known and beloved, and turns her about to thy view and acknowledgement; She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni, which is to say, Master. Before, her face was towards the Angels: this word fetches her about, and turns her face to thee, from whom her misprision had averted it. We do not rightly apprehend thee, O Saviour, if any creature in Heaven or earth can keep our eyes and our hearts from thee. The Angels were bright and glorious; thy appearance was homely, thy habit mean: yet when she heard thy voice, she turns her back upon the Angels, and salutes thee with a Rabboni, and falls down before thee, in a desire of an humble amplexation of those Sacred feet which she now rejoices to see past the use of her Odours.  
Where there was such familiarity in the mutual compellation, what means such strangeness in the charge; Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father? Thou wert not wont, O Saviour, to make so dainty of being touched: It is not long since these very same hands touched thee in thine anointing; the Bloody-fluxed woman touched thee; the thankful Penitent in Simon's house touched thee. What speak I of these? The multitude touched thee, the Executioners touched thee; and even after thy Resurrection thou didst not stick to say to thy Disciples, Touch me, and see, and to invite Thomas to put his fingers into thy side: neither is it long after this before thou sufferest the three Maries to touch and hold thy feet. How then sayest thou, Touch me not? Was it in a mild taxation of her mistaking? as if thou hadst said, Thou knowest not that I have now an Immortal body, but so demeanest thyself towards me as if I were still in my wont condition; know now that the case is altered: howsoever indeed I have not yet ascended to my Father, yet this body of mine which thou seest to be real and sensible, is now impassable, and qualified with Immortality, and therefore worthy of a more awful veneration then heretofore. Or was it a gentle reproof of her dwelling too long in this dear hold of thee, and fixing her thoughts upon thy Bodily presence; together with an implied direction of reserving the height of her affection for thy perfect glorification in Heaven? Or lastly, was it a light touch of her too much haste and eagerness in touching thee, as if she must use this speed in preventing thine Ascension, or else be endangered to be disappointed of her hopes? as if thou hadst said, Be not so passionately forward and sudden in laying hold on me, as if I were instantly ascending; but know that I shall stay some time with you upon earth, before my going up to my Father. O Saviour, even our well-meant zeal in seeking and enjoying thee may be faulty; if we seek thee where we should not, on earth; how we should not, unwarrantably. There may be a kind of carnality in Spiritual actions. If we have heretofore known thee after the flesh, henceforth know we thee so no more. That thou livedst here in this shape, that colour, this stature, that habit, I should be glad to know; nothing that concerns thee can be unuseful. Could I say, here thou sattest, here thou layest, here and thus thou wert crucified, here buried, here settest thy last foot; I should with much contentment see and recount these memorial of thy presence: But if I shall so fasten my thoughts upon these, as not to look higher to the spiritual part of thine achievements, to the power and issue of thy Resurrection, I am never the better.  
No sooner art thou risen than thou speakest of ascending; as thou didst lie down to rise, so didst thou rise to ascend: that is the consummation of thy▪ Glory, and ours in thee. Thou that forbadst her touch, injoynedst her errand; Go to my brethren, and say, I ascend unto my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.  
The annunciation of thy Resurrection and Ascension is more than a private fruition; this is for the comfort of one, that for the benefit of many. To sit still and enjoy is more sweet for the present; but to go and tell is more gainful in the sequel. That great Angel thought himself (as he well might) highly honoured, in that he was appointed to carry the happy news unto the Blessed Virgin (thy Holy Mother) of her conception of thee her Saviour: how honourable must it needs be to Mary Magdalen, that she must be the messenger of thy second birth, thy Resurrection, and instant Ascension? How beautiful do the f●et of those deserve to be, who bring the glad tidings of peace and Salvation? What matter is it, O Lord, if men despise where thou wilt honour?  
To whom then dost thou send her? Go tell my Brethren. Blessed Jesus, who are those? were they not thy Followers? yea, were they not thy forsakers? yet still thou stilest them thy Brethren. O admirable Humility! O infinite Mercy! How dost thou raise their titles with thyself? At first they were thy Servants, than Disciples, a little before thy death they were thy Friends; now after thy Resurrection they were thy Brethren. Thou that wert exalted infinitely higher from mortal to immortal, descendest so much lower to call them Brethren, who were before Friends, Disciples, Servants. What do we stand upon terms of our poor inequality, when the Son of God stoops so low as to call us Brethren? But, oh Mercy without measure! Why wilt thou, how canst thou, O Saviour, call them Brethren, whom in their last parting thou foundst fugitives? Did they not run from thee? Did not one of them rather leave his inmost coat behind him, than not be quit of thee? Did not another of them deny thee, yea abjure thee? and yet thou sayest, Go tell my Brethren. It is not in the power of the sins of our infirmity to unbrother us: when we look at the acts themselves, they are heinous; when at the persons, they are so much more faulty as more obliged; but when we look at the mercy of thee who hast called us, now, who shall separate us? When we have sinned, thy dearness hath reason to aggravate our sorrows; but when we have sorrowed, our Faith hath no less reason to uphold us from despairing: even yet we are Brethren. Brethren in thee, O Saviour, who art ascending for us; in thee, who hast made thy Father ours, thy God our God. He is thy Father by eternal Generation, our Father by his gracious Adoption; thy God by unity of Essence, our God by his Grace and Election.  
It is this propriety wherein our life and happiness consisteth: They are weak comforts that can be raised from the apprehension of thy general Mecies. What were I the better, O Saviour, that God were thy Father, if he be not mine? Oh do thou give me a particular sense of my interest in thee, and thy goodness to me. Bring thou thyself home to me, and let me find that I have a God and Saviour of my own.  
It is fit I should mark thy order; First, my Father, then yours. Even so, Lord, He is first thine, and in thine only right ours. It is in thee that we are adopted, it is in thee that we are elected; without thee, God is not only a stranger, but an enemy to us. Thou only canst make us free, thou only canst make us Sons. Let me be found in thee, and I cannot fail of a Father in Heaven.  
With what joy did Mary receive this errand? with what joy did the Disciples welcome it from her? Here was good news from a far Country, even as far as the utmost regions of Death.  
Those Disciples whose flight scattered them upon their Master's apprehension, are now, at night, like a dispersed Covey met together by their mutual call: their assembly is secret; when the light was shut in, when the doors were shut up. Still were they fearful, still were the Jews malicious. The assured tidings of their Master's Resurrection and Life hath filled their hearts with joy and wonder. Whiles their thoughts and speech are taken up with so happy a subject, his miraculous and sudden presence bids their senses be witnesses of his reviving and their happiness. When the doors were shut where the Disciples were assembled, for fear of the Jews, came Jesus, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. O Saviour, how thou camest in thither I wonder, I inquire not: I know not what a Glorified body can do; I know there is nothing that thou canst not do. Had not thine entrance been recorded for strange and supernatural, why was thy standing in the midst noted before thy passage into the room? why were the doors said to be shut whiles thou camest in? why were thy Disciples amazed to see thee ere they heard thee? Doubtless, they that once before took thee for a Spirit when thou didst walk upon the waters, could not but be astonished to see thee whiles the doors were barred, (without any noise of thine entrance) to stand in the midst: well might they think thou couldst not thus be there, if thou wert not the God of Spirits. There might seem more scruple of thy realty then of thy power: and therefore after thy wont greeting, thou showest them thy hands and thy feet stamped with the impressions of thy late sufferings. Thy respiration shall argue the truth of thy life. Thou breathest on them as a man, thou givest them thy Spirit as a God; and as God and man thou sendest them on the great errand of thy Gospel.  
All the mists of their doubts are now dispelled, the Sun breaks out clear. They were glad when they had seen the Lord. Had they known thee for no other than a mere man, this re-appearance could not but have affrighted them; since till now by thine Almighty power this was never done, that the long-since dead rose out of their graves, and appeared unto many: But when they recounted the miraculous works that thou hadst done, and thought of Lazarus so lately raised, thine approved Deity gave them confidence, and thy presence joy.  
We cannot but be losers by our absence from holy Assemblies. Where wert thou, O Thomas, when the rest of that Sacred Family were met together? Had thy fear put thee to so long a flight, that as yet thou wert not returned to thy fellows? or didst thou suffer other occasions to detain thee from this happiness? Now for the time thou missedst that Divine breath which so comfortably inspired the rest; now thou art suffered to fall into that weak distrust which thy presence had prevented. They told thee, We have seen the Lord; was not this enough? would no eyes serve thee but thine own? were thy ears to no use for thy Faith? Except I see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe. Suspicious man, who is the worse for that? Whose is the loss if thou believe not? Is there no certainty but in thine own senses? Why were not so many and so holy eyes and tongues as credible as thine own hands and eyes? How little wert thou yet acquainted with the ways of Faith? Faith comes by hearing, These are the tongues that must win the whole world to an assent; and dost thou the first man detract to yield? Why was that word so hard to pass? Had not that thy Divine Master foretold thee with the rest that he must be crucified, and the third day rise again? Is any thing related to be done but that which was forepromised? any thing beyond the sphere of Divine Omnipotence? Go then, and please thyself in thine over-wise incredulity, whiles thy fellows are happy in believing.  
It is a whole week that Thomas rests in this sullen unbelief; in all which time doubtless his ears were beaten with the many constant assertions of the holy Women (the first witnesses of the Resurrection) as also of the two Disciples walking to Emmaus, (whose hearts burning within them, had set their tongues on fire in a zealous relation of those happy occurrences) with the assured reports of the rising and re-appearance of many Saints in attendance of the Lord and giver of life: yet still he struggles with his own distrust, and stiffly suspends his belief to that truth whereof he cannot deny himself enough convinced. As all bodies are not equally apt to be wrought upon by the same Medicine, so are not all Souls by the same means of Faith; one is refractory, whiles others are pliable. O Saviour, how justly mightest thou have left this man to his own pertinacy? whom could he have thanked if he had perished in his unbelief? But, O thou good Shepherd of Israel, that couldst be content to leave the ninety and nine to go fetch one stray in the wilderness, how careful wert thou to reduce this straggler to his fellows? Right so were thy Disciples reassembled, such was the season, the place the same, so were the doors shut up, when (that unbelieving Disciple being now present with the rest,) thou so camest in, so stoodst in the midst, so show'dst thy hands and feet; and singling out thy incredulous client, invitest his eyes to see, and his fingers to handle thine hands, and his hand to be thrust into thy side, that he might not be faithless, but faithful.  
Blessed Jesus, how thou pitiest the errors and infirmities of thy servants? Even when we are froward in our misconceits and worthy of nothing but desertion, how thou followest us, and overtakest us with mercy; and in thine abundant compassion wilt reclaim and save us, when either we meant not or would not? By how much more unworthy those eyes and hands were to see and touch that immortal and glorious body, by so much more wonderful was thy Goodness in condescending to satisfy that curious Infidelity. Neither do I hear thee so much as to chide that weak obstinacy. It was not long since thou didst sharply take up the two Disciples that walked to Emmaus, O fools and slow of heart to believe all that the Prophets have spoken! but this was under the disguise of an unknown traveller, upon the way, when they were alone: Now thou speakest with thine own tongue, before all thy Disciples, in stead of rebuking, thou only exhortest; Be not faithless, but faithful.  
Behold, thy Mercy no less than thy Power hath melted the congealed heart of thy unbelieving follower; Then Thomas answered and said unto him, My Lord, and my God. I do not hear that when it came to the issue, Thomas employed his hands in this trial: his eyes were now sufficient assurance; the sense of his Master's Omniscience in this particular challenge of him spared (perhaps) the labour of a further disquisition. And now how happily was that doubt bestowed, which brought forth so faithful a confession, My Lord, my God?  
I hear not such a word from those that believed. It was well for us, it was well for thee, O Thomas, that thou distrustedst: else, neither had the world received so perfect an evidence of that Resurrection whereon all our Salvation dependeth; neither hadst thou yielded so pregnant and divine an astipulation to thy Blessed Saviour. Now thou dost not only profess his Resurrection, but his Godhead too, and thy happy interest in both. And now, if they be blessed that have not seen and yet believed; blessed art thou also that having seen, hast thus believed: and blessed be thou, O God, who knowest how to make advantage of the infirmities of thy chosen, for the promoting of their Salvation, the confirmation of thy Church, the glory of thine own Name. Amen.   

The Ascension.  
IT stood not with thy purpose, O Saviour, to ascend immediately from thy grave into Heaven; thou meantest to take the earth in thy way; not for a sudden passage, but for a leisurely conversation. Upon thine Easter-day thou spakest of thine Ascension; but thou wouldst have forty days interposed. Hadst thou merely respected thine own Glory, thou hadst instantly changed thy grave for thy Paradise; for so much the sooner hadst thou been possessed of thy Father's joy; we would not continue in a Dungeon, when we might be in a Palace: but thou, who for our sakes vouchsafedst to descend from Heaven to earth, wouldst now in the upshot have a gracious regard to us in thy return.  
Thy death had troubled the hearts of many Disciples, who thought that condition too mean to be compatible with the glory of the Messiah; and thoughts of diffidence were apt to seize upon the holiest breasts. So long therefore wouldst thou hold footing upon earth, till the world were fully convinced of the infallible evidences of thy Resurrection; of all which time thou only canst give an account: it was not for flesh and blood to trace the ways of Immortality; neither was our frail, corruptible, sinful nature a meet companion for thy now-glorified Humanity; the glorious angels of Heaven were now thy fittest attendants. But yet how oft did it please thee graciously to impart thyself this while unto men; and not only to appear unto thy Disciples, but to renew unto them the familiar forms of thy wont conversation, in conferring, walking, eating with them? and now when thou drewest near to thy last parting, thou, who hadst many times showed thyself before to thy several Disciples, thoughtest meet to assemble them all together, for an universal valediction.  
Who can be too rigorous in censuring the ignorances' of well-meaning Christians, when he sees the domestic Followers of Christ, even after his Resurrection, mistake the main end of his coming in the flesh? Lord, wilt thou at this time restore again the Kingdom to Israel? They saw their Master now out of the reach of all Jewish envy; they saw his power illimited and irresistible; they saw him stay so long upon earth, that they might imagine he meant to fix his abode there; and what should he do there, but reign? and wherefore should they be now assembled, but for the choice and distribution of Offices, and for the ordering of the affairs of that state which was now to be vindicated? O weak thoughts of well-instructed Disciples! What should an Heavenly body do in an earthly throne? How should a spiritual life be employed in secular cares? How poor a business is the temporal Kingdom of Israel for the King of Heaven? And even yet, O Blessed Saviour, I do not hear thee sharply control this erroneous conceit of thy mistaken Followers; thy mild correction insists rather upon the time, than the misconceived substance of that restauration. It was thy gracious purpose that thy Spirit should by degrees rectify their judgements, and illuminate them with thy Divine truths; in the mean time it was sufficient to raise up their hearts to an expectation of that Holy Ghost, which should shortly lead them into all needful and requisite verities. And now, with a gracious promise of that Spirit of thine, with a careful charge renewed unto thy Disciples for the promulgation of thy Gospel, with an Heavenly Benediction of all thine acclaming attendance, thou tak'st leave of earth; When he had spoken these things, whiles they beheld, he was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight.  
Oh happy parting, fit for the Saviour of mankind, answerable to that Divine conversation, to that succeeding Glory! O blessed Jesus, let me so far imitate thee, as to depart hence with a blessing in my mouth; let my Soul, when it is stepping over the threshold of Heaven, leave behind it a legacy of Peace and Happiness.  
It was from the mount of Olives that thou tookst thy rise into Heaven. Thou mightest have ascended from the valley; all the globe of earth was alike to thee: but since thou wert to mount upward, thou wouldst take so much advantage as that stair of ground would afford thee; thou wouldst not use the help of a Miracle in that wherein Nature offered her ordinary service. What difficulty had it been for thee to have stied up from the very centre of earth? But since thou hadst made hills so much nearer unto Heaven, thou wouldst not neglect the benefit of thy own Creation. Where we have common helps, we may not depend upon Supernatural provisions; we may not strain the Divine Providence to the supply of our negligence, or the humouring of our presumption. Thou that couldst always have walked on the Sea, wouldst walk so but once, when thou wantedst shipping: thou, to whom the highest mountains were but valleys, wouldst walk up to an hill to ascend thence into Heaven. O God, teach me to bless thee for means, when I have them; and to trust thee for means, when I have them not; yea to trust to thee without means, when I have no hope of them.  
What hill was this thou choosest but the mount of Olives? Thy Pulpit shall I call it, or thine Oratory? The place from whence thou hadst wont to shower down thine Heavenly Doctrine upon the hearers; the place whence thou hadst wont to sent up thy Prayers unto thy Heavenly Father; the place that shared with the Temple for both: In the daytime thou wert preaching in the Temple, in the night praying in the mount of Olives. On this very hill was the bloody sweat of thine Agony; now is it the mount of thy Triumph. From this mount of Olives did flow that oil of gladness wherewith thy Church is everlastingly refreshed. That God that uses to punish us in the same kind wherein we have offended, retributes also to us in the same kind and circumstances wherein we have been afflicted. To us also, O Saviour, even to us thy unworthy members dost thou seasonably vouchsafe to give a proportionable joy to our heaviness, laughter to our mourning, glory to contempt and shame. Our agonies shall be answered with exaltation.  
Whither then, O Blessed Jesus, whither didst thou ascend? whither but home into thine Heaven? From the mountain wert thou taken up; and what but Heaven is above the hills? Lo, these are those mountains of spices which thy Spouse, the Church, long since desired thee to climb. Thou hast now climbed up that infinite steepness, and hast left all sublimity below thee. Already hadst thou approved thyself the Lord and Commander of Earth, of Sea, of Hell. The Earth confessed thee her Lord, when at thy voice she rendered thee thy Lazarus; when she shook at thy Passion, and gave up her dead Saints: The Sea acknowledged thee, in that it became a pavement to thy feet and (at thy command) to the feet of thy Disciple; in that it became thy Treasury for thy Tribute-money: Hell found and acknowledged thee, in that thou conqueredst all the powers of darkness; even him that had the power of death, the Devil. It now only remained that, as the Lord of the Air, thou shouldst pass through all the regions of that yielding element; and, as Lord of Heaven, thou shouldst pass through all the glorious contignations thereof; that so every knee might bow to thee both in Heaven, and in Earth, and under the earth.  
Thou hadst an everlasting right to that Heaven that should be, an undoubted possession of it ever since it was; yea even whiles thou didst cry and spraul in the Cratch, whiles thou didst hang upon the Cross, whiles thou wert sealed up in thy Grave: but thine Humane nature had not taken actual possession of it till now. Like as it was in thy true Type, David, he had right to the Kingdom of Israel immediately upon his anointing; but yet many an hard brunt did he pass ere he had the full possession of it in his ascent to Hebron. I see now, O Blessed Jesus, I see where thou art; even far above all Heavens, at the right hand of thy Father's Glory. This is the far country into which the Nobleman went to receive for himself a Kingdom; far off to us, to thee near, yea intrinsical. Oh do thou raise up my Heart thither to thee; place thou my Affections upon thee above, and teach me therefore to love Heaven because thou art there.  
How then, O Blessed Saviour, how didst thou ascend? Whiles they beheld, he was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight. So wast thou taken up, as that the act was thine own, the power of the act none but thine. Thou that descendedst waste the same that ascendedst: as in thy descent there was no use of any power or will but thine own, no more was there in thine ascent. Still and ever wert thou the Master of thine own acts. Thou laidst down thy own life, no man took it from thee; Thou raisedst up thyself from death, no hand did or could help thee; Thou carriedst up thine own glorified flesh, and placedst it in Heaven. The Angels did attend thee, they did not aid thee: whence had they their strength but from thee? Elias ascended to Heaven, but he was fetched up in a Chariot of fire; that it might appear hence, that man had need of other helps, who else could not of himself so much as lift up himself to the Airy Heaven, much less to the Empyreal. But thou, our Redeemer, neededst no Chariot, no carriage of Angels: thou art the Author of life and motion; they move in and from thee. As thou therefore didst move thyself upward, so, by the same Divine power, thou wilt raise us up to the participation of thy Glory. These vile bodies shall be made like to thy glorious body, according to the working whereby thou art able to subdue all things unto thyself.  
Elias had but one witness of his rapture into Heaven: S. Paul had none, no not himself; for whether in the body or out of the body he knew not. Thou, O Blessed Jesus, wouldst neither have all eyes witnesses of thine Ascension, nor yet too few. As after thy Resurrection thou didst not set thyself upon the pinnacle of the Temple, nor yet publicly show thyself within it, as making thy presence too cheap; but madest choice of those eyes whom thou wouldst bless with the sight of thee; thou wert seen indeed of five hundred at once, but they were Brethren: So in thine Ascension, thou didst not carry all Jerusalem promiscuously forth with thee to see thy glorious departure, but only that selected company of thy Disciples which had attended thee in thy life. Those who immediately upon thine ascending returned to Jerusalem, were an hundred and twenty persons: a competent number of witnesses, to verify that thy miraculous and triumphant passage into thy Glory. Lo, those only were thought worthy to behold thy Majestical Ascent, which had been partners with thee in thy Humiliation. Still thou wilt have it thus with us, O Saviour, and we embrace the condition: if we will converse with thee in thy lowly estate here upon earth, wading with thee through contempt and manifold afflictions, we shall be made happy with the sight and communion of thy Glory above.  
O my Soul, be thou now (if ever) ravished with the contemplation of this comfortable and blessed farewell of thy Saviour. What a sight was this, how full of joyful assurance, of spiritual consolation? Methinks I see it still with their eyes, how thou my glorious Saviour didst leisurely and insensibly rise up from thine Olivet, taking leave of thine acclaming Disciples now left below thee, with gracious eyes, with Heavenly Benedictions. Methinks I see how they followed thee with eager and longing eyes, with arms lifted up, as if they had wished them winged to have soared up after thee. And if Eliah gave assurance to his servant Elisha, that if he should behold him in that rapture, his Master's Spirit should be doubled upon him; what an accession of the Spirit of joy and confidence must needs be to thy happy Disciples in seeing thee thus gradually rising up to thy Heaven? Oh how unwillingly did their intentive eyes let go so Blessed an Object! How unwelcome was that Cloud that interposed itself betwixt thee and them, and closing up itself, left only a glorious splendour behind it, as the bright tract of thine Ascension? Of old here below the Glory of the Lord appeared in the Cloud; now afar off in the sky the Cloud intercepted this Heavenly Glory; if distance did not rather do it then that bright meteor. Their eyes attended thee on thy way so far as their beams would reach; when they could go no further, the Cloud received thee. Lo, yet even that very screen, whereby thou wert taken off from all earthly view, was no other than glorious: how much rather do all the beholders fix their sight upon that Cloud, then upon the best piece of the Firmament? Never was the Sun itself gazed on with so much intention. With what long looks, with what astonished acclamations did these transported beholders follow thee their ascending Saviour? as if they would have looked through that Cloud and that Heaven that hid thee from them.  
But oh, what tongue of the highest Archangel of Heaven can express the welcome of thee the King of Glory into those Blessed Regions of Immortality? Surely the Empyreal Heaven never resounded with so much joy: God ascended with jubilation, and the Lord with the sound of the Trumpet. It is not for us weak and finite creatures, to wish to conceive those incomprehensible, spiritual, Divine gratulations that the Glorious Trinity gave to the victorious and now-glorified Humane nature. Certainly, if when he brought his onely-begotten Son into the world, he said, Let all the Angels worship him; much more now that he ascends on high, and hath led captivity captive, hath he given him a Name above all Names, that at the name of JESUS all knees should bow. And if the Holy Angels did so carol at his Birth, in the very entrance into that estate of Humiliation and in firmity; with what triumph did they receive him now returning from the perfect achievement of man's Redemption? And if when his Type had vanquished Goliath, and carried the head into Jerusalem, the damsels came forth to meet him with dances and timbrels; how shall we think those Angelical Spirits triumphed in meeting of the great Conqueror of Hell and Death? How did they sing, Lift up your heads, ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in?  
Surely, as he shall come, so he went: and behold he shall come with thousands of his Holy Ones; thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten thousand thousands stood before him: From all whom methinks I hear that blessed applause, Worthy is the Lamb that was killed, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and praise: Praise, and honour, and glory, and power, be to him that sitteth upon the Throne, and to the Lamb for evermore. And why dost not thou, O my Soul, help to bear thy part with that happy Choir of Heaven? Why art not thou rapt out of my bosom with an ecstasy of joy, to see this Humane nature of ours exalted above all the Powers of Heaven, adored of Angels, Archangels, Cherubin, Seraphim, and all those mighty and glorious Spirits, and sitting there crowned with infinite Glory and Majesty?  
Although little would it avail thee that our Nature is thus honoured, if the benefit of this Ascension did not reflect upon thee. How many are miserable enough in themselves, notwithstanding the Glory of their humane nature in Christ? None but those that are found in him are the happier by him: who but the Members are the better for the glory of the Head? O Saviour, how should our weakness have ever hoped to climb into Heaven, if thou hadst not gone before and made way for us? It is for us that thou the Forerunner art entered in: Now thy Church hath her wish, Draw me, and I shall run after thee. Even so, O Blessed Jesus, how ambitiously should we follow thee with the paces of Love and Faith, and aspire towards thy Glory? Thou that art the way, hast made the way to thyself and us; Thou didst humble thyself, and becamest obedient to the death, even to the death of the Cross. Therefore hath God also highly exalted thee; and upon the same terms will not fail to advance us: we see thy tract before us, of Humility and Obedience. Oh teach me to follow thee in the roughest ways of Obedience, in the bloody paths of Death, that I may at last overtake thee in those high steps of Immortality.  
Amongst those millions of Angels that attended this triumphant Ascension of thine, O Saviour, some are appointed to this lower station, to comfort thine astonished Disciples, in the certain assurance of thy noless glorious Return; Two men stood by them in white apparel. They stood by them, they were not of them; they seemed Men, they were Angels: Men for their familiarity; two, for more certainty of testimony; in white, for the joy of thine Ascension.  
The Angels formerly celebrated thy Nativity with Songs: but we do not find they then appeared in white: thou wert then to undergo much sorrow, many conflicts; it was the vale of tears into which thou wert come down. So soon as thou wert risen, the women saw an Angel in the form of a young man, clothed in white; and now, so soon as thou art ascended, Two men clothed in white stand by thy Disciples: thy task was now done, thy victory achieved, and nothing remained but a Crown, which was now set upon thy head. Justly therefore were those blessed Angels suited with the robes of light and joy. And why should our garments be of any other colour? why should oil be wanting to our heads, when the eyes of our Faith see thee thus ascended? It is for us, O Saviour, that thou art gone to prepare a place in those celestial Mansions; it is for us that thou sittest at the right hand of Majesty. It is a piece of thy Divine Prayer to thy Father, that those whom he hath given thee, may be with thee. To every bleeding Soul thou sayest still as thou didst to Peter, Whither I go thou canst not follow me now, but thou shalt follow me hereafter. In assured hope of this Glory, why do I not rejoice, and beforehand walk in white with thine Angels, that at the last I may walk with thee in white?  
Little would the presence of these Angels have availed, if they had not been heard as well as seen. They stand not silent therefore, but directing their speech to the amazed beholders, say, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing into heaven? What a question was this? Could any of those two hundred and forty eyes have power to turn themselves off to any other Object than that Cloud, and that point of Heaven where they left their ascended Saviour? Surely every one of them were so fixed, that had not the speech of these Angels called them off, there they had set up their rest till the darkness of night had interposed. Pardon me, O ye Blessed Angels; had I been there with them, I should also have been unwilling to have had mine eyes pulled off from that dear prospect, and diverted unto you. Never could they have gazed so happily as now. If but some Great man be advanced to Honour over our heads, how apt we are to stand at a gaze, and to eye him as some strange meteor? Let the Sun but shine a little upon these Dial's, how are they looked at by all passengers? Yet, alas, what can earthly advancement make us other then we are, dust and ashes; which the higher it is blown, the more it is scattered? Oh how worthy is the King of Glory to command our eyes now in the highest pitch of his Heavenly exaltation? Lord, I can never look enough at the place where thou art; but what eye could be satisfied with seeing the way that thou goest?  
It was not the purpose of these Angels to check the long looks of these faithful Disciples after their ascended Master; it was only a change of eyes that they intended, of Carnal for Spiritual, of the eye of Sense for the eye of Faith. This same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into Heaven. Look not after him, O ye weak Disciples, as so departed that ye shall see him no more; if he be gone, yet he is not lost; those Heavens that received him, shall restore him; neither can those Blessed Mansions decrease his Glory. Ye have seen him ascend upon the Chariot of a bright Cloud; and in the clouds of Heaven ye shall see him descend again to his last Judgement. He is gone: can it trouble you to know you have an Advocate in Heaven? Strive not now so much to exercise your bodily eyes in looking after him, as the eyes of your Souls in looking for him.  
Ye cannot, O ye Blessed Spirits, wish other then well to mankind. How happy a diversion of eyes and thoughts is this that you advise? If it be our sorrow to part with our Saviour, yet to part with him into Heaven it is our comfort and felicity: if his absence could be grievous, his return shall be happy and glorious.  
Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly. In the mean while it is not Heaven that can keep thee from me, it is not earth that can keep me from thee. Raise thou up my Soul to a life of Faith with thee: let me ever enjoy thy conversation, whiles I expect thy return.     

A SERMON OF PUBLIC THANKSGIVING For the wonderful Mitigation of the late Mortality.  
Preached before His Majesty, upon His gracious Command, at His Court of Whitehall, Jan. 29. 1625. and upon the same Command published, by JOS. HALL. Dean of Worcester.  Psal. 68 vers. 19, 20. Blessed be the Lord, who loadeth us daily with benefits, even the God of our Salvation. Selah. 
He that is our God is the God of Salvation; and unto God the Lord belong the issues from death.  
YEa, blessed be the Lord, who hath added this unto the load of his other Mercies to his unworthy servant, that the same Tongue which was called not long since to chatter out our Public Mournings, in the Solemn Fast of this place, is now employed in a Song of Praise; and the same Hand which was here lifted up for Supplication, is now lift up in Thanksgiving. Ye that then accompanied me with your tears and sighs, accompany me now, I beseech you, (in this happy change of note and time) with your joyful Smiles and Acclamations to the GOD that hath wrought it.  
It is not more natural for the Sun, when it looks upon a moist and wellfermented earth, to cause Vapours to ascend thence, than it is for Greatness and Goodness, when they both meet together upon an honest heart, to draw up holy desires of gratulation. The worth of the Agent doth it not alone, without a ●it disposition in the Subject. Let the Sun cast his strongest beams upon a flint, a pumice, he fetches out no stream: Even so the Greatness and Goodness of the Almighty beating upon a dry and hard heart, prevails nothing. Here all three are happily met: In God, infinite Greatness, infinite Goodness; such Greatness, that he is attended with thousand thousands of Angels; (a Guard fit for the King of Heaven) such Goodness, that he receives Gifts even for the rebellious: In David, a Gracious heart, that in a sweet sense of the great Goodness of his God breathes out this Divine Epiphonema, Blessed be the Lord, who loadeth us daily with benefits, even the God of our Salvation, etc.  
Wherein, methinks, the sweet Singer of Israel seems to raise his note to the emulation of the Choir of Heaven in the melody of their Allelujahs: yea, let me say, now that he sings above in that Blessed Consort of glorious Spirits, his Ditty cannot be better than this that he sung here upon earth, and wherein we are about to bear our parts at this time. Prepare, I beseech you, both your ears for David's Song, and your hearts and tongues for your own. And first, in this Angelical strain your thoughts cannot but observe, without me, the Descant, and the Ground. The Descant of Gratulation, Blessed be the Lord: wherein is both Applause, and Excitation; an Applause given to God's Goodness, and an Excitation of others to give that Applause. The Ground is a threefold respect. Of what God is in himself, God and Lord: Of what God is and doth to us, which loadeth us daily with benefits: Of what he is both in himself and to us, The God of our Salvation; which last, (like to some rich Stone) is set off with a dark foil, To God the Lord belong the issues from death. So in the first, for his own sake, in the second, for our sakes, in the third, for his own and ours; as God, as Lord, as a Benefactor, as a Saviour and Deliverer, Blessed be the Lord.  
It is not hard to observe that David's Allelujahs are more than his Hosannas; his thanks more than his suits. Oft-times doth he praise God when be begs nothing: seldom ever doth he beg that favour for which he doth not raise up his Soul to an anticipation of Thanks: neither is this any other than the universal under-song of all his Heavenly Ditties, Blessed be the Lord. Praised (as our former Translation hath it) is too low; Honour is more than Praise; Blessing is more than Honour. Neither is it for nothing that from this word Barac to bless, is derived Berec the knee, which is bowed in blessing; and the crier before Joseph proclaimed Abrech, calling for the honour of the knee from all beholders, Gen. 41. 43. Every slight trivial acknowledgement of worth is a Praise: Blessing is in a higher strain of gratitude, that carries the whole sway of the heart with it in a kind of Divine rapture. Praise is in matter of compliment; Blessing of Devotion.  
The Apostle's Rule is, that the less is blessed of the greater, Abraham of the King of Salem; The Prophet's charge is, that the greater should be blessed of the less, yea the greatest of the least, God of man. This agrees well: Blessing is an act that will bear reciprocation; God blesseth man, and man blesseth God. God blesseth man imperatively; man blesseth God optatively: God blesseth man in the acts of Mercy; man blesseth God in the notions, in the expressions of thanks: God blesses man when he makes him good and happy; man blesseth God when he confesseth how good, how gracious, how glorious he is; so as the blessing is wholly taken up in agnition, in celebration: in the one we acknowledge the Bounty of God to us; in the other we magnify him vocally, really, for that Bounty.  
Oh see then what high account God makes of the affections and actions of his poor, silly, earth-creeping creatures; that he gives us in them power to bless himself, and takes it as an honour to be blessed of us. David wonders that God should so vouchsafe to bless man: how much more must we needs wonder at the mercy of God, that will vouchsafe to be blessed by man, a worm, an atom, a nothing? Yet both S. James tells us that with the tongue we bless God; and the Psalmist calls for it here as a service of dear acceptation, Blessed be the Lord. Even we men live not (Chameleonlike) with the air of thanks, nor feed ere the fatter with praises; how much less our Maker? O God, we know well that whatsoever men or Angels do or do not, thou canst not but be infinitely Blessed in thyself; before ever any creature was, thou didst equally enjoy thy blessed Self from all Eternity: what can this worthless loose film of flesh either add to or detract from thine Infiniteness? Yet thou that humblest thyself to behold the things that are done in Heaven and earth, humblest thyself also to accept the weak breath of our Praises, that are sent up to thee from earth to Heaven. How should this encourage the vows, the endeavours of our hearty thankfulness, to see them graciously taken? Would men take up with good words, with good desires, and quit our bonds for thanks, who would be a debtor? With the God of Mercy this cheap payment is current. If he then will honour us so far as to be blessed of us, Oh let us honour him so far as to bless him. Quare verbis parcam? gratuita sunt, Why do we spare thanks that cost us nothing? as that wise heathen. O give unto the Lord, ye mighty, give unto the Lord the praises due to his name; offer to God the sacrifice of thanksgiving: and still let the foot of our song be, Blessed be the Lord.  
This for the Descant of gratulation; the Ground follows. His own sake hath reason to be first: God will be blessed both as Jah, and Adonai; the one the style of his Essence, the other of his Sovereignty. Even the most accursed Deist would confess, that as a pure, simple, infinite, absolute being, God is to be blessed: for if Being be good, and these two be convertible, Nature must needs teach him, that an absolute and infinite Being must needs be absolutely and infinitely good. But what do I blur the Glory of this Day with mention of those Monsters, whose Idol is Nature, whose Religion is secondary Atheism, whose true region is the lowest Hell? Those damned Ethnics cannot, will not conceive of God as he is, because they impiously sever his Essence from his inward Relations. We Christians can never be so heavenly affected to God as we ought, till we can rise to this pitch of Piety, to bless God for what he is in himself, without the external beneficial relations to the creature: Else our respects reflect too much homeward, and we do but look through God at ourselves.  
Neither is it for us only to bless him as an absolute God, but as a Sovereign Lord too, whose Power hath no more limit than his Essence; the great Moderator of Heaven and earth, giving laws to his creature, overruling all things, marshalling all events, crushing his enemies, maintaining his Church, adored by Angels, trembled at by Devils. Behold here a Lord worthy to be blessed. We honour, as we ought, your conspicuous Greatness, O ye eminent Potentates of the earth: but, alas! what is this to the great Lord of Heaven? when we look up thither, we must crave leave to pity the breath of your nostrils, the rust of your Coronets, the dust of your graves, the sting of your felicities, and (if ye take not good heed) the blots of your memories. As ye hold all in ●ee from this great Lord, so let it be no disparagement to you to do your lowliest homage to his footstool: homage, I mean, in Action; give me the real benediction; I am sure that is the best. They bless God that praise him; they bless him more and praise him best that obey him. There are that crouch to you Great ones, who yet hate you: Oh let us take heed of offering these hollow observances to the searcher of hearts, if we love not our own confusion. They that proclaimed Christ at Jerusalem, had not only Hosanna in their mouths, but palms in their hands too; so must we have. Let me say then, If the Hand bless not the Lord, the Tongue is an Hypocrite. Away with the waste compliments of our vain Formalities: Let our loud actions drown the language of our words, in blessing the name of the Lord.  
Neither must we bless God as a Sovereign Lord only, but (which is yet a more feeling relation) as a munificent Benefactor, Who loadeth us daily with benefits. Such is man's self-love, that no inward worth can so attract his praises as outward beneficence. Whiles thou makest much of thyself, every one shall speak well of thee; how much more whiles thou makest much of them? Here God hath met with us also. Not to perplex you with scanning the variety of senses wherewith I have observed this Psalm, above all other of David's, to abound; see here, I beseech you, a fourfold gradation of Divine Bounty. First, here are Benefits. The word is not expressed in the Original, but necessarily implied in the sense: for there are but three loads whereof man is capable from God, Favours, Precepts, Punishments; the other two are out of the road of Gratulation. When we might therefore have expected Judgements, behold hold Benefits. And those, secondly, not sparingly handfulled out to us, but dealt to us by the whole load; loadeth with benefits. Whom, thirdly, doth he load, but us? Not worthy and well-deserving subjects, but us 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Rebels. And lastly this he doth, not at one doal and no more, (as even churls rare Feasts use to be plentiful,) but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, successively, unweariedly, perpetually. One favour were too much, here are Benefits; a sprinkling were too much, here is a load; once were too oft, here is daily largition. Cast your eyes therefore a little upon this threefold exaggeration of Beneficence: the measure, a load of benefits; the subject, unworthy us; the time, daily. Who daily loadeth us with benefits.  
Where shall we begin to survey this vast load of Mercies? Were it no more but that he hath given us a world to live in, a life to enjoy, air to breath in, earth to tread on, fire to warm us, water to cool and cleanse us, clothes to cover us, food to nourish us, sleep to refresh us, houses to shelter us, variety of creatures to serve and delight us; here were a just load. But now, if we yet add to these civility of breeding, dearness of friends, competency of Estate, degrees of Honour, honesty or dignity of vocation, favour of Princes, success in employments, domestic comforts, outward peace, good reputation, preservation from dangers, rescue from evils; the load is well mended. If yet ye shall come closer, and add due proportion of Body, integrity of parts, perfection of senses, strength of nature, mediocrity of health, sufficiency of appetite, vigour of digestion, wholesome temper of seasons, freedom from cares; this course must needs heighten it yet more. If still ye shall add to these the order and power and exercise of our inward Faculties, enriched with Wisdom, Art, Learning, Experience, expressed by a not-unhandsome Elocution; and shall now lay all these together that concern Estate, Body, Mind; how can the axletree of the Soul but crack under the load of these Favours? But if from what God hath done for us as men, we look to what he hath done for us as Christians; that he hath embraced us with an everlasting Love, that he hath moulded us anew, enlivened us by his Spirit, fed us by his Word & Sacraments, clothed us with his Merits, bought us with his Blood, becoming vile to make us glorious, a Curse, to invest us with Blessedness, in a word, that he hath given himself to us, his Son for us; Oh the height, and depth, and breadth of the rich mercies of our God Oh the boundless, topless, bottomless load of Divine benefits, whose immensity reaches from the centre of this earth to the unlimited extent of the very Empyreal Heavens! Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and declare the wonders that he doth for the children of men.  
These Mercies are great in themselves, our unworthiness doth greaten them more. To do good to the well-deserving were but retribution; He ladeth us, who are no less rebellious to him then he is beneficial to us. Our straight and shallow bounty picks out the worthiest and most capable Subject; the greatest gift that ever God gave, he gives us whiles we are enemies. It was our Saviour's charge to his Disciples, Interrogate quis dignus, Ask who is worthy, that is, (as Hierom interprets it) of the honour to receive such guests. Should God stand upon those terms with us, what should become of us? See, and wonder, and be ashamed, O ye Christian hearers. God loads us, and we load him; God loads us with Benefits, we load him with our Sins. Behold, I am pressed under you, saith God, as a cart is pressed that is full of sheaves, Amos 2. 13. He should go away laden with our thanks, with the presents of our duty; and we shamefully clog him with our continual provocations. Can there be here any danger of self-sacrificing with Sejanus, and not rather the just danger of our shame and confusion in ourselves? How can we but hate this unkind and unjust unanswerableness? Yet herein shall we make an advantage of our foulest sins, that they give so much more lustre to the glorious mercies of our God, who overcomes our evil with good, and loads even us.  
The overlong interruption of favours loseth their thanks, and the best benefits languish in too much disuse. Our God takes order for that, by a perpetuation of beneficence; he ladeth us daily: Every day, every minute renews his favours upon us; Semper largitor, semper donator, as Hierome. To speak strictly, there is no time present; nothing is present but an instant, and that can no more be called Time then a prick can be called a Line: yet how swift soever the wings of Time are, they cannot cut one instant, but they must carry with them a successive renovation of God's gracious kindness to us.  
This Sun of his doth not rise once in an age, or once in a year, but every minute since it was created riseth to some parts of the earth, and every day to us. Neither doth he once hurl down upon our heads some violent drops in a storm, but he plies us with the sweet showers of the former and the latter rain: Wherein the Mercy of God condescends to our impotency, who are ready to perish under uncomfortable intermissions. Non mihi sufficit, saith that Father, It is not enough that he hath given me once, if he give me not always. To day's Ague makes us forget yesterstaies health: Former meals do not relieve our present hunger. This cottage of ours ruins strait, if it be not new daubed every day, new repaired. The liberal care of our God therefore tiles over one benefit with another, that it may not rain through. And if he be so unwearied in his Favours, why are we weary of our Thanks? Our bonds are renewed every day to our God; why not our payments? Not once in a year, or moon, or week, but every day once (without fail) were the Legal Sacrifices reiterated; and that of all those creatures which were necessary for sustentation, a Lamb, flower, wine, oil, that is, meat, bread, drink, sauce: Why? but that in all these we should still daily reacknowledge our new obligations to the giver? Yea, ex plenitudine & lacrymis, as it is in the Original, Exod. 22. 29. of our plenty and tears, that is, (as Cajetan) of a dear or cheap year must we return: more or less may not miss our thanks. We need daily, we beg daily, (Give us this day) we receive daily; why do we not daily retribute to our God, and act as some read it, Blessed be the Lord daily, who loadeth us with his benefits.  
It is time now to turn your eyes to that mixed respect, that reacheth both to God and us. Ye have seen him a Benefactor, see him a Saviour and Deliverer; The God of our Salvation. The Vulgar's salutaria, following the Septuagint, differs from our Salvation but as the Means from the End. With the Hebrews Salvation is a wide word, comprising all the favours of God that may tend to preservation; and therefore the Psalmist elsewhere extends this act both to man and beast; and, as if he would comment upon himself, expounds 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 save, by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 prosper, Psal. 118. 25. It is so dear a title of God, that the Prophet cannot have enough of it; the interposition of a Selah cannot bar the redoubling of it in my Text.  
Every deliverance, every preservation fathers itself upon God: yet as the Soul is the most precious thing in the world, and life is the most precious thing that belongs to the Soul, and eternal life is the best of lives, and the danger and loss of this life is the fearfullest and most horrible; chiefly is this greatest Salvation here meant, wherein God intends most to bless and be blessed.  
Of this Salvation is he the God by Preordination, by Purchase, by Gift. By Preordination, in that he hath decreed it to us from eternity, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Rom. 8. 30. By Purchase, in that he hath bought it for us, and us to it, by the price of his blood, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 1 Cor. 6. 20. By Gift, in that he hath feoft us in it, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The gift of God is eternal life, Rom. 6. 23. Since therefore he decreed it, he bought it, he bestows it, justly is he the God of our Salvation. Who can, who dates arrogate to himself any partnership in this great work? What power can dispose of the Souls final condition, but the same that made it? Who can give Eternity, but he that only hath it? What but an infinite Merit can purchase an infinite Glory? Cursed be that spirit that will offer to share with his Maker. Down with your Crowns, O ye glorious Elders, at the foot of him that sits on the Throne, with a Non nobis, Domine, Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to thy Name give the praise. Away with the proud encroachment of the Merits of the best Saints, of Papal Largesses. Only our God is the God of our Salvation.  
How happy are we the while? All actions are according to the force of the Agent: weak Causes produce feeble Effects, contingent casual, necessary certain. Our Salvation therefore being the work of an infinitely-powerfull cause, cannot be disappointed. Lo the beauty of Solomon's Al-chum; who hath resisted his will? When we look to our own fleshy hands, here is nothing but discouragement; when we look to our spiritual enemies, here is nothing but terror: but when we cast up our eyes to the Mighty God, here is nothing but confidence, nothing but comfort. Comfort ye, comfort ye therefore, O ye feeble Souls, and send your bold defiances to the Prince of darkness. Heaven is high and hard to reach, Hell is steep and slippery, our Flesh is earthy and impotent, Satan strong & rancorous, Sin subtle, the World alluring, all these; yet, God is the God of our Salvation. Let those infernal Lions roar and ramp upon us; let the gates of Hell do their worst; let the World be a cheater, our Flesh a traitor, the Devil a tyrant; Faithful is he that hath promised, who will also do it. God is the God of our Salvation.  
How much more than in these outward temporal occasions, when we have to do with an arm of flesh? Do the enemies of the Church rage and snuff, and breath nothing but threats and death? Make sure of our God, he shall be sure to make them lick our dust. Great Benhadad of the Syrians shall come with his hempen collar to the King of Israel: The very winds and waves shall undertake those Mahometan or Marian powers that shall rise up against the inheritance of the God of Salvation.  
Salvation is rateable according to the danger from which we are delivered: Since Death therefore is the utmost of all terribles, needs must it be the highest improvement of Salvation, that to our God belong the issues from death. Death hath here a double latitude, of kind, of extent: The kind is either temporal, or eternal; the extent reaches not only to the last complete act of dissolution, but to all the passages that lead towards it. Thus the issues from▪ death belong to our God, whether by way of preservation, or by way of rescue. How gladly do I meet in my Text with the dear and sweet name of our Jesus, who conquered Death by dying, and triumphed over Hell by suffering, and carries the keys both of death and hell, Revel. 1. 18? He is the God, the Author and Finisher of our Salvation, to whom belong the issues from death.  
Look first at the temporary: he keeps it from us, he fetches us from it.  
It is true, there is a Statutum est upon it, die we must; Death knocks equally at the hatch of a Cottage and gate of a Palace: but our times are in God's hand; the Lord of life hath set us our period, whose Omnipotence so contrives all events, that neither enemy, nor casualty, nor disease can prevent his hour. Were death suffered to run loose and wild, what boot were it to live? now it is tethered up short by that Almighty hand, what can we fear? If envy repine, and villainy plot against Sacred Sovereignty, God hath well proved upon all the Poisons, and Pistols, and Poniards, and Gun-powders of the two late memorable successions, that to him alone belong the issues from death.  
Go on then, blessed Sovereign, go on courageously in the ways of your God: the invisible guard of Heaven shall secure your Royal head; the God of our Salvation shall make you a third glorious instance to all posterities, that unto him belong the issues from death.  
Thus God keeps death from us: it is more comfort yet that he fetches us from it. Even the best head must at last lie down in the dust, and sleep in death. Oh vain cracks of valour! thou brag'st thyself able to kill a man; a worm hath done it, a fly hath done it. Every thing can find the way down unto death; none but the Omnipotent can find the way up out of it: He finds, he makes these issues for all his. As it was with our Head, so it is with the Members.  
Death might seize, it cannot hold: Gustavit, non deglutivit: It may nibble at us, it shall not devour us. Behold the only Sovereign Antidote against the sorrows, the frights of death. Who can fear to lay himself down and take a nap in the bed of death, when his heart is assured that he shall awake glorious in the morning of his resurrection? Certainly it is only our infidelity that makes death fearful. Rejoice not over me, O my last enemy; though I fall, I shall rise again. O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?  
Cast ye one glance of your eyes upon the second and eternal death; the issues wherefrom belong to our God, not by way of rescue, as in the former, but of preservation. Ex inferno nulla redemptio is as true as if it were Canonical. Father Abraham tells the damned Glutton in the Parable, there is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a great gulf, that bars all return. Those black gates of Hell are barred without by the irreversible Decree of the Almighty.  
Those bold Fabulists therefore, whose impious Legends have devised Trajan fetched thence by the prayers of Gregory, and Falconella by Tecla's, suspending the final sentence upon a secundum praesentem injustitiam, take a course to cast themselves into that pit whence they have presumptuously feigned the deliverance of others.  
The rescue is not more hopeless than the prevention is comfortable. There is none of us but is naturally walking down to these chambers of death; every sin is a pace thitherwards: only the gracious hand of our God stays us. In ourselves, in our sins we are already no better than brands of that Hell. Blessed be the God of our Salvation, that hath found happy issues from this death. What issues? Even those bloody issues that were made in the hands and feet and side of our Blessed Saviour, that invaluably-precious blood of the Son of God is that whereby we are redeemed, whereby we are justified, whereby we are saved. Oh that our Souls might have had leisure to dwell a while upon the meditation of those dreadful torments we are freed from, of that infinite goodness that hath freed us, of that happy exchange of a glorious condition to which we are freed! But the public occasion of this day calls off my speech, and invites me to the celebration of the sensible mercy of God in our late Temporal deliverance.  
Wherein let me first bless the God of our Salvation, that hath put it into the heart of his chosen Servant to set up an Altar in this sacred threshing-floor, and to offer up this day's Sacrifice to his name, for the stay of our late mortal contagion. How well it becomes our Gideon to be personally exemplary, as in the beating of this Earthen pitcher in the first public act of Humiliation, so in the lighting of this Torch of public joy, and sounding the Trumpet of a thankful jubilation? and how well will it become us to follow so pious, so gracious an example? Come therefore, all ye that fear the Lord, and let us recount what he hath done for our Souls. Come, let us bless the Lord, the God of our Salvation, that loadeth us daily with benefits; the God to whom belong the issues of death. Let us bless him in his infinite Essence and Power; bless him in his unbounded and just Sovereignty; bless him in his marvellous Beneficence, large, continual, undeserved; bless him in his Preservations; bless him in his Deliverances. We may but touch at the two last.  
How is our Earth ready to sink under the load of his Mercies? What Nation under Heaven hath not envied and wondered at our Blessings? I do not carry back your eyes to the ancient favours of our God, to the memorable frustrations of ●●●ein Invasions, to the miraculous discoveries of Treasons, to the successful maintenance of oppressed neighbourhood. That one mercy I may not forget, that in the shutting up of blessed Queen Elizabeth, the Pope and the then-King of Spain were casting Lots for the Crown, and palpably plotting for their severally-designed Successors, as appears in the public posthume Letters of Cardinal D' Ossat, a witness beyond exception. Three several Briefs were addressed hither by that inclement shaveling of Rome for the defeating of the Title and Succession of our late Sovereign of dear and blessed memory, and his Royal Issue. Yet in spite of Rome and Hell, God brought him in, and set him peaceably upon this just Throne of his Forefathers; and may he perpetuate it to the fruit of those loins till world and time shall be no more. Amen.  
If I must follow the times, let me rather balk that hellish Sulphur-mine than not search it; and yet who can look at that any otherwise then the Jews do at the Rainbow, with horror and astonishment? What do I tell you of our long Peace, our full Plenty, our wholesome Laws, our easeful Government, with a world of these common favours? It is for poor men to reckon. Those two late Blessings (if no more) were worthy of immortal memory; the Prince out of Spain, Religion out of the dust. For the one, what a winter was there in all good hearts when our Sun was gone so far Southward? how cheerful a Spring in his return? For the other, who saw not how Religion began (during those purposely-protracted Treaties) to droop and languish, her friends to sigh, her enemies to insult, daring to brave us with challenges, to threaten our ruin? The Lord looked down from Heaven, and visited this poor Vine of his, and hath shaken off these Caterpillars from her then-wasting leaves; now we live, and it flourisheth.  
These would have been great favours of God even to the best Nation, but more to us, who have answered Mercies with Rebellions. O God, if proud disguises, if gluttonous pamper, if drunken healths, if wanton dalliances, if bloody oaths, if merciless oppressions may earn Blessings from thee, too many of us have supererogated. Woe is me, these are the measures thou hast had from too many hands. That thou shouldst therefore enlarge thy bounty to an unworthy, unkind, disobedient generation, it is more than we can wonder at; and we could almost be ready to say with Peter, Lord, depart from us, for we are sinful men.  
Yet the wise Justice of the Almighty meant not to cocker us up with mere dainties, with a loose indulgence, but hath thought fit to temper our sweets with tartness, and to strike our backs whiles he strokes our heads. Ecce in pace amaritudo amarissima; the comfort of our Peace was allayed with the bitterness of death. He saw that in this common Plethorie it was fit for us to bleed; he saw us Eels that would not be caught, but when the waters were troubled: He therefore sent his destroying Angel abroad, who laid about him on all sides. What slaughter, what lamentation, what horror was there in the streets of our mother City? More than twenty thousand Families run from their houses, as if those had been on fire over their heads, and seek shelter in Zoar and the mountains. Some of them are overtaken by the pursuer, and drop down in the way, and lie there as woeful spectacles of mortality, till necessity, and not Charity, could find them a grave. Others pass on, and for friends find strangers: Danger made men wisely and unwillingly unhospital: The Cousin, the Brother forgets his own blood, and the Father looks shily upon his own child, and welcomes him with frowns, if not with repulses. There were that repaid their grudged harbour with infection. And those that sped best, what with care for their abandoned houses and estate, what with grief for the misery of their forsaken neighbours, what with the rage of those Epidemical diseases which they found abroad, (as it is well observed by one, that in a contagious time all sicknesses have some tincture of Pestilence) wore out their days in the deepest sorrow and heaviness. There leave we them, and return to the miserable Metropolis of this Kingdom which they left. Who can express the doleful condition of that time and place? The arms of London are the Red Cross and the Sword; what house almost wanted these? Here was the Red Cross upon the door, the Sword of God's Judgement within doors, and the Motto was, Lord, have mercy upon us.  
What could we hear but alarms of death? what could we see but Trophies of death? Here was nothing but groaning and crying, and dying and burying: Carts were the Buyers, wide pits were the Graves, men's clothes were their Coffins, and the very Exequys of friends were murderous. The carcases of the dead might say, with the sons of the Prophets, Behold the place where we lie is too straight for us. New Dormitories are bought for the dead, and furnished; neither might the corpses be allowed to lie single in their earthen beds, but are piled up like faggots in a stack, for the society of their future Resurrection. No man survived, but he might say with the Psalmist, that thousands fell at his side, and ten thousands at his right hand. And if we take all together, (the mother and the daughters) surely the number was not much short of David's, though his time were shorter. It is not without reason that from the Hebrew word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signifies the Plague, is derived 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signifies a Desert: Certainly the Plague turns the most populous City into a Desert. Oh the woeful desolation of this place! It was almost come to Herba tegit Trojam. And if some infrequent passenger crossed our streets, it was not without his medicated Posy at his nose, and his Zedoary or Angelica in his mouth. Every room seemed a Pest-house, every sent mortal. Here should he meet one pale ghost muffled up under the throat, another dragging his legs after him for the tumour of his groin, another bespotted with the Tokens of instant death: here might he hear one shrieking out in a frantic distraction, there another breathing out his Soul in his last groans. What should I say more? This glorious chamber of the Kingdom seemed no other than a dreadful dungeon to her own, a very Golgotha to all beholders; and this proud Queen of our British Cities sat in the dust of her compassion, howling in the rags of her sackcloth, not mourning more than mourned for, pitied no less than forsaken; when the God of our Salvation looked down upon her deep afflictions, and miraculously proved unto us, that unto him belong the issues from death.  
It was he that put it into the heart of his Gracious Servant to command a Ninive-like Humiliation. What pithy, what passionate Prayers were enjoined to his disconsolate Church? With what holy eagerness did we devour those Fasts? How well were we pleased with the austerity of that pious Penitence? What loud cries did beat on all sides at the gates of Heaven? and with what inexspectable, unconceivable mercy were they answered? How suddenly were those many thousands brought down to one poor unity, not a number? Other evils were wont to come on horseback, to go away on foot; this mortality did not post but fly away. Methought, like unto the great ice, it sunk at once. Only so many are stricken as may hold us awful, and so few as may leave us thankful.  
Oh how soon is our Fasting and mourning turned into Laughter and joy? How boldly do we now throng into this House of God, and fearlessly mix our breaths in a common Devotion? This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes. O thou that hearest the prayer, to thee shall all flesh come. And let all flesh come to thee with the voice of Praise and Thanksgiving.  
It might have been just with thee, O God, to have swept us away in the common destruction: what are we better than our brethren? Thou hast let us live that we may praise thee. It might have been just with thee to have enlarged the commission of thy kill Angel, and to have rooted out this sinful people from under Heaven: But in the midst of judgement thou hast remembered mercy: Our sins have not made thee forget to be gracious, nor have shut up thy loving kindness in displeasure. Thou hast wounded us, and thou hast healed us again; thou hast delivered us, and been merciful to our sins for thy name's sake.  
Oh that we could duly praise thy Name in the great Congregation! Oh that our tongues, our hearts, our lives might bless and glorify thee! that so thou mayest take pleasure to perfect this great work of our full deliverance, and to make this Nation a dear example of thy Mercy, of Peace, Victory, Prosperity to all the world.  
In the mean time let us call all our fellow-creatures to help us bear a part in the Praise of our God: Let the Heavens, the Stars, the winds, the waters, the dews, the frosts, the nights, the days; let the Earth and Sea, the mountains, wells, trees, fishes, fouls, beasts; let men, let Saints, let Angels bless the Lord, praise him, and magnify him for ever. Blessed, blessed for ever be the Lord, who loadeth us daily with benefits; even the God of our Salvation, to whom belong the issues from death. Oh blessed be the Lord God of Israel, who only doth wondrous things; and blessed be his glorious Name for ever and ever: and let all the earth be filled with his glory. Amen. Amen.   

One of the SERMONS Preached at Westminster on the day of the Public Fast April 5. 1628. TO The Lords of the High Court of Parliament, and by their appointment published, by the B. of EXCESTER.  Esay 5. vers. 4, 5. What could have been done more to my Vineyard that I have not done in it? Wherefore when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes? 
And now go to, I will tell you what I will do to my Vineyard; I will take away the hedge thereof.  
IT is a piece of a Song (for so it is called Vers. 1.) Alas! what should Songs do to an heavy heart, Prov. 25. 20. or Music in a day of Mourning? Howling and lamentation is fitter for this occasion. Surely, as we do sometimes weep for joy; so do we sing also for sorrow. Thus also doth the Prophet here. If it be a Song, it is a Dump; Esay's Lacrymae; fit for that Sheminith, gravis symphonia, 
1 Chron. 15●2  as Tremelius turns it, which some sad Psalms were set unto. 
Psal. 6. 1.  Both the Ditty and the Tune are doleful. There are in it three passionate strains; 
Psal. 12. 1.  Favours, Wrongs, Revenge; Blessings, Sins, Judgements. Favours and Blessings from God to Israel; Sins (which are the highest Wrongs) from Israel to God; Judgements, by way of Revenge from God to Israel. And each of those follow upon other. God begins with Favours to his people, they answer him with their Sins, he replies upon them with Judgements: and all of these are in their height. The Favours of God are such, as he asks, What could be more? The Sins are aggravated by those Favours: what worse than wild Grapes and disappointment? And the Judgements must be aggravated to the proportion of their Sins: what worse than the Hedge taken away, the Wall broken, the Vineyard trodden down, and eaten up? Let us follow the steps of God and his Prophet in all these; and when we have passed these in Israel, let us seek to them at home. What should I need to crave attention? the business is both Gods and our own.  
God and we begin with Favours; Favours not mean and ordinary, not expressed in a right-down affirmation, but in an expostulatory and self-convincing Question, What could have been done more to my Vineyard that I have not done to it? Every word is a new obligation. That Israel is a Vineyard is no small favour of God; that it is God's Vineyard, is yet more; that it is God's Vineyard so tightly cultivated, as nothing more could be either added or desired, is most of all.  
Israel is no vast Desert, no wild Forest, no moorish Fen, no barren Heath, no thorny Thicket, but a Vineyard; a Soil of use and fruit. Look where you will in God's Book, ye shall never find any lively member of God's Church compared to any but a fruitful tree: Not to a tall Cypress, the Emblem of unprofitable Honour; nor to a smooth Ash, the Emblem of unprofitable Prelacy, that doth nothing but bear Keys; nor to a double-coloured Poplar, the Emblem of Dissimulation; nor to a well-shaded Plane, that hath nothing but Form; nor to a hollow Maple, nor to a trembling Asp, nor to a prickly Thorn; shortly, not to any Plant whatsoever whose fruit is not useful and beneficial. Hear this then, ye goodly Cedars, strong Elms, fast-growing Willows, sappy Sycomores, and all the rest of the fruitless trees of the earth, I mean all fashionable and barren Professors whatsoever: ye may shoot up in height, ye may spread far, shade well, show fair; but what are ye good for? Ye may be fit for the Forest, Ditches, Hedg-rows of the world; ye are not for the true saving soil of God's Israel: that is a Vineyard; there is place for none but Vines; and true Vines are fruitful. He that abideth in me bringeth forth much fruit, saith our Saviour, John 15. 5.  
And of all fruits, what is comparable to that of the Vine? Let the Vine itself speak in Jonathan's Parable, Jud. 9 13. Should I leave my Wine which cheereth God and man? How is this? God cheered with Wine? It is an high Hyperbole; yet seconded by the God of truth: I will drink no more of the fruit of this Vine, till I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom, Mat. 26. 29. It must needs be an excellent liquor which is used to resemble the joys of Heaven. Yea, the Blood of the Son of God, that celestial Nectar, which tomorrow shall cheer our Souls, is it otherwise resembled then by the blood of the Grape? He is Vitis vera, the true Vine; this is his juice.  
Alas! would God we had not too much cause to complain of the pleasure of this fruit: Religion, Reason, Humanity savour not to the palate of many in comparison of it. Wine is a mocker, saith Solomon. How many thousands doth it daily cheat of their Substance, of their Patrimony, of their Health, of their Wit, of their Sense, of their Life, of their Soul? Oh that we had the grace to be sensible of our own scorn and danger. But this is the honour of the fruit, and the shame of the man: the excess is not more our Sin, than the delicacy is the praise of the Grape. For sweetness of verdure than all plants will yield to the Vine: so tasteful, so pleasing, so delightful unto God are the Persons, the Graces, the Endeavours of his Israel. Their Persons are 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Rom. 12. 1. Their Love is better than wine, Cant. 4. 10. Their Alms are 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a sweet-smelling savour, Philip. 4. 18. Their Prayers as evening Incense, of a most fragrant composition: and for the rest of their words, the roof of their mouth is like the best Wine, Cant. 7. 9 Acceptation hath wont to be the encouragement of forwardness. Honourable and beloved, how should this hearten us in our holy stations, in our conscionable actions? Whiles we continue Vines, it is not in the power of our imperfections to lose our thanks. The delicatest Grape cannot be so relishsome to the palate of man, as our poor weak obediences are to the God of Mercies. Thou hast ravished my heart, my Sister, my Spouse, thou hast ravished my heart, saith Christ of his Church, Cant. 4. 9 The Vine is a noble plant, but a feeble and tender one. Other trees grow up alone out of the strength of their own sap; this grovels on the ground, and rots if it have not an Elm to prop it: like as Man, the best creature, is in his birth most helpless, and would presently die without outward succours. Such is the Israel of God; the worthiest piece of God's Creation, yet of itself impotent to good: here is no growth, no life but from that Divine Hand. Without me ye can do nothing. They are no Vines that can stand alone: Those proud spirits, as they have no need of God, so God hath no interest in them. His Israel is a Vineyard; and the Vine must be propped.  
As a Vineyard, so God's Vineyard. The Church shall be sure not to be Masterless. There is much waste ground that hath no owner; our Globe can tell us of a great part of the World that hath no name but Incognita, not known whether it have any inhabitant: but a Vineyard was never without a Possessor; till Noah the true Janus planted one, there was no news of any. Come into some wild Indian Forest all furnished with goodly Trees, you know not whether ever man were there; God's hand we are sure hath been there, perhaps not man's: but if you come into a well-dressed Vineyard, where you see the Hillocks equally swelling, the Stakes pitched in a just height and distance, and the Vines handsomely pruned, now it is easy to say (as the Philosopher did when he found Figures) Here hath been a man, yea a good husband. There is an universal Providence of God over the World; but there is a special eye and hand of God over his Church. In this God challengeth a peculiar interest: that is his (as we heard worthily this day) in a double right, of Confederation, of Redemption. Israel is my Son, yea my firstborn, saith God to Pharaoh. Thou hast brought a Vine out of Egypt, thou hast cast out the Heathen and planted it, saith the Psalmist, 80. 8.  
Oh the blasphemous diffidence of foolish men! Can we, dare we impute ill husbandry to the God of Heaven? Hath God a Vineyard, and shall he not tend it? shall he not mightily protect it? Go on, ye Foxes, ye little Foxes, to spoil the tender Grapes; go on, ye Boars of the Wood, to waste this Vineyard, and ye wild beasts of the field to devour it: our sins, our sins have given this scope to your violence and our calamity: But ye shall once know that this Vineyard hath an Owner, even the mighty God of Jacob; every cluster that you have spoiled shall be fetched back again from the bloody Winepress of his wrath; and in spite of all the gates of Hell this Vine shall flourish. Even so, return, we beseech thee, O God of Hosts: look down from Heaven, and visit this Vine, and the Vineyard which thy right hand hath planted, and the branch that thou madest strong for thyself.  
Ye have seen Israel a Vineyard, and God's Vineyard: now cast your eyes upon the favours that God hath done to his Vineyard Israel; such as that God appeals to their own hearts for Judges, What could have been done more to my Vineyard that I have not done? Mark, I beseech you: He doth not say, What could have been done more than hath been done? but, more, that I have not done? challenging all the acts done to his Vineyard for his own. As the Soil is his, so is all the culture. He that elsewhere makes himself the Vine, and his Father the Husbandman, here makes Israel the Vine, and himself the Husbandman. Nothing is, nothing can be done to his Church that passeth not his hands. My Father still worketh, saith he, and I work. This work, this care knows no end, no limits. Many a good Husband over-tasks himself, and undertakes more than his eye can overlook, or his hand sway; and therefore is fain to trust to the management of others; and it speeds thereafter. But the owner of this Vineyard is every where, and works wherever he is: nothing can pass his eye, every thing must pass his hand. This is the difference betwixt Solomon's Vineyard and his that is greater than Solomon: Solomon lets out his Vineyard to Keepers, Cant. 8. 11. Christ keeps his in his own hand. He useth indeed the help of men, but as Tools rather than as Agents; he works by them, they cannot work but by him. Are any of you Great ones Benefactors to his Church? (a rare style I confess in these not dative but ablative times) ye are but as the hands of the Sub-almoners of Heaven: God gives by you. Are any great Potentates of the earth secret or open persecutors of his Church? Ashur is the rod of my wrath, saith God: they are but as God's pruning Knives, to make his Vine bleed out her superfluous juice: God cuts by them. He is the Author of both, men are the instruments. To him must we return the praise of his Mercy in the one, and in the other the awe of his Judgements. Whatever is done to his Church, God doth it himself. Neither doth he say, What could I have done more that I have not done? as our former Translation reads it, with a reference to his absolute power; according whereto we know that he can do more than he doth, more than he will do: but, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Quid faciendum? What could have been done more, in respect of the exigence of the occasion? Would God set his Omnipotent Power upon it, we know he could make all the World Israel, he could make all Israel Saints, he could have made Devils men, men Angels. But God uses not to proceed according to the rule of an absolute Omnipotency, but according to the Oeconomie of his most holy, most wise, most just Decrees; whereby he hath chalked out unto men those ways and helps of Salvation, which he sees fit for the attainment of that End● these are they wherein he hath not been failing to his Israel.  
Of these he says, What could have been done more that I have not done? See what notice God takes and what reckonings he keeps of all the good that he doth to any Church or people; he files up all his Blessings: he is bountiful, not profuse; openhanded, but not so as that his largesse makes him respectless or forgetful of his beneficences: he gives not, like the picture of Fortune, blindfolded; or, like an Almoner in a throng, he knows not to whom; he notes both the man and the favour. In our gifts, our left hand may not know what our right hand doth; because our weakness is subject to a proud self-conceit, and a mis-opinion of too much obligation in the Receiver: but he whose infinite Goodness is not liable to any danger of those infirmities which follow our sinful nature, sets all his Mercies on the score, and will not balk one of the least. He that could say to Israel, I took thee from among the Pots, and to David, I took thee from following the Ewes great with Lamb: do ye not think he still says to his Anointed, I brought you from weak in the Cradle, to strong in the Throne; I kept you from treacherous hands; I returned you safe from the danger of your Southern Voyage; I have given you not the hands and knees, but the hearts of your Subjects? Do I not think he saith to me, I brought thee from the Ferula to a Pastoral staff; to another, I brought thee from the Bench of Justice to the seat of Honour; to another, I delivered thee from the Sword of thine enemy, from the bed of thy Sickness, from the walls of thy restraint, from the Powder-mine; I made thee Noble, thee Rich, thee Potent; I made this Country populous, that City wealthy, this Kingdom strong? Be sure, if we be forgetful, God will not misreckon his own Mercies.  
Our favours are (like ourselves) poor and impotent, worthy to be scribbled upon the sand, that they may be washed off with the next wave: his are full of goodness and infinite compassion, fit for the Marble of an eternal remembrance.  
Honourable and beloved, why do not we keep one part of the Tally as he keeps the other, that so we may hold even reckonings with our munificent God? How should we meditate continually of the gracious and wonderful works of his bounty, knowing that God hath so done his great works, that they ought to be had in perpetual memory? How should we gratefully recount his favours, and call the world about us with the sweet Singer of Israel, Come hither, and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will tell you what he hath done for my Soul, Psal. 66. 16?  
O God, it is a just quarrel that thou hast against us for our unthankfulness; the familiarity of thy Blessings hath drawn them into neglect. Alas! thy Mercies have not been sown, but buried in us: we have been gulfs to swallow them, not Repositories to keep them. How worthily do we smart, because we forget? How justly are thy Judgements seen upon us, because thy Mercies are not? 
Psal. 3●. 23.  Away with this wretched ingratitude. Oh love the Lord, all ye his Saints; for the Lord preserveth the faithful, and plentifully rewardeth the proud-doer.  
What then is it, O Lord, what is it that thou hast done, than which more could not be done for thy Vineyard? Thou best knowest thine own Mercies, and canst best express them: thou that wouldst not have us search into thy Counsels, wouldst not have us ignorant of thy Favours. Those are particularised in the foregoing words; in thy choice, in thy fence, in picking, in planting, in oversight, in pressing.  
First, there is the advantage of the Place chosen: where hath he settled his Vineyard but upon a very fruitful Hill? A double advantage, an Hill, and very fruitful. Hills are held best for Vines, the declivity whereof gives much strength to the reflection; so as the most generous Vines are noted to grow upon the Hills. Yet there are barren hills; nothing but heaps of unprofitable sands: this is a fruitful hill, yea superlatively fruitful, the horn of the son of oil, as it is in the Original; that is, by an Hebraisme, an hill eminently fat and fertile.  
But what would it avail the ground to be fruitful, if it be unfenced, that the wild Boar or the Foxes may spoil it? as good no fruit as to no purpose. Lo then here, Secondly, both an Hedge, and, lest that should not be sufficient, a Wall.  
But to what purpose should it be fenced with stones without, if it be choked with stones within? As therefore, Thirdly, the stones were laid together in the Wall for defence; so they were gathered off from the soil to avoid offence.  
But to what purpose is the fruitfulness, fencing, stoning, if the ground yield a plentiful crop of Briers, Thistles, Weeds? Injussa virescunt gramina, ill weeds grow fast. Here is therefore, Fourthly, the main favour to this Vineyard, that the owner hath planted it with choicest Vines. It is the praise of the Earth, to foster any Plant that is put into the bosom of it; it is the chief care of the Husbandman, to store it with Plants of worth.  
Now all this provision of soil, fencing, stoning, planting, were nothing without a continual oversight: the wise Owner therefore, Fifthly, builds, not a Bower, not a Banqueting-house for pleasure, but a Tower for survey; and that not in some obscure Angle, but in the midst of the Vineyard, that he may view the carriage of his Labourers, and descry the first danger of the annoyances.  
Lastly, to what purpose were all this choice, fencing, stoning, planting, oversight; if when the Grapes are grown to their due ripeness, they should not be improved to any useful Vintage? This must be done by the Wine-press: That is set up. And now what can remain, but the setting under of Vessels to receive the comfortable juice that shall flow from these so-well-husbanded clusters?  
All this hath God done for his Vineyard; what could have been done more?  
Not to dwell in the mists of Allegories; God himself hath read this riddle. The Vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel: 
Vers. 7.  And the house of Israel is his Church. The Church is God's Hill, conspicuous for his wonderful favours (though not ever) even to the eye of the world; not an hidden unheeded Valley. A fruitful Hill, not by Nature, but by Grace. Nature was like itself in it, in the world: God hath taken it in from the barren Downs, and gooded it; his choice did not find, but make it thus.  
Thus chosen he hath fenced it about with the hedge of Discipline, with the wall of his Almighty Protection.  
Thus fenced he hath ordained, by just Censures to pick out of it those stones of offence which might hinder their holy proceedings, and keep down the growth of the Vines; whether scandalous Men, false Opinions, or evil Occurrences.  
Thus cleared, he hath planted it with the choicest Vines of gracious motions, of wholesome Doctrines.  
Thus planted, he hath overlooked it from the Watchtower of Heaven, in a careful inspection upon their ways, in a provident care of their preservation.  
Thus overlooked, he hath endeavoured to improve it by his seasonable Winepress, in reducing all those powers and favours to act, to use, whether by Fatherly corrections, or by suggesting meet opportunities of practice. And now having thus chosen, fenced, cleared, planted, watched, and ordered to strain his Vines, he says most justly, What could have been done more that I have not done?  
Certainly it is not in the power of any humane apprehension to conceive what act could be added to perfect his culture, what Blessing could be added to the indearing of a Church. If he have made choice of a people for his own; if he have blessed them with good Government, with safe protection; if he have removed all hindrances of their proficiency; if he have given them wholesome instructions, and plied them with solicitations to good; if his provident eye have been ever over them for their deliverances; if, lastly, he have used both fair and foul means to wring from them the good juice of their obedience; Say men or Angels, what could have been done more? What Church soever in the World can make good to itself these specialties of mercy, let it know that God hath abated nothing to it of the height of his favour.  
These are the favours wherewith God hath begun to Israel; now turn your ears to the answer that Israel returns to God: see the Mercies of a good God requited with the Rebellions of a wicked people. Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth Grapes, brought it forth wild Grapes? A woeful issue of such Blessings; wild Grapes, & that with the disappointment of God's expectation.  
Two usual faults doth God find with any vicious Tree; No fruit, Ill fruit: the one in omission of good, the other in commission of sin. The Figtree in the way is cursed for the one, Israel here taxed for the other.  
What then are these wild, or, as Pagnine renders it, Uvae putidae, rotten Grapes? God hath not left it to our guess, but hath plainly told us v. 7. in an elegant Paronomasy; I looked for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 judgement, and behold 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a wound or scab, that is, oppression: I looked for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Justice, and behold 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 clamour. Generally, whatever disposition or act uncultured Nature doth or would produce of itself, that is a wild grape: Particularly, the Holy Ghost hath here instanced in several sins so styled; a self-greatning oppression, vers. 8. a settled drunkenness and wilful debauchedness, vers. 11. a determined resolution of wicked courses, vers. 18. a nicknaming of good and evil, vers. 20. a self-conceitedness in their own ways, vers. 21. Bribery in their Judges, v. 23. Pride in their women, ch. 3. v. 16. obdured Infidelity in all, ch. 6. v. 10. Wild grapes indeed, such as corrupted Nature yields without a correction, without an alteration: she herself is wild; she can yield but what she hath, what she is. Please yourselves who list in the opinion of your fair and sweet and plausible dispositions; ye shall find Nature at best but a wild Vine. In me, that is, in my flesh, there dwelleth no good, faith the chosen Vessel. Wild grapes for the harshness and sourness of the taste, for the odiousness of their verdure to the palate of the Almighty. The best fruits of Nature are but glorious Sins, the worst are horrible Abominations. Such are the wild grapes of Israel: which yet could not have been so ill, if God had not been put into an expectation of better, and if this expectation had not been crossed with disappointment: Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth Grapes, brought it forth wild Grapes? Had only Maples or Thorns or Willows grown there, God would not have looked for Grapes; had only wild Vines grown there, God would not have looked for pleasing clusters: but now that God furnished the soil with noble and generous Plants, with what scorn and indignation doth he look upon wild Grapes? Favours bestowed raise expectation, and expectation frustrated doubles the Judgement. The very leaves and the highway drew a curse upon the Figtree. Woe be to thee Chorazin, woe be to thee Bethsaida. Son of man, what shall be done to the Vine of all trees? Woe be to thee, O Vineyard of Israel: I will take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be eaten up; I will break down the wall, and it shall be trodden down.  
My speech should now descend to the woeful vengeance that God threats to and inflicts upon his Israel: A fit Theme for so heavy a day. The Hedge of good Government and wholesome Laws shall be trodden down; the Wall of Divine Protection shall be broken: the Beasts of the field and forest shall be let in, the Grapes devoured, the Trees bruised and trampled upon, the roots extirpate; to the full and final vastation of Israel, to the scorn and hissing of all Nations, to the just terror of the World; whiles that darling people which was once the example of God's Mercy, is now become the fearful spectacle of his Fury and Revenge, surviving only in some few abhorred and despised Vagabonds, to show that there was once such a Nation. But the time and occasion call my thoughts homeward, and invite me rather to spend the rest of my hour in paralleling Israel's Blessings, Sins, threats of Judgement with our own: Wherein our Interest shall be a sufficient motive of our attention. Gather you together therefore, gather you, O Nation not worthy to be loved, and cast back your eyes upon those incomparable favours wherewith God hath provoked and endeared this Island; in which I dare boldly say we are at the least his second Israel. How hath he chosen us out of all the Earth, and divided us from the rest of the World, that we might be a singular pattern and strange wonder of his Bounty? What should I speak of the wholesome temper of our Clime; the rich provision of all useful Commodities? so as we cannot say only as Sanchez did, I have moisture enough within my own shell; but as David did, Poculum exuberans, My cup runs over, to the supply of our neighbour Nations. What speak I of the populousness of our Cities, defencednesse of our shores? These are nothing to that Heavenly treasure of the Gospel which makes us the Vineyard of God, and that sweet Peace which gives us the happy fruition of that saving Gospel. Albion do we call it? nay (as he rightly) Polyolbion, richly blessed. O God, what, where is the Nation that can emulate us in these favours?  
How hath he fenced us about with the hedge of good Discipline, of wholesome Laws, of gracious Government; with the brazen wall of his Almighty and miraculous protection? Never Land had more exquisite Rules of Justice, whether mute or speaking. He hath not left us to the mercy of a rude Anarchy, or a Tyrannical violence, but hath regulated us by Laws of our own ask, and swayed us by the just Sceptres of moderate Princes.  
Never Land had more convincing proofs of an Omnipotent Tuition whether against foreign Powers or secret Conspiracies. Forget, if ye can, the year of our Invasion, the day of our Purim. Besides the many particularities of our deliverances filled up by the pen of one of our worthy Prelates.  
How hath he given us means to remove the rubs of our growth, and to gather away the stones of false Doctrine, of Heretical pravity, of mischievous machinations that might hold down his truth? And, which is the head of all, how hath he brought our Vine out of the Egypt of Popish Superstition, and planted it? In plain terms, how hath he made us a truely-orthodox Church, eminent for purity of Doctrine, for the grave and reverend solemnity of true Sacraments, for the due form of Government, for the pious and Religious form of our public Liturgy? With what plenty hath he showered upon us the first and later rain of his Heavenly Gospel? With what rare gifts hath he graced our Teachers? With what pregnant spirits hath he furnished our Academies? With what competency of maintenance hath he heartened all learned Professions? So as in these regards we may say of the Church of England, Many Daughters have done virtuously, 
Prov. 31. 29.  but thou excellest them all.  
How hath the vigilant eye of his Providence out of his tower of Heaven watched over this Island for good? Not an hellish Pionier could mine under ground, but he espied him; not a dark Lantern could offer to deceive midnight, but he descries it; not a Plot, not a purpose of evil could look out, but he hath discovered it, and shamed the Agents, and glorified his Mercy in our deliverance.  
Lastly, how infinitely hath his loving care laboured to bring us to good? What sweet opportunities and encouragements hath he given us of a fruitful obedience? And when his Fatherly counsels would not work with us, how hath he scruzed us in the Winepress of his Afflictions; one while with a raging Pestilence, another while with the insolence and prevalence of Enemies; one while with unkindly Seasons, another while with stormy and wracking Tempests: if by any means he might fetch from us the precious juice of true Penitence and faithful Obedience, that we might turn and live? If the press were weighty, yet the wine is sweet.  
Lay now all these together, And what could have been done more for our Vineyard, O God, that thou hast not done? Look about you, Honourable and Christian hearers, and see whether God hath done thus with any Nation. Oh never, never was any people so bound to a God. Other neighbouring Regions would think themselves happy in one drop of those Blessings which have poured down thick upon us. Alas! they are in a vaporous and marish vale, whiles we are seated on the fruitful Hill: they lie open to the massacring knife of an Enemy, whiles we are fenced: they are clogged with miserable encumbrances, whiles we are free: Briers and Brambles overspread them, whiles we are choicely planted: their Tower is of offence, their Winepress is of blood. Oh the lamentable condition of more likely Vineyards than our own! Who can but weep and bleed to see those woeful Calamities that are fallen upon the late-famous and flourishing Churches of Reformed Christendom? Oh for that Palatine Vine, late inoculated with a precious bud of our Royal Stem; that Vine not long since rich in goodly clusters, now the insultation of Boars and prey of Foxes! Oh for those poor distressed Christians in France, Bohemia, Silesia, Moravia, Germany, Austria, the Valteline, that groan now under the tyrannous yoke of Antichristian oppression! How glad would they be of the crumbs of our Feasts? how rich would they esteem themselves with the very glean of our plentiful crop of Prosperity? How do they look up at us as even now militantly-triumphant, whiles they are miserably wallowing in dust and blood; and wonder to see the Sunshine upon our Hill, whiles they are drenched with storm and tempest in the Valley?  
What are we, O God, what are we, that thou shouldst be thus rich in thy Mercies to us, whiles thou art so severe in thy Judgements unto them? It is too much, Lord, it is too much that thou hast done for so sinful and rebellious a people.  
Cast now your eyes aside a little, and after the view of God's Favours, see some little glimpse of our requital. Say then, say, O Nation not worthy to be beloved, what fruit have ye returned to your beneficent God? Sin is impudent; but let me challenge the impudent forehead of sin itself. Are they not sour and wild Grapes that we have yielded? Are we less deep in the Sins of Israel then in Israel's Blessings? Complaints, I know, are unpleasing, however just; 
Jer. 15. 10.  but now not more unpleasing than necessary. Woe is me, my mother, that thou hast born me a man of contention. I must cry out in this sad day of the sins of my people.  
The searchers of Canaan, when they came to the brook of Eshcol, they cut down a branch with a cluster of Grapes, and carried it on a staff between two, to show Israel the fruit of the Land, Numb. 13. 23. Give me leave, in the search of our Israel, to present your eyes with some of the wild Grapes that grow there on every hedge: And what if they be the very same that grew in this degenerated Vineyard of Israel?  
Where we meet first with Oppression; a Lordly sin, and that challengeth precedency, as being commonly incident to none but the Great, (though a poor Oppressor (as he is unkindly, so he) is a monster of mercilesness.) Oh the loud shrieks and clamours of this crying sin! What grinding of faces, what racking of Rents, what detention of Wages, what enclosing of Commons, what engrossing of Commodities, what gripping Exactions, what straining the advantages of Greatness, what unequal levies of Legal payments, what spiteful Suits, what Depopulations, what Usuries, what Violences abound every where?  
The sighs, the tears, the blood of the poor pierce the Heavens, and call for a fearful retribution. This is a sour Grape indeed, and that makes God to wring his face in an angry detestation.  
Drunkenness is the next; not so odious in the weakness of it, as in the strength. Oh woeful glory! strong to drink. Woe is me, how is the World turned Beast? What bousing and quaffing and whiffing and healthing is there on every bench? and what reeling and staggering in our streets? What drinking by the Yard, the Die, the Dozen? what forcing of pledges? what quarrels for measure and form? How is that become an excuse of villainy, which any villainy might rather excuse, I was drunk? How hath this torrent, yea this deluge of excess in meats and drinks drowned the face of the Earth, and risen many cubits above the highest Mountains of Religion and good Laws? Yea would God I might not say that which I fear and shame and grieve to say, that even some of them which square the Ark for others, have been inwardly drowned, and discovered their nakedness. That other inundation scoured the World, this impures it: and what but a Deluge of Fire can wash it from so abominable filthiness?  
Let no Popish Eaves-dropper now smile to think what advantage I give by so deep a censure of our own Profession. Alas! these sins know no difference of Religions. Would God they themselves were not rather more deep in these foul enormities. We extenuate not our guilt; whatever we sin, we condemn it as mortal: they palliate wickedness with the fair pretence of Veniality. Shortly, They accuse us, we them, God both.  
But where am I? How easy is it for a man to lose himself in the sins of the time? It is not for me to have my habitation in these black Tents; let me pass through them running. Where can a man cast his eye not to see that which may vex his Soul?  
Here Bribery and Corruption in the seats of Judicature, there Perjuries at the Bar; here Partiality and unjust Connivency in Magistrates, there disorder in those that should be Teachers; here Sacrilege in Patrons, there Simoniacal contracts in unconscionable Levites; here bloody Oaths and Execrations, there scurril Profaneness; here Cozening in bargains, there breaking of Promises; here perfidious Undermine, there flattering Supparasitations; here Pride in both Sexes, but especially the weaker, there Luxury and Wantonness; here contempt of God's Messengers, there neglect of his Ordinances and violation of his Days. The time and my breath would sooner fail me then this woeful Beadroll of wickedness.  
Yet alas! were these the sins of Ignorance, of Infirmity, they might be more worthy of pity then hatred. But oh the high hand of our presumptuous offences! We draw iniquity with the strings of vanity up to the head, up to the ear, and shoot up these hateful shafts against Heaven. Did we sit in darkness and the shadow of death, as too many Pagan and Popish Regions do, these works of darkness would be less intolerable: but now that the beams of the glorious Gospel have shined thus long, thus bright in our faces, Oh me, what can we plead against our own confusion? O Lord, where shall we appear, when thy very Mercies aggravate our Sins and thy Judgements?  
How shouldst thou expect fruit from a Vineyard so chosen, so husbanded? and woe worth our wretchedness that have thus repaid thee. Be confounded in thyself, O my Soul, be confounded, to see these deplored retributions. Are these grapes for a God? Do ye thus requite the Lord, O foolish people and unjust? Hath he for this made us the mirror of his Mercies to all the World, that we should so shamefully turn his graces into wantonness? Are these the fruits of his Choice, his Fencing, his Reforming, his Planting, his Watchtower, his Winepress? O Lord, the great and dreadful God, keeping the covenants and mercies to them that love thee; we have sinned and committed iniquity, and have rebelled by departing from thy precepts and from thy Judgements. O Lord, righteousness belongeth to thee, but unto us confusion of faces, as at this day. We know, we acknowledge how just it may be with thee to pull up our Hedges, to break down our Wall, to root up our Vine, to destroy and depopulate our Nation, to make us the scorn and Proverb of all Generations. But, O our God, 
Dan. 9 16, 19  Let thine anger and thy fury be turned away from thy Jerusalem, thy holy mountain. O Lord hear, O Lord forgive, O Lord hearken and do. Defer not for thine own sake, O our God: for thy City and thy people are called by thy Name.  
But, alas! what speak I of not deferring to a God of mercy, who is more forward to give than we to crave, and more loath to strike than we to smart, and when he must strike complains, Why will ye die, O house of Israel? Let me rather turn this speech to ourselves; the delay is ours. Yet it is not too late either for our return or his mercies. The Decree is not (to us) gone forth, till it be executed: As yet our Hedge stands, our Wall is firm, our Vine grows. These sharp monitions, these touches of Judgement have been for our warning, not for our ruin. Who knows if he will not return, and yet leave a Blessing behind him? Oh that we could turn unto him with all our heart, with Fasting and with weeping and with mourning. Oh that we could truly and effectually abandon all those abominable Sins that have stirred up the Anger of our God against us; and in this our day, this day of our solemn Humiliation, renew the Vows of our holy and conscionable obedience. Lord God, it must be thou only that must do it. Oh strike thou our flinty hearts with a sound remorse, and melt them into tears of penitence for all our sins. Convert us unto thee, and we shall be converted. Lord, hear our Prayers, and regard our tears, and reform our Lives, and remove thy Plagues, and renew thy loving countenance, and continue and add to thine old mercies. Lord, affect us with thy favours, humble us for our sins, terrify us with thy Judgements; that so thou mayst hold on thy favours, and forgive our sins, and remove thy Judgements; even for the Son of thy Love Jesus Christ the righteous. To whom, etc.  

Postscript.  
SInce it seemed good to that Great Court to call this poor Sermon (amongst others of greater worth) into the public light; I have thus submitted to their pleasure. And now, for that they pleased to bid so high a rate as their Command for that mean piece; I do willingly give this my other Statue into the bargain.  
This work preceded (some little) in time that which it now follows in place; not without good reason. Authority sends forth that; this Will: and my Will hath learned ever to give place to Authority. Besides my desire to save the labour of Transcriptions, I found it not unfit the World should see what Preparative was given for so stirring a Potion: neither can there be so much need in these languishing times of any discourse, as that which serves to quicken our Mortification; wherein I so much rejoice to have so happily met with those Reverend Bishops, who led the way, and followed me, in this Holy Service. The God of Heaven make all our endeavours effectual to the saving of the Souls of his people. Amen.    

A SERMON PREACHED To his Majesty, on the Sunday before the Fast, (being March 30.) at Whitehall; In way of preparation for that holy Exercise.  By the B. of EXCESTER. Galat. 2. 20. I am crucified with Christ. Nevertheless I live, etc. 
HE that was once tossed in the confluence of two Seas, Acts 27. 41. was once no less straightened in his resolutions betwixt life and death, Phil. 1. 23. Neither doth my Text argue him in any other case here. As there he knew not whether he should choose, so here he knew not whether he had. I am crucified, there he is dead; yet I live, there he is alive again; yet not I, there he lives not; but Christ in me, there he more than lives. This holy correction makes my Text full of wonders, full of sacred riddles. 1. The living God is dead upon the Cross, Christ crucified, 2. S. Paul, who died by the sword, dies on the Cross. 3. S. Paul, who was not Paul till after Christ's death, is yet crucified with Christ. 4. S. Paul thus crucified yet lives. 5. S. Paul lives not himself whiles he lives. 6. Christ, who is crucified, lives in Paul, who was crucified with him.  
See then here both a Lent and an Easter: A Lent of Mortification, I am crucified with Christ; an Easter of Resurrection and life, I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me. The Lent of my Text will be sufficient (as proper) for this season; wherein my speech shall pass through three long stages of discourse: Christ crucified, S. Paul crucified, S. Paul crucified with Christ. In all which your Honourable and Christian patience shall as much shorten my way, as my care shall shorten the way to your patience.  
Christ's Cross is the first lesson of our infancy, worthy to be our last, and all. The great Doctor of the Gentiles affected not to fly any higher pitch. Grande crucis Sacramentum, as Ambrose. This is the greatest wonder that ever earth or heaven yielded. 
1. Tim. 3.16.  God incarnate was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 but God suffering and dying was so much more, as Death is more penal than Birth. The Godhead of man and the blood of God are two such Miracles, as the Angels of Heaven can never enough look into, never admire enough.  
Ruffin tells us, that among the Sacred Characters of the Egyptians the Cross was anciently one, which was said to signify eternal life; hence their Learneder sort were converted to and confirmed in the Faith. Surely we know that in God's Hieroglyphics Eternal Life is both represented and exhibited to us by the Cross. That the Cross of Christ was made of the Tree of Life, a slip whereof the Angels gave to Adam's son out of Paradise, is but a Jewish Legend; Galatine may believe it, not we: but that it is made the Tree of Life to all believers, we are sure. This is the only scale of Heaven; never man ascended thither but by it. By this Christ himself climbed up to his own glory. Dominus regnavit à ligno, as Tertullian translates that of the Psalm. Father, glorify thy name; that is, saith he, Duc me ad crucem, Lift me up to the tree, not of my shame, but of my triumph. Behold, we preach Christ crucified (saith Saint Paul) to the Jews a stumbling-block, to the Greeks foolishness; but to them which are called, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God, 1 Cor. 1. 23. Foolish men! that stumble at power, and deride wisdom. Upbraid us now, ye fond Jews and Pagans, with a Crucified Saviour: It is our glory, it is our happiness, which ye make our reproach. Had not our Saviour died, he could have been no Saviour for us; had not our Saviour died, we could not have lived. See now the flag of our dear Redeemer, this Cross, shining eminently in loco pudoris, in our foreheads; and if we had any place more high, more conspicuous, more honourable, there we would advance it. O blessed Jesus, when thou art thus lifted up on thy Cross, thou drawest all hearts unto thee: there thou leadest captivity captive, and givest gifts unto men. Ye are deceived, O ye blind Jews and Painims, ye are deceived; it is not a Gibbet, it is a Throne of Honour to which our Saviour is raised; a Throne of such Honour, as to which Heaven and earth and hell do, and must veil. The Sun hides his awful head, the earth trembles, the rocks rend, the graves open, and all the frame of Nature doth homage to their Lord in this secret, but Divine, pomp of Crucifixion. And whiles ye think his feet and hands despicably fixed, behold he is powerfully trampling upon Hell and Death, and setting up trophies of his most glorious Victory, and scattering everlasting Crowns and Sceptres unto all Believers. O Saviour, I do rather more adore thee on the Calvary of thy Passion, then on the Tabor of thy Transsiguration, or the Olivet of thine Ascension: and cannot so effectuously bless thee for Pater, clarifica, Father, glorify me, as for, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? sith it is no news for God to be great and glorious; but for the Eternal and everliving God to be abased, to be abased unto death, to the death of the Cross, is that which could not but amaze the Angels and confound Devils; and so much more magnifies thine infinite Mercy, by how much an infinite person would become more ignominious. All Hosannas of men, all Allellujahs of Saints and Angels come short of this Majestic humiliation. Blessing, honour, glory and power be unto him that sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever, Revel. 5. 13. And ye (Honourable and beloved) as ever ye hope to make music in Heaven, learn to tune your harps to the note and ditty of these Heavenly Elders. Rejoice in this, and rejoice in nothing but this Cross: not in your transitory Honours, Titles, Treasures, which will at the last leave you inconsolately sorrowful; but in this Cross of Christ, whereby the world is crucified to you, and you to the world. Oh clip and embrace this precious Cross with both your arms, and say with that blessed Martyr, Amor meus crucifixus est, My Love is crucified. Those that have searched into the monuments of Jerusalem, write that our Saviour was crucified with his face to the West: which howsoever spitefully meant of the Jews, (as not allowing him worthy to look on the Holy City and Temple) yet was not without a mystery. Oculi ejus super Gentes respiciunt, His eyes look to the Gentiles, etc. saith the Psalmist. As Christ therefore on his Cross looked towards us sinners of the Gentiles; so let us look up to him. Let our eyes be lift up to this Brazen Serpent, for the cure of the deadly stings of that old Serpent. See him, O all ye beholders, see him hanging upon the Tree of shame, of curse, to rescue you from curse and confusion, and to feeble you in everlasting Blessedness: See him stretching out his arms to receive and embrace you, hanging down his head to take view of your misery, opening his precious side to receive you into his bosom, opening his very heart to take you in thither, pouring out thence water to wash you, and blood to redeem you. O all ye Nazarites that pass by, out of this dead Lion seek and find the true honey of unspeakable and endless comfort.  
And ye great Masters of Israel, whose lips profess to preserve knowledge, leave all curious and needlesie disquisitions, and with that Divine and ecstatical Doctor of the Gentiles, care only to know, to preach, Christ and him crucified.  
But this, though the sum of the Gospel, is not the main drift of my Text: I may not dwell in it, though I am loath to part with so sweet a meditation. From Christ crucified turn your eyes to Paul crucified: you have read him dying by the Sword; hear him dying by the Cross, and see his moral, spiritual, living Crucifixion.  
Our Apostle is two men, Saul and Paul; the old man and the new: in respect of the Old man he is crucified, and dead to the law of sin, so as that sin is dead in him; neither is it otherwise with every regenerate. Sin hath a body, as well as the man hath; Who shall deliver me from this body of death? Rom. 7. 24. a body that hath limbs and parts; Mortify your earthly members, saith our Apostle, Colos. 3. 5. Not the limbs of our humane body, which are made of earth, (so should we be hosles naturae, as Bernard) but the sinful limbs that are made of corruption, Fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, etc. The 〈◊〉 of sin is wicked devices; the heart of sin, wicked desires; the hands and 〈◊〉, wicked executions; the tongue of sin, wicked words; the eyes of sin, 〈◊〉 apprehensions; the forehead of sin, impudent profession of evil; the back of sin, a strong supportation and maintenance of evil: all this body of sin is not only put to death, but to shame too, so as it is dead with disgrace, I am crucified. S. Paul speaks not this singularly of himself, but in the person of the Renewed: sin doth not, cannot live a vital and vigorous life in the Regenerate. Wherefore then (say you) was the Apostles complaint, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. Wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death? Mark, I beseech you; it was the body of sin, not the life of sin; a body of death, not the life of that body: or if this body had yet some life, it was such a life as is left in the limbs when the head is struck off; some dying quivering, rather as the remainders of a life that was, than any act of a life that is; or if a further life, such a one as in 'swounds and fits of Epilepsy, which yields breath, but not sense; or if some kind of sense, yet no motion; or if it have some kind of motion in us, yet no manner of dominion over us. What power, motion, sense, relics of life are in a fully-crucified man? Such a one may waft up and down with the wind, but cannot move out of any internal principle.  
Sin and Grace cannot more stand together in their strength, than life and death. In remiss degrees all contraries may be lodged together under one roof. S. Paul swears that he dies daily, yet he lives: so the best man sins hourly, even whiles he obeys; but the powerful and overruling sway of sin is incompatible with the truth of Regeneration. Every Esau would be carrying away a Blessing: no man is willing to sit out. Ye shall have strong drinkers, as Esay calls them, Esay 5. 22. neighing stallions of lust, as Jeremy calls them, Jer. 5. 8. mighty hunters in oppression, as Nimrod, Gen. 10. 9 rotten talkers, Ephes. 4. 29. which yet will be challenging as deep a share in Grace as the conscionablest. Alas! how many millions do miserably delude themselves with a mere pretence of Christianity? Aliter vivunt, aliter loquuntur, as he said of the Philosophers. Vain Hypocrites! they must know that every Christian is a crucified man. How are they dead to their fins, that walk in their sins? how are their sins dead in them, in whom they stir, reign, flourish? Who doth not smile to hear of a dead man that walks? Who derides not the solecism of that Actor, which expressed himself fully dead by saying so? What a mockery is this? eyes full of lust, itching ears, scurrilous tongues, bloody hands, hearts full of wickedness, and yet dead? Deceive not your Souls, dear Christians, if ye love them. This false death is the way to the true, eternal, incomprehensibly-wofull death of body and Soul. If ye will needs do so, walk on, ye falsly-dead, in the ways of your old sins: be sure these paths shall lead you down to the chambers of everlasting death. If this be the hanging up of your corruptions, fear to hang in hell. Away with this hateful simulation; God is not mocked: Ye must either kill, or die. Kill your sins, or else they will be sure to kill your Souls: apprehend, arraign, condemn them, fasten them to the tree of shame, and, if they be not dead already, break their legs and arms, disable them to all offensive actions as was done to the Thiefs in the Gospel; so shall you say with our Blessed Apostle, I am crucified.  
Neither is it thus only in matter of notorious crime and gross wickedness, but thus it must be in the universal carriage of our lives, and the whole habitual frame of our dispositions: in both these we are, we must be crucified. Be not deceived, my Brethren, it is a sad and austere thing to be a Christian. This work is not frolic, jovial, plausible: there is a certain thing called true Mortification required to this business; and whoever heard but there was pain in death? but among all deaths in crucifying? What a torture must there needs be in this act of violence? what a distension of the body, (whose weight is rack enough to itself?) what straining of the joints? what nailing of hands and feet? Never make account to be Christians without the hard tasks of Penitence. It will cost you tears, sighs, watchings, self-restraints, self-strugling, self-denials. This word is not more harsh than true. Ye delicate Hypocrites, what do you talk of Christian profession, when ye will not abate a dish from your belly, nor spare an hours sleep from your eyes, nor cast off an offensive rag from your backs for your God? In vain shall the vassals of appetite challenge to be the servants of God. Were it that the Kingdom of God did consist in eating and drinking, in pampering and surfeits, in chambering and wantonness, in pranking and vanity, in talk and ostentation; O God, how rich shouldst thou be of subjects, of Saints? But if it require abstinence, humiliation, contrition of heart, subjugation of our flesh, renunciation of our wills, serious impositions of laboursome devotions; O Lord, what is become of true Christianity? where shall we seek for a crucified man? Look to our Tables, there ye shall find excess and riot; look to our Backs, there ye shall find proud disguises; look to our Conversations, there ye shall find scurril and obscene jollity. This liberty, yea this licentiousness, is that which opens the mouths of our adversaries to the censure of our real impiety. That slander which Julian could cast upon Constantine, that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 led him to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 delicacy to intemperance, the very same do they cast upon us. They tell us of their strict Lents, frequent Fast, Canonical hours, sharp Penances, their bashful shrists, their painful scourge, their solitary Cells, their woolward and barefoot walks, their hard and tedious pilgrimages; whiles we (they say) deny nothing to back or belly, fare full, lie soft, sit warm, and make a wanton of the flesh, whiles we profess to tend the spirit. Brethren, hear a little the words of exhortation: The brags of their penal will-worship shall no whit move us: All this is blown away with a Quis requisivit? Baal's Priests did more than they, yet were never the holier. But for ourselves, in the fear of God see that we do not justify their crimination. Whiles they are in one extreme, placing all Religion in the outside, in Touch not, taste not, handle not: let us not be in the other, not regarding the external acts of due Humiliation. It is true that it is more ease to afflict the body then to humble the Soul; a dram of remorse is more than an ounce of pain. O God, if whip and hair-cloaths and watchings would satisfy thy displeasure, who would not sacrifice the blood of this vassal (his Body) to expiate the sin of his Soul? who would not scrub his skin to ease his Conscience? who would not freeze upon an hurdle that he might not fry in hell? who would not hold his eyes open to avoid an eternal unrest and torment? But such sacrifices and oblations, O God, thou desirest not. The sacrifice of God is a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. Yet it is as true, that it is more easy to counterfeit mortification of spirit then humiliation of body; there is pain in the one, none in the other. He that cares not therefore to pull down his body, will much less care to humble his Soul; and he that spares not to act meet and due penalties upon the Flesh, gives more colour of the Souls humiliation. Dear Christians, it is not for us to stand upon niggardly terms with our Maker: he will have both; he that made both, will have us crucified in both. The old man doth not lie in a limb or faculty; but is diffused through the whole extent of Body and Soul, and must be crucified in all that it is. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, saith the chosen vessel, I beat down my body; my body as well as my spirit. Give me leave, ye Courtiers and Citizens. Lent is wont to be a penitential time: If ye have sound and effectually thriven yourselves to your God, let me enjoin you an wholesome and saving Penance for the whole year, for your whole life. Ye must curb your appetites, ye must fast, ye must stint yourselves to your painful Devotions, ye must give peremptory denials to your own wills, ye must put your knife to your throat in Solomon's sense. Think not that ye can climb up to Heaven with full paunches, reaking ever of Indian smoke and the surfeits of your gluttonous cramming and quaffings. Oh easy and pleasant way to Glory! from our bed to our glass, from our glass to our board, from our dinner to our pipe, from our pipe to a visit, from a visit to a supper, from a supper to a play, from a play to a banquet, from a banquet to our bed. Oh remember the quarrel against damned Dives: He fared sumptuously every day; he made neither Lents nor Embers; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as he said, every day was gaudy and festival, in rich suits, in dainty morsels, and full draughts; Intus mulso, foris oleo, Wine within, oil without, as he said: now all the world for a drop, and it is too little. Vae saturis, woc to the full, saith our Saviour: but even Nature itself could abominate bis de die saturum, one that is full twice a day. One of the sins of our Sodom is fullness of bread. What is the remedy? It is an old word, that Hunger cures the diseases of Gluttony. Oh that my words could prevail so far with you, Honourable and beloved Christians, as to bring austere abstinence and sober moderation into fashion. The Court and City have led the way to excess; your example shall prescribe, yea administer, the remedy. The Heathen man could say, He is not worthy of the name of a man that would be a whole day in pleasure: what and we always? In fasting often, saith S. Paul: what and we never? I fast twice a week, saith the Pharisee: and we Christians when? I speak not of Popish mock-fasts, in change, not in forbearance; in change of courser cates of the land for the curious dainties of the water, of the flesh of beasts for the flesh of fish, of untoothsome morsels for sorbitiunculoe delicatoe, as Hierome calls them. Let me never feast, if this be fasting. I speak of a true and serious maceration of our bodies, by an absolute and total refraining from sustenance: which howsoever in itself it be not an act pleasing unto God, (for well may I invert Saint Paul, neither if we eat not are we the better, neither if we eat are we the worse, 1 Cor. 8. 8.) yet in the effect it is; singular Sanctitatis aratrum, as that Father terms it. The plough bears no Corn, but it makes way for it; it opens the soil, it tears up the briers, and turns up the furrows: Thus doth holy Abstinence, it chastises the flesh, it lightens the spirit, it disheartens our vicious dispositions, it quickens our Devotion. Away with all factious Combinations. Every man is master of his own maw: Fast at home and spare not; leave public exercises of this kind to the command of Sovereign powers. Blow the trumpet in Zion, sanctify a Fast, saith Joel, 2. 15. Surely this trumpet is for none but Royal breath. And now (that what I meant for a suit, may be turned to a just gratulation) how do we bless the God of Heaven, that hath put it into the heart of his Anointed to set this sacred Trumpet to his lips? Never was it, never can it be more seasonable than now: now that we are fallen into a war of Religion, now that our friends and Allies groan either under miscarriage or danger, now that our distressed neighbours implore our help in tears and blood, now that our God hath humbled us with manifold losses, now that we are threatened with so potent enemies, now that all Christendom is embroiled with so miserable and perilous distempers; oh now it hath seasonably pleased your Majesty to blow the Trumpet in Zion, to sanctify a Fast, to call a solemn Assembly. The miraculous success that God gave to your Majesty and your Kingdom in this holy exercise, may well encourage an happy iteration. How did the public breath of our Fasting-prayers cleanse the air before them? How did that noisome Pestilence vanish suddenly away, as that which could not stand before our powerful Humiliations? If we be not straightened in our own bowels, 
Jer. 6. 26.  the hand of our God is not shortened. O Daughter of Zion, gird thee with sackcloth, and wallow thyself in ashes, make thee mourning and most bitter lamentation. Fast and pray, and prosper. And in the mean time, for us, let us not think it enough to forbear a meal, or to hang down our heads like a bulrush for a day; but let us break the bands of wickedness, and in a true contrition of Soul vow and perform better Obedience. Oh then, as we care to avert the heavy Judgements of God from ourselves and our Land, as we desire to traduce the Gospel with peace to our posterity, let each man humble one; let each man rend his heart with sorrow for his own sins and the sins of his people: shortly, let every man ransack his own Soul and life, and offer an holy violence to all those sinful corruptions which have stirred up the God of Heaven against us; and never leave, till in truth of heart he can say with our blessed Apostle, I am crucified.  
Ye have seen Christ crucified, S. Paul crucified; see now both crucified together, I am crucified with Christ. It is but a cold word this, I am crucified; it is the company that quickens it. He that is the Life, gives it life, and makes both the word and act glorious; I am crucified with Christ.  
Alas! there is many a one crucified, but not with Christ. The Covetous, the Ambitious man is self-crucified; he plaits a crown of thorny cares for his own head; he pierces his hands and feet with toilsome and painful undertake; he drencheth himself with the vinegar and gall of discontentments; he gores his side and wounds his heart with inward vexations. Thus the man is crucified; but with the world, not with Christ.  
The Envious man is crucified by his own thoughts; he needs no other gibbet than another man's prosperity; because another's person or counsel is preferred to his, he leaps to hell in his own halter. This man is crucified; but it is Achitophel's Cross, not Christ's.  
The Desperate man is crucified with his own distrust; he pierceth his own heart with a deep, irremediable, unmitigable, killing sorrow; he pays his wrong to God's Justice with a greater wrong to his Mercy, and leaps out of an inward Hell of remorse to the bottomless pit of damnation. This man is crucified; but this is Judas' Cross, not Christ's.  
The Superstitious man is professedly mortified. The answer of that Eremite in the story is famous, Why dost thou destroy thy body? Because it would destroy me. He useth his body therefore not as a servant, but a slave, not as a slave, but an enemy. He lies upon thorns, with the Pharisee; little ease is his lodging, with Simeon the Anachoret; the stone is his pillow, with Jacob; the tears his food, with exiled David; he lanceth his flesh, with the Baalites; he digs his grave with his nails; his meals are hunger, his breathe sighs, his linen hair-cloath, lined and laced with cords and wires; lastly, he is his own willing tormentor, and hopes to merit Heaven by self-murder. This man is crucified, but not with Christ.  
The Felon, the Traitor is justly crucified, the vengeance of the Law will not let him live. The Jesuitical Incendiary, that cares only to warm himself by the fires of States and Kingdoms, cries out of his suffering. The world is too little for the noise of our Cruelty, their Patience; whiles it judgeth of our proceedings by our Laws, not by our executions. But if they did suffer what they falsely pretend, (as they now complain of ease) they might be crucified, but not with Christ; they should bleed for Sedition, not Conscience: They may steal the Name of Jesus, they shall not have his Society. This is not Christ's Cross, it is the cross of Barrabas, or the two malefactors, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Mark 15. 7.  
All these and many more are crucified, but not, as S. Paul was here, with Christ. How with Christ? In partnership, in person. In Partnership of the suffering; every particularity of Christ's Crucifixion is reacted in us. Christ is the model, we the metal; the metal takes such form as the model gives it: so are we spread upon the Cross of Christ in an unanswerable extension of all parts, to die with him, as the Prophet was upon the dead child, to revive him. Superstitious men talk of the impression of our Saviour's wounds in their Idol S. Francis: This is no news; S. Paul and every believing Christian hath both the lathes and wounds and transfixions of his Jesus wrought upon him. The Crown of thorns pierces his head, when his sinful conceits are mortified; his lips are drenched with gall and vinegar, when tharp and severe restraints are given to his tongue; his hands and feet are nailed, when he is by the power of God's Spirit disabled to the wont courses of sin; his body is stripped, when all colour and pretences are taken away from him; shortly, his heart is pierced, when the life-blood of his formerly-reigning corruptions is let out. He is no true Christian that is not thus crucified with Christ.  
Woe is me, how many fashionable ones are not so much as pained with their sins? It is no trouble to them to blaspheme, oppress, debauch: yea rather it is a death to them to think of parting with their dear Corruptions: the world hath bewitched their love. That which Erasmus saith of Paris, that after a man hath acquainted himself with the odious sent of it (hospitibus magìs ac magìs adlubescit) it grows into his liking more and more; is too true of the world and sensual minds. Alas! they rather crucify Christ again, then are crucified with Christ. Woe to them that ever they were: for being not dead with Christ, they are not dead in Christ; and being not dead in Christ, they cannot but die eternally in themselves; for the wages of sin is death; death in their person, if not in their surety. Honourable and beloved, let us not think it safe for us to rest in this miserable and deadly condition. As ye love your Souls, give no sleep to your eyes nor peace to your hearts, till ye find the sensible effects of the Death and Passion of Christ your Saviour within you, mortifying all your corrupt affections and sinful actions, that ye may truly say with S. Paul, I am crucified with Christ.  
Six several times do we find that Christ shed blood; in his Circumcision, in his Agony, in his Crowning, in his Scourging, in his Affixion, in his Transfixion. The instrument of the first was the Knife; of the second, vehemence of Passion; of the third, the Thorns; of the fourth, the Whips; of the fifth, the Nails; of the last, the Spear. In all these we are, we must be Partners with our Saviour.  
In his Circumcision, when we draw blood of ourselves by cutting off the foreskin of our filthy (if pleasing) Corruptions, Col. 2. 11. In his Agony, when we are deeply affected with the sense of God's displeasure for sin, and terrified with the frowns of an angry Father. In his Crowning with thorns, when we smart and bleed with reproaches for the name of Christ; when that which the world counts Honour, is a pain to us for his sake; when our guilty thoughts punish us, and wound our restless heads with the sad remembrance of our sins. In his Scourging, when we tame our wanton and rebellious flesh with wise rigour and holy severity. In his Affixion, when all the powers of our Souls and parts of our body are strictly hampered and unremovably fastened upon the Royal Commandments of our Maker and Redeemer. In his Transfixion, when our hearts are wounded with Divine love (with the Spouse in the Canticles) or our Consciences with deep sorrow.  
In all these we bleed with Christ, and all these (save the first only) belong to his Crucifying. Surely, as it was in the Old Law, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 without bloodshed there was no remission, Heb. 9 22. so it is still and ever in the New. If Christ had not thus bled for us, no remission; if we do not thus bleed with Christ, no remission.  
There is no benefit where is no partnership. If Christ therefore bled with his Agony, with his Thorns, with his Whips, with his Nails, with his Spear, in so many thousand passages as Tradition is bold to define; and we never bleed, either with the Agony of our sorrow for sin, or the Thorns of holy cares for displeasure, or the Scourges of severe Christian rigour, or the Nails of holy constraint, or the Spear of deep remorse; how do we, how can we for shame say, we are crucified with Christ?  
Divine S. Austin, 
Epist. 120. ad Honoratum.  in his Epistle or Book rather to Honoratus, gives us all the dimensions of the Cross of Christ. The Latitude he makes in the transverse; this (saith he) pertains to good Works, because on this his hands were stretched. The Length was from the ground to the transverse; this is attributed to his longanimity and persistance, for on that his Body was stayed and fixed. The Height was in the head of the Cross above the transverse; signifying the expectation of supernal things. The Depth of it was in that part which was pitched below within the earth; importing the profoundness of his free Grace, which is the ground of all his beneficence.  
In all these must we have our part with Christ. In the Transverse of his Cross, by the ready extension of our hands to all good Works of Piety, Justice, Charity: in the Arrectary or beam of his Cross, by continuance and uninterrupted perseverance in good: in the Head of his Cross, by an high elevated hope, and looking for of Glory: in the Foot of his Cross, by a lively and firm Faith, fastening our Souls upon the affiance of his free Grace and Mercy. And thus shall we be crucified with Christ upon his own Cross.  
Yet lastly we must go further than this, from his Cross to his Person. So did S. Paul, and every Believer, die with Christ, that he died in Christ: For as in the first Adam we all lived, and sinned; so in the second all Believers died, that they might live.  
The first Adam brought in death to all mankind, but at last actually died for none but himself; the second Adam died for mankind, and brought life to all Believers. Seest thou thy Saviour therefore hanging upon the Cross? all mankind hangs there with him; as a Knight or Burgess of Parliament voices his whole Burrow or Country. What speak I of this? The arms and legs take the same lot with the head: Every Believer is a limb of that body; how can he therefore but die with him, and in him? That real union then which is betwixt Christ and us, makes the Cross and Passion of Christ ours; so as the thorns pierced our heads, the scourages blooded our backs, the nails wounded our hands and feet, and the spear gored our sides and hearts: by virtue whereof we receive justification from our sins, and true mortification of our corruptions. Every Believer therefore is dead already for his sins in his Saviour; he needs not fear that he shall die again. God is too just to punish twice for one fault; to recover the sum both of the surety & principal. All the score of our arrearages is fully struck off by the infinite satisfaction of our Blessed Redeemer. Comfort thyself therefore, thou penitent and faithful Soul, in the confidence of thy safety; thou shalt not die, but live, since thou art already crucified with thy Saviour; he died for thee, thou diedst in him. Who shall lay any thing to the charge of Gods elect? It is God that justifies? Who shall condemn? It is Christ that died; yea rather that is risen again, and lives gloriously at the right hand of God, making intercession for us. To thee, O Blessed Jesus, together with thy Coeternal Father and Holy Spirit, three Persons in one infinite and incomprehensible Deity, be all Praise, Honour and Glory now and for ever. Amen.   

ONE OF THE SERMONS Preached to the LORDS OF THE High Court of Parliament, In their solemn Fast held on Ash-wednesday, Feb. 18. And, by their Appointment, published, by the B. of EXCESTER.  Acts 2. 37, 38, 40. 
37. Now when they heard this, they were pricked in their hearts, and said to Peter and the rest of the Apostles, Men and brethren, what shall we do?  
38. Then said Peter unto them, Repent and be baptised, etc.  
40. And with many other words did he testify, and exhort them, saying, Save yourselves from this untoward generation.  
WHO knows not that Simon Peter was a Fisher? That was his trade both by Sea and Land: if we may not rather say, that as Simon he was a Fisherman, but as Peter he was a Fisher of men: he that called him so, made him so. And surely his first draught of Fishes which, as Simon, he made at our Saviour's Command, might well be a trade Type of the first draught of men which, as Peter, he made in this place: for as then the nets were ready to crack, and the ship to sink with store; so here, when he threw forth his first drag-net of Heavenly Doctrine and reproof, three thousand Souls were drawn up at once. This Text was as the sacred Cord that drew the Net together, and pulled up this wondrous shoal of Converts to God. It is the sum of Saint Peter's Sermon, if not at a Fast, yet at a general Humiliation, which is more and better; for wherefore fast we but to be humbled? and if we could be duly humbled without fasting, it would please God a thousand times better than to fast formally without true Humiliation. Indeed for the time, this was a Feast, the Feast of Pentecost; but for the estate of these Jews it was dies cinerum, a day of contrition, a day of deep hunger and thirst after righteousness; Men and Brethren, what shall we do? Neither doubt I to say that the Festivity of the season added not a little to their Humiliation: like as we are never so apt to take cold as upon a sweat; and that wind is ever the keenest, which blows cold out of a warm coast. No day could be more afflictive than an Ash-wednesday that should light upon a solemn Pentecost: so it was here; every thing answered well. The Spirit came down upon them in a mighty wind; and behold, it hath rattled their hearts together: the house shoo● in the descent; and behold here the foundations of the Soul were moved: Fiery tongues appeared; and here their breasts were inflamed: Cloven tongues; and here their hearts were cut in sunder. The words were miraculous, because in a supernatural and sudden variety of language; the matter Divine, laying before them both the truth of the Messiah, and their bloody measure offered to that Lord of Life: and now Compuncti cordibus, they were pricked in their hearts. Wise Solomon says, The words of the wise are like goads and nails: here they were so. Goads, for they were compuncti pricked: yea, but the goad could not go so deep, that passeth but the skin; they were Nails, driven into the very heart of the Auditors, up to the head; the great Master of the Assembly, the divine Apostle had set them home, they were pricked in their hearts. Never were words better bestowed. It is an happy blood-letting that saves the life; this did so here. We look to the signe commonly in Phlebotomy: it is a sign of our idle and ignorant Superstition. S. Peter here saw the sign to be in the Heart, and he strikes happily; Compuncti cordibus, they were pricked in their hearts, and said, Men and brethren, what shall we do?  
Oh what sweet Music was this to the Apostles ear? I dare say none but Heaven could afford better. What a pleasing spectacle was this anguish of their wounded Souls? To see men come in their zealous Devotions, and lay down their moneys (the price of their alienated possessions) at those Apostolic feet, was nothing to this, that they came in a bleeding contrition, and prostrated their penitent and humbled Souls at the beautiful feet of the Messengers of Peace, with Men and Brethren, what shall we do? Oh when, when shall our eyes be blessed with so happy a prospect? How long shall we thunder out God's fearful judgements against wilful sinners? How long shall we threaten the flames of Hell to those impious wretches, who crucify again to themselves the Lord of life, ere we can wring a sigh or a tear from the rocks of their hearts or eyes? Woe is me that we may say too truly, as this Peter did of his other fishing, Master, we have travailed all the night, and have caught nothing. Surely it may well go for night with us, whiles we labour and prevail not. Nothing? not a Soul caught? Lord, what is become of the success of thy Gospel? Who hath believed our report, or to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? O God, thou art ever thyself, thy Truth is eternal, Hell is where it was; if we be less worthy than thy first Messengers, yet what excuse is this to the besotted world, that through obduredness and infidelity it will needs perish? No man will so much as say with the Jews, What have I done? or with Saint Peter's Auditors, What shall I do? Oh foolish sinners! shall ye live here always? care ye not for your Souls? is there not an Hell that gapes for your stubborn impenitence? Go on, if there be no remedy, go on, and die for ever: we are guiltless, God is righteous, your Damnation is just. But if your life be fickle, death unavoidable, if an everlasting vengeance be the necessary reward of your momentany wickedness; Oh turn, turn from your evil ways, and in an holy distraction of your remorsed Souls say, with these Jews, Men and Brethren, what shall we do? This from the general view of the occasion; we descend to a little more particularity.  
Luke, the beloved Physician, describes Saint Peter's proceeding here much after his own trade, as of a true spiritual Physician; who finding his Country men the Jews in a desperate and deadly condition, gasping for life, struggling with death, enters into a speedy and zealous course of their cure. And first he begins with the Chirurgical part; and finding them rank of blood, and that foul and putrified, he lets it out, compuncti cordibus. Where we might show you the incision, the vein, the lancet, the orifice, the anguish of the stroke. The Incision, compuncti, they were pricked. The Vein, in their hearts. Smile not now, ye Physicians, if any hear me this day, as if I had passed a solecism, in telling you these men were pricked in the vein of the heart; talk you of your Cephalica and the rest, and tell us of another cistern from whence these tubuli sanguinis are derived: I tell you again (with an addition of more incongruities still) that God and his Divine Physician do still let blood in the median vein of the heart. The Lancet is the keen and cutting reproof of their late barbarous Crucifixion of their Holy and most innocent and benign Saviour. The Orifice is the ear, when they heard this. Whatever the local distance be of these parts, spiritually the ear is the very surface of the heart; and whosoever would give a medicinal stroke to the heart, must pass it through the ear, the sense of discipline and correction. The Anguish bewrays itself in their passionate exclamation, Men and brethren, what shall we do?  
There is none of these which my speech might not well take up, if not as an house to dwell in, yet as an Inn to rest and lodge in: But I will not so much as bait here; only we make this a thoroughfare to those other sacred prescriptions of saving remedies, which are three in number. The first is, Evacuation of sins by a speedy repentance, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The second, the sovereign Bath or Laver of Regeneration, Baptism. The third, dietetical and prophylactical receipts of wholesome Caution; which I mean (with a determinate preterition of the rest) to spend my hour upon: Save yourselves from this untoward generation. But ere I pitch upon this most useful and seasonable particularity, let me offer to your thoughts the speedy application of these gracious remedies. The blessed Apostle doth not let his Patients languish under his hand in the heats and colds of hopes and fears; but so soon as ever the word is out of their mouths, Men and brethren, what shall we do? he presently administereth these sovereign receipts, Repent, be baptised, save yourselves. In acute diseases wise Physicians will lose no time; only delay makes some distempers deadly. It is not for us to let good motions frieze under our fingers. How many gleeds have died in their ashes, which if they had been speedily blown, had risen into comfortable flames? The care of our zeal for God must be sure to take all opportunities of good. This is the Apostles 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, serving the time; that is, observing it: not for conformity to it when it is naught, (fie on that baseness: no, let the declining time come to us upon true and constant grounds, let not us stoop to it in the terms of the servile yieldance of Optatus his Donatists, Omnia pro tempore, nihil pro veritate) not, I say, for conformity to it, but for advantage of it. The Emblem teaches us to take occasion by the forelock, else we catch too late. The Israelites must go forth and gather their Manna so soon as it is fall'n; if they stay but till the Sun have reached his noon-point, in vain shall they seek for that food of Angels. Saint Peter had learned this of his Master; when the shoal was ready, Christ says, Laxate retia, Luk. 5. 14. what should the net do now in the ship? When the fish was caught, Christ says, Draw up again; what should the net do now in the Sea? What should I advise you, Reverend Fathers and Brethren, (the Princes of our Israel, as the Doctors are called, Judges 5. 9) to speak a word in season? what should I presume to put into your hands these apples of gold with pictures of silver? What should I persuade you (to these 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) to wing your words with speed, when the necessity of endangered Souls calls for them? Oh let us row hard whiles the tide of Grace serves; when we see a large door and effectual opened unto us, let us throng in, with a peaceable and zealous importunity to be sure. Oh let us preach the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in season, out of season; and carefully watch for the best advantages of prevailing: and when the iron of men's hearts is softened by the fire of God's Spirit, and made flexible by a meet humiliation, delay not to strike, and make a gracious impression, as S. Peter did here, Repent, be baptised; Save yourselves from this untoward generation.  
Now to the main and all-sufficient Recipe for these feeling distempers; Save yourselves. This is the very extracted quintessence of Saint Peter's long Sermon, in which alone is included and united the sovereign virtue of Repentance, of Baptism, of whatsoever help to a converting Soul: so as I shall not need to speak explicitly of them, whiles I enlarge myself to the treating of this universal remedy, Save yourselves from this untoward generation.  
Would you think that Saint Luke hath given me the division of this, whether Text, or Sermon of Saint Peter? Ye shall not find the like otherwhere; here it is clearly so: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he testifies, he exhorts. He testifies, what he thinks of the times; he exhorts, or beseeches, (as the Syriack turns it) to avoid their danger: both of them, as S. Austin well, refer to this one Divine sentence. The parts whereof then are, in S. Luke's division, Peter's reprehensory Attestation, and his Obtestation. His reprehensory Attestation to the common wickedness, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 His Obtestation of their freedom and indemnity, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Save yourselves.  
To begin with the former. What is a generation? what is an untoward generation? Either word hath some little mist about it. The very word generation hath begot multiplicity of senses: without all perplexedness of search, we will single out the properly-intended for this place. As times, so we in them, are in continual passage; every thing is in motion: the Heavens do not more move above our heads in a circular revolution, than we here on earth do by a perpetual alteration. Now all that are contained in one lift of time, whether fixed or uncertain, are a Generation of men. Fixed; so Suidas under-reckons it by seven years; but the ordinary rate is an hundred. It is a clear Text, Gen. 15. 16. But in the fourth generation they shall come hither again: when is that? (to the shame of Galatinus, who clouds it with the fancy of the four kinds or manners of man's existence) Moses himself interprets it of four hundred years, vers. 13. Uncertain; so Solomon, One generation passeth, another cometh. The very term implies transitoriness. It is with men as with Rasps, one stalk is growing, another grown up, a third withered, and all upon one root: Or as with flowers, (and some kinds of flies) they grow up, and seed, and die. Ye see your condition, O ye Great men of the earth; it is no staying here: Orimur, morimur. After the acting of a short part upon this stage, ye must withdraw for ever. Make no other account but, with Abraham, to serve your generation, and away. Ye can never more fitly hear of your Mortality then now that ye are under that roof which covers the monuments of your dead and forgotten Progenitors.  
What is an untoward generation? 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; It is promiscuously turned froward, perverse, crooked. The opposition to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. All is as one, what ever swerves from the right is crooked. The Law is a right line; and what crookedness is in Nature, frowardness and untowardness is in Morality. Shortly, there is a double crookedness and untowardness; one negative, another positive. The first is a failing of that right we should either have or be; the second, a contrary habit of vicious qualities: and both these are either in credendis, or agendis, in matter of Faith, or matter of Fact. The first, when we do not believe or do what we ought; the second, when we misbelieve or mis-live.  
The first is an untowardness of Omission, the second of Commission. The omissive untowardness shall lead the way; and that first, in matter of Belief. This is it whereof our Saviour spoke to the two Disciples in their warm walk to Emmaus, O fools and slow of heart to believe! whereof the Proto-martyr Stephen to his auditors, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The stiff neck, the uncircumcised ear, the fat heart, the blinded eye, the obdurate soul (quae nec movetur precibus, nec cedit minis, as Bernard) are wont to be the expressions of this untowardness.  
If these Jews then, after so clear Predictions of the Prophets, after so miraculous demonstrations of the Divine power of Christ, after so many graves ransacked, dead raised, Devils ejected, limbs and eyes new-created; after such testimonies of the Star, Sages, Angels, God himself; after such triumphs over death and hell, do yet detract to believe in him, and to receive him for their Messias, most justly are they in this first kind 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a froward generation. And so is any Nation under Heaven that follows them in the steps of their peevish incredulity, more or less shutting their eyes upon the glorious light of Saving Truth; like that sullen Tree in the Indies, which, they say, closes itself against the beams of the rising Sun, and opens only to the dampish shades of the night. Where we must take this Rule with us, a Rule of most just proportion, That the means of Light to any Nation aggravate the heinousness and damnableness of their Unbelief. The time of that ignorance God regarded not, but now, saith Saint Paul to the Athenians, Act. 17. 30. If I had not come and spoken to them, they should have had no sin, saith our Saviour, Joh. 15. 22. Those that walk in Cimmerian, in Egyptian darkness, it is neither shame nor wonder if they either err or stumble; but for a man to stumble the Sun in the face, or to grope by the walls at noon in the midst of Goshen, is so much more hateful as the occaecation is more willing.  
The latter, which is the negative untowardness in Action, is, when any Nation fails palpably in those holy duties of Piety, Justice, Charity, which the Royal Law of their God requireth. Of this kind are those usual complaints; The fear of God is not before their eyes. God looked to see if there were any that looked after God, and behold there was none. The righteous is perished from the children of men. Behold the tears of the oppressed, and none comforted them. The Prophets are full of these querulous notes, there is not a page of them free; yea hardly shall ye meet with one line of theirs, which doth not brand their Israel with this defect of Holiness.  
From the negative, cast your eyes upon the positive crookedness or untowardness. That is, in matter of Faith, the maintenance or Impiety, Misbelief, Heresy, Superstition, Atheism, and whatever other intellectual wickedness. In matter of Fact, Idolatries, Profane carriage, violation of God's Days and Ordinances, Disobediences, Murders, Adulteries, Thests, Drunkenness, Lies, Detractions, or any other actual rebellion against God. Behold, I have drawn forth before you an Hellish rabble of sins, enough to mar a world: Whatever Nation now or succession of men abounds either in these sinful omissions or these heinous commissions, whether in matter of Judgement or Manners, is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an untoward generation. That which makes a man crooked or untoward makes a Generation so; for what is a Generation but a resultance of men? their number doth not vary their condition. But let not our zeal (as it oft doth) make us uncharitable; when a whole Generation is taxed for untowardness, think not that none are free. No, not one, saith the Psalmist, by way of servant aggravation: All seek their own, saith the Apostle; all, in comparison. But never times were so overgrown with iniquity, as that God hath not left himself some gracious remainders: when the thievish Chaldaeans and Sabaeans have done their worst, there shall be a messenger, to say, I am escaped. Never was harvest or vintage so curiously inned, that some glean were not left in the field; some clusters among the leaves. But these few if they may give a blessing to the times, yet they cannot give a style; the denomination still follows the greater (though the worse) part; let these be never so good, the Generation is, and is noted for evil. Let me therefore here commend to your better thoughts these three emergent considerations. 1. The irreparable wrong and reproach that lewd men bring upon the very Ages and Nations where they live. 2. The difference of times and Ages in respect of the degrees of evil. 3. The warrant of the free censure of ill-deserving Times or Nations.  
It were happy if the injury of a wicked man could be confined to his own bosom, that he only should far the worse for his sins; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. as the Greek rule runs; if it were but self-doe, self-have, as the old word is. But as his lewdness is (like some odious sent) diffused through the whole room where he is; so it reacheth to earth and Heaven, yea to the very times and generations upon which he is unhappily fallen. Doubtless there were many worthy Saints in these very times of St. Peter; there was the Blessed Mother of Christ, the paragon of Sanctity; there was a bevy of those devout and holy dames that attended the Doctrine, bewailed the Death, and would have embalmed the Corpse of our Blessed Saviour; there were the twelve Apostles, the seventy Disciples, the hundred and twenty names that were met in one room at Jerusalem, Acts 1. 15. the five hundred brethren that saw Christ after his glorious and victorious Resurrection; besides those many thousands that believed through their word in all the parts of Judaea and Galilee: yet for all that, the Apostle brands this with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, an untoward generation.  
It is not in the virtue of a few to drown the wickedness of the more. If we come into a field that hath some good plenty of corn, and some store of weeds, though it be red with poppy, or yellow with carlock, or blew with wild-bottles or scabious, we still call it a cornfield; but if we come into a barn-floor, and see some few grains scattered amongst an heap of chaff, we do not call it a corn-heap, the quantity of the offal devours the mention of those insensible grains. Thus it is with Times and Nations: A little good is not seen amongst much ill; a righteous Lot cannot make his City to be no Sodom. Wickedness as it helps to corrupt, so to shame a very Age. The Orator Tertullus, when he would plead against Paul, says, We have found this man 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a pestilence, Act. 24. 5. Foolish Tertullus! that mistook the Antidote for the Poison, the remedy for the disease. But had S. Paul been such as thy misprision supposed him, he had been such as thy unjust crimination now makes thyself, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the plague of thy people. A wicked man is a perfect contagion; he infects the world with sin, the very Age with infamy. Malus vir, malum publicum, is not a more old than true word. Are there then in any Nation under Heaven lewd miscreants, whose hearts are Atheists, whose tongues are ●lasphemers, whose bodies are a Stews, whose lips are nothing but a Factory of close villainy? let them please themselves, and let others (if ye will) applaud them for their beneficial contributions to the public affairs, in the style of bonus civis, a good Patriot, as men whose parts may be useful to the weal-public; yet, I say, such men are no better than the bane of their Country, the stain of their Age. Turpis est pars, quae suo toti non convenit, as Gerson well; it is an ill member for which all the body fares the worse. Hear this then, ye glorious sinners, that brag of your good affections and faithful services to your dear Country: your hearts, your heads, your purses, your hands (ye say) are pressed for the public good; yea, but are your hearts Godless? are your lives filthy? let me tell you, your sins do more disservice to your Nation then yourselves are worth: All your valour, wisdom, subsidiary helps cannot counterpoise one dram of your wickedness. Talk what ye will: Sin is a shame to any people, saith wise Solomon; ye bring both a curse and a dishonour upon your Nation. It may thank you for the hateful style of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a froward generation. This for our first Observation.  
Never Generation was so strait, as not to be distorted with some powerful sins; but there are differences and degrees in this distortion. Even in the very first world were Giants, as Moses tells us, Gen. 6. 4. which as our Mythologists add, did 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, bid battle to Heaven.  
In the next there were mighty hunters, proud Babel-builders: after them followed beastly Sodomites. It were easy to draw down the pedigree of evils through all times, till we come to these last, which the holy Ghost marks out for perilous. Yet some Generation is more eminently sinful than other: as the Sea is in perpetual agitation, yet the Springtides rise higher than their fellows. Hence Saint Peter notes this his Generation with an emphasis of mischief, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 here is a transcendency of evil. What Age may compare with that which hath embrued their cruel hands in the blood of the Son of God? That roaring Lion is never still, but there are times wherein he rageth more; as he did and doth, in the first, in the last days of the Gospel. The first, that he might block up the way of saving Truth; the last, for that he knows his time is short. There are times that are poisoned with more contagious Heresies, with more remarkable villainies. It is not my meaning to spend time in abridging the sacred Chronologies of the Church, and to deduce along the cursed successions of damnable Errors from their hellish original; only let me touch at the notable difference betwixt the fir●t and the last world. In the first (as Epiphanius observes) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, there was neither diversity of opinion, nor mention of Heresy, nor act of Idolatry; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, only piety and impiety divided the world: whereas now in the last (which is the wrangling and tetchy dotage of the decrepit world) here is nothing but unquiet clashings of Opinion, nothing but foul Heresy, either maintained by the guilty, or imputed to the innocent; nothing but gross Idolatry in Paganism, in misbelieving Christianity; and (woe is me that I must say it) a coloured Impiety shares too much of the rest. My speech is glided, ere I was aware, into the third Head of our discourse; and is suddenly fallen upon the practice of that which S. Peter's example here warrants, the censure of ill-deserving times: which I must crave leave of your Honourable and Christian patience with an holy and just freedom to prosecute.  
It is the peevish humour of a factious eloquence to aggravate the evils of the times; which were they better than they are, would be therefore cried down in the ordinary language of male contented spirits, because present. But it is the warrantable and necessary duty of S. Peter and all his true Evangelical successors, when they meet with a froward Generation, to call it so.  
How commonly do we cry out of those querulous Michaiahs that are still prophesying evil to us, and not good? No theme but sins, no sauce but vinegar. Might not one of these galled Jews of S. Peter's Auditory have started up, and have thus challenged him for this tartness, What means this hard censure? why do you slander the time? Solomon was a wise man, and he says, Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this: this is but a needless rigour, this is but an envious calumny. The Generation were not untoward, if your tongue were not uncharitable. The Apostle fears none of these currish oblatrations; but contemning all impotent misacceptions, calls them what he finds them, A froward generation. And well might he do so; his great Master did it before him, an evil and adulterous generation; and the Harbinger of that great Master foreran him in that censure, O generation of Vipers, Mat. 3. 7. and the Prophets led the same way to him in every page. And why do not we follow Peter in the same steps wherein Peter followed Christ, and Christ his Forerunner, and his Forerunner the Prophets? Who should tell the times of their sins, if we be silent? Pardon me, I beseech you, most Noble, reverend, and beloved hearers; necessity is laid upon me: in this day of our public mourning, I may not be as a man in whose mouth are no reproofs. Oh let us be thankful for our Blessings, wherein, through the mercy of God, we outstrip all the nations under Heaven; but withal let us bewail our sins, which are so much more grievous, because ours. Would to God it were no less unjust than unpleasing to complain of this as an untoward Generation. There be four things that are wont both to make up and evince the pravity of any Generation; (woe is me that they are too apparently met in this) multitude of sins, magnitude of sins, boldness of sin, impunity of sinning. Take a short view of them all. You shall see that the Multitude is such, as that it hath covered the earth; the Magnitude such as hath reached to Heaven; the Boldness such as out-faceth the Gospel; the Impunity such as frustrates the wholesome Laws under which we live.  
For the Multitude, where is the man that makes true conscience of any the Laws of his God? And if every man violate all the laws of God, what do all put together? Our Forefathers sins were but as drops, ours are as torrents. Instance in some few. Cannot we ourselves remember since a debauched Drunkard was an Owl among birds, a beast of men, a monster of beasts, abhorred of men, shouted at by children? Is this sight now any news to us? Is not every Tavern a sty of such swine? Is not every street indented with their shameful staggerings? Is there not now as much spent in wanton Smoke as our honest forefather's spent in substantial Hospitality?  
Cannot we remember since Oaths were so geason and uncouth, that their sound startled the hearer, as amazed at the strange language of treason against the God of Heaven? Now they fill every mouth, and beat every ear in a neglected familiarity. What should I tell you of the overgrown frequency of Oppressions, Extortions, Injurious and fraudulent transactions, malicious Suits? The neighbour walls of this famous adjoining Palace can too amply witness this truth, whose roof if (as they say) it will admit of no Spider's, I am sure the floor of it yields venom enough to poison a Kingdom. What should I tell you of the sensible declination to our onceloathed Superstitions, of the common trade of contemptuous disobediences to lawful Authority, the scornful undervaluing of God's Messengers, the ordinary neglect of his Sacred Ordinances? what speak I of these and thousands more? There are Arithmeticians that have taken upon them to count how many corns of sand would make up the bulk of Heaven and earth; but no Art can reckon up the multitude of our provoking sins.  
Neither do they more exceed in number then Magnitude. Can there be a greater sin than Idolatry? Is not this (besides all the rest) the sin of the present Romish Generation? One of their own confesses (as he well may) that were not the Bread transubstantiate, their Idolatry were more gross than the heathenish. Lo, nothing excuses them but an impossible Figment. Know, O ye poor ignorant seduced Souls, that the Bread can be no more turned into God, than God can be turned into Bread, into nothing: The very Omnipotent Power of God bars these impious contradictions. My heart trembles therefore and bleeds to think of your highest, your holiest Devotions. Can there be a greater sin then robbing of God? This is done by our Sacrilegious Patrons. Can there be a greater sin then tearing God out of Heaven with our bloody and blasphemous Oaths, than the famishing of Souls by a wilful or lazy silence, then rending in pieces the bowels of our dear Mother the Church by our headstrong and frivolous dissensions, then furious Murders, then affronts of Authority? These, these are those huge mountains which our Giantlike presumption rolls upon each other, to war against Heaven.  
Neither are the sins of men more great then Audacious: yea it is their impudence that makes them heinous; bashful offences rise not to extremity of evil. The sins of excess as they are opera tenebrarum, so they had wont to be night-works; They that are drunken, are drunk in the night, saith the Apostle: now they dare, with Absolom's beastliness, call the Sun to record. Saint Bernard tells us of a Daemon meridianus, a noon-Devil, out of the Vulgar mistranslation of the 90 Psalm. Surely, that ill spirit walks about busily, and haunts the licentious conversation of inordinate men.  
Unjust Exactions of griping Officers had wont to creep in under the modest cloak of voluntary courtesy, or fair considerations of a befriended expedition: now they come like Elie's sons, Nay but thou shalt give it me now, and if not, I will take it by force, 1 Sam. 2. 16.  
The legal Thefts of professed Usurers and the crafty compacts of sly Oppressors dare throw down the gauntlet to Justice; and insolent Disobediences do so to Authority. And when we denounce the fearful Judgements of God against all these abominable wickednesses, the obdured sinner dares jeer us in the face, and, in a worse sense, ask the Disciples question, Domine, quando fient haec? Master, when shall these things be? Yea their self-flattering incredulity dares say to their Soul, as Peter did to his Master, Favour thyself, for these things shall not happen to thee.  
Neither, lastly, would sin dare to be so impudent, if it were not for Impunity; it cannot be but cowardly where it sees cause of fear. Every hand is not to be laid upon evil. If an Error should arise in the Church, it is not for every unlearned Tradesman to cast away his yard-wand, and take up his pen. Wherefore serve Universities, if every Blue apron may at his pleasure turn Licenciate of Divinity, and talk of Theological questions which he understands not, as if they were to be measured by the Ell? O times! Lord, whether will this presumption grow? Deus omen, etc. If folly, if villainy be committed in our Israel, it is not for every man to be an Officer. Who made thee a Judge? was a good question, though ill asked. But I would to God we had more cause to complain of the presumption of them who meddle with what they should not, than the neglect of them who meddle not with what they should. Woe is me, the floodgates of evil are (as it were) lift open, and the full stream gusheth upon us. Not that I would cast any aspersion upon Sacred Sovereignty: No, blessed be God for his dear Anointed, of whom we may truly and joyfully say, that in imitation of him whom he represents, he loves Justice, and hates Iniquity. It is the partiality or flackness of the subordinate inferior executions that is guilty of this prevalence of sin. What can the head do where the hands are wanting? to what use is the water derived from the cistern into the pipes, if the cock be not turned? What avails it if children are brought to the birth, if they want a midwifty to deliver them? Can there possibly be better Laws than have in our times been enacted against Drunkenness? where or when are they executed? Can there be a better Law made for the restraint of too-too common Oaths? who urges, who pays that just mulct? Can there be better Laws against wilful Recusancy, against Simony, against Sacrilege? how are they eluded by fraudulent evasions? Against neglect of Divine Service? yet how are they slighted? Against the lawless wand'ring of lazy Vagabonds? yet how full are our streets, how empty our Correction-houses? Lastly, (for it were easy to be endless) can there be better Laws than are made for the punishment of Fornications, Adulteries, and all other fleshly inordinatenesses? how doth bribery and corruption smother these offences, as if the sins of men served only to enrich covetous Officers? Now put all these together, the Multitude, the Magnitude, the Boldness, the Impunity of sin, and tell me whether all these do not make this of ours generationem pravam, a froward generation. So as we may too well take up Esay's complaint, Ab sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evil doers, children that are corrupters, Esa. 1. 4. Honourable and beloved, how should we be humbled under the hand of our God, in the sense of our many, great, bold and lawless sins? What sackcloth, what ashes can be enough for us? Oh that our faces could be covered with confusion; that we could rend our hearts, and not our garments. Be afflicted, and mourn, and weep, and thus Save yourselves from this froward generation.  
And so from St. Peter's Attestation to their wickedness, we descend to his Obtestation of their redress, Save yourselves. We must be so much shorter in the remedy, as we have been longer in the disease. The remedy is but of a short sound, but of a long extent, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. I urge not the passiveness of this advice, that it is not, Save yourselves, but, Be ye saved. God is jealous of ascribing to us any power unto good: we have ability, we have will enough to undo ourselves, scope enough to hellward; neither motion nor will to do good; that must be put into us by him that gives both posse, & velle, & posse velle, power to will, and will to do. This Saving comprises in it three great duties; Repentance for our sin, Avoidance of sinners, Reluctation to sin and sinners.  
Repentance. Perhaps, as St. chrysostom and cyril think, some of these were the personal Executioners of Christ. If so, they were the worst of this Generation; and yet they may, they must save themselves from this Generation by their unfeigned Repentance: howsoever they made up no small piece of the evil times, and had need to be saved from themselves by their hearty contrition. Surely those sins are not ours whereof we have truly repent. The skin that is once washed, is as clean from soil as if it had never been foul. Those Legal washings and rinsings showed them what they must do to their Souls, to their lives. This remedy as it is universal, so it is perpetual: the warm waters of our tears are the streams of Jordan to cure our Leprosy, the Siloam to cure our Blindness, the Pool of Bethesda to cure all our Lameness and defects of Obedience. Alas! there is none of us but have our share in the common sins; the best of us hath helped to make up the frowardness of our Generation. Oh that we could un-sin ourselves by our seasonable repentance. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners, and purge your hearts, ye double-minded.  
Avoidance is the next; avoidance of all unlawful participation. There is a participation Natural, as to live in the same air, to dwell in the same earth, to eat of the same meat: this we cannot avoid, unless we would go out of the world, as St. Paul tells his Corinthians. There is a Civil participation, in matter of commerce and humane necessary conversation: this we need not avoid with Jews, Turks, Infidels, Heretics. There is a Spiritual participation in moral things, whether good or evil: In these lies this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And yet not universally neither; we are not tied to avoid the services of God and holy duties for the commixture of lewd men, as the foolish Separatists have fancied: it is participation in evil that we are here charged to avoid. Although also entireness even in civil conversation is not allowed us with notoriously wicked and infectious persons. The Israelites must hie them from the Tents of Corah; and, Come out of her my people. Chiefly, they are the sins from which we must save ourselves, not the men; if not rather from the men for the sins. Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, saith St. Paul, Ephes. 5. 11. commenting upon this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of St. Peter.  
There is nothing more ordinary with our Casuists, than the nine ways of participation; which Aquinas, and the Schools following him, have shut up in two homely verses, Jussio, consilium, etc. The sum is, that we do not save ourselves from evil if either we command it, or counsel it, or consent to it, or soothe it, or further it, or share in it, or dissuade it not, or resist it not, or reveal it not. Here would be work enough (you see) to hold our preaching unto St. Paul's hour, midnight: but I spare you, and would be loath to have any Eutychus. Shortly, if we would save ourselves from the sin of the time, we may not command it, as Jezabel did to the Elders of Jezreel; we may not advise it, as Jonadab did to Amnon; we may not consent to it, as Bathsheba did to David; we may not soothe it, as Zidkijah did to Ahab; we may not further it, as Joab did to David; we may not forbear to dissuade it, as Hirah the Adullamite to Judah; to resist it, as partial Magistrates; to reveal it, as treacherous Confessaries.  
But of all these, (that we may single out our last and utmost remedy) here must be a zealous reluctation to evil. All those other negative carriages of not commanding, not counselling, not consenting, not soothing, not abetting, not sharing, are nothing without a real oppugnation of sin. Would we then throughly quit ourselves of our froward Generation? we must set our faces against it to discountenance it; we must set our tongues against it to control it; we must set our hands against it to oppose it. It goes far that of the Apostle, Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin, Heb. 12. 4. Lo here is a truly heroical exercise for you great Ones; to strive against sin, not ad sudorem only, as Physicians prescribe, but ad sanguinem. Ye cannot better bestow yourselves then (in a loyal assistance of Sacred Authority) upon the debellation of the outrageous wickedness of the times. These are the Dragons, and Giants, and Monsters, the vanquishing whereof hath moralised the Histories of your famous Progenitors. Oh do ye consecrate your hands and your hearts to God in beating down the headstrong powers of evil; and as by repentance and avoidance, so by reluctation, Save your Souls from this untoward generation.  
Now what need I waste the time in dehorting your Noble and Christian ingenuity from participation of the Epidemical sins of a froward Generation? It is enough motive to you, that sin is a base, sordid, dishonourable thing. But withal let me add only one dissuasive from the danger, employed in the very word Save, for how are we saved but from a danger? The danger both of Corruption, and Confusion.  
Corruption. Ye see before your eyes that one yawing mouth makes many: This pitch will defile us: One rotten kernel of the Pomegranate infects the fellows. Saint Paul made that verse of the Heathen Poet Canonical, Evil conversation corrupts good manners. What woeful experience have we every day of those, who by this means from a vigorous heat of zeal have declined to a temper of lukewarm indifferency, and then from a careless mediocrity to all extremity of debauchedness; and of hopeful beginners, have ended in incarnate Devils? Oh the dangerous and insensible insinuations of sin! If that crafty Tempter can hereby work us but to one dram of less detestation to a familiarly-inured evil, he promiseth himself the victory. It is well noted by Saint Ambrose, of that chaste Patriarch Joseph, that so soon as ever his wanton Mistress had laid her impure hand upon his Cloak, he leaves it behind him, that he might be sure to avoid the danger of her contagious touch. If the Spouse of Christ be a Lily among Thorns, (by the mighty Protection of her Omnipotent Husband) yet take thou heed how thou walkest amongst those Thorns for that Lily. Shortly, wouldst thou not be tainted with wickedness? abhor the pestilent society of lewd men; and by a seasonable subduction, thus Save thyself from a froward generation.  
The last and utmost of all dangers is Confusion. That charge of God by Moses is but just, Numb. 16. 26. Depart, I pray you, from the tents of these men, and touch nothing of theirs, lest ye perish in all their sins. Lo, the very station, the very touch is mortal. Indeed what reason is there to hope or to plead for an immunity? if we share in the work, why should we not take part of the wages? The wages of sin is death. If the Stork be taken damage faisant with the Cranes, she is enwrapped in the same net, and cannot complain to be surprised. Qui cum lupis est, cum lupis ululet, as he said, He that is with wolves, let him howl with wolves. If we be fratres in malo, brethren in evil, we must look to be involved in the same curse. Be not deceived, Honourable and beloved, here is no exemption of Greatness: nay, contrarily, Eminence of place aggravates both the sin and the judgement. When Ezra heard that the hand of the Princes and Rulers had been chief in that great offence, than he rend his clothes and tore his hair, Ezra 9 3.  
Certainly this case is dangerous and fearful, wheresoever it lights. Hardly are those sins redressed that are taken up by the Great: Easily are those sins diffused that are warranted by great Examples. The great Lights of Heaven, the most conspicuous Planets, if they be eclipsed, all the Almanacs of all Nations write of it; whereas the small Stars of the Galaxy are not heeded. All the Country runs to a Beacon on fire; no body regards to see a Shrub flaming in a valley. Know then that your sins are so much greater as yourselves are: and all the comfort that I can give you without your true repentance, is, That mighty men shall be mightily tormented. Of all other men therefore be ye most careful to keep yourselves untainted with the common sins, and to renew your covenant with God. No man cares for a spot upon a plain russet riding-suit; but we are curious of a rich robe, every mote there is an eyesore. Oh, be ye careful to preserve your Honour from all the foul blemishes of corruption; as those that know Virtue hath a greater share in Nobility then Blood. Imitate in this the great frame of the Creation, which still, the more it is removed from the dregs of this earth, the purer it is. Oh save ye yourselves from this untoward Generation; so shall ye help to save your Nation from the imminent Judgements of our just God; so shall ye save your Souls in the day of the appearance of our Lord Jesus Christ: to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, one infinite God, be all Honour and Glory ascribed now and for ever. Amen.   

THE HYPOCRITE.  
Set forth in A SERMON at the Court, February 28. 1629.  
Being the third Sunday in LENT.  By Jos. Exon. 

To my ever most worthily Honoured Lord, the Earl of NORWICH.  
My most Honoured Lord,  
I Might not but tell the world, that this Sermon which was mine in the Pulpit, is Yours in the Press: Your Lordship's will (which shall never be other than a command to me) fetches it forth into the Light before the fellows. Let me be branded with the Title of it, if I can think it worthy of the public view, in comparison of many accurate pieces of others, which I see content themselves daily to die in the ear. Howsoever, if it may do good, I shall bless your Lordship for helping to advance my gain.  
Your Noble and sincere true-heartedness to your God, your King, your Country, your Friend, is so well known, that it can be no disparagement to your Lordship to patronise this Hypocrite; whose very inscription might cast a blur upon some guilty reputation. Go on still (most noble Lord) to be a great Example of Virtue and Fidelity to an hollow and untrusty Age. You shall not want either the Acclamations or Prayers of  
Your Lordships ever devoted in all true Duty and Observance, Jos. Exon.   

THE HYPOCRITE.  2 Tim. 3. 5. Having a Form of Godliness, but denying the Power thereof. 
IT is an unperfect Clause, you see, but a perfect Description of an Hypocrite; and that an Hypocrite of our own times, the last: which are so much the worse, by how much they partake more of the craft and diseases of age.  
The Prophets were the Seers of the Old Testament, the Apostles were the Seers of the New; those saw Christ's day and rejoiced, these foresaw the reign of Antichrist and complained. These very times were as present to S. Paul as to us: our Sense doth not see them so clearly as his Revelation. I am with you in the Spirit, (saith he to his absent Colossians) rejoicing and beholding your order: he doth as good as say to them, I am with you in the Spirit lamenting, and beholding your misdemeanours. By these Divine Optics he sees our formal Piety, real Wickedness: both which make up the complete Hypocrisy in my Text; Having a form of Godliness, but denying the power thereof.  
I doubt not but some will be ready to set this sacred Prognostication to another Meridian. And indeed we know a Generation that loves themselves too well, much more than Peace and Truth; so covetous, that they would catch all the world in S. Peter's net; proud boasters of their own merits, perfections, supererogations: it would be long (though easy) to follow all. We know where too many Treasons are hatched; we know who in the height of mind exalts himself above all that is called God; we know where pleasure hath the most delicate and debauched Clients; we know where Devotion is professedly formal, and lives impure: and surely, were we clearly innocent of these crimes, I should be the first that would cast this stone at Rome. But now that we share with them in these sins, there is no reason we should be sejoined in the Censure. Take it among ye therefore, ye Hypocrites of all professions, for it is your own, Ye have a form of Godliness, denying the power thereof.  
What is an Hypocrite but a Player, the Zany of Religion (as ye heard lately?) A Player acts that he is not; so do ye, act good and are wicked. Here is a semblance of good, a form of Godliness; here is a real evil, a denial of the power of Godliness. There is nothing so good as Godliness, yea there is nothing good but it; nothing makes Godliness to be good, or to be Godliness, but the power of it: for it is not, if it work not, and it works not, if not powerfully. Now the denial of good must needs be evil; and so much more evil, as the good which is denied is more good: and therefore the denial of the power of Godliness must needs be as ill as the form or show of Godliness would seem good, and as the power of Godliness is good. This is therefore the perfect Hypocrisy of fashionable Christians; they have the form, they deny the power. Here is then a direct and professed opposition betwixt 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the form and the power; and no less between the actions employed about them both, the one having, the other denying; having the form, denying the power.  
As all sin is originally from the Devil, so especially Hypocrisy: he is the father of Lies; and what is Hypocrisy but a real Lie? that is his Darling: and these two are well put together, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 1 Tim. 4. 2. in Hypocrisy speaking Lies. Now as all things are more eminent in their Causes and originals then in the Effects derived from them; so it must needs be said that the greatest Hypocrite in the World is the Devil. I know he hears what I say, but we must speak truth and shame him. For Satan is transformed into an Angel of light, saith the Apostle; not he was, but he is; so transformed, that he never did, never will put off that counterfeit. And as all his Imps are partakers of the Satanical nature; so in every Hypocrite there is both the Angel and the Devil: the seeming Angel is the form of Godliness, the real Devil is the denial of the power of Godliness. It must be in another sense that that Father said, Innocentis tempore posterior est quam malitia. I am sure the Angel of light was before the Satan; and now because he is Satan, he puts on the Angel of light. Such shall be our method in this Hypocrite we treat of; first we will begin with the Angel of Hypocrisy, and then show you the Devil in his true shape.  
First then, here is a form, and but a form of Godliness. A form does well; but if it be but a form, it is an immaterial shadow of Piety. Such was this of these men; for they were unnatural, traitors, heady, highminded, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Surely if they were unnatural, they must needs be unchristian; if they were traitors to their King, they could be no Subjects to God; if heady and highminded, they had nothing to do with him whose first Lesson was, Learn of me, for I am meek; 
No Creature is more humble then God.  Nulla creatura humilior Deo, as Laurentius well: if they had Pleasure for their Idol, they could not have the Lord for their God. So as even without God, they had yet a form of Godliness. Godliness is a thing much talked of, little understood. Whiles the ancient School had wont to say, that it is not practical, not speculative, but affective, their meaning was, that it is in all these, in the heart, in the brain, in the hand; but most in the heart. It is Speculative in the knowledge of God; Practical in the Service to God; Affective in our fear of him, love to him, joy in him. Shortly then, to apprehend God as he hath revealed, to serve him as he hath required, to be affected to him as we ought, is Godliness; and the outward expression and counterfaisance of all these is the form of Godliness. To this outside of Godliness than belongs all that glorious Pageant of fashionable profession which we see made in the World, whether in words, gesture, carriage.  
First here is a world of good Words, whether to God, or of him. Here are words of sacred compliment with God: for the Hypocrite courts God in his Prayers; no man speaks fairer, no man louder than he. Here is Saul's benedictus; here is the Pharisees Lord, I thank thee; here is the colloguing Jews Domine, Domine, Lord, Lord.  
And as to him, so of him. Here are words of religious protestation for God, like to the Jews Templum Domini, 
The Temple of the Lord.  or Herod's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Mat. 2. 8. I will worship the Babe. The man's secret fire of zeal smokes forth into the holy breath of a good confession. Here are words of fervent excitation to the frozen hearts of others; yea, if need be, words of deep censure of the cold moderation which he apprehends in his wiser Brethren: 
Neat in words, if foul in fact.  so as he is comptus in verbo, if turpis in facto, as Bernard.  
Yet more, here is a perfect Scene of pious Gestures; knees bowed, hands erected, turned up eyes, the breast beaten, the head shaken, the countenance dejected, sighs ascending, tears dropping, the Bible hugged and kissed, the ear nailed to the Pulpit: what formality of devout Godliness is here unacted? if the man were within as he is without, there were no Saint but he.  
Yet this is not all to make up a perfect form of Godliness, here is a smooth face of holy carriage in Actions. Devout Saul will be saving the fattest of the Amalekitish flocks and herds for sacrifice to the Lord his God. Good man! he will not have God take up with the worst. Every man is not of this diet; too many think any offal good enough for their Maker: but here is one that holds the best fittest for those sacred Altars; when in the mean time the Hypocrite had already sacrificed them to his own Mammon, and God must take up with the reversion. Shall I tell you of another as good, as devout as he? Do ye not remember that Absolom would go to pay his vow in Hebron? The fair Prince of Israel was courteous before, now he will be Godly too. It was Piety that he would make a Vow to God. Our Gallants have somewhat else to do then to make holy vows: at every word they protest and vow, and perhaps swear; but all like themselves, vainly and idly: But Absolom makes a solemn and religious Vow. It was more piety that he would perform it. This is not every man's care: too many care not how much they run upon God's score; this man will pitch and pay. Unnatural Parricide! First he had stolen the subject's hearts, and now he would steal his Father's Crown; and all this villainy must stalk under a beasts hide, a Sacrifice at Hebron: Blood was in his thoughts whiles the Sacrifice was in his mouth. The old word is, Full of courtesy, full of craft: when ye see too glittering pretences in unapproved persons, suspect the inside. Had you but seen a Jews Fast, you would say so; Esa. 58. 6. Here was nothing but drooping and ash-strawed heads, torn garments, bare feet, starved cheeks, scrubbed skins, pined maws, afflictive devotions; yet a Jew still. But had you seen Herod's formality, you would have said it yet more: mark a little, and see Herod turned Disciple to John Baptist. What, Saul among the Prophets? Herod among the Disciples? Surely so; for he hears him. Tush, hears him? what's that? There are those that hear and would not, forced to hear by compulsion of Laws; who may say to Authority, as the Psalmist says to God, Aurem perforasti mihi, Mine ear hast thou boared: their ear is a Protestant, while their heart is a Recusant. There are those that hear and hear not; that come fashionably, and hear perfunctorily, whose ears are like the Psalmists Idols, for form only, not for use. There are those that hear and care not: 
Heavy ear.  who is so deaf as the wilful? there is auris aggravata, Esai. 59 1. there is auris surda, 
Deaf ear.  Mic. 7. 16. But Herod hears 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, gladly, with pleasure: he heard because he loved to hear. Yea so doth many a hollow heart still: ye shall have such an one listen as if he were totus auris, all ear, as if he would latch every word from the Preachers mouth ere it could get out: perhaps it is new, perhaps witty, perhaps elegant, or some way pleasing. Yea there are some not only willing, but greedy hearers, they have aures bibulas, they hear hungrily and thirstily; but it is but to catch advantages; somewhat they hope may fall to pay the Preacher. Herod is better than so, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, he observed, he respected, he countenanced this rough hewn Chaplain. Yea, so doth many a lewd Patron for his own turn; either the easy passage of his Simoniacal subductions, or for a favourable connivency at his guilty debauchedness. Good looks are good cheap. Perhaps a meals meat may come in for a further obligation too; but here is no good action the while. Herod is better than so, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, he did too, and did many things. Lo here, he doth not hear, but do: and not some things, but many. It may be this Camel-haired Monitor told him of some outrageous disorders in his Court; those he was willing to amend: perhaps he told him of some bribery of his Officers, unjust or hard measures offered by oppressive Ministers to his poor Subjects; those he was ready to reform: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he did many things. One would think Bernard should not need to brand his Abailardus with intus Herodes, 
Herod within, John without.  forìs Johannes; his very outside was generally good, else he had not done many things. Here was a form of godliness, but let me tell you, an higher form than many of us (for aught I see) care to climb up unto. There is hearing, and talking, and professing enough in the world; but where is the doing? or if there be doing, yet it is small doing (God wot.) Some things we may be drawn to do, not many; one good deed in a life is well; one fault amended meriteth: to do many is not incident to many. So as too many of us are upon a form of Godliness; but it is a lower form than Herod's, who heard, and heard gladly, and observed his teacher, and did, and did many things; yet a gross Hypocrite still, because he did but many. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is God's Rule. 
Either all, or none at all.   
What should I weary you with instances? Do you see an Ananias and Sapphira making God their heir of their half-shared Patrimony? Do you see a griping Usurer build Schools and Hospitals with ten in the hundred? Do you see a man whose stomach insatiably craves new superadditions upon the indigested morsels of his last hours Lecture, and yet nauseates at the public Prayers of the Church? Do you see a superstitious Votary looking rusully from his knees upon his adored Crucifix, and, as Isaac the Syrian prescribes, living like a dead man in a solitary Sepulchre, yet making no bones of kill Kings?  
Nay, to ascend unto an higher key of pretended Holiness, Do ye see some of the elect Manichees lying upon hard Mats, which S. Austin says were therefore called Mattarii? Do ye see the penances of the three super-mortified Orders of the Mahometan Saints? Do ye see an illuminate Elder of the Anabaptists rapt in divine ecstasies? Do ye see a stigmatical Friar lashing himself to blood, wallowing in the snow naked, returning the louse into his bosom? Do ye see a nice humorist, that will not dress a dish, nor lay a cloth, nor walk abroad on a Sunday, and yet make no conscience of cozening his neighbour on the work-day?  
All these and many others of the same kind are Swans, which under white feathers have a black skin. These have a form of Godliness, and are the worse for it. For as it is the most dangerous and kill flattery that is brought in under a pretence of liberty; so it is the most odious and perilous Impiety that is hid under a form of Godliness.  
These men, I say, have a form, and nothing else save a form of Godliness. But withal let me add, that whosoever makes a good profession hath this form; and is so far commendable, as he professes well. If there be not matter to this form, the fault is in what is not, and not in what there is. Certainly Religion is not Chaos like without form. As not Civility, so Godliness cannot be without due form: ye cannot think God's Service to be all lining, no outside; a form there must be. It was a Law written in Greek and Latin Letters over the gate of the first peculiar partition of the Temple, which was atrium Judaeorum, Every stranger that passes into the Holy place must die. If he had not the mark of a Jew upon his flesh, it was capital to tread in those holy Courts. The Temple was the type of the Church: If we have not so much as a form of Godliness, procul, o procul: without shall be dogs; and, if a Beast touch the Mount, it shall die. What shall we say to those Gallants that hate to have so much as a form of Godliness? there cannot be a greater disparagement cast upon them, than the very semblance of Devotion. To say Grace at meals, to bow a knee in Prayer, to name God other then in an Oath, to once mention Religion, is a base, mortified, pusillanimous tenderness. What talk ye of a Sermon? a Play if you will: What speak you of weeping for sins? talk of drinking healths, singing of rounds, courting of Dames, revels, matches, games, any thing save goodness. What should we say of these men? even this, He that hath but a form is an Hypocrite; but he that hath not a form is an Atheist. I know not whether I should sever these two; both are humane Devils well met: An Hypocrite is a masked Devil; an Atheist is a Devil unmasked. Whether of them shall without their repentance be deeper in Hell, they shall once feel, I determine not. Only let me assure them, that if the infernal Tophet be not for them, it can challenge no guests.  
Thus much for the form of Godliness, which is the Angel of Hypocrisy: our speech descends to the Devil in Hypocrisy, which is the denial of the power of Godliness. But whiles I am about to represent unto you the ugly face of that wicked one, God meets us in the way, and stays my thoughts and speech upon the power of Godliness, ere we fall upon the denial of that power. What power then is this of Godliness? what doth it? what can it do? The weakness of it is too apparent. If we look to the Author of it Christ Jesus, alas! he is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a But or mark for opposition to shoot at; whereas true Power is an Al-chum, that bars resistance, Prov. 30. If to the Means of Godliness, here is the foolishness of preaching, 1 Cor. 1. 21. If to the Effects of Godliness, here is weak Grace, strong corruption, Rom. 7. If to the Opposites of Godliness, here is a Law fight. Fight? perhaps so it may be, and be foiled: nay, but here is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a conquering and captivating Law, Rom. 7. 23. whereby I am not only made a slave, but sold for a slave, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Rom. 7. 14. So then here is an opposed Saviour, a foolish preaching, a feeble grace, a dominearing corruption; and where then is the power of Godliness all this while? Know, O thou foolish man, that God is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the strong God; and yet there is a Devil. He could call in the Being of that malignant Spirit, but he will not; he knows how to magnify his Power by an opposite. Christ will be spoken against, not for impotence to resist, but for the glory of his prevailing: so we have seen a well-tempered Target shot at to show the impenetrableness of it.  
Preaching is foolishness, but it is stultitia Dei; and the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men. Grace is weak where Corruption is strong; but where Grace prevails, Sin dares not show his head. Sin sights and subdues his own Vassals; but the power of Godliness foils it in the Renewed; so as if it live, yet it reigns not. Great then is the power of Godliness: great every way; great in respect of our enemies, great in respect of ourselves; of our enemies, the Devil, the World, the Flesh.  
So great first, that it can resist the Devil; and it is no small matter to resist the powers and Principalities of Hell: whom resist, steadfast in the Faith.  
Resist? Alas, what is this? The weak may perhaps resist the strong, the Whelp the Lion: We may resist the Spirit of God himself: Semper restitistis, saith Saint Stephen of the Jews. Lo here is resistance to God; and not for a brunt, but perpetual, ye have always resisted. So the Ship resists the Rock against which it is shattered; so the crushed Worm turns towards the foot that treads it. Yea, but here is a prevalent resistance; Resist the Devil, and he shall flee from you, James 4. 7. Lo, Godliness can make a Coward of the great Prince of Darkness. He shall flee. But if, Parthian-like, he shall shoot fleeing, as he doth; lo, this shall quench all the fiery darts of Satan, Ephes. 6. 16. If he betake himself to his hold, this can batter and beat down the strong holds of sin about his ears; this can enter, and bind the strong man. Shortly, it can conquer Hell, yea make us more than Conquerors. Lo, to conquer is not so much as to make another a Conqueror; but more than a Conqueror is yet more. Is there any of you now that would be truly great and victorious? it is the power of Godliness that must do it. Pyrrhus' his word concerning his Soldiers was, Tu grandes, ego fortes. Surely if our Profession make us great, our Faith must make us valiant and successful. I tell you, the conquest of an evil spirit is more than the conquest of a world of men. O then, what is it to conquer Legions?  
And as it foils Satan, so the World: No marvel, for if the greater, much more the less. The World is a Subject, Satan a Prince, the Prince of this world. The world is a bi●got, Satan is a God, The God of this World. If the Prince, if the God be vanquished, how can the subject or suppliant stand out? What do we talk of an Alexander or a Caesar conquering the world? Alas! what spots of earth were they which they bragged to subdue? Insomuch that Rome, which in two hundred forty three years had gained but some fifteen miles about, in Seneca's time, when her Dition was at the largest, had the neighbouring Germany for the bounds of it. Lo here a full conquest of the whole world. 
The whole world is set in evil.  Mundus totus in maligno. To conquer the whole material world is not so happy, so glorious a work, as to conquer the malignant: and this the power of Godliness only can do; this is the victory that overcomes the world, even your Faith. And now, what can the Flesh do without the World, without the Devil? Surely were it not for the Devil, the World and the Flesh were both good; and if it were not for the Devil and the World, the Flesh were our best friend: now they have debauched it, and turned it traitor to God and the Soul; now this proud Flesh dares war against Heaven. Godliness doth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, beat it black and blue; yea, kill it dead (Mortify your earthly members, Colos. 3. 5.) so as it hath not a limb to stir, not a breath to draw. Anacharsis his charge was too hard for another, but performable by a Christian, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. He can rule his tongue, his gut, his lust. Samson was a strong man, yet two of them he could not rule: the power of Godliness can rule all. Oh than the great power of Godliness that can trample upon the Flesh, the World, the Devil; Super aspidem, upon the Asp, the Dragon, the Lion; or, as the Psalmist, Psal. 91. 13. upon that roaring Lion of Hell, upon that sinuous Dragon the World, upon that close-biting Asp the Flesh!  
And as great in respect of our Enemies, so no less great in respect of ourselves; great, and beneficial. What wonders are done by Godliness? Is it not a great wonder to make a Fool wise, to make the Blind see? This Godliness can do, Psal. 19 7, 8. Let me be bold to say, we are naturally like Solomon's child, Folly is bound to our heart, Prov. 22. 15. In things pertaining to God 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, We were foolish, saith Saint Paul, Titus 3. 3. Would any of us that are thus born Naturals (to God) be wise to Salvation? That is the true Wisdom indeed; all other is but folly, yea madness, to that. The Schools cannot teach us this; Philosophy, whether Natural or Moral or Politic, can do nothing to it: if ye trust to it, it is but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 vain deceit, as Saint Paul, Colos. 2. 8. Triobolaris & vilis, as chrysostom. It is only Godliness must do it. Please yourselves how you list without this, ye great Politicians of the world, the wise God hath put the pied coat upon your backs, and past upon you his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Rom. 1. 22. If ye were Oracles to men, ye are Idiots to God. 
Wickedness blinds the understanding.  Malitia occaecat intellectum, as he said: ye quicksighted Eagles of the world, without this ye are as blind as Beetles to Heaven. If ye would have eyes to see him that is invisible, the hand of your Omnipotent Saviour must touch you, and at his bidding you must wash off your worldly clay with the Siloam of Godliness.  
Is it not a wonder to raise the dead? We are all naturally not sick, not qualming, not dying, but dead in sin, Colos. 2. 13. yea, with Lazarus, quatriduani, and ill-scenting; yea (if that will add any thing) as St. Jude's trees, or (as they say of acute Scotus) twice dead. Would ye arise? It is only Godliness that can do it. Ye are risen up through the faith in the operation of God, Col. 2. 12. This only can call us out of the grave of our sins. Arise thou that sleepest, and stand up from the dead, and christ shall give thee life. Christ is the Author, Godliness is the means. All ye that hear me this day, either ye are alive, or would be: Life is sweet; every one challenges it. Do ye live willingly in your sins? Let me tell you, ye are dead in your sins: This life is a death. If you wish to live comfortably here and gloriously hereafter, it is Godliness that must mortify this life in sin, that must quicken you from this death in sin. Flatter yourselves how you please, ye great Gallants of both Sexes: ye think yourselves goodly pieces; without Godliness ye are the worst kind of carcases: for as death or not-being is the worst condition that can befall a creature; so death in sin is so much the worst kind of death, by how much Grace is better than Nature. A living Dog or Toad is better than a thus-dead sinner. Would ye rise out of this loathsome and woeful plight? it is Godliness that must breathe Grace into your dead limbs, and that must give you the motions of holy Obedience.  
Is it not a wonder to cast out Devils? I tell you, the corporal possession of ill spirits is not so rare, as the spiritual is rise. No natural man is free. One hath the spirit of error, 1 Tim. 4. 1. another the spirit of fornications, Ose 4. 12. another the spirit of fear, 2 Tim. 1. 7. another the spirit of slumber, another the spirit of giddiness, another the spirit of pride: all have spiritum mundi, the spirit of the world, 1 Cor. 2. 12. Our story in Guliel. Neubrigensis tells us of a Countryman of ours, one Kettle of Farnham, in King Henry the Second time, that had the faculty to see spirits; by the same token that he saw the Devils spitting over the Drunkard's shoulders into their pots: the same faculty is recorded of Antony the Eremite, and Sulpitius reports the same of Saint Martin. Surely there need none of these eyes to discern every natural man's Soul haunted with these evil Angels. Let me assure you, all ye that have not yet felt the power of Godliness, ye are as truly (though spiritually) carried by evil spirits into the deeps of your known wickedness, as ever the Gadarene hogs were carried by them down the precipice into the Sea. Would you be free from this hellish tyranny? only the power of Godliness can do it. 2 Tim. 2. 26, 27. Is peradventure God will give them repentance, that they may recover themselves out of the snares of the Devil: and Repentance is, you know, a main part of Godliness. If ever therefore ye be dispossessed of that Evil one, it is the power of Godliness that must do it.  
What speak I of power? I had like to have ascribed to it the acts of Omnipotency: And if I had done so, it had not been much amiss; for what is Godliness but one of those rays that beams forth from that Almighty Deity? what but that same Dextra Excelsi, 
The right hand of the most High.  whereby he works mightily upon the Soul? Now, when I say the man is strong, is it any derogation to say his arm is strong? Faith and Prayer are no small pieces of Godliness; and what is it that God can do, which Prayer and Faith cannot do? Will ye see some instances of the further acts of Godliness? Is it not an act of Omnipotence to change Nature? Jannes and Jambres, the Egyptian Sorcerers, may juggle away the Staff, and bring a Serpent into the room of it; none but a Divine power (which Moses wrought by) could change the Rod into a Serpent, or the Serpent into a Rod. Nothing is above Nature but the God of Nature; nothing can change Nature but that which is above it: for Nature is regular in her proceedings, and will not be crossed by a finite power, since all finite Agents are within her command. Is it not a manifest change of the nature of the Wolf to dwell quietly with the Lamb, of the Leopard to dwell with the Kid; of the Lion to eat straw with the Ox, of the Asp to play with the child? How shall this be? It is an idle conceit of the Hebrews, that savage beasts shall forgo their hurtful natures under the Messias. No, but rational beasts shall alter their dispositions. The ravenous Oppressor is the Wolf, the tyrannical Persecutor is the Leopard, the venomous Heretic is the Asp; these shall turn innocent and useful by the power of Godliness: for then the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, Esay 11. 6, etc. Is it not a manifest change of nature for the Ethiopian to turn white, for the Leopard to turn spotless? This is done when those do good which are accustomed to evil, Jer. 13. 23. And this Godliness can do. Is it not a manifest change of nature for the Camel to pass through a needle's eye? this is done when through the power of Godliness ye Great and rich men get to Heaven. Lastly, it is an easy thing to turn men into beasts (a cup too much can do it;) but to turn beasts into men, men into Saints, Devils into Angels, it is no less than a work of Omnipotency. And this Godliness can do.  
But to rise higher than a change: Is it not an act of Omnipotency to create? Nature can go on in her tract whether of continuing what she actually finds to be, or of producing what she finds to be potentially in pre-existing Causes; but to make new matter transcends her power. This Godliness can do: here is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a new Creature, 2 Cor. 5. 17. There is in Nature no predisposition to Grace; the man must be no less new than when he was made first of the dust of the earth, and that earth of nothing: Novus homo, Eph. 4. 24. How is this done? by Creation: and how is he created? in righteousness and holiness; Holiness to God, Righteousness to men; both make up Godliness. A Regeneration is here a Creation. Progenuit is expressed by Creavit, Jam. 1. 18. and this by the word of truth. Old things are passed, saith the Apostle, all must be new. If we will have aught to do with God, our bodies must be renewed by a glorious Resurrection ere they can enjoy Heaven; our Souls must be renewed by Grace ere we can enjoy God on earth. Are there any of us pained with our heart of stone? We may be well enough: the stone of the reins or bladder is a woeful pain, but the stone of the heart is more deadly. He can by this power take it out, and give us an heart of flesh, Ezec. 11. 19 Are there any of us weary of carrying our old Adam about us? a grievous burden I confess, and that which is able to weigh us down to Hell: do we groan under the load, and long to be eased? none but the Almighty hand can do it, by the power of Godliness creating us anew to the likeness of that second Adam which is from heaven, heavenly; without which there is no possibility of Salvation: for flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God. In a word, would we have this earth of ours translated to Heaven? it is only the power of godliness can do it.  
And as this power of Godliness is great, so no less beneficial: beneficial every way, both here and hereafter. Here it frees us from evil, it feoffs us in good. Godliness is an Antidote against all mischief and misery: yea such is the power of it, that it not only keeps us from evil, but turns that evil to good; All things work together to the best to them that love and fear God, saith the Apostle. Lo, all things; Crosses, Sins; Crosses are blessings, Sins are advantages. Saint Paul's Viper befriended him; Saint Martin's Ellebore nourished him; Saluti fuere pestifera, as Seneca speaks. And what can hurt him that is blessed by Crosses, and is bettered by Sins? It feoffs us in good, Wealth, Honour, Contentment. The Apostle puts two of them together, Godliness is great gain with contentment, 1 Tim. 6. 6. Here are no ifs or and's; but gain, great gain, and gain with self-sufficiency or contentment. Wickedness may yield a gain, such as it is, for a time; but it will be gravel in the throat, gain far from contentment. Length of days are in the right hand of true wisdom, and in her left hand riches and honour, Prov. 3. 16. Lo, honour and wealth are but gifts of the left hand; common and mean favours: length, yea eternity, of days is for the right, that is the height of bounty. Godliness hath the promises of this life and of that which is to come, saith the Apostle: the promise, that is enough; God's promises are his performances; with men to promise and to pay are two things, they are one with God. To them that by patient continuing in well-doing seek glory and honour and immortality, eternal life, Rom. 2. 7. Briefly (for I could dwell here always) it is Godliness that only can give us the beatifical sight of God. The sight? yea the fruition of him, yea the union with him; not by apposition, not by adhesion, but by a blessed participation of the divine nature, 2 Pet. 1. 4. I can go no higher; no, the Angels and Archangels cannot look higher than this.  
To sum up all then; Godliness can give wisdom to the fool, eyes to the blind, life to the dead; it can eject Devils, change the course of Nature, create us anew, free us from evil, feoff us in good, honour, wealth, contentment, everlasting happiness. O the wonderful, O the beneficial power of Godliness! And now what is the desire of my Soul, but that all this could make you in love with Godliness; that in stead of the ambitions of Honour, the trade for Wealth, the pursuit of Pleasure, your hearts could be set on fire with the zealous affectation of true Godliness? Alas! the least overture of any of these makes us mad of the world; if but the shadow of a little Honour, Wealth, Promotion, Pleasure be cast before us, how eagerly do we prosecute it to the eternal hazard of our Souls? Behold, the substance of them all put together offers itself in Godliness. How zealously should we embrace them, and never give rest to our Souls, till we have laid up those true grounds of Happiness, which shall continue with us when all our Riches and earthly Glory shall lie down with us in the dust? Alas, Noble and Christian hearers, ye may be outwardly great, and inwardly miserable: it was a great Caesar that said, I have been all things, and am never the better. It is not your Bags, ye wealthy Citizens, that can keep the Gout from your joints, or Care from your hearts: It is not a Coronet, ye great Peers, that can keep your heads from aching; all this earthly pomp and magnificence cannot keep out either death or conscience. Our Prosperity presents us as goodly Lilies, which whiles they are whole look fair and smell sweet, but if once bruised a little as nasty both in sight and sent. It is only Godliness that can hold up our heads in the evil day, that can bid us make a mock at all the blustering storms of the world, that can protect us from all miseries, (which if they kill, yet they cannot hurt us) that can improve our sufferings, and invest us with true and eternal Glory. O then be covetous, be ambitious of this blessed estate of the Soul: and as Simon Macchabaeus with three years' labour took down the top of mount Acra in Jerusalem, that no hill might stand in competition of height with the Temple of God; so let us humble and prostrate all other desires to this one, that true Godliness may have the sway in us.  
Neither is this consideration more fit to be a whetstone to our zeal, than a touchstone to our condition. Godliness? why, it is an herb that grows in every soil. As Platina observes that for 900 years and upwards, none of those Popes to whom Sanctity is ascribed in the abstract, were yet held Saints after their death, except Celestine the 5, which gave up the Pontifical Chair after six Months weary sitting in it: so on the contrary, we may live Ages ere we hear a man profess himself God-less, whiles he is abominably such. He is too bad that will not be thought Godly; as it is a brazenfaced Courtesan that would not be held honest.  
That which Lactantius said of the Heathen Philosophers, that they had many Scholars, few followers, I cannot say of the Divine; we have enough to learn, enough to imitate, but few to act. Be not deceived, Godliness is not impotent; wherever Godliness is there is power. Hath it then prevailed to open our eyes, to see the great things of our peace? hath it raised us up from the grave of our sins, ejected our hellish corruptions, changed our wicked natures, new created our hearts? well may we applaud ourselves in the confidence of our Godliness. But if we be still old, still corrupt, still blind, still dead, still devilish; away, vain Hypocrites, ye have nothing to do with Godliness, because Godliness hath had no power on you. Are ye godly, that care to know any thing rather than God and spiritual things? Are ye godly, that have neither ability nor will to serve that God whom ye fashionably pretend to know? Are ye godly, which have no inward awe of that God whom ye pretend to serve, no government of your Passions, no Conscience of your Actions, no care of your Lives? False Hypocrites! ye do but abuse and profane that name which ye unjustly arrogate. No, no; Godliness can no more be without power then the God that works it. Show me your Godliness in the true fervour of your Devotions, in the effectual sanctification of your hearts and tongues, in the conscionable carriage of your lives; else to the wicked saith God, what hast thou to do to take my Covenant in thy mouth, seeing thou hatest to be reform? Psal. 50. 16.  
Ye have heard the power of Godliness; hear now the denial of this power. How then is it denied? Surely there is a verbal, there is a real denial; & rebus & verbis, as Hilary. It is a mistaking of Logicians, that Negation is the affection of a Proposition only: No; God and Divinity find it more in practice. This very power is as stoutly challenged by some men in words, as truly denied in actions. As one says of the Pharisees answer concerning John's Calling, 
They told truth, and yet lied.  verum dicebant, & mentiebantur; so may I of these men. It is not in the power of words to deny so strongly as deeds can: both the hand and the tongue interpret the heart, but the hand so much more lively, as there is more substance in acts than sounds. As he said, Spectamur agendo; we are both seen and heard in our actions. He that says there is no God, is a vocal Atheist; he that lives as if there were no God, is a vital Atheist: he that should say Godliness hath no power, is a verbal Atheist; he that shall live as if Godliness had no power, is a real Atheist: they are Atheists both. We would fly upon a man that should deny a God with Diagoras, though (as Anselm well) no man can do this interius, from within; we would burn a man that should deny the Deity of Christ with Arrius; we would rend our clothes at the blasphemy of that man who, with the Epicures and Apelleians, should exempt the cares and operations of God from the things below; we would spit at a man that durst say, There is no power in Godliness. These monsters (if there be such) hide their ugly heads, and find it not safe to look on the light. Faggots are the best language to such miscreants. But these real denials are so much more rife and bold, as they can take the advantage of their outward safety and unconvincibleness.  
Their words are honey, their life poison, as Bernard said of his Arnoldus. And these actions make too much noise in the world. That which S. chrysostom says of the Last day, that men's works shall speak, their tongues shall be silent; is partly true in the mean time; their works cry out, whiles their tongues whisper. There is then really a double denial of the power of Godliness; the one in not doing the good it requires, the other in doing the evil it forbids: the one a privative, the other a positive denial.  
In the former, what power hath Godliness if it have not made us good? A feeble Godliness it is that is ineffectual: If it have not wrought us to be devout to God, just to men, sober and temperate in the use of God's creatures, humble in ourselves, charitable to others, where is the Godliness? where is the power? If these were not apparently done, there were no form of Godliness; if these be not sound and heartily done, there is a palpable denial of the power of Godliness. Hear this then, ye ignorant and seduced souls, that measure your Devotions by number, not by weight; or that leaning upon your idle elbow, yawningly patter out those Prayers whose sound or sense ye understand not; ye that bring listlesse ears severed from your wand'ring hearts to the Messages sent from Heaven; ye that come to God's board as a surfeited stomach to an Hony-comb, or a sick stomach to a Potion; shortly, ye that pray without feeling, hear without care, receive without appetite: ye have a form of Godliness, but deny the power of it.  
Hear this, ye that wear out the floor of God's house with your frequent attendance; ye that have your ears open to God's Messengers, and yet shut to the cries of the Poor, of the Orphan, of the Labourer, of the distressed Debtor; ye that can lift up those hands to Heaven in your fashionable Prayers, which ye have not reached out to the relief of the needy members of your Saviour; (whiles I must tell you by the way that hard rule of Laurentius, Magis delinquit dives non largiendo superflua, quam pauper rapiendo necessaria, The rich man offends more in not giving his superfluities, than the poor man in stealing necessaries) ye that have a fluent tongue to talk unto God, but have no tongue to speak for God, or to speak in the cause of the dumb: ye have a form of Godliness, but deny the power thereof.  
Shortly, ye that have no fear of God before your eyes, no love to Goodness, no care of Obedience, no conscience of your actions, no diligence in your Callings; ye have denied the power of Godliness. This very privative denial shall, without your repentance, damn your Souls. Remember, oh remember that there needs no other ground of your last and heaviest doom then, Ye have not given, Ye have not visited: But the positive denial is yet more irrefragable. If very Privations and silence speak, much more are Actions vocal. Hear this then, ye vizors of Christianity, who notwithstanding all your civil smoothness, when ye are once moved, can tear Heaven with your Blasphemies, and bandy the dreadful name of GOD in your impure mouths by your bloody Oaths and Execrations; ye that dare to exercise your saucy wits in profane scoffs at Religion; ye that presume to whet your lawless tongues, and lift up your rebellious hands against lawful Authority whether in Church or State; ye that grind faces like edge-tools, and spill blood like water; ye that can neigh after strange flesh, and upon your voluptuous beds act the filthiness of Sodomitical Aretinismes; ye that can quaff your drunken carouses till you have drowned your Reason in a deluge of deadly Healths; ye whose foul hands are belimed with Bribery, and besineared with the price of blood; ye whose Sacrilegious throats have swallowed down whole Churches and Hospitals, whose maws have put over whole Parishes of sold and affamished Souls; ye whose faction and turbulence in novel Opinions rends the seamlesse Coat, not considering that of Melanchthon, that Schism is no less sin than Idolatry, and there cannot easily be a worse than Idolatry; either of them both are enough to ruin any Church under Heaven (now the God of Heaven ever keep this Church of ours from the mischief of them both) ye whose tongues trade in Lies, whose very profession is Fraud and cozenage; ye cruel Usurers, false Flatterers, lying and envious Detractors; in a word, ye, whoever ye are, that go resolutely forward in a course of any known sins, and will not be reclaimed: ye, ye are the men that spit God in the face, and deny flatly the power of Godliness. Woe is me, we have enough of these Birds every where at home. I appeal your eyes, your ears; would to God they would convince me of a slander.  
But what of all this now? The power of Godliness is denied by wicked men: How then? what is their case? Surely inexplicably, unconceivably fearful. The wrath of God is revealed from Heaven against all ungodliness, saith the Apostle. How revealed? say you; wherein differ they from their neighbours, unless it be perhaps in better fare? no gripes in their Conscience, no afflictions in their life, no bands in their death: Impunitas ausum, ausus excessum parit, as Bernard, Their impunity makes them bold, their boldness outrageous. Alas, wretched Souls! The world hath nothing more woeful than a Sinners welfare. It is for slaughter that this Ox is fattened: Ease slayeth the simple, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them, Prov. 1. 32. This bracteata felicitas which they enjoy here, is but as Carpets spread over the mouth of Hell: For if they deny the power of Godliness, the God of power shall be sure to deny them; Depart from me ye workers of iniquity, I know you not. There cannot be a worse doom than Depart from me; that is, depart from peace, from blessedness, from life, from hope, from possibility of being any other then eternally, tightly miserable. Qui te non habet, Domine Deus, totum perdidit, He who hath not thee, O Lord God, hath lost all, as Bernard truly. Dying is but departing; but this departing is the worst dying; dying in Soul, ever dying: so as if there be an Ite, depart, there must needs be a maledicti, depart ye cursed; cursed that ever they were born, who live to die everlastingly: For this departure, this curse ends in that fire which can never, never end. Oh the deplorable condition of those damned Souls that have slighted the power of Godliness! what tears can be enough to bewail their everlasting burnings? what heart can bleed enough at the thought of those tortures which they can neither suffer, nor avoid? Hold but your finger for one minute in the weak flame of a farthing Candle, can flesh and blood endure it? With what horror then must we needs think of Body and Soul frying endlessly in that infernal Tophet? Oh think of this ye that forget God, and contemn Godliness; with what confusion shall ye look upon the frowns of an angry God rejecting you, the ugly and merciless Fiends snatching you to your torments, the flames of Hell flashing up to meet you? with what horror shall ye feel the gnawing of your guilty Consciences, and hear that hellish shrieking, and weeping, and wailing, and gnashing? It is a pain to mention these woes, it is more than death to feel them: Perhorrescite minas, formidate supplicia, as chrysostom. Certainly, my beloved, if wicked sinners did truly apprehend an Hell, there would be more danger of their despair and distraction then of their security. It is the Devil's policy, like a Raven, first to pull out the eyes of those that are dead in their sins, that they may not see their imminent damnation. But for us; tell me, ye that hear me this day, are ye Christians in earnest, or are ye not? If ye be not, what do ye here? If ye be, there is an hell in your Creed. Ye do not less believe there is an Hell for the godless, than an Earth for men, a Firmament for Stars, an Heaven for Saints, a God in Heaven: and if ye do thus firmly believe it, cast but your eyes aside upon that fiery gulf, and sin if ye dare. Ye love yourselves well enough to avoid a known pain; we know there are Stocks, and Bride-wells, and Gaols, and Dungeons, and Racks, and Gibbets for malefactors, and our very fear keeps us innocent: were your hearts equally assured of those Hellish torments, ye could not, ye durst not continue in those sins for which they are prepared.  
But what an unpleasing and unseasonable subject am I fallen upon, to speak of Hell in a Christian Court, the emblem of Heaven? Let me answer for myself with devout Bernard, Sic mihi contingat semper be are amicos terrendo salubriter, non adulando fallaciter, Let me thus ever bless my friends with wholesome frights, rather than with plausible soothe. Sumenda sunt amara salubria, saith Saint Austin: Bitter wholesome is a safe receipt for a Christian: and what is more bitter or more wholesome than this thought? The way not to feel an Hell, is to see it, to fear it. I fear we are all generally defective this way; we do not retire ourselves enough into the Chamber of Meditation, and think sadly of the things of another world. Our Self-love puts off this torment (notwithstanding our willing sins) with David's plague, non appropinquabit, It shall not come nigh thee. If we do not make a league with Hell and Death, yet with ourselves against them. Fallit peccatum falsâ dulcedine, as Saint Austin, Sin deceives us with a false pleasure. The pleasure of the world is like rhat Colchian honey, whereof Xenophon's soldiers no sooner tasted, than they were miserably distempered; those that took little were drunk, those that took more were mad, those that took most were dead: thus are we either intoxicated, or infatuated, or killed outright with this deceitful world, that we are not sensible of our just fears; at the best we are besotted with our stupid security, that we are not affected with our danger. Woe is me, the impenitent resolved sinner is already fallen into the mouth of Hell, and hangs there but by a slender twig of his momentany life; when that hold fails, he falls down headlong into that pit of horror and desolation. Oh ye my dear brethren, so many as love your Souls, have mercy upon yourselves: Call aloud out of the deeps of your sins to that compassionate Saviour, that he will give you the hand of Faith, to lay hold upon the hand of his mercy and plenteous redemption, and pull you out of that otherwise-irrecoverable destruction; else ye are gone, ye are gone for ever. Two things, as Bernard borrows of Saint Gregory, make a man both good and safe, To repent of evil, To abstain from evil. Would ye escape the wrath of God, the fire of Hell? Oh wash you clean, and keep you so. There is no Laver for you but your own tears, and the blood of your Saviour: bath your Souls in both of these, and be secure. Consider how many are dying now which would give a world for one hour to repent in. Oh be ye careful then to improve your free and quiet hours in a serious and hearty contrition for your sins: say to God with the Psalmist, Deliver me from the evilman, that is, from myself, as that Father construes it. And for the sequel, in stead of the denying the power of Godliness, resolve to deny yourselves, to deny all ungodliness and worldly lusts, and to live soberly, righteously and godly in this present world; that having felt and approved the power of Godliness in the illuminating our eyes, in raising us from our sins, in ejecting our corruptions, in changing our lives, and creating our hearts anew, we may at the last feel the happy consummation of this power, in the full possessing of us in that eternal Blessedness and Glory which he hath prepared for all that love him. To the perfect fruition whereof he bring us that hath dearly bought us, Jesus Christ the righteous: to whom, etc.    

THE BEAUTY AND UNITY OF THE CHURCH; In a SERMON preached at Whitehall By J. H.  Cant. 6. 9 My Dove, my Undefiled is One. 
OUR last day's discourse was (as you heard) of War and dissipation; this shall be of Love and unity. Away with all profane thoughts: Every syllable in this Bridal-song is Divine. Who doubts that the Bridegroom is Christ, the Bride his Church? the Church, whether at large in all the Faithful, or abridged in every faithful Soul. Christ the Bridegroom praises the Bride his Church for her Beauty, for her Entireness. For her Beauty, she is Columba, a Dove; she is perfecta, undefiled. Her Entireness is praised by her Propriety in respect of him, Columba mea, my Dove; by her Unity in respect of herself, Una, one alone. My Dove, my undefiled is but one. So as the beautiful Sincerity, the dear Propriety, the indivisible Unity of the whole Church in common, and of the Epitome thereof every Regenerate Soul, is the matter of my Text, of my speech. Let your holy attention follow me, and find yourselves in every particular.  
The two first titles, Columba and perfecta, are in effect but one. This creature hath a pleasing Beauty, and an innocent Simplicity: Columba imports the one, and perfecta the other; yea, each both: for what is the Perfection which can be attained here, but Sincerity? and what other is our honest Sincerity, than those graceful proportions and colours which make us appear lovely in the eyes of God?  
The undefiled then interprets the Dove, and convertibly: for therefore is the Church undefiled, because she is a Dove; she is, as Christ bade her, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 innocent, Mat. 10. 16. and therefore is she Christ's Dove, because she is undefiled with the gall of spiritual bitterness.  
Had ye rather see these Graces apart? Look then first at the Loveliness, then at the Harmlesness of the Church, of the Soul.  
Every thing in the Dove is amiable; her Eyes, Cant. 1. 15. her Feathers, Psal. 68 13. and what not? So is the Church in the Eyes of Christ: And therefore the vulgar Translation puts both these together, 
My dove, my fair one.  Columba mea, formosa mea, Cant. 2. 10. which Lucas Brugensis confesses not to be in the Hebrew, yet adds, Nè facile omittas.  
Thy Dove, O God? yea, why not thy Raven rather? I am sure she can say of herself, I am black: And if our own hearts condemn us, thou art greater. Alas! what canst thou see in us but the Pustles of Corruption, the Morphews of Deformity, the hereditary Leprosy of Sin, the Pestilential spots of Death? and dost thou say, My Dove, my undefiled? Let malice speak her worst. The Church says she is black, but she shies she is comely: and that is fair that pleaseth. Neither doth God look upon us with our eyes, but with his own; He sees not as man seeth. The King's daughter is all glorious within: finite eyes reach not thither. The skin-deep Beauty of earthly faces is a fit object for our shallow sense, that can see nothing but colour.  
Have ye not seen some Pictures which being looked on one way show some ugly beast or bird, another way show an exquisite face? Even so doth God see our best side with favour, whiles we see our worst with rigour. Not that his Justice sees any thing as it is not; but that his Mercy will not see some things as they are. Blessed is the man whose sin is covered, Psal. 32. 1. If we be foul, yet thou, O Saviour, art glorious: Thy Righteousness beautifies us, who are blemished by our own Corruptions. But what? shall our borrowed Beauty blemish the whiles thine infinite Justice? shall we taint thee to clear ourselves? Dost thou justify the wicked? dost thou feather the Raven with the wings of the Dove? whiles the cloth is fair, is the skin nasty? Is it no more but to deck a Blackmore with white? even with the long white robes which are the justifications of Saints? God forbid. Cursed be he (O Lord) that makes thy Mercies unjust. No; whom thou accountest holy, thou makest so: whom thou justifiest, him thou sanctifiest. No man can be perfectly just in thee, who is not truly, though unperfectly, holy in himself. Whether therefore as fully just by thy gracious imputation, or as inchoately just by thy gracious inoperation, we are in both thy Dove, thy undefiled. In spite of all the blemishes of her outward administrations, God's Church is beautiful; in spite of her inward weaknesses, the faithful Soul is comely; in spite of both, each of them is a Dove, each of them undefiled. It is with both, as he said long since of Physicians, The Sun sees their successes, the earth hides their errors. None of their unwilling infirmities can hinder the God of Mercies from a gracious allowance of their integrity. Behold thou art all fair. But let no idle Donatist of Amsterdam dream hence of an Utopical perfection. Even here is the Dove still; but Columba seducta, or fatua (as Tremelius reads it) Ephraim, Ephraim is a silly seduced Dove, Ose 7. 11. The rifeness of their familiar excommunications may have taught them to seek for a spotlesness above: And if their furious censures had left but one man in their Church, yet that one man would have need to excommunicate the greater half of himself, the Old man in his own bosom. Our Church may too truly speak of them in the voice of God, Woe to them, for they have fled from me, Ose 7. 13. It is not in the power of their uncharity to make the rest of God's Church, and ours, any other then what it is, The Dove of Christ, the undefiled.  
The Harmlesness follows. A quality so eminent in the Dove, that our Saviour hath hereupon singled it out for an Hieroglyphic of Simplicity. Whence it was, questionless, that God of all fowls chose out this for his Sacrifice; Sin ex aliqua volucri, Levit. 1. 14. And before the Law, Abraham was appointed no other (Gen. 15. 9) then a Turtle and a Pigeon: neither did the Holy Virgin offer any other at her Purifying then this emblem of herself and her blessed Babe. Shortly, hence it was that a Dove was employed for the messenger of the exsiccation of the Deluge; no fowl so fit to carry an Olive of peace to the Church, which she represented. And lastly, in a Dove the Holy Ghost descended upon the meek Saviour of the world; whence (as Illyricus and some ancients have guessed) the sellers of Doves were whipped out of the Temple, as Simoniacal chafferers of the Holy Ghost. The Church than is a Dove. Not an envious Partridge, not a careless Ostrich, not a stridulous Jay, not a petulant Sparrow, not a deluding Lapwing, not an unclean-sed Duck, not a noisome Crow, not an unthankful Swallow, not a death-boding Schrich-owl; but an harmless Dove, that fowl in which alone envy itself can find nothing to tax. Hear this then, ye violent spirits, that think there can be no Piety that is not cruel; the Church is a Dove: not a Glead, not a Vulture, not a Falcon, not an Eagle, not any bird of prey or rapine. Who ever saw the rough foot of the Dove armed with griping talons? who ever saw the beak of the Dove bloody? who ever saw that innocent bird pluming of her spoil, and tiring upon bones? Indeed we have seen the Church crimson-suited, like her celestial Husband, of whom the Prophet, Who is this that cometh from Edom, with died garments from Bozrah? and strait, Wherefore art thou red in thine apparel, and thy garment like him that treadeth in the wine-press? Esay 63. 1, 2. but it hath been with her own blood shed by others, not with others blood shed by her hand. She hath learned to suffer what she hateth to inflict. Do ye see any Faction with knives in their hands, stained with massacres; with firebrands in their hands, ready to kindle the unjust stakes, yea woods of Martyrdom; with pistols and poniards in their hands, ambitiously affecting a canonisation by the death of God's Anointed; with matches in their hands, ready to give fire unto that powder which shall blow up King, Prince, State, Church; with thunderbolts of censures, ready to strike down into Hell whosoever refuses to receive novel opinions into the Articles of Faith? If ye find these dispositions and actions Dovelike, applaud them, as beseeming the true Spouse of Christ, who is ever like herself, Columba perfecta, yea, perfecta columba, a true Dove for her quiet Innocence. For us, let our Dove-ship approve itself in meekness of Suffering, not in actions of Cruelty. We may, we must delight in blood; but the blood shed for us, not shed by us. Thus let us be Columba in foraminibus petrae, 
In the wounds of Christ.  Cant. 2. 14. a Dove in the cliffs of the rock; that is, in vulneribus Christi, (as the Gloss) in the gashes of him that is the true Rock of the Church. This is the way to be innocent, to be beautiful, a Dove, and undefiled.  
The Propriety follows; My Dove. The Kite, or the Crow, or the Sparrow, and such like are challenged by no owner; but the Dove still hath a Master. The World runs wild, it is ferae naturae: but the Church is Christ's, domestically, entirely his; My Dove, not the worlds, not her own. Not the worlds; for, If ye were of the world, saith our Saviour, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you, Joh. 15. 19 Not her own; so S. Paul 1 Cor. 6. 19, 20. Ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price. Justly then may he say, My Dove. Mine, for I made her; there is the right of Creation: Mine, for I made her again; there is the right of Regeneration: Mine, for I bought her; there is the right of Redemption: Mine, for I made her mine; there is the right of spiritual and inseparable Union. O God, be we thine, since we are thine: we are thine by thy Merit; let us be thine in our Affections, in our Obedience. It is our honour, it is our happiness that we may be thine. Have thou all thine own. What should any piece of us be cast away upon the vain glory and trash of this transitory world? Why should the powers of darkness run away with any of our services in the momentany pleasures of sin? The great King of Heaven hath cast his love upon us, and hath espoused us to himself in truth and righteousness; oh then, why will we cast roving and lustful eyes upon adulterous rivals, base drudges? yea why will we run on madding after ugly Devils? How justly shall he loathe us, if we be thus shamefully prostituted? Away then with all our unchaste glances of desires, all unclean ribaldry of conversation: let us say mutually with the blessed Spouse, My beloved is mine, and I am his, Cant. 2. 16.  
My Dove; mine, as to love, so to defend. That inference is natural, I am thine, save me: Interest challenges protection. The Hand says, It is my Head, therefore I will guard it; the Head says, It is my Hand, therefore I will devise to arm it, to withdraw it from violence: The Soul says, It is my Body, therefore I will cast to cherish it; the Body says, It is my Soul, therefore I would not part with it. The Husband says, Bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh, and therefore 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he makes much of her, Ephes. 5. 29. And as she is desiderium oculorum, the delight of his eyes to him, Ezec. 24. 16. so is he operimentum oculorum, the shelter of her eyes to her, Gen. 20. 16. In all cases it is thus. So as if God say of the Church Columba mea, my Dove, she cannot but say of him, Adjutor meus, my helper. Neither can it be otherwise save where is lack either of love or power. Here can be no lack of either: not of Love; he saith, Whoso toucheth Israel toucheth the apple of mine eye: not of power; Our God doth whatsoever he will both in heaven and earth.  
Band you yourselves therefore, ye bloody Tyrants of the world, against the poor despised Church of God; threaten to trample it to dust, and when you have done, to carry away that dust upon the soles of your shoes: He that sits in Heaven laughs you to scorn, the Lord hath you in derision. O Virgin Daughter of Zion, they have despised thee: O daughter of Jerusalem they have shaken their heads at thee. But whom have ye reproached and blasphemed? and against whom have ye exalted your voice, and lift up your eyes on high? Even against the Holy one of Israel, who hath said, Columba mea, my Dove.  
Yea, let all the spiritual wickednesses in heavenly places, all the legions of Hell troup together, they shall as soon be able to pluck God out of his throne of Heaven, as to pull one feather from the wing of this Dove. This Propriety secures her: She is Columba mea, my Dove.  
From the Propriety, turn your eyes to the best of her Properties, Unity. Let me leave Arithmeticians disputing whether Unity be a number. I am sure, it is both the beginning of all numbering numbers, and the beginning and end of all numbers numbered. All Perfection rises hence, and runs hither; and every thing the nearer it comes to perfection, gathers up itself the more towards Unity; as all the virtue of the Loadstone is recollected into one point. Jehovah our God is one; from him there is but one World, one Heaven in that world, one Sun in that Heaven, one uniform face of all that glorious Vault: the nature of the holy Angels is one and simple as creatures can be: the head of Angels and Saints, one Saviour; whose blessed Humanity if it carry some semblance of composition, yet it is answered by a threefold Union of one and the same Subject, a double union of the Deity with the Humanity, a third union of the Humanity in itself. So that as in the Deity there is one Essence and three Persons; in Christ is one Person, and three Essences united into that one. If from Heaven we look to earth, from God to men; we have but one Earth, one Church in that earth, one King in that Church, and (for us) one Deputy of that King, one Sceptre, one Law of both; one Baptism one Faith; Cor unum, viam unam: and all these make up Columbam unam, one Dove. It would perhaps be no unnecessary excursion to take hereupon occasion to discourse of the perfectest form of Church-government, and to dispute the case of that long and busy competition betwixt Monarchy and Aristocracy. Ingenuous Richier, the late eyesore of the Sorbon, hath made (methinks) an equal arbitration, That the State is Monarchical, the Regiment Aristocratical. The State absolutely Monarchical in Christ, dispensatively Monarchical in respect of particular Churches; forasmuch as that power which is inherent in the Church, is dispensed and executed by some prime Ministers, like as the faculty of Seeing given to the man, is exercised by the Eye, which is given for this use to man. And if, for the Aristocratical Regiment, there be in the native Senate of the Church (which is a General Council) a power to enact Canons for the wielding of this great body, (as more eyes see more than one) yet how can this consist without Unity? Concilium is not so much a concalando, as Calepine hath mistaken, as a conciliando, or, as Isidore, à ciliis oculorum, which ever move together. In this Aristocracy there is an Unity; for, as that old word was long since, Episcopatus unus est, cujus à singulis in solidum pars tcnetur. In a word, no Regiment, no State can have any form, but deformity, without Unity.  
Neither is there more Perfection than Strength in Unity. Large bodies, if of a stronger composition, yet because the spirits are diffused, have not that vigour and activity which a well-knit body hath in a more slender frame. The praise of the invincible strength of Jerusalem was not so much in the natural walls, the hills round about it, as in the mutual compactedness within itself. And Solomon tells us, it is the twisted Cord that is not easily broken. The Rule of Vegetius that he gives for his best stratagem is, (that which our Jesuits know too well) to set strife where we desire ruin. Our Saviour says that of every City which one said anciently of Carthage, That division was the best engine to batter it. A City divided cannot stand. On the contrary, of every happy Church, of every firm State is that verified which God speaks in the whirlwind of Leviathan's scales, una uni conjungitur; one is joined to another, that the wind cannot pass between them: they stick together that they cannot be sundered, Job 41. 16, 17.  
That there is Perfection and Strength in Unity cannot be doubted; but how agrees this Unity to Christ's Dove, his Church? It shall be thus absolutely in patria, at home; but how is it in via, in the passage? Even here it is One too: not divided, not multiplied. To begin with the former. It hath been a stale quarrel that hath been raised from the divisions of the Christian world, worn threadbare even by the pens and tongues of Porphyry, Libanius, Celsus, Julian: and after them Valens the Emperor was puzzled with it, till Themistius, that memorable Christian Philosopher, in a notable Oration of his convinced this idle cavil, telling the Emperor, He should not wonder at the dissensions of Christians; that these were nothing in comparison of the differences of the Gentile Philosophers, which had above three hundred several Opinions in agitation at once; and that God meant by this variety of judgements to illustrate his own Glory, that every man might learn so much more to adore his Majesty, by how much harder it is rightly to apprehend him. The justice of this exception hath been confessed and bewailed of old by the ancient Fathers: St. chrysostom shall speak for all; Deridiculo facti sumus & Gentibus & Judaeis, dum Ecclesia in mille partes scinditur, We are made a scorn to Jews and Gentiles (saith he) whiles the Church is torn into a thousand pieces. Little do these fools, that stumble at these contentions, know the weight of S. Paul's Oportet, There must be heresies: little are they acquainted with God's fashions in all his works. Hath he not set contrary motions in the very Heavens? Are not the Elements (the main stuff of the world) contrary to each other in their forms and qualities? Hath he not made the natural Day to consist of light and darkness? the Year of seasons contrarily tempered? yea all things (according to the guess of that old Philosopher) ex lite & amicitia? And shall we need to teach God how to frame his Church? Will these wise censurers accuse the Heavens of misplacing, the Elements of mistemper, or check the Day with the deformity of his darkness, or upbraid the fair beauty of the Year with iceicles and wrinkles? or condemn that real Friendship that arises from debate? If the wise and holy Moderator of all things did not know how by these fires of contradiction to try men, and to purify his Truth, and to glorify himself, how easy were it for him to quench them, and confound their Authors?  
Can they commend it in a wise Scipio, that he would not have Carthage (though their greatest enemy) destroyed, ut timore libido premeretur, libido pressa non luxuriaretur, that riot might be kerbed with fear, as S. Austin expresses it; and shall not the most wise God have leave to permit an exercise to keep his children in breath, that they be not stuffed up with the foggy unsound humours of the world? When these presuming fools have stumbled, and fallen into the bottom of hell, the Spouse of Christ shall be still his Dove, in the clests or scissures of the Rocks; and she shall call him her Roe, or young Hart (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) upon the hills of Division, Cant. 2. 17.  
But yet when all is done, in spite of all dissensions, the Church is Columba una, one Dove. The word is not more common than equivocal: whether ye consider it as the aggregation of the outward, visible, particular Churches of Christian professors, or as the inward, secret, universal company of the Elect, it is still One. To begin with the former. What is it here below that makes the Church one? one Lord, One Faith, One Baptism. One Lord, so it is one in the Head; One Faith, so it is one in the Heart; One Baptism, so it is one in the Face. Where these are truly professed to be, though there may be differences of administrations and ceremonies, though there may be differences in opinions, yet there is Columba una: all those are but diversly-coloured feathers of the same Dove. What Church therefore hath one Lord, Jesus Christ the righteous, one Faith in that Lord, one Baptism into that Faith, it is the One Dove of Christ. To speak more short, one Faith abridges all. But what is that one Faith? what but the main fundamental Doctrine of Religion necessary to be known, to be believed unto Salvation? It is a golden and useful distinction that we must take with us, betwixt Christian Articles and Theological Conclusions. Christian Articles are the Principles of Religion necessary to a Believer; Theological Conclusions are School-points, fit for the discourse of a Divine. Those Articles are few and essential; these Conclusions are many, and unimporting (upon necessity) to Salvation either way. That Church then which holds those Christian Articles both in terms and necessary consequences (as every visible Church of Christ doth) however it vary in these Theological Conclusions, is Columba una. Were there not much latitude in this Faith, how should we fetch in the ancient Jewish Church to the unity of the Christian? Theirs and ours is but one Dove, though the feathers, according to the colour of that fowl, be changeable. It is a fearful account then that shall once be given before the dreadful Tribunal of the Son of God, the only Husband of this one Church, by those men who, not like the children of faithful Abraham, divide the Dove, multiplying Articles of Faith according to their own fancies, and casting out of the bosom of the Church those Christians that differ from their either false or unnecessary conclusions. Thus have our great Lords of the Seven hills dared to do, whose faction hath both devoured their Charity and scorned ours, to the great prejudice of the Christian world, to the irreparable damage of the glorious Gospel of our Lord Jesus. The God of Heaven judge in this great case betwixt them and us; us, who firmly holding the foundation of Christian Religion in all things according to the ancient, Catholic, Apostolic Faith, are rejected, censured, condemned, accursed, killed, for refusing their gainful Novelties. In the mean time we can but lament their fury no less than their errors, and send out our hopeless wishes that the seamlesse coat might be darned up by their hands that tore it.  
From them, to speak to ourselves, who have happily reform those errors of theirs, which either their ambition or profit would not suffer them to part with; since we are one, why are we sundered? One says, I am Luther's for Consubstantiation; another, I am Calvin's for Discipline; another, I am Arminius' for Predestination; another, I am Barrow's or Brown's for Separation. What frenzy possesses the brains of Christians thus to squander themselves into Factions? It is indeed an envious cavil of our common adversaries, to make these so many Religions. No; every branch of different Opinion doth not constitute a several Religion: were this true, I durst boldly say, old Rome had not more Deities than the modern Rome hath Religions. These things, though they do not vary Religions and Churches, yet they trouble the quiet unity of the Church. Brethren, since our Religion is one, why are not our tongues one? why do we not bite in our singular conceits, and bind our tongues to the common Peace? But if from particular visible Churches (which perhaps you may construe to be the threescore Queens here spoken of) you shall turn your eyes to the true, inward, universal company of God's Elect and secret ones, there shall you more perfectly find Columbam unam, one Dove: for what the other is in profession, this is in truth; that one Baptism is here the true Laver of Regeneration; that one Faith is a saving reposal upon Christ; that one Lord is the Saviour of his Body. No natural body is more one than this mystical: one Head rules it, one Spirit animates it, one set of joints moves it, one Food nourishes it, one Robe covers it. So it is one in itself, so one with Christ, as Christ is one with the Father; That they may be one, even as we are one; I in them, and thou in me, John 17. 22. Oh blessed Unity of the Saints of God, which none of the makebates of Hell can ever be able to dissolve!  
And now, since we are thus and every other way one, why are we not united in Love? why do we in our ordinary conversation suffer slight weaknesses to set off our Charity? Mephibosheth was a cripple; yet the perfect love of Jonathan either cures or covers his impotency. We can no more want infirmities, than not be men; we cannot stick at infirmities if we be Christians. It is but a poor love that cannot pass over small faults; even quotidianae incursionis, as that Father speaks. It is an injurious niceness to condemn a good Face in each other for a little mole. Brethren, let us not aggravate, but pity each others weaknesses; and since we are but one Body, let us have but one Heart, one Way: And if we be the Dove of Christ, and his Dove is one, oh let us be so one with each other as he is one with us.  
And as the Church and Commonwealth are twins, so should this be no less one with itself and with her temporal head. Divisum est cor eorum, Their heart is divided, was the judgement upon Israel, ose 10. 2. Oh how is every good heart divided in sunder with the grief for the late divisions of our Reuben? We do not mourn, we bleed inwardly for this distraction. But I do willingly smother these thoughts; yea my just sorrow chokes them in my bosom, that they cannot come forth but in sighs and groans. O thou that art the God of peace, unite all hearts in Love to each other, in loyal Subjection to their Sovereign Head. Amen.  
As the Church is one in not being divided; so she is but one in not being multiplied. Here is unus, uni, unam, as the old word is. He, the true Husband of the Church, who made and gave but one Eve to the first Adam, will take but one wife to himself, the second Adam. There are many particular Churches; all these make up but one universal: as many distinct limbs make up but one entire body, many grains one bach, many drops and streams one Ocean.  
So many Regions as there are under Heaven that do truly profess the Christian name, so many National Churches there are; in all those Nations there are many Provincial, in all those Provinces many Diocesan, in all those Dioceses many Parochial Churches, in all those Parishes many Christian Families, in all those Families many Christian Souls: now all those Souls, Families, Parishes, Dioceses, Provinces, Nations make up but one Catholic Church of Christ upon earth. The God of the Church cannot abide either Conventicles of Separation, or pluralities of professions, or appropriations of Catholicism. Catholic Roman is an absurd Donatian Solecism: This is to seek Orbem in urbe, as that Council said well. Happy were it for that Church; if it were a sound limb (though but the little toe) of that mighty and precious body, wherein no believing Jew or Indian may not challenge to be jointed. Neither difference of time, nor distance of place, nor rigour of unjust censure, nor any unessential error can bar our interest in this blessed Unity. As this flourishing Church of great Britain (after all the spiteful calumniations of malicious men) is one of the most conspicuous members of the Catholic upon earth; so we in her Communion do make up one body with the holy Patriarches, Prophets, Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors and faithful Christians of all ages and times. We succeed in their Faith, we glory in their Succession, we triumph in this Glory. Whither go ye then, ye weak, ignorant, seduced souls, that run to seek this Dove in a foreign cote? She is here, if she have any nest under Heaven. Let me never have part in her or in Heaven, if any Church in the world have more part in the Universal. Why do we wrong ourselves with the contradistinction of Protestant and Catholic? We do only protest this, that we are perfect Catholics. Let the pretenced look to themselves; we are sure we are as Catholic as true Faith can make us; as much one as the same Catholic Faith can make us: and in this undoubted right we claim and enjoy the sweet and inseparable communion with all the blessed members of that mystical body, both in earth and Heaven; and by virtue thereof, with the glorious Head of that dear and happy body, Jesus Christ the righteous, the Husband to this one Wife, the Mate to this one Dove: to whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, three Persons and one God, be given all Praise, Honour and Glory, now and for ever. Amen.   

THE FASHIONS OF THE WORLD; Laid forth in a SERMON at Grays-inn on Candlemas day.  By J. H. Rom. 12. 2. Fashion not yourselves like to this World; but be ye changed by the renewing of your mind, etc. 
THAT which was wont to be upbraided as a scorn to the English, may be here conceived the Emblem of a Man; whom ye may imagine standing naked before you with a pair of shears in his hand ready to cut out his own fashion. In this deliberation, the World offers itself to him with many a gay, misshapen, fantastical dress: God offers himself to him with one only fashion, but a new one, but a good one. The Apostle (like a friendly monitor) adviseth him where to pitch his choice; Fashion not yourselves like to this world; but be ye changed by the renewing of your mind.  
How much Christianity crosses Nature, we need no other proof than my Text. There is nothing that Nature affects so much as the Fashion, and no fashion so much as the worlds; for our usual word is, Do as the most. And behold that is it which is here forbidden us, Fashion not yourselves like to this world.  
All fashions are either in Device, or Imitation. There are vain heads that think it an honour to be the founders of Fashions: there are servile fools that seek only to follow the Fashion once devised. In the first rank is the World, which is nothing but a mint of Fashions; yet (which is strange) all as old as mis-beseeming. We are forbidden to be in the second: If the World will be so vain as to mis-shape itself, we may not be so foolish as to follow it.  
Let us look a little (if you please) at the Pattern here damned in my Text, The world. As in extent, so in expression the World hath a large scope; yea there are more Worlds than one. There is a world of creatures, and within that there is a world of men, and yet within that a world of believers, and yet within all these a world of corruptions. More plainly, there is a good world, an evil world, an indifferent. A good world, as of the creatures in regard of their first birth, so of men in regard of their second, a world of renewed Souls; in the first act of their renovation believing, Joh. 17. 20. upon their belief reconciled, 2 Cor. 5. 19 upon their reconcilement saved, Joh. 3. 16.  
An evil world, yea set in evil, 1 Joh. 5. 19 a world of corrupt unregeneration, that hates Christ and his, Joh. 15. 18. that is hated of Christ, Jam. 4. 4.  
An indifferent world, that is good or evil as it is used; whereof St. Paul, Let those that use the world be as not abusing it, 1 Cor. 7. 31. This indifferent world is a world of commodities, affections, improvement of the creature; which (if we will be wise Christians) we must fashion to us, framing it to our own bent, whether in want or abundance.  
The good world is a world of Saints, whose Souls are purified in obeying the truth through the Spirit, 1 Pet. 1. 22. To this world we may be fashioned. The evil world is a world of mere men and their vicious conditions. God hath made us the lords of the indifferent world; himself is the Lord of the good; Satan is lord of the evil, Princeps hujus Seculi. And that is most properly the world, because it contains the most, as it is but a chaffe-heap wherein some grains of wheat are scattered. To this evil world than we may not fashion ourselves in those things which are proper to it as such: in natural, in civil actions we may, we must follow the world; singularity in these things is justly odious; herein the World is the true master of Ceremonies, whom not to follow is no better than a Cynical irregularity: in things positively or morally evil we may not.  
There is no material thing that hath not his form; the outward form is the fashion; the fashion of outward things is variable with the times; so as every external thing, clothes, building, plate, stuff, gesture is now in, now out of fashion: but the fashions of Morality, whether in good or evil, are fixed and perpetual. The world passeth and the fashion of it; but the evil of the fashions of the world is too constant and permanent, and must be ever the matter of our detestation, Fashion not yourselves like to this world.  
But because evils are infinite, as wise Solomon hath observed; it will be requisite to call them to their heads, and to reduce these forbidden fashions to the several parts whereto they belong. I cannot dream with Tertullian, that the Soul hath a Body; but I may well say that the Soul follows the body; and as it hath parts ascribed to it according to the outward proportion, so are these parts suited with several fashions. Let your patient attention follow me through them all.  
Begin with the Head, a part not more eminent in place then in power. What is the head-tire of the world? Surely, as outwardly we see in this Castle of the Body the flag of vanity hanged out most conspicuously in feathers, perukes, wires, locks, frizzles, powders, and such other trash; so the inward disguise of this part is no less certain, no less obvious to wise and holy eyes. And what is that but fancies, mis-opinions, mis-judgment? all, whether vain thoughts, Psal. 94. 11. or evil thoughts, Esa. 59 7. To this head refer novelties of device, Heresies, capricious, superstitious conceits, whereof the instances would have no end. And these errors of the Mind are either in false Principles or false Conclusions: and both whether in matter of Speculation or Practice.  
It is a world to see what false Maxims the world lays down to itself; all which are as so many grounds of disguises of this great and graceless head. I do not tell you that the fool hath said, there is no God; or, hath penned up that God in the circle of the Heavens; or whatever other imagination the very impudence of the world is ashamed to justify, (as even in outward Pride there are certain pudenda mysteria, which vain Dames use, but hide:) I speak of received and current Axioms, which the world takes for granted, and fears not to aver; such as these, We must do according to custom; If it be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, an ill weed well rooted, we may not pull it up; Wrongs may not be offered, they may be returned; There can be no better Justice than retaliation; The Lie must be answered with a blow, the Challenge with a combat; Our Honour must be tendered, whatever becomes of our Soul; Reason must be done in drinking, though without reason; We may lie for an advantage; We may swear upon provocation; We may make the best of our own; Each man for himself; Youth must have a swinge; It is good sleeping in a whole skin; Religion must be tuned to reasons of State; and a thousand of this kind. And from these false Premises are raised pernicious Conclusions of resolution to the Soul. What should I speak of profane and wild thoughts, of sensual and beastly thoughts, of cruel and bloody thoughts? These are the fashions of the world whereto we may not fashion ourselves, remembering that of wise Solomon, The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the Lord, Prov. 15. 26. These dresses, perhaps, seem not uncomely to carnal eyes; but God tells us how he likes them: they are as naught as old; he spits at them in a just detestation, and will spit at us for them. Say not now therefore, Thought is free: No; it is so far from that, as that it may be unpardonable, as Simon Peter intimates to Simon Magus, Acts 8. 22. Away then with all the false positions and misconclusions, all the fantastical or wicked thoughts of the world: It is filthy, let it be filthy still. Let not us fashion our Heads like unto the world.  
Now not only the whole Head in common, but every part, every power of sense in this Head, hath a fashion of its own, that we must not follow in the world. Look first at the Eyes. The Eyes of the world have a fourfold evil cast that we may not imitate; the adulterous, the covetous, the proud, the envious. The adulterous roves and looks round about, the covetous looks downward, the proud looks a oft, the envious looks asquint.  
The first are eyes full of Adulteries, 2 Pet. 2. 14. every glance whereof is an act of beastliness: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 saith our Saviour, Mat. 5. 28. the very sight is a kind of constupration. The same word in the Greek (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) signifies both the apple of the eye and a virgin: I may not now discuss the reason. Sure I am, many an eye proves a bawd to the Soul; and I may safely say, Virginity is first lost in the eye.  
The ancient Philosophers before Aristotle, that held the Sight to be by sending out of beams, imagined the Eye to be of a fiery nature; wherein they were the rather confirmed, for that they found, that if the Eye take a blow, fire seems to sparkle out of it. But certainly how waterish soever better experience hath found the substance of the Eye, it is spiritually fiery; fiery both actively and passively. Passively, so as that it is inflamed by every wanton beam; actively, so as that it sets the whole heart on fire with the inordinate flames of concupiscence. What should a Christian do with a burning-glasse in his head, that unites pernicious beams for the firing of the heart? I mean, a beastly and fornicating eye (Ezec. 6. 9) Out with it, if it thus offend thee, as thou look'st to escape the fire of hell. For this flame, like that unnatural one of Sodom, shall burn downward, and never leave till it come to the bottom of that infernal Tophet. Make covenants with your eyes, O ye Christians, as Job did; and when ye have done, hold them close to your covenants once made: and if they will needs wilfully break, take the forfeit to the utmost. How much better were it for a man to be blind, then to see his own damnation? Thus fashion not your eye to the Uncleanness of the world.  
The Covetous follows. Even this is a lust of the eye too, 1 Joh. 2. 16. Libido aeris, as Ambrose calls it. As the eye in its own nature is covetous, in that it is not satisfied with seeing, Eccles. 1. 8. so the eye of the covetous hath a more particular insatiableness. Non satiatur oculus divitiis, The eye is not satisfied with riches, Eccles. 4. 8. And yet these riches can go no further than his eye; the owner hath nothing but their sight, 5. 11. Hence wise Solomon parallels Hell and destruction with the eye; neither are satisfiable, Prov. 27. 20. He that is a true glutton of the world, may fill his belly, his eye never. For it is in these desires as in Drunkenness, his drought increaseth with his draughts, and the more he hath the less he thinks he hath, and the more he would have. This disease is popular and, as the Prophet tells us, à minimo ad maximum, Jer. 6. 13. The world could not be so wicked, if it had not this cast of the eye; for this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 love of money, is the root of all evil, 1 Tim. 6. 10. From hence come Simonies in the Spiritualty, Sacrilege in the Laity, immoderate fees in Lawyers, unreasonable prices in Merchants, exactions in Officers, oppressions in Landlords, encroachments in neighbourhood, falsehood in servants, and lastly cozenages in all sorts. But, woe to him that increaseth that which is not his, and to him that ladeth himself with thick clay, saith Abacuc 2. 6. Was there ever a more perfect conviction of a vice? This desired metal is not his, first; and than if it were his, it is but densissimum lutum, thick clay; it may load him, it cannot ease him. Away therefore with those two greedy daughters of the Horseleech, that cry still, Give, give, Prov. 30. 15. Give is for Christians; but Give, give, is for worldlings; as it was the doubling of the stroke upon the Rock that offended. If we be Christians, we are richer than the world can make us. Having therefore food and raiment, let us be therewith content, 1 Tim. 6. 8. But if thou wilt needs enlarge thy boundless desires, take this with thee, there is somewhat as unsatiable as thine eye; The grave and hell never say, It is enough, Prov. 30. 16. Thus fashion not your eye to the Covetousness of the world.  
The next is the Proud looks. There is a generation, O how lofty are their eyes! and their eyelids are lifted up, Prov. 30. 13. There is? nay, where is there any other? The world is all such? admiring itself, scorning all others. And if ever, now is that of the Prophet verified, The child shall behave himself proudly against the ancient, and the base against the honourable, Esa. 3. 5. One prides himself in his bags, another in his gay coat; one in his titles, another in his fame; one in agility, another in skill; one in strength, another in beauty: Every one hath something to look big upon. Oh fools, either ignorant, or forgetful of what ye are, of what ye shall be! go on to wonder at your poor miserable glory and greatness: ye are but lift up for a fall: your height is not so sure as your ruin; ruin to the dust, yea to hell. Him that hath a proud heart will I not suffer, faith God, Psal. 101. 5. Fashion not your eye therefore to the Pride of the world.  
The last is the Envious eye; by an eminence called Oculus nequam, an evil eye. Is thine eye evil, because I am good? saith the Housholder, Mat. 20. 15. As if Envy had engrossed all malignity. into her own hands. This cast of the eye the World learned of the Devil, who, when himself was fallen, could not abide that man should stand. Far be it from us to learn it of the World. As happy is, this vice is executioner enough to itself: Putredo ossium invidentia, Envy is the rotting of the bones, Prov. 14. 30. And where other earthly torments die with men, this follows them into Hell, and shall there torture them eternally. The wicked shall see it, and shall be grieved, (& frendens contabescet,) and shall gnash and pine, Psal. 112. 10. Fashion not your eye therefore to the Envy of the world.  
We have done with the Eye in the Uncleanness, Covetousness, Pride, Envy of it: we might have taken the Forehead in our way; that is the seat of Impudence; it is frons aerea, a brow of brass, Esa. 48. 4. yea meretricia, an whore's forehead, that refuses to be ashamed, Jer. 3. 4. yea 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, giantlike, confronting Heaven, which Ecclesiasticus prays to be delivered from, Ecclus. 2. 3. 5. that can boldly bear out a sin committed, either outfacing the fact, as Gehezi, or the fault, as Saul. This is the fashion of the world, by lies, imprecations, perjuries to outbrave the most just reproof; A wicked man hardeneth his face, Prov. 21. 29. This fashion is not for us Christians. If we cannot be guiltless, we cannot be shameless: at least we can blush at our sins. The dye of our Repentance strives with the crimson of our Offence; and we can out of the true remorse of our Souls say with the Prophet, We lie down in our shame; and our confusion covereth us; for we have sinned against the Lord our God, Jer. 3. 25. Thus, fashion not your Forehead to the Impudence of the world.  
We pass to the Ear; wherein there is a double fashion to be avoided. First, there is a Deaf ear, shut up against all instruction, like the Adder's against the charm, Psal. 58. 5. How shut up? A film or foreskin is grown over it, which hinders the way of the voice: Jer. 6. 10. Behold, their ear is uncircumcised, and they cannot hearken. Hence it is that we preach in vain, we labour in vain: to what purpose do we tear our throats, and spend our lungs, and force our sides, in suing to a deaf world: Who hath believed our report, or to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? If ever we will hear the voice of the Son of God and live, we must therefore have our ears opened, this our foreskin must be pierced. Aurem perforasti mihi, Thou hast digged my ear, as the word originally sounds, Psal. 40. 6. The finger of our Omnipotent Saviour must do it, and his Ephphatha, Mar. 7. 34. Let the deaf world perish in their infidelity and disobedience; but for us, let us say with Samuel, Speak, Lord, for thy Servant heareth.  
Secondly, there is an Itching ear, 2 Tim. 4. 3. that out of a wanton curiosity affects change of doctrine. How commonly do we see a kind of Epicurism in the ear? which when it hath fed well of many good dishes, longs to surfeit of a strange composition. Yea there is an appetitus caninus, that passing by wholesome viands, falls upon unmeet and foul-feeding morsels. We have heard Sermons enough; Oh now for a Mass: We have heard our own Divines; Oh for a Jesuit at a Vespers. Oh foolish Israelites! who hath bewitched you, that loathing the Manna of Angels, your mouth should hang towards the Egyptian garlic? God hath a medicine in store for this itch, if we prevent him not: Tinnient aures, saith he, Jer. 19 3. If our ears itch after strange doctrine, others ears shall tingle at our strange Judgements. The God of Mercy prevent it: and since we accurse ourselves if we speak any other words then our Masters, say you to Christ speaking by us, Master, whither shall we go from thee? thou hast the words of eternal life. Thus fashion not your Ear to the deafness, to the inconstancy of the world.  
The ill fashions of the Tongue call me to them; whereof the variety is no less infinite than of words forbidden and offensive. The Eye and the Ear are receivers, but the Tongue is a spender; and it lays out according to the store of the heart: For, out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, saith our Saviour. No words can express the choice of ill words. I will limit my speech to three ill fashions of the Tongue, Falshood, Maliciousness, Obscenity.  
1. The world hath a False tongue in his head: false every way; in broaching of errors, in sophistry of their maintenance, in deceits and cozenages of contracts, in lies, (whether assertory, which breed misreports, or promissory, which cause disappointments) in perjuries, in equivocations, in flatteries, and humouring of men or times. What a world of untruth offers itself here to us? Lord, whom can a man speak with that he dares believe? whom dares he believe that deceives him not? How is that of the Psalm verified, Diminutae sunt veritates, Truth is minished from the children of men? Yea, let it be from the children of men, it is a shame it should be thus with Christians; Let us speak truth every man to his neighbour. far, far be it from any of you to have a mercenary tongue, either sold or let out to speak for injury, for oppression. Where the justice of the cause seems to hang in an even poise, there exercise the power of your wit and eloquence in plead: but where the case is foul, abhor the Patrocination; discourage an unjust, though wealthy, Client, and say rather, Thy gold and thy silver perish with thee; resolving that the richest fee is a good conscience; and therefore, with the Apostle, that ye can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth. Thus fashion not your Tongue to the falsehood of the world.  
2. The world hath a tongue as Malicious as false; he carries poisons, arrows, swords, razors in his mouth, whether in reviling the present, or backbiting the absent. What have our tongues to walk in but this round of detraction? Bar this practice, there would be silence at our boards, silence at our fires-side, silence in the Tavern, silence in the way, silence in the Barbers-shop, in the Mill, in the Market, every where; yea very Gossips would have nothing to whisper. Lord, what a wild licentiousness are we grown to in this kind? Every man's mouth is open to the censures, to the curses of their betters; neither is it cared how true the word be, but how sharp. Every Fiddler sings Libels openly; and each man is ready to challenge the freedom of David's Ruffians, Our tongues are our own, who shall control us? This is not a fashion for Christians, whose tongues must be ranged within the compass, as of Truth, so of Charity and silent Obedience: we know our charge, Diis non detrahes, Thou shalt not revile the Gods, nor curse the ruler of thy people, Exod. 22. 28. No, not in thy bedchamber, no, not in thy thoughts, Eccles. 10. 20. And for our equals, God hath said it, Whoso privily slandereth his Neighbour, him will I cut off, Psal. 101. 5.  
The spiteful tongue as it is a fire, and is kindled by the fire of hell, Jam. 3. 6. so shall it be sure once to torment the Soul that moves it with flames unquenchable. Thus, fashion not your Tongue to the maliciousness of the world.  
3. As the world hath a spiteful tongue in his anger, so a Beastly tongue in his mirth. No word sounds well that is not unsavoury: The only minstrel to the world is ribaldry. Modesty and sober Merriment is dulness. There is no life but in those cantiones cinaedicae, which are too bad even for the worst of red Lattices: yea even those mouths which would hate to be palpably foul, stick not to affect the witty jests of ambiguous obscenity. Fie upon these impure brothelries. Oh that ever those tongues which dare call God Father, should suffer themselves thus to be possessed by that unclean spirit: that ever those mouths which have received the Sacred body and blood of the Lord of Life, should endure these dainty morsels of the Devil! For us, Let no corrupt communication proceed out of our mouth, but that which is edifying and gracious, Ephes. 4. 29. and such as may become those tongues which shall once sing Allelujahs in the Heavens. Fashion not your Tongues to the obscenity of the world.  
From the Tongue we pass to the Palate, which (together with the gulf, whereto it serves, the throat and the paunch) is taken up with the beastly fashion of Gluttony and excess, whether wet or dry, of meats or liquors; surfeits in the one, drunkenness in the other: insomuch as that the vice hath taken the name of the part, Gula; as if this piece were for no other service. The Psalmist describes some wicked ones in his time by, Sepulcrum patens guttur eorum, Their throat is an open Sepulchre, Psal. 5. 9 How many have buried all their Grace in this tomb? how many their Reputation? how many their Wit? how many their Humanity? how many their Houses, Lands, Livings, Wives, Children, Posterity, Health, Life, Body and Soul? Saint Paul tells his Philippians, that their false teachers made their belly their God. Oh God, what a Deity is here? what a nasty Idol? and yet how adored every where? The Kitchens and Taverns are his Temples; the Tables his Altars. What fat Sacrifices are here of all the beasts, fouls, fishes, of all three Elements? what pouring out, yea what pouring in of drink-offerings? what incense of Indian smoke? what curiously-perfumed cates, wherewith the nose is first feasted, than the maw?  
More than one of the Ancients, as they have made Nebuzaradan principem Coquorum, Jer. 52. 12. the chief Cook of Nabuchadnezzar, so they have found a mystical allusion in the story; that the chief Cook should burn the Temple and Palace, both God's house and the Kings, and should destroy the walls of Jerusalem. Surely gluttonous excess destroys that which should be the Temple of the Holy Ghost; and is enough to bring a fearful vastation both upon Church and State. I could even sink down with shame to see Christianity every where so discountenanced with beastly Epicurism: what street shall a man walk in, and not meet with a Drunkard? what rode shall he pass, and not meet some or other hanging upon the stirrup, waving over the pummel? Saint Peter's argument from the third hour of the day, and Saint Paul's from the night, would be now a non sequitur; Day is night, night is day, no hour is privileged. I cannot speak a more fearful word then that of Saint Paul, Whose belly is their God, whose end is damnation. Oh woeful, woeful condition of that damned glutton in the Gospel! Oh the flames of that delicious tongue, which begged for a drop, but should in vain have been quenched with rivers, with Oceans! As ye desire to be freed from those everlasting burnings, Awake ye drunkards, and howl ye drinkers of wine, Joel 1. 5. Return your superfluous liquors into tears of repentance, which only can quench that fire; and for the sequel, put your knife to your throats: Take heed lest at any time your hearts be overtaken with surfeiting and drunkenness, Luk. 21. 34. Thus fashion not yourselves to the Excess of the world.  
From the pampered Belly we pass to the proud Back of the world: whereon he is blind that sees not a world of fashions; in all which, the price of the stuff strives with the vanity of the form. There is a Luxury in very clothes, which it is hard to look besides. O God, how is the world changed with us since our Breeches of fig-leaves and Coats of skin? The Earth yields Gold, Silver, rich Stones, the Sea Pearls, the Air feathers, the Field his stalks, the Sheep her Fleece, the Worm her web; and all too little for one back. After necessity, clothes were once for distinction, as of Sexes, so of Degrees. How curious was God in these differences? the violation whereof was no less than deadly, Deut. 22. 5. What shall we say to the Dames, yea to the Hermaphrodites of our time, whom it troubles that they may not be all man? But if Sexes be known by clothes, what is become of Degrees? Every base Terrivague wears Artaxerxes his coat: soft raiments are not for Courts, Peasants degenerate into Gallants, and every Midianitish Camel must shine with gold, Judg. 8. 26. But oh the mad disguises of the world, especially in that weaker Sex, which in too much variety is constant still to a prodigious deformity of attire, to the scorn of other Nations, to the dishonour of their Husbands, to the shame of the Gospel, to the forfeit of their modesty, to the misshaping of their bodies, to the prostitution of their Souls, to the just damnation of both. It is not for me to urge this here in a masculine assembly; wherein I fear there cannot be want of faults enough in this kind. Away with this absurd and apish vanity of the world. They that glister in scarlet, shall once embrace danghils, Lam. 4. 5. Yea it were well if no worse. Let us that are Christians affect that true bravery which may become the blessed Spouse of Christ; The King's Daughter is all glorious within; and say, with the Prophet, My soul shall be joyful in my God, for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation; he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, Esay 61. 10. Thus fashion not your Back to the disguise of the world.  
We had like to have forgotten the Neck and Shoulders of the world, which have an ill fashion of stiffness and inflexible obstinateness, stubbornly refusing to stoop to the yoke of the Law, of the Gospel. This is every where the complaint of God; They have hardened their necks, Exod. 32. 9 Amongst all fashions of the world this is the worst; and that which gives an height to all other wickednesses. Let all the other parts be never so faulty, yet if there be a readiness to relent at the Judgements of God, and a meek pliableness to his Corrections, there is life in our hopes. But if our iron sinews will not bow at all, bearing up themselves with an obdured resolution of sinning, the case is desperate: what can we think other, then that such a soul is branded for Hell? He that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy, Prov. 29. 1. Fashion not your Neck therefore to the stiffness of the world.  
But the Cyclopean furnace of all wicked fashions, the Heart, calls my speech to it; which I could not have forborn thus long, were it not that besides the importunity of these other parts, I have heretofore at large out of this place displayed to you and the world the wicked fashions thereof. Shortly yet, (for we may not utterly balk them) all the corrupt desires and affections of the Soul are so many ill fashions of the Heart to be avoided. These affections are well known: inordinate Love, uncharitable Hate, immoderate Grief, intemperate Joy, unjust Fears, unsound Hopes, and whatsoever either distemper or misplacing of these Passions. If we love the world more than God, if we hate any enemy more than Sin, if we grieve at any loss more than of the favour of God, if we joy in any thing more than the writing of our names in Heaven, if we fear any thing more than offence, if we hope for any thing more than Salvation; and much more if we change Objects, loving what we should hate, joying in what we should grieve at, hoping for what we should fear, and the contrary; in one word, if our desires and affections be earthly, grovelling, sensual, not spiritual, sublimed, heavenly; we fall into the damnable fashion of the world. Away therefore with all evil concupiscence, all ambitious affectations, all spiteful emulations, all worldly sorrows, all cowardly fears, all carnal heats of false joy. Let the World dote upon vanity, and follow after lies; let our Affections and conversation be above, where Christ Jesus sitteth at the right hand of God. Let the base earthworms of this world be taken up with the best of this vain trash; the desires of us Christians must soar aloft, and fix themselves upon those Objects which may make us perfectly and unchangeably blessed. Thus fashion not your Hearts to the carnal desires and affections of the world.  
Affections easily break forth into Actions; and Actions perfect our Desires. Let us from the heart look to the Hands and Feet, the instruments of motion and execution of the world. Fashion not yourselves last therefore to the practice and carriage of the world. The World makes a God of itself, and would be serving any God but the true one. Hate ye this cursed Idolatry, and say with Joshua, I and my house will serve the Lord.  
The World would be framing Religion to Policy, and serving God in his own forms. Hate ye this Will-worship, Superstition, Temporising, and say with David, I esteem all thy precepts to be right, and all false ways I utterly abhor, Psal. 119. 128.  
The World cares not how it rends and tears the Sacred Name of their Maker with Oaths and Curses and Blasphemies. Oh hate ye this audacious Profaneness, yea this profane Devilism, and tremble at the dreadful Majesty of the name of the Lord our God.  
The World cares not how it slights the Ordinances of God, violates his Days, neglects his Assemblies. Hate ye this common Impiety; say with the Psalmist, Oh how sweet is thy Law, how amiable thy Tabernacles!  
The Word is set to spurn at Authority, to despise God's Messengers, to scorn the nakedness of their spiritual Fathers. Hate ye this lawless Insolency, and say, quam speciosi pedes! How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the Gospel of peace! Esa. 52. 7. Rom. 10. 15.  
The World is set upon Cruelty, Oppression, Violence, Rapine, Revenge, sieging, sacking, cutting of throats. Hate ye this bloody Savageness: Put on (as the elect of God, holy and beloved) bowels of mercies, kindness, meekness, long suffering, Colos. 3. 12.  
The World is a very brothel, given over to the prosecutions of noisome and abominable lusts. Hate ye this Impurity, and possess your vessels in hoinesse and honour.  
The World is a cheater, yea (to speak plain) a thief; every where abounding with the tricks of legal fraud and cozenage, yea with sly stealths, yea with open exortions. Hate ye this Injustice, and with quietness work, and eat your own bread, 2 Thes. 3. 12. Thus, fashion not yourselves to the actual Wickednesses of the world. All these are the unfruitful works of darkness; they are not for our fellowship, they are for our abomination and reproof.  
And now I have laid before you some patterns, if not models, of the ill fashions of the World, in the thoughts, dispositions, affections, actions thereof Like them if ye can, O ye Christian Hearers, and follow them. I am sure, from our outward fashions of Attire we need no other dissuasive than their ugliness and misbecoming. And what shall I need to tell you how loathsomely deformed these fashions of the world make us to appear in the sight of God? The Toad or the Serpent are lovely objects to us, in comparison of these disguises to the pure eyes of the Almighty: yea so perfectly doth God hate them, that he professes those hate him that like them. Whosoever will be a friend to the world, is an enemy to God, Jam. 4. 4. Oh then, if we love our Souls, let us hate those fashions that may draw us into the detestation of the Almighty; for our God is a consuming fire.  
Besides misbeseeming, it is a just plea against any Fashion that it is painful▪ For though there be some Pain allowed in all Pride, yet too much we endure not: and behold these Fashions shall pinch and torture us to death; to an everlasting death of body and Soul. The ill guest in the Parable was thus clad, Mat. 22. 12. the King abhors his suit, and after expostulation gives the sentence, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into utter darkness, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Oh, fear and tremble at the expectation of this dreadful doom, all ye that will needs be in the fashion of the world. If ye be so foolish as to flatter yourselves here in the conceit of your Liberty, there shall be binding; in the conceit of a lightsome and resplendent Magnificence, there shall be darkness; in the conceit of Pleasure and Contentment, there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.  
Lastly, commonness and age are the usual disparagements of Fashions. The best may not go like every body: where a Fashion is taken up of the basest, it is disdained of the eminent. Behold, these are the fashions, if not of all, I am sure of the worst; the very scum of the world is thus habited. Let us that are Christians, in an holy pride, scorn to be suited like them.  
As common, so old fashions are in disgrace. That man would be shouted at that should come forth in his great-grandfires suit, though not rend, not discoloured. Behold, these are the overworn and misshapen rags of the old man: Away with them to the frippery of darkness, yea to the brokery of Hell: Let us be for a change. Old things are passed, all things are become new. As we look to have these bodies once changed from vile to glorious, so let us now change the fashions of our bodies and Souls from corrupt and worldly, to spiritual and heavenly; and loathing all these misbelieving, painful, common, old fashions of the world, let us put on the Lord Jesus Christ; that being clad with the robes of his Righteousness here, we may be clothed upon with the robes of his Glory in the highest Heavens. Amen.   

THE ESTATE OF A CHRISTIAN, Laid forth In a SERMON preached at Grays-inn on Candlemas day.  By Jos. HALL.. Rom. 12. 2. But be ye changed (or transformed by the renewing of your minds, etc. 
THE true method of Christian practice is first destructive, then astructive; according to the Prophet, Cease to do evil, learn to do good. This our Apostle observes; who first unteacheth us ill fashions, and then teacheth good. We have done with the negative duty of a Christian, what he must not do; hear now the affirmative, what he must do: wherein our speech, treading in the steps of the blessed Apostle, shall pass through these four heads; First, that here must be a change; secondly, that this change must be by transformation; thirdly, that this transformation must be by renewing; fourthly, that this renewing must be of the mind: But be ye changed, or transformed, by the renewing of your minds. All of them points of high and singular importance; and such as do therefore call for your best and carefullest attention.  
Nothing is more changing then the fashion of the world: Mundus transit, The world passeth away, 
1 Joh. 2. 17.  saith S. John. Yet here, that we may not fashion our selves to the world, we must be changed; we must be changed from these changeable fashions of the world to a constant estate of Regeneration. As there must be once a perfect change of this mortal to immortality, so must there be onwards, of this sinful to gracious: and as holy Job resolves to wait all the days of his appointed time, for that changing; so this change contrarily waits for us, and may not be put off one day. What creature is there wherein God will not have a change? They needed not as he made them; nothing could fall from him but good: we marred them; and therefore they both are changed, and must be. Even of the very Heavens themselves it is said, As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed: how much more these sublunary bodies that are never themselves? We know the Elements are in a perpetual transmutation; so are those bodies that are compounded of them: as he said of the River, we cannot step down twice into the same stream. And every seven years (as Philosophy hath observed) our bodies are quite changed from what they were. And as there is a natural change in our favours, colour, complexion, temper; so there is no less voluntary change in our diets, in our dispositions, in our delights. With what scorn do we now look upon the Top which our Childhood was fond on? how do we either smile or blush in our mature age, to think of the humours and actions of our youth? How much more must the depravedness of our spiritual condition call for a change?  
It is a rule in Policy, Not to alter a well-setled evil. I am sure it holds not in the Oeconomy of the Soul, wherein length of prescription pleads rather for a speedy removal: no time can prejudice the King of Heaven. In some cases indeed change is a sign of a weak unsetledness: It is not for a wise man, like Shellfish, to rise or fall with the Moon; rather, like unto the Heaven, he must learn to move, and be constant. It was a good word of Basil to the Governor, Utinam sempiterna sit hoec mea desipientia, Let me dote thus alw aies. It was not for nothing that Socrates had the reputation of Wisdom: that famous Shrew of his, Xantippe, could say, she never but saw him return with the countenance that he went out with. Give me a man that in the changes of all conditions can frame himself to be like an Auditors counter, and can stand either for a thousand, or an hundred, or (if need be) for one: this man comes nearest to him in whom there is no shadow of turning. But in case of present ill, there can be no safety but in change. I cannot blame the Angels and Saints in Heaven, that they would not change; I bless them that they cannot, because they are not capable of better, and every motion is out of a kind of need. I cannot wonder at the damned spirits, that they would be any thing but what they are. We that are naturally in the way to that damnation, have reason to desire a change; worse we cannot be upon earth then in a state of sin. Be changed therefore, if ye wish well to your own Souls; that it may be said of you, in S. Paul's words, Such ye were. What an enemy would upbraid by way of reproach, is the greatest praise that can be, Faults that were. Oh happy men that can hear, Ye were profane, unclean, idolatrous, oppressive, riotous! Their very sins honour them; as the very Devils that Mary Magdalen had, are mentioned for her glory; since we do not hear of them, but when they were cast out. As there are some careless nasty creatures, that can abide to wear none but their old, patched, sordid rags (such as that miscreant Cistercian, Spanish Deist, whom we saw walk in and pollute our streets) men that out of sullenness or affection are habited as the Gibeonites were out of craft; so there are spiritually such, natural men, yea natural fools, that please themselves in a false constancy, and brag they are no changelings, whose glory is their shame, whose end (if they go on so) is damnation. Let the great Bridegroom come in, and find one of these crept into his Feast, he shall be sure to send him out with a mischief; How camest thou in hither? Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into utter darkness, there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth, Mat. 22. 13. Away with this frippery of our Nature. Old things are passed: if ever we look to have any party in God, in Heaven, we must be changed.  
But secondly, every change will not serve the turn. The word is not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 alteration, nor 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, but Metamorphosis; a word whose sound we are better acquainted with then the sense: the meaning is, There must be a change in our very form. There is no motion, no action we pass through without a change; as there is no step wherein we change not our Meridian, so there is no act which works not some mutation in us. But there are slight changes, wherein the places, habits, actions vary, without any change of the form; as Caelum, non animum, was an old word; and we know the Body is the same, whiles the Suits are divers. And again, there are changes that reach to the very forms, whence all actions arise; as when of evil we are made good, of carnal spiritual: This is the Metamorphosis that is here called for. Indeed it hath been a not more ancient than true observation, that the change of some things makes all things seem changed: as when a man comes into an house wherein the partitions are pulled down, the roof raised up, the floor paved, bay-windows set out, the outside rough-cast, he shall think all the frame new, and yet the old foundation, beams, studs, roof stand still; so it is here, the very substance of the Soul holds still, but the Dispositions and qualities and the very cast of it are altered, as when a round piece of past is form into a square; or, which is the highest of all patterns, as our Blessed Saviour was transformed in the Mount Tabor. His Deity was the same, his Humanity the same, the same Soul, the same body; yet he was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, (it is the very word that the Holy Ghost uses both there and here) in that the Deity did put a glorious splendour upon his humane body which before it had not. Thus it must be in our Transformation, onwards; the Spirit of God doth thus alter us through Grace, whiles we are yet for essence the same. Can a Leopard change his spots, or a Blackmore his skin? saith the Prophet. See, I beseech you, how this change is not easy, though not substantial. The spots are not of the essence of that beast; the blackness is not of the essence of an Aethiopian: yet how hard these are to put off, we know.  
Our Mythologists tell us of many strange Metamorphoses, of men turned into Beasts, Birds, Trees; wherein doubtless they had moral allusions: Let me tell you of a Metamorphosis as strange as theirs, and as true as theirs fabulous. They tell us of men turned into Swine by Circe; I tell you of Swine turned into men, when Drunkards and obscene persons turn sober and well-governed. They tell you of men turned into Stones, and of stones turned into men, immediately upon their Deluge; I tell you that of very stones Sons are raised up to Abraham. They tell us of a Lycaon turned into a Wolf; I tell you of a Wolf turned into a man, when a ravenous Oppressor turns merciful. They tell us of men turned into Oaks and Rocks; I tell you of the oaky, rocky, flinty hearts of men turned into flesh, as Ezekiel speaks. They tell us of an Actaeon turned into the beast which he loved to hunt, and devoured of those beasts wherewith he was wont to hunt; I tell you of a voluptuous beast abandoning those pleasures which had wont to spend him. They tell us of a self-loving man turned to a Flower; I tell you of a fading transitory creature changed into the image of the Son of God. They tell us of a Proteus turned into all forms; I tell you of a man of all hours, all companies, all religions, turned into a constant Confessor and Martyr for the name of Christ. They tell us, lastly, of their Jupiter and other Deities turned into the shape of beasts, for the advantage of their Lust; I tell of men naturally of a bestial disposition made the Sons of God, partakers of the Divine nature, as the Apostle speaketh. These changes are not imaginary, as in the case of lycanthropy and delusions of juggling Sorcerers, but real and unfeigned; truly wrought by God, truly felt by us, truly seen by others. Not that we can always judge of these things by the mere outsides: for even Satan himself is transformed into an Angel of light; neither do any faces look fairer than the painted: But ex fructibus is the rule of our Saviour, that will try out the truth of all our Transformations. Let us not flatter ourselves, (Honourable & beloved) we are all born Wolves, Bears, Tigers, Swine, one beast or other: It must needs be a notable change if of beasts we become men, of men Saints. Thus it must be, else we are not transformed.  
Neither is this transformation real only, but total, not resting in the parts, but enlarged to the whole person: and therefore the charge is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Be ye transformed; not some pieces of you, but the whole. There are those which are changed in the face (that look civil at least, if not Saintlike;) but their mouths are full of cursing, and bitterness, and blasphemies. There are those whose tongues are smooth-filed, abounding not only with plausible words, but holy and seemingly gracious too; when their right hand is a right hand of wickedness. If they have the faces and tongues of men, they have the talons of Grisons, full of rapine, cruelty, oppression. There are those whose one half (the upper part) is man, the lower is still, Centaur-like, no other, no better than beast; as if, according to that old foolish Heresy, God had not made both. There are those whose hands are white, and clean from bribes, from extortion; but their feet are yet swift to shed blood upon their own private revenge. Let not these men say they are transformed. Let the first say their face is changed; let the next say their tongue is changed; let the other say their breasts or hands are changed: but unless face, and tongue, and breast, and hand, and foot, and all be changed, the man is not changed. God be merciful to us; the world is full of such monsters of Hypocrisy, who care only for an appearing change of some eminent and noted part, neglecting the whole: as some sorry Taphouse white-limes and glazes the front towards the street, and sets out a painted sign, when there is nothing in the inward parts but sticks, and clay, and ruins, and cold earthen floors, and fluttery. This is to no purpose. If any piece of us be unchanged, we are still our old selves, odious to God, obnoxious to death.  
But (as all motions have their terms) what is that into which we must be transformed? I see transformations enough every where; God knows, too many. I see zealous Professors transformed to key-cold worldlings, reformed Catholics turned to Romish Factionists: I see men transformed into women, in their effeminate dispositions and demeanours; women transformed to men, in their affectation of masculine boldness and fashions: I see men and women transformed into Beasts of all kinds; some into drunken Swine, others into cruel Tigers, others into rank Goats, others into mimic Apes; yea I see those beasts transformed again into Devils, in the delight they take in sin, in their mischievous tempting of others to sin. All these are transformed so as it is, from good to ill, from bad to worse; so transformed that, as Cypran said of painted faces, it is no marvel if God know them not, for they have made themselves quite other from what he made them. That whereinto we must be transformed, is the image of God, 2 Cor. 3. 18. consisting in holiness and righteousness, Ephes. 4. 24. That Image we once had and lost; and now must recover by our transformation. Oh blessed change, that of the Sons of men, we become the children of the everliving God; of the firebrands of hell (such we are naturally) we become the heirs of Heaven! That as the eternal Son of God, having the form of God, did yet graciously change this glorious habit for the form of a servant; so we that are the sons of men, should change the servile form of our wretched nature into the Divine form of the Son of God This is a change not more happy than needful. It was another change that Job said he would wait for: but of this change we must say, I will not suffer mine eyes to sleep nor mine eyelids to slumber, until an happy change have wrought this heart of mine (which by Nature is no better than a sty of unclean devils) to be an habitation for the God of Jacob. Woe be to the man whose last change overtakes him ere this change be wrought in him. There is nothing more wretched than a mere man. We may brag what we will, how noble a creature man is above all the rest; how he is the Lord of the world, a world within himself, the mirror of Majesty, the visible model of his Maker: but let me tell you, if we be but men, it had been a thousand times better for us to have been the worst of beasts. Let it not seem to savour of any Misanthropie to say, that as all those things which are perfections in creatures are eminently in God, so all the vicious dispositions of the creature are eminently in man: in that debauched and abused Reason is the quintessence of all Bestiality. What speak I of these silly brutes? In this straight triangle of man's Heart there is a full Conclave of Cardinal wickednesses, an Incorporation of Cheaters, a Goal of Malefactors, yea a legion of Devils. Seest thou then the most loathsome Toad that crawls upon the earth, or the most despised Dog that creeps under thy feet? thou shalt once envy their condition, if thou be not more than a man. Thou seest the worst of them, thou canst not conceive the worst of thine own. For flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; and fares canes, without shall be Dogs, Revel. 22. 15. When they shall be vanished into their first nothing, thou shalt be ever dying in those unquenchable flames, which shall torment thee so much the more, as thou hadst more Wit and Reason without Grace. But oh, what a woeful thing it is to consider, and how may we bemoan ourselves to Heaven and earth, that yet men will not be transformed? All the menaces, all the terrors of God cannot move men from what they are; but he that is filthy will be filthy still. In spite of both Law and Gospel, men have obdured their selves against the counsel of God: they have an iron neck, Esa. 48. 4. an uncircumcised care, Jer. 6. 10. a brawny heart, Mark 3. 5. Say God and man what they will, these enchanted creatures will rather be beasts still, then return to men. If we will not change, be sure God will not; He hath said it, and he will perform it, After thine hardness and heart that cannot repent, thou treasurest up unto thyself wrath against the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgement of God, Rom. 2. 5. Far, far be this obstinacy from us (Honourable and beloved.) For God's sake, for your Soul's sake yield yourselves willingly into the hands of God, and say, Convert me, O Lord, and I shall be converted. As we love ourselves, and fear hell, let us not content ourselves with the shape, with the faculties of men, but let us be transformed; and think that we were only made men, that we might pass through the estate of humanity to Regeneration. This for the Transformation: See now that this transformation must be by Renewing.  
The same Spirit that by Solomon said, There is nothing new under the Sun, saith by S. Paul, All things are become new. Nothing is so new that it hath not been: All things must be so new as they were. This 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 renovation, implies that which once was, and therefore was new before. That God who is the Ancient of days, doth not dislike any thing for mere Age; for Time is his: and continuance of Time is so much more excellent as it comes nearer to the duration of Eternity. Old age is a crown of glory. Neither is aught old in relation to God, but to us; neither is age faulty in respect of Nature, but of corruption: for as that word of Tertullian is true, Primum verum, the first is true; so may I as truly say, Primum bonum, the first is good. Only now, as our Nature stands depraved, our Old man is the body of corruptions, which we brought with us, and carry about us; and there can be no safety, unless we be transformed by renovation. Behold, God says, I make all things new, a new Heaven and a new earth, Esay 65. 17. The year renews; and to morrow (we say) is a new day: we renew our clothes when they are worn, our leases when they grow towards expiring; only our hearts we care not to renew. If all the rest were old, so that our Heart were new, it were nothing. Nothing but the main of all is neglected. What should I need any other motives to you then the view of the estate of both these? Look first at the old; Put off, concerning the former conversation, the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, Ephes. 4. 22. Lo, the old man is corrupt; this is enough to cashier him: what man can abide to carry rotten flesh about him? If but a wound fester and gather dead flesh, we draw it, we corrode it, till it be clear at the bottom. Those that make much of their old man, do, like that monstrous twin, willingly carry about a dead half of themselves, whose noisomeness doth torment and kill the living. Look at the new; Being freed from sin, and made servants to God, ye have your fruit in holiness, and the end everlasting life, Rom. 6. 22. Holiness is a lovely thing of itself: there is a beauty of Holiness, Gloria Sanctitatis, as the Vulgar turns it, Psal. 144. and goodness doth amply reward itself: Yet this Holiness hath besides infinite recompense attending it. Holiness is life begun; eternal life is the consummation of Holiness: Holiness is but the way; the end whereto it leads is everlasting life. As therefore we would avoid the annoyance and danger of our sinful corruptions, as we would ever aspire to true and endless blessedness, Oh let us be transformed by renewing. But how is this renewing wrought, and wherein doth it consist? Surely as there are three ways whereby we receive a new being, by Creation, by Generation, by Resuscitation: so according to all these is our spiritual renewing; it is by Creation, Whosoever is in Christ is a new Creature, 2 Cor. 5. 17. it is by Regeneration, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God, Joh. 3. 3. it is by Resuscitation, Even when we were dead in sins, hath he quickened us together with Christ, Ephes. 2. 5. From whence arises this double Corollary.  
1. That we can give (of ourselves) no active power to the first act of our Conversion; no more than Adam did to his first Creation, no more than the child doth to his own Conception, no more than the dead man to his raising from the grave.  
2. That there must be a Privation of our old corrupt forms, and a reducing us from our either nothing, or worse, to an estate of Holiness and new Obedience. This is that which is every where set forth unto us by the Mortification of our earthly members, and putting off the old man, on the one part; and by the first resurrection, and putting on the new, on the other. Nothing is more familiar than these resemblances. But of all Similes, none doth so fitly (methinks) express the manner of this renewing as that of the Snake, which by leaving his old slough in the straits of the Rock, glides forth glib and nimble. I remember Holcot urges the Similitude thus; 
In librum Sapientia.  To turn off the Snakes skin (saith he) two things are requisite. The first is, foraminis angustia, the straightness of the passage; else he must needs draw the old skin through with him: the latter is stabilitas saxi, the firmness of the stone; else in stead of leaving the skin he shall draw the stone away with him. So must it be in the business of our renovation: First, we must pass through the straight way of due Penitence; secondly, we must hold the firm and stable purpose of our perseverance in good. True sorrow and contrition of heart must begin the work, and then an unmoved constancy of endeavour must finish it. Whosoever thou art therefore, if thy heart have not been touched, yea torn and rend in pieces, with a sound Humiliation for thy sins, the old slough is still upon thy back; thou art not yet come within the ken of true Renovation. Or if thou be gone so far, as that the skin begins to reave up a little in a serious grief for thy sins, yet if thy resolutions be not steadily settled and thine endeavours bend to go through with that holy work, thou comest short of thy renewing; thine old loose film of corruption shall so cumber thee, that thou shalt never be able to pass on smoothly in the ways of God.  
But because now we have a conceit that man (as we say of fish) unless he be new, is naught; every man is ready to challenge this honour of being renewed: and certainly there may be much deceit this way. We have seen plate or other vessels that have looked like new, when they have been but new guilded or burnished; we have seen old faces that have counterfeited a youthly smoothness and vigorous complexion; we have seen Hypocrites act every part of renovation, as if they had fall'n from Heaven. Let us therefore take a trial by those proofs of examination that cannot fail us: And they shall be fetched from those three ways of our renewing which we have formerly specified.  
If we be renewed by Creation, here must be a clean Heart. Cor mundum crea, saith the Psalmist, Psal. 51. 10. For as at the first God looked on all his works, and found them very good; so still, no work of his can be other then like himself, holy and perfect. If thy heart therefore be still full of unclean thoughts, wanton desires, covetousness, ambition, profaneness, it is thine old heart of Satan's marring: it is no new heart of God's making; for nothing but clean can come from under his hands. But if we plead the closeness of the heart, which may therefore seem impervious even to our own eyes, see what the Apostle saith, Ephes. 2. 10. We are his workmanship created unto good works. The cleanness of the heart will show itself in the goodness of the Hands. But if our hands may deceive us, as nothing is more easily counterfeited then a good action, yet our Feet will not, I mean the trade of our ways. That therefore from our Creation we may look to our Regeneration; if we be the sons of God, we are renewed: and how shall it appear whether we be the sons of God? It is a golden Rule, Whosoever are led by the Spirit of God, they are the Sons of God, Rom. 8. 14. Yet if in both of these life could be counterfeited, death cannot. That therefore from our Creation and Regeneration we may look to our Resuscitation, and from thence back to our grave; Mortify your members which are on earth, Col. 3. 5. There is a death of this body of sin, and what manner of death? Those that are Christ's, have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts, Gal. 5. 24. Lo, as impossible as it is for a dead man to come down from his gibbet, or up from his coffin, and to do the works of his former life; so impossible it is that a renewed man should do the old works of his unregeneration. If therefore you find your Hearts unclean, your Hands idle and unprofitable, your Ways crooked and unholy, your Corruptions alive and lively, never pretend any renewing; you are the old men still; and however ye may go for Christains, yet ye have denied the power of Christianity in your lives: and if ye so continue, the fire of Hell shall have so much more power over you, for that it finds the Baptismal water upon your faces.  
Our last head is the subject of this Renewing, The Mind. There are that would have this Renovation proper to the inferior (which is the affective) part of the Soul; as if the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as they call it, the supreme powers of that Divine part needed it no●. These are met with here by out-Apostle, who placeth this renewing upon the Mind. There are contrarily that so appropriate this renewing to the Mind, which is the highest lost of the Soul, as that they diffuse it not to the lower rooms, nor to the our houses of the body; as if only the Soul were capable as of Sin, so of Regeneration. Both these shoot too short, and must know that as the Mind, so not the Mind only, must be renewed. That part is mentioned not by way of exclusion, but of principality. It is the man that must be renewed; not one piece of him. Except ye please to say according to that old Philosophical Adage, The Mind is the man; and the Body, as the wisest Ethnic had wont to say, nothing but the Case of that rich Jewel. To say as it is, the most Saintlike Philosophy was somewhat injurious in disparaging the outward man. Whatever they thought, this Body is not the hung-by, but the partner of the Soul; no less interessed in the man then that Spirit that animates it, no less open to the inhabitation of God's Spirit, no less free of Heaven. Man therefore that is made of two parts, must be renewed in both: but as in the first birth whole man is born, only the Body is seen; so in the second, whole man is renewed, only the Soul is instanced in. Our Apostle puts both together, 1 Thes. 5. 23. The God of peace sanctify you wholly, that your whole spirit and soul and body may be preserved blameless to the coming of our Lord Jesus. Why then is the Mind thus specified? Because it is the best part, because as it enlivens and moves, so it leads the rest. If the Mind therefore be renewed, it boots not to urge the renovation of the body. For as in Nature we are wont to say, that the Soul follows the temperature of the Body; so in Spiritual things we say rather more truly, that the Body follows the temper and guidance of the Soul. These two companions, as they shall be once inseparable in their final condition, so they are now in their present dispositions. Be renewed therefore in your Minds, and, if you can, hold off your earthly parts. No more can the Body live without the Soul, than the Soul can be renewed without the Body.  
First then the Mind, than the Body. All defilement is by an extramission (as our Saviour tells us.) That which goeth into the body defileth not the man; so as the spring of corruption is within. That must be first cleansed, else in vain do we scour the channels. Ye shall have some Hypocrites that pretend to begin their renewing from without. On foul hands they will wear white Gloves; on foul hearts, clean hands, and then all is well. Away with these Pharisaical dishes, filthy within, clean without, fit only for the service of unclean Devils. To what purpose is it to lick over the skin with precious oil, if the Liver be corrupted, the Lungs rotten? To what purpose is it to crop the top of the weeds, when the root and stalk remains in the earth? Pretend what you will, all is old, all is naught, till the Mind be renewed.  
Neither is the Body more renewed without the Mind, than the renewing of the Mind can keep itself from appearing in the renewing of the Body. The Soul lies close, and takes advantage of the secrecy of that Cabinet whereof none but God keeps the Key; and therefore may pretend anything: we see the man, the Soul we cannot see; but by that we see we can judge of that we see not.  
He is no Christian that is not renewed; and he is worse than a beast that is no Christian. Every man therefore lays claim to that renovation whereof he cannot be convinced; yea there want not those, who though they have a ribaldish tongue and a bloody hand, yet will challenge as good a Soul as the best. Hypocrite, when the Conduit-head is walled in, how shall we judge of the spring, but by the water that comes out of the pipes? Corrupt nature hath taught us so much craft as to set the best side outward. If therefore thou have obscene lips, if bribing and oppressing hands, if a gluttonous tooth, a drunken gullet, a lewd conversation, certainly the Soul can be no other than abominably filthy: It may be worse than it appears, better it cannot lightly be. The Mind than leads the Body, the Body descries the Mind; both of them at once are old, or both at once new. For us, as we bear the face of Christians, and profess to have received both Souls and Bodies from the same hand, and look that both Bodies and Souls shall once meet in the same Glory, let it be the top of all our care, that we may be transformed in the renewing of our minds; and let the renewing of our Minds bewray itself in the renewing of our Bodies. Wherefore have we had the powerful Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ so long amongst us, if we be still ourselves? What hath it wrought upon us, if we be not changed? Never tell me of a Popish Transubstantiation of men; of an invisible, insensible, unfeisible change of the person, whiles the species of his outward life and carriage are still the same. These are but false Hypocritical juggle to mock fools withal. If we be transformed and renewed, let it be so done, that not only our own eyes and hands may see and feel it, but others too; that the bystanders may say, How is this man changed from himself? He was a blasphemous Swearer, a profane Scoffer at goodness; now he speaks with an awful reverence of God and holy things: He was a Luxurious wanton; now he possesseth his vessel in Holiness and honour: He was an unconscionable Briber, and abettor of unjust causes; now the world cannot see him to speak for wrong: He was a wild roaring Swaggerer; now he is a sober Student: He was a Devil; now he is a Saint. Oh let this day (if we have so long deferred it) be the day of the renovation, of the purification of our Souls. And let us begin with a sound humiliation, and true sorrow for our former and present wickednesses. It hath been an old (I say not how true) note that hath been went to be set on this day, that if it be clear and sun-shinie, it portends an bard weather to come; if cloudy and louring, a mild and gentle season ensuing. Let me apply this to a spiritual use, and assure every hearer, that if we overcast this day with the clouds of our sorrow and the rain of our penitent tears, we shall find a sweet and hopeful season all our life after. Oh let us renew our Covenants with God, that we will now be renewed in our Minds. The comfort and gain of this change shall be our own, whiles the honour of it is Gods and the Gospels; for this gracious change shall be followed with a glorious. Onwards, this only shall give us true peace of Conscience; only upon this shall the Prince of this world find nothing in us: How should he, when we are changed from our selves? And when we shall come to the last change of all things, even when the Heavens and Elements shall be on a flame, and shall melt about our ears, the Conscience of this change shall lift up our heads with joy, and shall give our renewed Souls an happy entry into that new Heaven: Or, when we shall come to our own last change, in the dissolution of these earthly Tabernacles, it shall bless our Souls with the assurance of unchangeable happiness, and shall bid our renewed bodies lie down in peace, and in a sweet expectation of being changed to the likeness of the glorious body of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of an eternal participation of his infinite glory. Whereto he who ordained us graciously bring us, even for the merits of his Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ, the Just: To whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be all Praise, Honour and Glory, now and for ever. Amen.   

THE FALL of PRIDE; Out of PROVERBS 29. vers. 23.  By Jos. HALL.. PROV. 29. vers. 23. A man's Pride shall bring him low; but Honour shall uphold the humble in spirit. 
THat which was the ordinary Apophthegm of a greater than Solomon, (He that exalteth himself shall be brought low, but he that humbleth himself shall be exalted, which our Saviour used thrice in terminis, oft in sense) is here the Aphorism of wise Solomon. Neither is it ill guessed by learned Mercerus, that our Saviour in that speech of his alludes hither.  
I need not tell you how great, how wise Solomon was. The Great are wont to be most haunted with pride; the Wise can best see the danger of that Pride which haunts the great: Great and wise Solomon therefore makes it one of his chief common-places, the crying down of Pride: a Vice not more general than dangerous; 
Ecclus. 10. 13.  as that which his witty Imitator can tell us is initium omnis peccati, the beginning of all sin. Now Pride can never be so much spighted as by honouring her contemned rival, Humility. Nothing could so much vex that insolent Agagite, as to be made a Lackey to a despised Jew. Besides her own portion therefore, which is Ruin, Solomon torments her with the advancement of her abased Opposite.  
My Text then is like unto Shushan, in the streets whereof Honour is proclaimed to an humble Mordecai; in the Palace whereof is erected an engine of death to a proud Haman; A man's Pride shall bring him low; but Honour shall uphold the humble.  
The Propositions are Antithetical; wherein Pride is opposed to Humility, Honour to Ruin. Hear, I beseech you, how wise Solomon hath learned of his Father David to sing of Mercy and Judgement: Judgement to the Proud, Mercy to the Humble; both together with one breath. The Judgement to the Proud is their humbling; the Mercy to the Humble is their raising to Honour.  
It is the noted course of God to work still by contraries: as indeed this is the just praise of Omnipotence, to fetch light out of darkness, life out of death, order out of confusion, Heaven out of Hell, honour out of humility, humiliation out of pride; according to that of the sacred Way-maker of Christ, Every hill shall be cast down, every valley raised. But in this particular above all other; he delights to cross and abase the Proud, to advance the Humble, as blessed Mary in her Magnificat, to pull down the mighty from their seat, and to exalt the humble and meek. For God hath a special quarrel to the Proud as those that do more nearly contest with his Majesty, and scramble with him for his Glory. He knows the Proud afar off, and hath a special favour in store for the Humble, as those that are vessels most capable of his Mercy, because they are empty. This in common: we descend to the several parts.  
The Judgement begins first, as that which is fit to make way for Mercy. Therein there are two strains; one is the Sin, the other is the Punishment. The Sin is a man's Pride. A man's, not for the distinction of one Sex from another, but First, for the comprehension of both Sexes under one. The Woman was first proud, and it sticks by her ever since: She is none of the daughters of Eve that inherits not her childs-part in this sin. Neither is this Feminine Pride less odious, less dangerous. Rather the weakness of the Sex gives power and advantage to the vice; as the fagot-stick will sooner take fire then the log.  
Secondly, for the intimation of the reflex action of Pride. A man's Pride therefore is the Pride of himself. Indeed the whole endeavour, study, care of the proud man, is the hoising of himself; yea, this Himself is the adequate subject of all sinful desires. What doth the Covetous labour but to enrich himself? the Voluptuous but to delight himself? the Proud but to exalt himself? whether in contempt of others, or in competition with God himself. For Pride hath a double cast of her eye; downwards to other men in scorn, upwards to God in a rivalty. To men first, as the proud Pharisee, I am not as others, nor as this Publican. He thinks he is made of better clay than the common lump; it is others happiness to serve him. He magnifies every act that falls from him, as that proud Nabuchadnezzar, Is not this great Babel that I have built? yea his own very excretions are sweet and fragrant, whiles the perfumes of others are rank and ill-sented.  
To God, secondly. For whereas Piety makes God our Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end; the beginning to which we ascribe all, the end whereto we refer all: the Proud man makes himself his own Alpha, thanks himself for all; makes himself his own Omega, seeks himself in all; begins at himself, ends at himself.  
Which must needs be so much more odious to God, as it conforms us more to the enemy of God, of whom we say commonly, As proud as the Devil. For that once-glorious Angel looking upon his own excellency wherewith he was invested in his creation, began to be lift up in himself, made himself his own Alpha and Omega, acknowledging no essential dependence upon God as his beginning, no necessary reference to God as his end; and therefore was tumbled down into that bottomless dungeon, and reserved in everlasting chains of darkness unto the judgement of the great day. This is it which some think Saint Paul alludes to, when he charges that a Bishop should not be a novice, left he should be puffed up, and fall 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, into the condemnation of the Devil, 1 Tim. 3. 6.  
Now there are so many kinds of Pride as there are imaginary causes of self-exaltation; and there are so many causes imagined hereof, as there are things reputed more precious and excellent in the eyes of the world. I might send you to Hugoes Chariot of Pride, drawn with four horses, (that Age knew no more) and the four wheels of it, if I listed to mount Pride curiously: but I will show you her on foot. To speak plainly therefore, These five things are wont commonly to be the matter of our Pride, Honour, Riches, Beauty, Strength, Knowledge. Every of them shall have a word.  
Those that are tainted with the first, are State-proud; Bladders puffed up with the wind of Honour. Thus Ninive, Behold I sit as a Queen; I am, and there is none else: Thus the insolent officer of Sennacherib, Who art thou, that thou despisest the least of my Master's servants? Vicina potentibus superbia, as that Father said, Pride is an usual neighbour to greatness. How hard is it for eminent Persons, when they see all heads bare, all knees bowed to them, not to be raised up in their conceits, not to applaud their own glory, and to look overly upon the ignoble multitude, as those which are Terrae filii, mushrooms, worthy of nothing but contempt? Hence it is that proud ones are incompatible with each other. Look upon other Vices, ye shall see one Drunkard hug another, one debauched Wanton love another, one Swearer, one Profane beast delight in another: but one Proud man cannot abide another; as one twig cannot bear two Redbreasts. Both would be best: Caesar will not endure an equal, nor Pompey a superior.  
The second are Purse-proud. Vermis divitiarum superbia, as St. Austin wittily, Pride is in the Purse, as the worm in the Apple. Thus Nabal, because he hath money in his bags and stock on his ground, sends a scornful message to poor David, though a better man than himself; Many servants run away from their Masters now adays. How many examples meet us every where of this kind; of them which having scraped together a little money more than their neighbours, look big upon it, and scorn the need of the better deserving, and bluster like a tempest, and think to bear down even good causes before them? Secundas fortunas decent superbiae, as the Comedian, Pride becomes the wealthy. Thus Solomon notes in his time that the rich speaks with commands; the words weigh according to the Purse.  
The third are the Skin-proud; for Beauty goes no deeper: such as with Jezebel lick themselves, and with Narcissus dote upon their own Faces; thinking it a wrong in any that sees them, and admires them not; spending all their thoughts and their time in fashions and complexion, as if their Soul lay in their hide; despising the ordinary forms of vulgar persons, yea of the most beneficial nature. Elatus erat animus tuus propter pulcritudinem, Thine heart was lifted up because of thy beauty, saith Ezekiel 28. 17.  
The fourth are the Sinew-proud, which presume upon their own Strength and vigour. Elatum cor robore, says the same Ezekiel 28. 5. As Goliath, who dares in the confidence of his own arm challenge the whole host of God, and scorns the dwarves and shrimps of Israel.  
The fifth is the Skill-proud, puffed up with the conceit of Knowledge; as Knowledge is indeed of a swelling nature. There is much affinity betwixt Knowledge and Pride: both came out of one Country; for Pride is also natione coelestis, as Hierom well: and since she cannot climb up thither again, she will be mounting as high as she can towards it.  
Every smatterer thinks all the Circle of Arts confined to the closet of his breast; and, as Job speaks of his haughty friends, that all wisdom lives in him, and dies with him. Hence is that curiosity of knowing vain quirks of speculation; hence singularity of opinion hating to go in the common tract; hence impatience of contradiction; hence contempt of the mediocrity of others. Out of this impatience Zidkijah could smite Michaiah on the ear, and, as buffeting him double, say, Which way went the Spirit of God from me to thee? Out of this contempt the Scribes and Pharisees could say, Turba haec, this Laity, that knows not the Law, is accursed.  
But besides these five a man may be proud of any thing, yea of nothing, yea of worse than nothing, Evil. There may be as much Pride in rags as in tissues. Diogenes tramples upon Plato's pride, but with another pride. And we commonly observe, that none are so proud as the foulest. In what kind soever it be, the more a man reflects upon himself, by seeking, loving, admiring, the more proud he is, the more damnable is his Pride. But as in all other cases Pride is odious to God; so most of all in point of Religion, and in those matters wherein we have to do with God. A proud face, or a proud back, or a proud arm, or a proud purse are hateful things: but a proud Religion is so much worse as the subject should be better. Let this then be the just 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or Test of true or false Religion; That which teacheth us to exalt God most, and most to depress ourselves, is the true: that which doth most prank up ourselves and detract from God, is the false. It was the rule of Bonaventure, whom the Romanists honour for a Saint, Hoc piarum mentium est, etc. This is the part of pious Souls, to ascribe nothing to themselves, all to the Grace of God. So as how much soever a man attributes to the Grace of God, he shall not swerve from Piety in detracting from Nature; but if he subtract never so little from the Grace of God, and give it to Nature, he endangers himself, and offends.  
In the safety of this proof our Doctrine triumphs over the Romish in all those Points wherein it opposeth ours. Ours stands ever on God's side, exalting his free Grace and mere Mercy as the causes of our Salvation; theirs dividing this great work betwixt God and themselves, God's Grace and man's freewill, and ascribing that to Merit which we to Mercy. Herein Popery is pure Pharisaisme, and comes within the verge of Spiritual Pride, Solomon's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Insolent men, that will be climbing to Heaven by ladders of their own making, with Acesius in Jerome! what other issue can they expect from the jealous God but a fearful precipitation? Neither doubt I but this is one main ground of the Angel's proclamation in the Apocalypse, Cecidit, cecidit Babylon, It is fallen, it is fallen, Babylon the great City.  
Thus from the Sin, which is Pride, we descend to the Punishment, which is Ruin; A man's Pride shall bring him low. How can a bladder sink? Yet Pride, though it be light in respect of the inflation, is heavy in respect of the offence: The guiltiness is as a millstone to which it is tied, that will bear it down to the bottom of the deep. As therefore there is a reflex action in the Sin, so is there in the Punishment; it shall ruin itself. No other hands shall need to be used in the Judgement besides her own. As the lightning hath ever a spite at the high spires and tall pines, striking them down or firing them, when the shrubs and cottages stand untouched: so hath the God that made it, at a self-advanced Greatness; whether out of a scorn of rivality, or a just punishment of theft; for the Proud man both in a cursed emulation makes himself his own Deity, and steals glory from God to set out himself. For both these, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 saith our Saviour; he shall be brought down saith Solomon. Down, whither? to the dust, to Hell; by others, by God himself, temporally here, eternally hereafter. Insomuch as Aesop himself (we have it in Stobaeus) when he was asked what God did, answers, Excelsa deprimit, extollit humilia. Besides the odionsness of a proud man amongst men, commonly God is even with him here. How many have we known that have been fastidious of their Diet, which have come to leap at a crust, to beg their bread, yea to rob the hogs with the Prodigal? How many that have been proud of their Beauty have been made (ere they died) the loathsome spectacles of deformity? That of Esay strikes home, Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched-out necks and wanton eyes, etc. Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughter of Zion, Esay 3. 16. How many, that from the height of their overweening have been brought to Benhadad's halter, or have been turned to graze with Nabuchadnezzar? The Lord roots up the house of the proud, Prov. 15. 25. But if they escape here (as sometimes they do) hereafter they shall not: For the proud man is an abomination to the Lord, Prov. 16. 5. God cannot endure him, Ps. 101. 5. And what of that? Tu perdes superbos, Thou shalt destroy the proud, Ps. 119. 21. The very Heathens devised the proud Giants struck with thunder from Heaven. And if God spared not the Angels whom he placed in the highest Heavens, but for their pride threw them down headlong to the nethermost hell; how much less shall he spare the proud dust and ashes of the sons of men, and shall cast them from the height of their earthly altitude to the bottom of that infernal dungeon? Humility makes men Angels, Pride made Angels Devils, as that Father said; I may well add, makes Devils of men. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, says the Heathen Poet Menander, Never soul escaped the revenge of Pride, never shall escape it. So sure as God is just, Pride shall not go unpunished. I know now we are all ready to call for a Basin, with Pilate, and to wash our hands from this foul sin. Honourable and beloved, this Vice is a close one, it will cleave fast to you; yea so close, that ye can hardly discern it from a piece of yourselves: this is it that aggravates the danger of it. For, as Aquinas notes well, some sins are more dangerous propter vehementiam impugnationis, for the fury of their assault, as the sin of Anger; others for their correspondence to Nature, as the sins of Lust; others propter latentiam sui, for their close skulking in our bosom, as this sin of Pride. Oh let us look seriously into the corners of our false hearts, even with the Lantern of God's Law, and find out this subtle Devil; and never give peace to our Souls till we have dispossessed him. Down with your proud plumes, O ye glorious Peacocks of the World; look upon your black legs and your snakelike head; be ashamed of your miserable infirmities: else God will down with them and yourselves in a fearful vengeance. There is not the holiest of us but is this way faulty: Oh let us be humbled by our Repentance, that we may not be brought down to everlasting confusion; let us be cast down upon our knees, that we may not be cast down upon our faces. For God will make good his own word one way, A man's pride shall bring him low.  
The sweeter part of this Ditty follows, which is of Mercy; Mercy which hath two strains also, the Grace, the Reward. The gracious disposition, (for a Virtue properly it is not) is Humility, expressed here in the Subject, The humble in spirit. Not he that is forcibly humbled by others, whether God or man; (so a wicked Ahab may walk softly and droop for the time, and be never the better: What thank is it if we bow when God sets his foot upon us?) but he that is voluntarily humble in spirit. And yet there are also vicious kinds of this self-humility.  
As first, when man having only God supra se, and therefore owing religious worship to him alone, worship's Angels or Saints that are but juxta se. It is the charge that S. Paul gives to his Colossians, Let no man deceive you in a voluntary humility, and worshipping of Angels: much less than of stocks and stones. These very walls, if they had eyes and tongues, could testify full many of these impious and Idolatrous cringes and prostrations. So as if wood or stone could be capable of pollution, here was enough; till this abused frame was happily washed by the clear streams of the Gospel, and re-sanctified by the Word and Prayer. This is a Superstitious Humility.  
2. When a man basely subjects himself to serve the humours of the Great by gross supparasitation, by either unjust or unfit actions and offices; yielding himself a slave to the Times, a pander to Vice. This is a Servile Humility.  
3. When a man affects a courteous affability and lowly carriage for ostentation, for advantage; or when a man buries himself alive in an homely cowl, in a pretence of mortification; as if he went out of the world, when the world is within him. To be proud of Humility, as a Father said well, is worse than to be superciliously and openly proud. This is an Hypocritical Humility.  
4. When out of pusillanimity or inordinateness a man prostitutes himself to those unworthy conditions and actions of sinful pleasure that mis-beseem a man, a Christian. This is a Brutish Humility. All these self-humiliations are thankless and faulty. It will be long enough ere the Superstitious, Servile, Hypocritical, Brutish Humility shall advance us other then to the scaffold of our execution.  
The True Humility is, when a man is modestly lowly in his own eyes, and sincerely abased in his heart and carriage before God. And this self-humiliation is either in respect of Temporal or Spiritual things. Of Temporal, when a man thinks any condition good enough for him; and therefore doth not unduly intrude himself into the preferments of the world, whether in Church or Commonwealth. When he thinks meanly of his own parts and actions, highly and reverently of others; and therefore in giving honour goes before others, in taking it behind them.  
Of Spiritual, when he is vile in himself, especially in respect of his sins, and therefore abhors himself in sackcloth and ashes: when the Grace that he hath he can acknowledge, but not over-rate; yea he takes it so low as he may do without wrong to the giver: when for all Blessings he can awfully look up to his Creator and Redeemer, ascribing all to him, referring all to him, depending for all upon him; so much more magnifying the Mercy of God, as he is more sensible of his own Unworthiness.  
This is the true, though short, character of Humility. A plain Grace, ye see, but lovely. From which let it please you to turn your eyes to the Blessing allotted to it: which is so expressed in the Original, that it may either run, The humble in spirit shall enjoy honour, as in the former Translation; or, Honour shall uphold the humble in spirit, as in the latter. In both, Honour is the portion of the humble; for the raising of him in the one, for the preserving of him in the other.  
Honour, from whom? From God, from men. Even the good man of the house will say, Friend, sit up higher. For though with vain men he is most set by that can most set our himself: yet with the wiser, the more a man dejects himself, the more he is honoured. It cannot stand with the justice of the truly-vertuous to suffer a man to be a loser by his Humility: Much less will God abide it. A broken heart, O God, thou wilt not despise, saith the Psalmist; and, Pullati extolluntur salute, The mourners are exalted with safety, saith Eliphaz in Job 5. 11. The Lord lifteth up the meek, saith David, out of good proof; and needs must he rise whom God lifteth. What should we need any other precedent of this Virtue, or other example of this Reward, than our Blessed Saviour himself? all other are worthy of forgetfulness in comparison: Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, etc. and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the Cross. O God, what an incomprehensible dejection was here! that the living God should descend from the highest Glory of Heaven, and put upon him the rags of our Humanity; and take on him not the man only, but the servant, yea the malefactor; abasing himself to our infirmities, to our indignities, to be reviled, spat upon, scourged, wounded, crucified: yea all these are easy tasks to that which follows; to be made a mark of his Father's wrath in our stead, so as in the bitterness of his Soul he is forced to cry out, My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me? What heart of man, yea what apprehension of Angels can be capable of fathoming the depth of this Humiliation?  
Answerable to thy dejection, O Saviour, was thine exaltation; as the conduit-water rises at least as high as it falls. Now is thy name above every name; that at the name of JESUS every knee should how, of things in Heaven, in earth, under the earth. Neither meanest thou to be our Saviour only, but our pattern too. I do not hear thee say, Learn of me for I am Almighty, I am Omniscient; but, Learn of me that I am meek. If we can go down the steps of thine Humiliation, we shall rise up the stairs of thy Glory. Why do we not then say, I will be yet more vile for the Lord? Oh cast down your crowns with the twenty four Elders (Apoc. 4. 10.) before the Throne of God: Humble your seves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up, Jam. 4. 10.  
Indeed there is none of us but hath just cause to be humbled, whether we consider the wretchedness of our Nature or of our Estate. What is the best flesh and blood but a pack of dust made up together into a stirring heap, which in the dissolution molders to dust again?  
When I consider the Heavens, and see the Sun, the Moon and the Stars as they stand in their order; Lord, what is man, that thou regardest him? what a Worm? what an Ant? what a nothing? who besides his homeliness is still falling asunder; for even of the greatest and best-composed is that of the Psalm verified, Universa vanitas omnis homo, Every man is all vanity.  
Alas then, what is it we should be proud of? Is it Wealth? What is the richest metal but red and white earth? And that whereof too we may say, as the Sons of the Prophets of their hatchet, Alas, Master, it was but lent. What speak I of this, when our very breath is not our own? The best praise of Coin is, that it is current, it runs from us; yea it is volatile, as wise Solomon, Riches have wings: and if they leave not us, we must them. We brought nothing hither, and (according to the proclamation of that great King) we must carry nothing with us but our winding-sheet; yea rather that must carry us.  
Is it our Land? How long is that ours? That shall be fixed when we are gone, and shall change, as it hath done, many Masters. But withal, where is it? I remember what is reported of Socrates and Alcibiades, (Aelian tells the story.) Socrates saw Alcibiades proud of his spacious fields and wide inheritance, he calls for a Map, looks for Greece, and finding it, asks Alcibiades where his lands lay. When he answered they were not laid forth in the Map. Why (said Socrates) art thou proud of that which is no part of the earth? What a poor spot is the dominion of the greatest King? but what a nothing is the possession of a Subject? A small parcel of a Shire, not worthy the name of a Chorographer. And had we, with Licinius, as much as a Kite could fly over, yea if all the whole Globe were ours, six or seven foot will serve us at the last.  
Is it our Honour? Alas, that is none of ours; for Honour is in him that gives it, not in him that receives it. And if the Plebeians will be stubborn or uncivil and respectless, where is Honour? and when we have it, what a poor puff is this? how windy, how unsatisfying? Insomuch as the great Emperor could say, I have been all things, and am never the better. Have ye Great ones all the incurvations of the knee, the kisses of the hand, the styles of Honour, yea the flatteries of Heralds? let God's hand touch you but a little with a spotted Fever, or girds of the Colic, or belching pains of the Gout, or stops of the bladder, alas! what ease is it to you that you are laid in a Silken bed, that a potion is brought you on the knee in a Golden cup, that the Chirurgeon can say, he hath taken from you Noble blood? As Esau said of his birthright, ye shall say (mutat is mutandis) of all these ceremonies of Honour, What are these to me, when I am ready to die for pain?  
Is it Beauty? What is that? or wherein consists it? Wherein, but in mere opinion? The Aethiopians think it consists in perfect Blackness; we Europeans, in white and red: and the wisest say, That is fair that pleaseth. And what Face is it that pleaseth all? Even in the worst some eyes see features that please; in the best some others see lines they like not. And if any Beauty could have all voices, what were this but a waist and worthless approbation? Grant it to be in the greatest exquisiteness, what is it but a Blossom in May, or a Flower in August, or an Apple in Autumn, soon fallen, soon withered? Should any of you, glorious Dames, be seized upon with the nasty pustles of the small Pox, alas! what pits do those leave behind them to bury your Beauties in? Or if but some languishing Quartan should arrest you, how is the delicate skin turned tawny? How doth an unwelcome Dropsy (wherein that disease too often ends) bag up the eyes, and mis-shape the face and body, with unpleasing and unkindly tumours? In short, when all is done, after all our cost and care, what is the best hide but saccus stercorum, as Bernard speaks, which if we do not find noisome, others shall? Well may I therefore ask, with Ecclesiasticus, Quid superbit terra & cinis? Why is this earth and ashes proud? though it were as free from sin as it is from perfection. But now when wickedness is added to vanity, and we are more abominable by sin then weak by nature, how should we be utterly ashamed to look up to Heaven, to look upon our own faces?  
Surely therefore, whensoever you see a Proud man, say there is a Fool; (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc.) the heathen Menander could say so: for if he were not a mere stranger in himself, he could be no other than confounded in himself. We see our own outward filthiness in those loathsome excretions which the purest nature puts forth: but if we could as well see our inward Spiritual beastliness, we could not but be swallowed up of our confusion.  
It falls out with men in this case as with some old foul and wrinkled dames, that are soothed up by their Parasites in an admiration of their Beauty, to whom no glass is allowed but the picturers, that flatters them with a smooth, fair and young image. Let such a one come casually to the view of a Glass, she falls out first with that mirror, and cries out of the false representation: but after, when upon stricter examination she finds the fault in herself, she becomes as much out of love with herself as ever her flatterers seemed to be enamoured of her. It is no otherwise with us. We easily run away with the conceit of our Spiritual Beauty, of our innocent Integrity; every thing feeds us in our overweening opinion. Let the Glass of the Law be brought once and set before us, we shall then see the shameful wrinkles and foul morphews of our Souls, and shall say with the Prophet, We lie down in our shame, and our confusion covereth us, for we have sinned against the Lord our God, Jer. 3. 25. Thus if we be humbled in spirit● we shall be raised unto true Honour; even such Honour as have all his Saints. To the participation whereof, that God who hath ordained, graciously bring us, for the sake of Jesus Christ the Righteous: to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, one infinite God, be all Honour and Glory now and for ever. Amen.   

CHRIST AND CAESAR. A SERMON preached at Hampton-Court,  By Jos. HALL.. Joh. 19 15. The chief Priests answered, We have no King but Caesar. 
THere cannot be a more loyal speech as it may be used; One Sun is enough for Heaven, one King for earth: But as it is used, there cannot be a worse. For in so few words, these Jews flatter Caesar, reject Christ, oppose Christ to Caesar. First, pretending they were Caesar's subjects; secondly, professing they were not Christ's subjects; thirdly, arguing, that they could not be Christ's subjects because they were Caesar's. The first by way of affirmation, Caesar is our King: the second by way of negation, No King but Caesar: the third by way of implication, Christ is not our King, because Caesar is.  
The first was a truth; Caesar was indeed now their King, but against their wills. Conquest had made his name unwelcome. They say true then, and yet they flatter. Wonder not at this; a man may flatter, yea lie, in speaking truth, when his heart believes not the title that his tongue gives. So it was with these Jews; they called him King, whom they maligned as an Usurper. For they feeding themselves with the conceit of being God's free people, wherein Judas Gaulonites and Sadducus the Pharisee had soothed them, hated him as an enemy, whom they were forced to fear as their King, holding it no better than a sinful vassalage to stoop unto an Heathen sceptre. Ye know the question moved upon the Tribute-money, Matth. 22. 17. Is it lawful to pay tribute to Caesar? Lo, they say not, Is it needful? but, Is it lawful? The Herodians were a Faction that had never moved this question, unless the Pharisees and their scrupulous clients had denied it. They make it a difficulty not of purse, but of conscience, Licetne? Is it lawful? Yet here, Regem habemus Caesarem, Caesar is our King.  
They liked well enough to have a King; yea hereupon they were so ready to swagger with God and his Samuel: They had learned of Nature and experience the best form of Government (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) but they would have had him of their own. As God said of the great Prophet, so they are glad to hear him say of their King, De numero fratrum tuorum, From among thy brethren. Propriety is in nothing more pleasing then in matter of Government. It is a joy to think we have a King of our own; our own blood, our own Religion; according to the motto of our Princes, Ich Dicn: Otherwise next to Anarchy is Heterarchy; neither do we find much difference betwixt having no head at all, and having another man's head on our shoulders. The Bees love to have a King, but one that is of their own hive: If an Hornet come in and offer to rule amongst them, (though stronger) they abide not the colour. It was Edomitish blood that made Herod so hateful, though otherwise of no small merit. Now Caesar, though he were their King actually in regard of power, yet they held him no better than an Intruder in regard of right. For at first here was no more but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a partnership and league of love betwixt the Romans and Jews, as 1 Maccab. 8. 20. but after, when Pompey had vanquished Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, now Judaea was glad to turn tributary, and of a friend became a vassal, as ye see in the taxation of Augustus, Luk. 2. 1. and so continued with no small regret. Caesar therefore was to them a Pagan for Religion, a Tyrant for Usurpation; at the best, an alien from the Commonwealth of Israel; and therefore (as they imagined) not capable of being the head of Israel. This of the Romans is taken for that regnum Gentium, the Kingdom of the Gentiles, Hagg. 2. 22. by an Antonomasie; which was therefore so much more hated, as it was more prevalent and imperious. And ye know their fearful suggestion, Venient Romani, the Romans will come, Joh. 11. 48. It was observed of old by Hierome, and since by Galatinus and others, indeed who could look beside it? that the Thalmud and the ancient Rabbins, wheresoever they find the name of Edom or Idumaea in the Old Testament, there they think strait Rome understood; and this was with them that Onus Duma, 
Esay 21. 11.  in the Prophet Esay. A misprision that arises (as Jerome guesses aright) by occasion of the letters of Duma and Roma; for the Hebrew R and D are so like that they can hardly be distinguished, and the same letter in the Hebrew forms both O and U. Hence they gave out Caesar for an Idumaean, and branded all that Nation with the curses of Edom. Absurdly, as we well know; for Edom, or Esau, was Isaac's Son, whereas we Europeans came of Japhet. But this shows their good will both to Caesar and his Country; no Nation under Heaven was more odious to them, against whom they heartily prayed in their sense, Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom, Psal. 137. 7. Yet here, Regem habemus Caesarem, Caesar is our King. Neither was this the note of the chief Priests only, which had learned to flatter by art; but of the hollow multitude, who had said (vers. 12.) Caesar's friend. As if all were now grown fond of that Sovereignty which they hated.  
This is enough to let our Caesar see that fair tongues are not always true. In the Psalm which our late Augustus of ever-Blessed Memory chose for the Anniverssaries of his deliverance both from the Cowries and the Powder, (Psal. 18.) ye find this clause (vers. 45.) strange children shall dissemble with me; which in our last Translation runs, Strangers shall submit themselves to me. Marvel not at the difference; the Hebrews take the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for both, either mentientur or humiliabuntur, to signify either courtesy or craft: wherefore? but to show us that estranged hearts, whiles they submit, do but dissemble; and none more submiss than the falsest; some whereof, whiles with deep protestations of fidelity they were writing quodlibetical invectives against the perfidiousness of some busiospirits of their own Faction, we have seen fall foul upon a convicted Treason. It was not for nothing that under the picture of that lame Soldier which at last hath shouldered into the Calendar, was written, Cavete vobis, Principes, Look to yourselves, ye Great Ones. Believe Actions, believe not Words. If those that refuse to profess Allegiance must needs be unsound, would to God they were all sound that swear it. Even Judas could say, Hail, Master; and these colloguing Jews, Regem habemus Caesarem, We have Caesar for our King. Do ye not mark how this note is changed? The chief Priests said here, Non habemus Regem nisi Caesarem, We have no King but Caesar: Now there is an Highpriest that says, Non habemus Regem Caesarem; yea Caesar is his Esculer, or his Lackey. The exemption of the Spiritualty from Caesar, the subjection of Caesar to the head of the Spiritualty, are points that would have been as strange to the chief Priests of those times as they are familiar to ours. But, O Souls not unworthy of a proud insultation, that thus willingly abase their Crowns to a tyrannous Mitre!  
It was too good a word this for Jews, Regem habemus, we have a King: That which they held their misery, was more happiness than they could deserve, to be Subjects. The very name of a King carries protection, order, peace: For Rex judicio, etc. The King by judgement establisheth the Land, saith Solomon, Prov. 29. 4. Who knows not that, Judg. 17. 6. In those days there was no King in Israel: and what of that? Every one did that which was right in his own eyes. Anarchy is lawless, dissolute, confused. What other is the King than the Head of the body, the Eye in the head, the Ball in that eye? Lucernam aptavi uncto meo, I have prepared a light for mine anointed, Psal. 132. 17. without which the whole State must needs, like a blinded Polyphemus, reel, and stagger, and grovel. If Solomon note it as a wonder in the Locusts, That they have no King, and yet go forth by bands; S. John notes it in the infernal Locusts, that they have a King, and his name is Abaddon, Revel. 9 11. Not to speak of Heaven or Earth then, even Hell itself stands not without a Government; the very region of Confusion consists not without so much Order: Take this away, Earth would be Hell, and what would Hell be?  
There are Nations, I doubt not, that may say, Dedisti Regem in ira, Thou hast given us a King in thine anger, Hos. 13. 11. But for us, we may say, ut ros super herbam, His favour is as the dew upon the grass, Prov. 19 12. and shall justly shut up with old David, Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, who hath thus replenished our Throne, as our eyes see it this day, 1 Kings 1. 48. And if we do in the joy of our hearts say, Habemus Regem; why should not he with equal reflection of joyful heart say, Habemus Subditos. Tribute, Honour, Fear, Prayers, Love, Life is not too dear for our Caesar.  
This is enough for the Affirmation, Caesar is our King: the Negation follows, We have no King but Caesar. The negative as it is universal, excluding all; so it specially singles out Christ, whom Pilate had lately named for their King. None, therefore not this Jesus. A Rebellious protestation, and no better than Blasphemy in the mouth of Jews, of Priests: For could they be ignorant of the Kingdom of the Messiah? yea of this Messiah? Was not this King of the Jews Fore-figured by Melchisedec King of Salem? sedec, we know, is Justice, salem is Peace; the fruit of his Justice is Peace. Fore-prophesied to be the Prince of Peace? Esay 9 6. the government is upon his shoulder, saith that Evangelical Seer: yea, which of the Prophets is silent of this Style? Constituted? Behold, I have set my King upon Zion, Psal. 2. 6. Acknowledged by the Sages? Where is be that is born King of the Jews? We have seen his star, Mat. 2. 2. Ushered in by the Angel Gabriel? The Lord shall give him the throne of his Father David, Luke 1. 32. Anointed? he is Christus Domini, and Christus Dominus; anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows. Proclaimed? Behold, thy King cometh to thee, saith Zachary: Hosanna, Blessed be the Kingdom that comes in the name of the Lord, said the Children in the streets. Enthronised? Thy throne, O God, is for ever, and the sceptre of thy Kingdom is a right sceptre. Honoured with due homage? The Kings of the earth shall bring presents to thee, saith the Psalmist.  
And yet this King, thus Presigured, Fore-prophesied, Constituted, Acknowledged, Ushered in, Anointed, Proclaimed, Enthronised, Adored, is cast off with a Nolumus hunc, No King but Caesar. And were they not well served, think we? Did or could ever any eye pity them? Because they say, Christ is not our King, but Caesar, therefore Christ shall plague them by Caesar; that very Roman Government which they honoured in a corrivality and opposition to Christ, shall revenge the quarrel of Christ in the utter subversion of these unthankful Rebels. Oh foolish people and unjust! do ye thus requite the Lord? Did he empty himself of his Celestial Glory, and put on weak Manhood and all the symptoms of wretched Mortality; and do ye despise him for this Mercy? Is he so vile to you, because he was so vile for you? Did his Love make him humble, that his Humility should make him contemptible? Did he choose you out of all the kingdoms of the earth, and do ye wilfully reject him? Hear therefore, ye despisers, and tremble; hear the just doom of him who will be your Judge, if he shall not be your Saviour: Those mine enemies that would not I should reign over them, bring them hither, and slay them before me, Luk. 19 27.  
Lord, it is done as thou hast commanded, and yet there is room. Do we think that Christ hath no Rebels but Jews? Would to God we sinners of the Gentiles had not said, Disrumpamus vincula, Let us break his bonds, and cast his cords from us. What are his bonds but his Laws; his cords but Religious institutions? These fly about men's ears like rotten tow, binding none but the impotent. The bounds of his Kingdom are the ends of the earth. It is an hard word (yet I must say it;) Oh that there were not more Traitors in the world than Subjects! Tell not me what men's Tongues say; their Lives say loud enough, Nolumus hunc, Christ is no King for us. Obedience is the true touchstone of Loyalty; not Protestations, not outward Cringes, not disbursement of Tribute. We have all solemnly sworn allegiance to the God of Heaven; we are ready to bow at the dear name of Jesus; we stick not, perhaps, to give obedientiam bursalem, as Gerson calls it, to God: but when it comes once to the denial of ourselves, to the mortifying of our corruptions, to the strangling of the children of our own accursed wombs, to the offering up our bodies and Souls as a reasonable and lively sacrifice; hîc Rhodus, hîc saltus. King's rule by their Laws. Be not deceived; if slips of weakness mar not our Fealty, certainly continuance in wilful sins cannot stand with our Subjection. Quomodo legis? How readest thou then? as our Saviour asks. What says thy Lawgiver in Sinai? Thou shalt have no other Gods but me. If now thou rear up in thy bosom altars to the Astaroth of Honour, to the Tammuz of Lust, to the Mammon of Wealth, thou hast defied Christ for thy King. God says, Thou shalt not take the Name of the Lord thy God in vain. If now thine unhallowed tongue will not be beaten out of the hellish tract of Oaths, Blasphemies, profane Scoffs, thou hast defied Christ. God says, Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath day. If now thou shalt spend it altogether upon thyself, or else thinkest, with that wise Heathen, thou dost septimam oetatis partem perdere, thou defiest Christ. God says, Thou shalt not commit adultery. If now, like an enraged stallion, thou neighest after every object of impure Lust, thou hast defied Christ. God says, Non in comessationibus & ebrietate, Not in surfeiting and drunkenness. If now we shall pour our health and our reason down our throats, and shall sacrifice our Souls to our bellies, what do we say but, Nolumus hunc? But, O foolish Rebels that we are! do we think thus to shake off the yoke of Christ? In spite of men and devils, he will be their King who do most grin and gnash at his Sovereignty. Feel, O ye wilful sinners, if ye will not learn, that as he hath a golden Sceptre, Virgam directionis, Psal. 45. 6. so he hath also an iron Sceptre, Psal. 2. 9 Virgam furoris, Esay 10. 5. Beauty and Bands, Zach. 11. 10, 14. If ye will not bow under the first, yea must break under the second. He shall break you in pieces like a Potter's vessel, to mammocks, to dust. Ye shall find that the Prince of darkness can no more avoid his own torment, than he can cease from yours; and every knee, not only in Heaven and in earth, but under the earth too, shall mal-grè bow to the name of that Jesus whom they have scornfully rejected with Nolumus hunc, Christ is no King to us.  
But I persuade myself better things of you all that hear me this day: There is none of you (I hope) but would be glad to strew his garments, his olive-boughs, yea his myrtles and laurels, yea crown and sceptre under the feet of Christ, and cry, Hosanna altissimo. Oh than if you be in earnest, take the Psalmists counsel, Osculamini filium: Give him the kiss of Homage, of Obedience. Let me have leave to say that this charge is there given to the great Princes and Rulers of the earth; they who honour others with a kiss of their hand, must honour themselves with the humble kiss of his: No Power can exempt from this sweet Subjection. Ecce servus tuns, Behold, I am thy servant, faith David; yea and, vilior ero, I will be yet more vile for the Lord. Tremble before his footstool, O ye Great ones, that bindeth Kings with chains and Nobles with fetters of iron, Psal. 149. 8. Your very Height enforces your Obedience; the detrectation where of hath no other, but, Potentes potenter punientur, Mighty ones shall be mightily tormented. As an Angel of God so is my Lord the king, as that wise Tekoan said. Do ye not see how awful, how submiss the Angels of Heaven are? Before his throne they hide their faces with their wings; and from his throne, at his command, they wait upon base and sinful flesh. It was a great praise that was given to Placilla the Wife of Theodosius in Theodoret's history, Neque enim imperii principatu extollebatur, etc. Her throne had not over-carried her thoughts, but inflamed her holy desires the more; for the largeness of God's blessing so much more intended her love to the giver. Let me be bold to say, we have seen, we have seen the incomparable favours of God to your Sacred Majesty; we that were witnesses both of the weakness of your Cradle and the strength of your Throne: and what loyal heart did not feel the danger of your late Southern Voyage, and the safety of your return? Go on happily to fear and honour that God who hath so blessed you, and us in you. Yield still unto the Son of God the faithful kisses of your reverence, loyalty, observance: he shall return unto you the happy kisses of his Divine Love and Favour, and after a long and safe Protection, the dear embracements of an eternal welcome to Glory.  
Thus much of the Negation, Christ is not our King. The Implication follows, Christ is not our King, because Caesar is. The Anabaptist and the Jew are so cross, that I wonder how one Amsterdam can hold them both: The Anabaptist says, Caesar is not our King, because Christ is; the Jew says, Christ is not our King, because Caesar is: Both of them equally absurd. Could there be a more ignorant Paralogism than this wherewith the foolish Jews beguiled themselves? as if these two, Christ and Caesar, had been utterly incompatible. This senseless misprision was guilty of all the plots against Christ. Herod no sooner hears of a King of the Jews, than he startles up, and is strait jealous of his Crown: the Jews hear of a King, and they are jealous of Caesar's Crown: the Caesars following here of a King, and they are jealous of the Jews; for, as Suetonius tells us in the Life of Vespasian, Percrebuerat in Oriente toto vetus & constans opinio, esse in fatis at Judaei hoc tempore rerum potirentur, It was an old and constant conceit all the East over, that the Jews were about this time destined to rule. This was on all hands an ignorant, an injurious scrupulosity. O vain men! could they but have known that this was he that truly said, Per me Reges regnant, By me King's reign, they had concluded, Caesar could be no King but from him: Earthly jurisdiction is derived from this Heavenly. It is he that makes this a Monarch, that a Prince, that other a Peer; Omnis potestas, All power is given to him both in Heaven and earth, and from him to men. Caesar hath his Crown from Christ; so far is Christ from pulling the Crown from Caesar.  
There were two points of State, which if they had known, would have secured them from these idle fears; the Subordination, the Diversity of Christ's Kingdom and Caesar's. Subordination, for Christ is the founder of all just Sovereignty, he can be no enemy to it. Plainly, Christ is Caesar's Lord, Caesar is Christ's Deputy: The deputed power is not against the Original, but as by it, so for it. As Caesar was Christ's Lord in forma servi; (ye know his charge, Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and the liquid coffer of the Sea shall rather yield the Didrachma then he will not pay it, Matth. 17. 27.) so Christ is Caesar's Lord in the Sovereignty of his Deity; Solus supra Caesarem Deus, qui fecit Caesarem, None above Caesar, but the God that made Caesar, as that Father said. There can be no Contrariety in Subordination. So is Caesar to Christ, as Earth is to Heaven; under, not against it. All the life and motion of any earthly creature is from the influences of Heaven; without which this whole Globe were nothing but a dull and drossy clod.  
And as here is Subordination one way, so Diversity another. Pilate questioned our Saviour punctually of his kingdom, Art thou a King? He denies not, but distinguishes; My kingdom is not of this world, Joh. 18. 36. Lo, Christ's kingdom was not of this world; Caesar's was not of the other: here can be no danger of opposition. Audite Judaei, audite Gentes, as S. Austin wittily, Hear, O Jews, hear, O Gentiles, I hinder not your Dominion in this world, for mine is of another. Fear not Herod 's vain fear, who killed the Infants to rid Christ (timendo magìs quam irascendo crudelior) more cruel in his fear then in his rage. My Kingdom, he says, is not of this world. Oh come then to that Kingdom which is not of this world; come in believing, and do not tyrannize in fearing. Thus he. This King came not into the world to subdue Kings by fight, but to win them by dying, as Fulgentius well. Neither doth he take away mortal Kingdoms who gives Heavenly, as the Christian Poet said aright.  
Upon both these grounds therefore, it is a blasphemous inconsequence, Caesar is our King, therefore not Christ: yea, therefore Caesar, because Christ. Religion doth not cross Policy, but perfects it rather. Give me leave, I beseech you, to press this Point a little.  
It is Religion that teacheth us that God hath ordained Kingly Sovereignty, Rom. 13. 1. ordained it immediately. That Position was worthy of a Red Hat, Potestas Principis dimanavit à populo, Pontificis à Deo, 
Bellarm. Recogn.  in the Recognition of the book de Laicis; purposely raised to depress the Dignity of Kings, to advance the Priesthood. I am sure, Samuel (when it was) said, Ecce, prafecit vobis Jehova Regem, Behold, God hath set a Kiog over you, 1 Sam. 12. 13. And Kings are wont to have no less title than Unctus Jehove, the Anointed of the Lord; not unctus populi, the anointed of the people, 1 Sam. 24. 6. 2 Sam. 1. 14. Daniel could say of God, He removes Kings, and setteth up Kings, Dan. 2. 21. What need I persuade Christian Kings and Princes, that they hold their Crowns and Sceptres as in fee from the God of Heaven? Cyrus himself had so much Divinity, Ezra 1. 2.  
It is Religion that teaches us that the same power which ordained Caesar, enjoins all faithful Subjection to Caesar; not for fear, but for conscience, Rom. 13. 5. Tribute to whom tribute, honour to whom honour; yea all devout prayers for a Nero himself, 1 Tim. 2. 2. kerbing both the tongue and the heart, Thou shalt not curse the King in thy thoughts, nor the rich in thy Bedchamber, Eccles. 10. 20. It is Religion that teaches us that vengeance shall be sure to follow Rebellion, Nuntius crudelis, Prov. 17. 21. yea, no less than Hell and Damnation, Rom. 13. 2.  
Cursed be they that say Religion is only to keep men in awe; and cursed be he that says there is any so sure way to keep men in awe as Religion. Go ye crafty Politics, and rake hell for reasons of State; ye shall once find that there is no wisdom, nor understanding, nor counsel against the Lord. It was a true and well-grounded resolution of Constantius, That they cannot be faithful to their King, who are perfidious to their God.  
Let the great Caesars of the world then know, that the more subject they are to Christ, the more sure they are of the Loyalty of their Subjects to them. Neither is there in all the world any so firm and straight bond to tie the hearts of their people to them, as true Religion to God. To conclude therefore, Christ is not Caesar's rival, but Caesar's Lord and Patron. Caesar rules by his Laws, Christ by Religion. If Execution be the Life of Laws, I am sure Religion is the life of Execution. In short, Religion is the strongest pillar of Policy, the base of the Palace, the feet and arms of the Chair of State, the frame of the Councel-bord. As ye love your Peace, ye Great ones, make much of it; plant it where it is not, enlarge it where it is, maintain it at home, encourage it abroad. And if distressed Religion shall come with her face blubbered and her garments rend, wring her hands and tearing her hair, and shall prostrate herself at the feet of earthly Greatness for lawful succour, with veni opitulari, come and help, as Macedonia in the Acts; woe be to the power that fails it; and blessed, thrice blessed from Heaven be that hand that shall raise her on her feet, and wipe off her tears, and stretch out itself mightily for her safeguard. Let me never prosper if that hand make not that head immortally glorious.  
For us, blessed be God, we live here in the warm Zone, where the hot beams of the Sun of Righteousness beat right down upon our heads. But what need I tell your Sacred Majesty that in the Northwest part of your Dominions, there are some that live in the frozen and dark Climate of Ignorance and Superstition, whose eyes have seldom (if ever) been blest with so much as an oblique irradiation of the Gospel? I know the bowels of your Princely compassion cannot but be stirred with the misery of these poor Cimmerian souls, that have not so much light as to wish more. Oh may it please your Gracious Majesty to shine into those darksome corners, by improving your Sovereign Authority to the commanding of a Learned and Powerful Ministry amongst them. Let true Religion be letled in them, and true Religion shall settle their hearts to your Majesty more than all conquests, laws, violences, oaths, endearments whatsoever. And for these happy Regions which are comfortably illuminated with the saving Doctrine of Jesus Christ, may it please you to forbid their impuration by the noisome fogs and mists of those mis-opinions, whose very Principles are professedly rebellious; as being well assured that the more your Majesty shall advance the Spiritual Kingdom of Christ, the more he shall advance the strength and glory of your Temporal: the more perfectly he is your Christ, the more unmovably shall you be his Caesar. And may he still and ever be yours, and you his, till earth and time be no more; till he shall have delivered up his mediatory Kingdom into the hands of his Father. To whom, etc.   

THE DEFEAT OF CRUELTY PRAYED FOR, And laid forth in a Sermon preached at a Solemn Fast at Whitehall,  By JOS. HALL., Dean of Worcester, etc. Psal. 68 30. Rebuke the company of Spear men, the multitude of the Bulls, with the Calves of the people, till every one submit himself with pieces of silver: Scatter thou the people that delight in war. 
THE same Psalm that lately yielded us a Song of Thanksgiving, now affords us a Prayer for Victory: Such variety of spiritual Flowers grows in every bed of this Divine Garden. Our occasions cannot change so oft, as God can fit us with change of notes. The last verse before my Text, was a prediction of Kings bringing Presents to God; this is a Prayer for dissipation of enemies. It is not for nothing that the Psalmist interrupts his Prophecy with a Petition. Hostility blocks up the way to Devotion. Even the Laws of God are silent in the clashing of Arms; That Kings may bring presents to God, God must give an happy cessation of arms to them. It is not long since we saw the Lords Anointed approach to this altar of God with presents of Thanksgiving, for our late deliverance from the raging Pestilence: Now we come to sue, and expect that God would crown his Royal head with garlands of Victory; and rebuke the company of spear-men, the multitude of Bulls, with the calves of the people; and scatter the people that delight in war. May it please you, first, to see the Enemies, than the Defeat. The Enemy is described by a threefold title. 1. Fera arundinis, the company of the spear-men, or, beasts of the reeds. 2. The multitude of Bulls, with the calves of the people. 3. The people that delight in war. The Defeat is double, Increpa, and Dissipa, Rebuke, and Scatter. Rebuke is for the two first; yet not absolutely, but with limitation, (Till they submit themselves with pieces of silver.) Dissipation is for the last; Scatter the people that delight in war. Those that will be unjustly warring are worthy of rebuke; but those that delight in war are fit for nothing but confusion.  
To begin with the first. Why doth the same Hebrew word signify a Beast, and a Company? Is it because the Multitude is bellua multorum capitum, a beast of many heads? Or is it because of the sociable nature even of brute creatures, which still affect to herd and flock together? For, lest any man stumble at the word, that which is here translated fera, is by the same hand turned pecus, ver. 11.  
Both the senses do well, a Beast, or a Company: The one implies the qualities of the Church's Enemies, that they are of a fierce and bestial disposition; the other, their number and combination. For the former, Who can express the savage Cruelty of the enemies of the Gospel? Look into the ancient story of the infancy of Christianity, ye shall see how men set their wits on the rack to devise torments. To show you that in a painted table which poor Christians felt, would be a spectacle of too much horror. What should I lay before you their Gibbets, Wheels, Stakes, Caldrons, Furnaces, and all their fearful pomps of death? What should I tell you of men dressed every way that meats were for the palate? Here was slaying, frying, boiling, broiling, roasting, baking, haching, and all possible kinds of hideous forms of Murder. To forget all old immanities', what should I show you the flames of our late Marian times? what should I bring you into the holy inquisition, and show you there all the bloody engines of torture, an Hell upon earth? what should I present you with the whips, halters and knives of Eighty eight? or raise up your hair with the report of those Spanish Cruelties which were exercised upon our men in the Indies during the late war? Death was but a sport in respect of the torments in dying. Lo here, a Beast; yea, not Bestia, but Fera, a Savage beast; yea worse then either. Did ever man do thus to beast? If a Baptista Porta have devised a way to roast a Foul quick; or some Italian executioner of gluttony have beaten a Swine dead with gentle blows, to make a Cardinal's morsel; every ingenuous man is ready to cry out of this barbarous Tyranny, yea the very Turks would punish it with no less than death: yea if a Syracusan boy shall but pick out a Crow's eyes, those Pagans could mulct him with banishment. Nay, what beast did ever thus to man? nay, did ever one beast do thus to another? If they gore and grasp one another in their fury, or feed on each other in the rage of their hunger, that is all; they do not take pleasure in saucing each others death with varieties or delays of pain. None but man doth thus to man; and in none lightly but the quarrel of Religion. False Zeal takes pleasure in surfeits of blood, and can enjoy others torment. Hence are bloody Massacres, treacherous Assassinations, hellish Powderplots, and whatever stratagem of mischief can be devised by that ancient manslayer; from whose malicious and secret machinations good Lord deliver us.  
As the enemies of the Church are Fera, a Beast, so they are coetus, a Compaany, yea, a multitude. Well may they say with the Devil in the possessed man, My name is Legion, for we are many; a Legion of many thousands: yea, Gad, for an host cometh; an Host of many Legions: yea, a combination of many Hosts: Gebal, and Ammon, and Amalek, the Philistines with them that dwell at Tyre, Ashur also is joined to them. Here is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Church of the malignant: a Church? yea a world; mundus in malign. Divide the world (with our Learned Breerwood) into thirty parts, nineteen of them are Pagans; and they are enemies. Of those eleven that remain six are Mahumetans; and they are enemies. Of those other five that remain, there is an Antichristian Faction that challenges universality; and they are enemies. Stand now with me upon the hill, and take a survey of the enemies; see them lie scattered like grasshoppers in the valley, and tell me whether the Church have not reason to say, Lord, how many are they that rise up against me? Yet when all is done, (that no man may be discouraged) if we have but our eyes opened with Elisha's servant, to see the host of Heaven glittering about us, we shall boldly say, There are more with us then against us.  
Yet if these that are against us were many, and not united, it were nothing. A large shower loseth itself, whiles the drops are scattered in the sands; but many drops met make a torrent, yea an Ocean. Here is coetus; their heads, their hearts, their hands are laid together. And why do not we learn wit and will of those that hate us? why are we several, whiles they are conjoined? why should partial Factions and private fancies distract us, when the main Cause of God is on foot? Beleague yourselves, ye Christian Princes and Potentates; combine yourselves, ye truehearted Christians, and be gathered by the voice of God's Angel to a blessed and victorious Armageddon.  
But why fera arundinis, the beast of the reeds? I do not tell you of S. Jerome's descant upon bestia calami, the beast of the quill, that is, writers for falsehood; though these, these are the great Incendiaries of the world, and well worthy of the deepest increpation. Here doubtless, either the beasts of the reeds are the beasts that lie among the reeds; (as Cassiodorus hath given us an hint, Leones domestica canneta reliquerunt, The Lions have lest the reedy thickets) or else the reed is here the spear, or dart. We know some regions yield groves of reeds; ye would think them so many saplings or samplars at the least; arborescere solent calami, as Calvin. These were of use in war for darts or spears. The vanguard therefore of David's enemies are Spear-men or Darters; for they were wont to dart their spears (as you see in Saul, 1 Sam. 20. 33.) And why this? In a swordfight we come to close hand-blows; such as a quick eye and nimble hand may perhaps avoid: but the spear and dart strikes afar off, pierces where it strikes, smites unseen, unevitably. For the remoteness, violence, irresistableness of the blow, are the enemies of the Church described by the spear and dart; where they cannot come, they send dangerous emissaries, headed on purpose to wound the best State to death; felt ere they can be seen, and so soon as they are felt, killing. What do these but follow their General, whose spiritual weapons are fiery darts? Ephes. 6. 16. Much and lamentable experience hath this State (if ever any) had of these mischievous engines of commotion, that have been hurled hither from beyond the Alps and Pyrenees. What is the remedy, but the same which is against the Devil, the shield of prevention? Stir up your vigilant care, O ye great Leaders of Israel, by the strict execution of wholesome laws, to avoid the dint of these murderous subornations. And when ye have done your best, it must be the Lord of hosts, the great protector of Israel, that must break the bow, and knap the spear in sunder, Psal. 46. 9  
Their second title is Bulls, for their ferocity, for their strength. The Lion is a more Lordly beast, but the Bull is stronger; and, when he is enraged, more impetuous. Such are the Enemies of the Church. How furiously do they bellow out threats, and scrape up the earth, and advance their crest, and brandish their horns, and send out sparkles from their eyes, and snuff out flames from their nostrils, and think to bear down all before them? What should I tell you of the fierce assalts of the braving enemies of the Church, whose Pride hath scorned all opposition, and thinks to push down all contrary powers, not of men only, but of God himself? Let us break their bonds, and cast their cords from us. Who is the Lord, that I should let Israel go? Where is the God of Hamath, and of Arpad? where are the Gods of Sepharvaim, Hena and Ivah? have they delivered Samaria out of my hand? who are they among the Gods of the Countries, that have delivered their country out of my hand, that the Lord should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand? saith proud Rabshakeh, 2 Kings 18. 34. Hark how this Assyrian Bull roars out Blasphemy against the Lord of Hosts; and all the rest of that wild herd have no less grass on their horns: stay but a while, and ye shall see him withed, and haltered, and staked, and baited to death. Here only is the comfort of the poor menaced Church, that the mighty God of Israel, who says to the raging Sea, Here shalt thou stay thy proud waves, can tame at pleasure these violent beasts, or break their necks with their own fury. So let thine enemies perish, O Lord.  
These Bulls are seconded with their own brood, the Calves of the people.  
Who are they, but those which follow, and make up the herd? the credulous seduced multitude, which not out of choice, but example, join in opposition to God. Silly calves, they go whither their dams lead them, to the field or to the slaughter-house. Blind obedience is their best guide. Are they bidden to adore a God which they know the baker made? they fall down upon their knees, and thump their breasts, as beating the heart that will not enough believe in that pastry-Deity. Are they bidden to go on pilgrimage to a Chapel that is a greater pilgrim than themselves, that hath four several times removed itself, and changed stations, (as Turselline confidently?) they must go, and adore those wand'ring walls. Are they bidden to forswear their Allegiance, and to take arms against their Lawful and native Sovereign? they rush into the battle without either fear or wit; though for the aid of a sure enemy, which would make them all (as he threatened in Eighty eight) alike good Protestants. Very calves of the people, whose simplicity were a fitter subject for pity, than their fury can be of malice; were it not that their power is wont to be employed to the no small prejudice of the cause of God. And would it boot aught to spend time in persuading these Calves that they are such? to lay before them the shame of their ignorance and stupidity? Hear now this, O foolish people and without understanding, which have eyes and see not, which have ears and hear not, Jer. 5. 20. How long will ye suffer yourselves to be befooled and beslaved with the tyranny of Superstition? God hath made you men, why will ye abide men to make you vitulos populorum, the calves of the people? We must leave you as ye are, but we will not leave praying for your happy change; that God would consecrate you to himself, as the calves of his altar, that ye may be offered up to him an holy, lively, reasonable, acceptable sacrifice in your blessed Conversion. Amen.  
The last and worst title of these enemies is, The people that delight in war.  
War is to the State as Ignis and Ferrum, the Knife and the Searing-iron, to the body; the last and most desperate remedy: always evil, if sometimes necessary; it is not for pleasure, it is for need. It must needs be a cruel heart that delights in war. He that well considers the fearful effects of war, the direption of goods, the vastation of Countries, the sacking and burning of Cities, the murdering of men, ravishing of women, weltering of the horse and rider in their mingled blood, the shrieks and horror of the dying, the ghastly rage of the kill, the hellish and tumultuous confusion of all things; and shall see the streets and fields strewed with carcases, the channels running with streams of blood, the houses and Churches flaming, and, in a word, all the woeful tyrannies of death; will think the heathen Poets had reason to devise War sent up from Hell, ushered and heralded by the most pestilent of all the Furies, every of whose hairs were so many snakes and adders to affright and sting the world withal. Little pleasure can there be in such a spectacle. It is a true observation of St. chrysostom, that war to any Nation is as a tempest to the Sea, tossing and clashing of the waves together. And fain would I hear of that Mariner that takes delight in a Storm. The executioners of peaceable Justice are wont to be hateful; no man abides to consort with a public Headsman: and what metal then shall we think those men made of who delight in cutting of throats, and joy to be the furious executioners of a martial vengeance? where, besides the horror of the act, the event is doubtful. The dice of War run still upon hazard. David could send this message to Joab, The sword devours at random, so, and such, 2 Sam. 11. 25. Victory is not more sweet than uncertain. And what man can love to perish? It is true that War is a thing that should not, but must be; neither is it other than an unavoidable act of vindicative Justice; an useful enemy, an harsh friend; such an enemy as we cannot want, such a friend as we entertain upon force, not upon choice; because we must, not because we would: It challenges admittance if it be just, and it is never just but where it is necessary; if it must, it ought to be. Where those three things which Aquinas requires to a lawful war are met, Supreme Authority, a warrantable Cause, a just Intention; a Supreme Authority in commanding it, a warrantable Cause in undertaking it, a just Intention in executing it; it is no other than Bellum Domini, God's war; God made it, God owns it, God blesses it. What talk I of the good Centurion? the very Angels of God are thus, Heavenly soldiers. The wise Lacedamonians had no other statues of their Deities but armed. Yea, what speak I of these Puppets? the true God rejoices in no title more than of the Lord of Hosts. In these cases say now, Blessed be the Lord who teaches my hands to war and my fingers to fight. But if Ambition of enlarging the bounds of dominion, Covetousness of rich booties, emulation of a rival Greatness, shall unsheathe our swords; now every blow is Murder. woe to those hands that are thus imbrued in blood: Woe to those Tyrants that are the authors of this lavish effusion; every drop whereof shall once be required of their guilty Souls. God thinks he cannot give a worse Epithet to those whom he would brand for death then, Wicked and bloodthirsty men. David might not be allowed to build God an House, because he had a bloody hand; the cause was holy, yet the colour offends. How hateful must those needs be to the God of Mercies that delight in Blood? the true brood of him that is the manslayer from the beginning. There are strange diets of men, as of other creatures; whereof there are some that naturally feed on poison and fatten with it; and it may be there are Cannibals that find man's blood sweet: yet I think it would be hard to find a man that will profess to place his felicity in a cruel hazard. So doth he that delights in war: and if no man (for shame) will be known to do simply and directly so, yet in effect men bewray this disposition, if they be, first, osores pacis, haters of peace, as the Psalmist calls them, Ps. 120. 7. stubbornly repelling the fair motions and meet conditions thereof: if, secondly, they take up slight and unjust causes of war, as it is noted by Suetonius of Julius Caesar (which this Island had experience of) that he would refrain from no occasion of war if never so unjust; contrary to the better temper and resolution of wiser Romans than himself, who would rather save one Subject then kill a thousand Enemies: if, thirdly, they give wilful provocations of this public revenge by gross, open, intolerable injuries; as Hanun did to David; such are encroachments upon their neighbour-territories, violating the just covenants of league and commerce by main violences: if, fourthly, they refuse to give just satisfaction where they have unjustly provoked; as the Benjamites in case of the Sodomitical villainy of their Gibeah. Where all, where any of these are found, well may we brand that people with delight in war. And since they will needs delight in war, God shall fit them accordingly. With the froward thou shalt show thyself froward, Ps. 18. 26. He shall delight in warring against them. He shall rouse up himself as a Giant refreshed with new wine. Therefore thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the mighty one of Israel, Ah, I will ease me of my adversaries, and revenge me of mine enemies, Es. 1. 24.  
These are the Enemies. The Defeat follows, Rebuke and scatter. The two first, though bad enough, must be rebuked; the last must be scattered. All Gods enemies may not be to us alike, neither aequè nor aqualiter. Some are Calves, simple, though violent; some others are Bulls, fierce and furious; some other Lions from among the reeds, ravenous and devouring: all these, though cruel, yet perhaps are not malicious; an increpa is enough for them. Saul was one of these wild Bulls, breathing out threatenings against the Church, and tossing upon his horn many worthy Christians; had it not been pity he had been destroyed in that height of his rage? an increpation brought him home: God had never such a Champion. Now, certamen bonum certavi, I have fought a good fight, saith he justly of himself, 2 Tim. 4. 7. This increpa then is, Discountenance them, dishearten them, discomfit them, disband them. Put them down, O Lord, and let them know they are but men: humble them to the very dust, but not to the dust of death; to correction, as Habacuc speaketh, not to a full destruction; only till they humbly bring pieces of silver, till they come in with the tributes of peaceful submission, of just satisfaction. The end of all just was is Peace. As we are first bidden to inquire of Abel ere we infer it, (offeres ei pacem, Deut. 20. 10.) so when we hear of Abel we must stint it. War to the State is Physic to the body. This is no other than a civil evacuation, whether by potion or phlebotomy. What is the end of Physic but health? when that is once recovered, we have done with the Apothecary. He wantoness away his life foolishly that, when he is well, will take Physic to make him sick. It is far from us to wish the confusion of the ignorant and seduced enemies of God's Church, those that follow Absalon with an upright heart: No, we pity them, we pray for them. Oh that they would come in with their pieces of silver, and tender their humble obediences to the apparent Truth of God, and yield to the laws of both Divine and humane Justice! Oh that God would persuade Jap●●t to dwell in the tents of Sem! Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. O thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet? put up thyself into thy scabbard, rest and be still, Jer. 47. 6.  
But for those other that delight in war, Dissipa, Domine, Scatter them, O Lord. Confusion is but too good for them; bring them to worse than nothing. The perfection and suddenness of this dissipation is expressed emphatically in the beginning of this Psalm by a double Metaphor; as smoke before the wind, as wax before the fire, so scatter them. Of all light bodies nothing is more volatile than smoke, of all solid none more flitting than wax: As wind is to the smoke, and fire to the wax, so are the Judgements of God to his enemies; the wax melteth, the smoke vanisheth before them. The conceit is too curious of those that make the Gentiles to be smoke, who mount up in the opinion of their wisdom and power; the Jews wax, dropped from the honeycomb of their many Divine privileges. No, all are both, smoke and wax. Even so do thou scatter them, O Lord; and be not merciful to them that offend on malicious wickedness.  
Two thoughts only remain now for us. The first, that it must be God only who must rebuke and scatter. The second, that it is our Prayer only that must obtain from God this rebuke, this dissipation. Both which when I have touched a little, I shall put an end to this exercise of your patient Devotion.  
It is God only that must do it; for vain is the help of man. And how easy is it for the Almighty to still the enemy and avenger? They are as a potter's vessel to his iron Sceptre; as the thorns or wax to his fire; as chaff or smoke to his wind. To our weakness the opposite powers seem strong and unconquerable; the Canaanitish was reach up to Heaven; and who can stand before the sons of Anak? When we see their Bulwarks, we would think they roll Pelion upon Ossa with the old Giants; when we see their Towers, we would think they would scale Heaven with the builders of Babel; when we see their Mines, we would think they would blow up the earth. Let the wind of God's Power but breath upon them, they vanish as smoak; let the fire of his wrath but look upon them, they melt as wax. Tyrannous Egypt had long made slaves of God's people, and now will make slaughter of them; following them armed at the heels into the channel of the Sea. Stand still, and see the Salvation of the Lord; for the Egyptians which you have seen to day, ye shall see no more for ever, Exod. 14. 13.  
The great Host of proud Benhadad will carry away all Samaria in their pockets for pin-dust: Ere long ye shall see their haughty King come in haltred and prostrate. Vaunting Sennacherib comes crowing over poor Jerusalem, and he will lend them two thousand horses, if they can set riders on them; and scorns their King, and defies their God: Stay but till morning, all his hundred fourscore and five thousand shall be dead corpses. Vain fools! What is a finite power in the hands of an infinite? Where there is an equality of force, there may be hard tugging; but where brass meets with clay, how can that brittle stuff escape unshattered? Let this cool your courages, and pull down your plumes, O ye insolent enemies of God. When ye look to your own sword, there is no rule with you; Mihi perfacile est, etc. It is easy for me (saith Uldes in the story) to destroy all the earth that the Sun looks upon: but when God takes you to task, what toys, what nothings ye are? Behold, we come against you in the Name of the Lord of Hosts: It is he that shall rebuke and scatter you.  
He will do it; but he will do it upon our Prayers. Not that our poor Petitions can put mercy into God, who is infinitely careful for the good of his Church above all possible reaches of our desires; but that we may be raised up to a meet capacity of Mercy. God cannot hate his enemies or love his own ever the more upon our entreaties; yet he will be sued to for the particular effects of both, if ever we look to taste of his Mercy in either. If we have not a heart to pray, God hath not an hand to help. So did God hate Amalek, that he commanded it to be rooted out of the earth; so did he love Israel as the apple of his eye: Yet unless Moses hold up his hand, Amalek shall prevail against Israel. These are our best, our surest weapons, even our Prayers; and blessed be God that hath put it into the heart of his Anointed to seek his face in these powerful Humiliations. We sought him against the Pestilence, and prevailed almost miraculously against that destroying Angel; why should we not hope to find him against unseasonable Clouds, against the opposite powers of flesh and blood? Here is your safety, here is your assurance of victory, O ye great Princes and Potentates of the earth: if ye trust to the arm of flesh it will fail you. Let your Navies be never so well rigged and manned; let your Forces be never so strong and numberless; let them have not only hands and feet (that is, horsemen and footmen) but a bulk of body too, that is, full substance of wealthy provision, (as the word of Flaminius was;) let your counsel be vigilant, your munition ready, your troops trained and valiant; yet if there be not Devotion enough in our bosom to make God ours, in vain shall we hope to stand before our enemies. This only (whatsoever the profane heart of Atheous men may imagine) this is the great Ordnance which can batter down the walls of our enemies, yea the very black gates of Hell itself; in comparison whereof all humane powers are but paper-shot. Yea this is that Petar which only can blow open the gates of Heaven, and fetch down victory upon our heads, and make us another thundering Legion.  
What is it that made us so happily successful in Eighty eight beyond all hope, beyond all conceit, but the fervency of our humble Devotions? That Invincible Navy came on dreadfully floating like a moving wood in the sight of our coast; those vast Vessels were as so many lofty Castles raised on those liquid foundations: Then strait, as if those huge bottoms had been stuffed with Tempests, there was nothing but thunder and lightning and smoke, and all the terrible apparitions of death. We, what did we? we fought upon our knees, both Prince and people. Strait God fought for us from Heaven. Our Prayers were the gale, yea the gust that tore those mis-consecrated flags and sails, and scattered and drenched those presumptuous piles, and sent them into the bottom of the deep, to be a Parlour for Whales and Sea-monsters. There lay the Pride of Spain, the Terror of England. And is the hand of our God shortened? Is he other then what he was? We may be (as we are) weakened and effeminated by a long, luxurious peace: Our God is yesterday, and to day, and the same for ever. If we be not wanting to him in our Prayers, he cannot be wanting to our Protection.  
Look up to him (O dear Christians) that is the God of our Salvation. Behold, the Lions out of their reeds, the Bulls out of their forests, and these in banded multitudes conspire against us; and the misled Calves of the people are apt enough to back their attempts. Neither is this a fair hostility; our enemies are those that hate peace, and delight in war, offering insolent provocations to our State, in disinheriting part of the Royal Issue, violating their faiths, maintaining their unjust affronts, ambitiously aspiring to undue Sovereignty. What shall we then do? O put not your trust in Princes, nor in the sons of men, whose breath is in their nostrils. O put not your trust, ye Princes and Peers, in your sword, in your bow; in your powers and confederacies. Trust only to the great God of hosts, who alone can but blow upon all the proudest preparations of your enemies, and scatter them to the lowest Hell. Come to him in your humble devotions, with an Increpa and Dissipa; he shall soon make your enemies to lick the dust.  
But what shall I say (Honourable and Beloved?) we have prayed, and have not been heard; and thou, O Lord, hast not of late gone forth with our hosts: yea thou hast rebuked us, in stead of our enemies. Alas! we can more grieve then wonder at this issue.  
Israel in the hot chase of all their victory, is foiled more than once by a Canaanite. Whence was this? There was a pad in the straw, an Achan in the camp. Theft and Sacrilege fought against Israel more than the men of Ai: the wedge of Gold wounded them more than the enemy's steel; the Babylonish garment disarmed and stripped them: Israel had sinned, and must flee. Alas, my brethren, what do we pray for victory over our enemies, when our sins (which are our deadliest enemies) conquer us? To what purpose are our Prayers loud, when our sins are louder? to what purpose are our Bodies this day empty, if our Souls be full of wickedness? whiles we provoke God to his face with our abominable licentiousness, with our fearful profanations, with our outrageous lives, how do we think to glaver with him in our formal Devotions? What care he for our smooth tongues, when our hearts are filthy? what cares he for an elevated eye, when our Souls are depressed to vile lusts? what cares he for the calves of our lips, when the iniquity of our heels compasses us about? The very Sacrifice of the wicked is abomination to the Lord; his very Prayer is turned into sin, even that whereby he hopes to expiate it. Oh that my people had harkened to me, and Israel had walked in my ways (faith God;) I should soon have subdued their enemies, and turned my hand against their adversaries: The haters of the Lord should have submitted themselves to him; but their time should have endured for ever, Psal. 81. 13, 14, 15.  
Oh then cleanse your hands, ye sinners, and purge your hearts, ye double-minded; wash your hands in innocence, and then compass the Altar of God. Then shall the God of our righteousness hear in his holy Heavens, and rise up mightily for our defence; then shall he be a wall of brass about our Island; then shall he wound the head of our enemies, and make the tongues of our dogs red with their blood; then shall he cover our heads in the day of battle, and make this Nation of ours victoriously glorious to the ends of the world, even to all ages and times; then shall he be known to be our God, and we shall be known to be his people for ever: Which he of his infinite mercy vouchsafe to grant us for the sake of the Son of his Love, Jesus Christ the Righteous; to whom, etc.   

St. PAUL'S COMBAT.  
IN TWO SERMONS Preached at the Court to his MAJESTY, in Ordinary Attendance.  By J. H. 
1 Cor. 15. 32. If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, etc. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
OUR Saviour foretold us that these last days should be quarrelsome; all the world doth either act or talk of fight: Give me leave therefore to fall upon the common Theme of the times, and to tell you of an holy Combat. Saint Peter tells us there are many knots in S. Paul's Epistles: this may well go for one of them, which is the relation of his Conflict at Ephesus. There are that have held it literal, and those not mean nor only modern Authors. Nicephorus tells us a sound tale of S. Paul's commitment to prison by Hieronymus the Governor of Ephesus, 
Nic. l. 2. ●. 25.  his miraculous deliverance for the Christening of Eubula and Artemilla, his voluntary return to his Gaol, his casting to the Lion, of the beast couching at the feet of the Saint, of the hail-storm sending away the beholders with broken heads and the Governor with one ear shorn off, of the Lion's escape to the mountains. It is a wonder in what mint he had it. 
Act. 19 29.  There was indeed a Theatre at Ephesus for such purposes; and, Christianos ad leonem, was a common word, as we find in Tertullian. Ignatius, Tecla, Prisca, and many other blessed Martyrs were corn allotted to this mill. But what is this to S. Paul's Combat? It is one thing to be cast to the beasts as an offender, another thing to fight with beasts as a Champion; a difference which I wonder the sharp eyes of Erasmus saw not. Those were forced by the sentence of condemnation, these Voluntaries as in the Jogo de toros; those were brought to suffer, these came to kill; those naked, these armed. Can any man be so senseless as to think that S. Paul (tricubitalis ille, as chrysostom calls him) would put himself into the Theatre with his sword and target to maintain a duel with the Lion? Thus he must do, else he did not according to the Letter 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. But if it be pleaded that some bloody sentence might cast him into the Theatre to be devoured, and his will and natural care of self-preservation incited him to his own defence; is it possible that so faithful an Historian as S. Luke should in his Acts omit this passage more memorable than all the rest that he hath recorded? Indeed S. Paul, who had reason to keep the best register of his own life, hath reported some things of himself which S. Luke hath not particularised: he tells us of five scourge, 
2 Cor. 11. 24.  three whip, three shipwrecks; whereas S. Luke tells us but of one shipwreck Act. 27. of one scourging, Act. 16. 23. But so eminent an occurrence as this could not have passed in silence; at least amongst that catalogue of less dangers his own Pen would not have smothered it. Yea let me be bold to say that this not only was not done, but could not be. Paul was a Citizen of Rome; if that privilege saved him from lashes, Act. 22. 25. much more from the beasts; their contemptible jaws were no death for a Roman. I am with those Fathers, (Tertullian, chrysostom, Jerome, Theophylact, others) who take this metaphorically of men in shape, beasts in condition, paralleling it with 2 Tim. 4. 17. I was delivered out of the mouth of the Lion, that is, Nero: and with that of the Psalmist, Ne tradas bestiis animas confitentes tibi, Give not unto the beasts the souls that confess thee, as the Vulgar reads, Psal. 74. 19  
Who then were these beasts at Ephesus? Many and great Authors take it of Demetrius his Faction and their busy tumult, Acts 19 Neither will I strictly examine with S. chrysostom, whether S. Paul sent away this former Epistle from Ephesus before those broils of their Diana and her Silversmiths, as may seem to be gathered by conferring of S. Luke's journal with S. Paul's Epistle. Others take it of those Ephesian Conjurers, Acts 19 Tertullian hits it home, whiles in a generality he construes it of those beasts of the Asiatic pressure, whereof S. Paul speaks 2 Cor. 1. 8. That text glosses upon this at large; turn your eyes to that Commentary of S. Paul: For we would not have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measare above strength; insomuch as that we despaired of life. But we had the sentence of death in ourselves. Lo here the Beasts; lo here the Combat. Ephesus was the mother-City of Asia; there S. Paul spent three years with such perpetual and hot bicker, that his very life was hopeless. As some great Conqueror therefore desires to have his prime and most famous victory engraven in his last Monument, so doth our Apostle single out this Ephesian; I fought with beasts at Ephesus.  
My Text then shall be this one word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. But as this word is a compound, so it compounds my Text and discourse of two parts: the first comprehends the Beasts wherewith S. Paul conslicts; the latter the conflicts that he had with those Beasts. Both of them worthy of your most careful attention. My first subjects is harsh, and therefore will need a fair construction.  
The world is a wide Wilderness, wherein we converse with wild and savage creatures; we think them men, they are beasts. It is contrary to the delusions of Lycanthropy: there, he that is a man thinks himself a beast; here, he that is a beast thinks himself a man, and draws others eyes into the same error. Let no man misconstrue me, as if, in a Timon-like or Cynic humour, I were fallen out with our creation. I know what the Psalmist says, Thou hast made man little lower than the Angels (Psal. 8. 5.) there is but paulò minùs; I know some of whom it is said sicut Angeli, as the Angels of God; yea yet more, there are those of whom it is said, Dii estis, ye are Gods; besides these, every renewed man is a Saint, his Regeneration advances him above the sphere of mere Humanity: but let him be but a very man, that is, a man corrupted, I dare say, though he be set in honour, he is more than compared to the beast that perisheth. Far be it from us then to cast mire into the face of our Creator: God never made man such as he is; it is our sin that made our Soul to grovel; and if the mercy of our Maker have not condemned our hands to forelegs, how can that excuse us from bestiality? Neither let us be thought to strike Grace through the sides of Nature: when it pleaseth God to breath upon us again in our Renovation, we cease to be what we made ourselves; then do we uncase the beast, and put on an Angel. It is with depraved man in his impure naturals, that we must maintain this quarrel: we cannot challenge a worse enemy than what we were, and what in part we are, and what without God's mercy we should be.  
Let degenerated Nature then fee her best Advocate at this bar; he can but plead Shape, Speech, Ratiocination to make himself no beast: and if these prove but some juggling mists to make him seem other than he is, he shall be forced to grant himself other than he seems, a beast.  
To begin with the first. The true essence of Humanity lies not in the outside: God hath hid the Form of every creature deeper, much more of him that should be reasonable. Let us give leave to holy Austin's credulity, that a man was by a piece of an enchanted Cheese turned into an Ass: tell me now, ye Philosophers, what creature ye will call this. His Soul is the same, the Shape is altered: Reason is where she was, but otherwise attended. If ye dare say, it might be a beast with Reason, your best fort is lost. The Hide was now rough, the Ears long, the Hooves round and hard, and the whole Habit bestial; but if Reason had not more power to make him no beast then these outward parts had to make him no man, I have what I would. You must of force therefore say it was a man clothed with a beast, and so shall fall upon that of Cleanthes, which Epiphanius mentions, that the Soul is the man. What is the Body then but the Habit of this Spirit, which it may change or put off without change, as under divers suits we still wear the same skin? If we had been on the Scaffold to see a man challenging the dogs in the disguise of a Bears-hide, would we have said, Now two beasts are fight? The Shape therefore may well belie the Substance. Our English Navigations report that on some Indian shores men have been seen with the faces of beasts; and ye know the old verse, Simia quam similis? Yea both our stories and the Netherlandish tell us of Sea-monsters that have been taken up in the full form of men: if the outside seemed humane, whiles the inside was mute and reasonless, who would honour that creature with the style of man? What should I tell you that evil spirits have not seldom appeared in the ships of men, as that Devil of Endor in Samuel's likeness? If the outward Figure could have made the man, the Prophet had survived his death. To these let me add, that the Shape is changed with disease or casualty or age, whiles the man is the same: The Face that was fair, is now distorted and morphewed; the Hair that was yellow or black, turned white or vanished; the Body that was erect, bowed double; the Skin that was white and smooth, turned tawny and writheled; and the whole frame so altered, as if it had been moulded anew, that whiles all others mis-know it, he that dwells in that tenement can scarce know it to be his own: and yet the owner will not say with that mortified spirit, Ego non sum ego. What shall we say of the proud Monarch of Babylon, Nabuchadnezzar, during the seven years of his transformation? His outward Shape was not changed, his heart was; it was the word of his Vision, Let his heart be changed from man's, and let a beasts heart be given unto him, Dan. 4. 16. What was he now for the time but a beast even in his own sense? His diet was with the oxen, his hair like Eagles feathers, his nails like birds claws; all was, obbrutescebat animus, his heart was bestial in a case of humane flesh. It is not therefore the Shape that can forbid man to be a beast. And it was not for nothing that the Cynic sought in the full streets for a man, and would not allow that acclamation to Doxippus in the Olympian games, Doxippus viros vicit.  
Let us see what Speech and Reason can do, Ratio & Oratio. Every living creature hath a peculiar sound whereby to express itself; and that not without some variety of signification and change of note. If man only speak articulately words of voluntary formation and arbitrary imposition, yet even brutes have such natural language as whereby each of the same kind do mutually understand other; and what can our words obtain more? If an Apollonius Tyaneus could construe them in their sense, it is all one as if he listened to his Gossips. But besides the natural tone, have we not heard Birds taught so to imitate the voice of men, that they have received replies, as not distinguished? Do not our books tell us of the Hyaena, that learns the Shepherd's name, and calls him forth to his cost, so cunningly counterfeiting the voice that the man pays his blood for his credulity? A dumb man is no less a man then a prattler. Balaam's Ass was a beast still, and yet not only spoke, but spoke in a man's voice, 2 Pet. 2. 16. Besides that, man when he comes to his best, shall have no use of Speech; (although there want not some, as Gerson, Salmeron and others, that hold a vocal Choir in Heaven.) The Angel's praise God and understand each other, without use of a tongue; once we shall be like them. It is not Speech therefore that makes the man, since man shall be most himself when he shall not speak.  
It is Reason that mainly differenceth man from beast, and the improvement of it in a free deduction of consequences and conclusions: that Divine power dwells only in the immortal Soul of man, and is not communicable to the lower form of creatures. Let me have leave still to put you in mind that I speak not of man created in innocence; I speak not of man as renewed by Grace, and by that initiated in Glory: I speak of man as depraved by sin. Now he hath indeed the light of Reason, but so dim and dusky, that we may well say he looks through horn, not through Crystal: He that was an Eagle, is now an Owl to this Sun. As his best Graces are lost, so his second powers are marred: he is therefore now become like the beast that perisheth, not in frailty only, but in ignorance; for it follows, This their way is their folly, Psal. 49. 13.  
Besides, we see the outside of those creatures we call brute, we see not what is within them. Not to speak of the excellency of their Common sense and strength of Memory; surely their Fantasy yields such inferences as would seem to evince an inferior and mongrel kind of Ratiocination. Who that should see Plutarch's Crow coming to the pail to drink, and finding it not full enough for her reach, carrying stones to raise up the water; who that should see the Beavers framing their den, or some Birds building their nests; who that should see the Lion plaining the impression of his paws with his stern; who that should see the Crane's ballasting themselves when they are to fly over the mountains; who that shall see the wily tricks of the Fox, or the witty feats of the Monkey or Baboon; who that shall read of the Elephant learning letters and numbers, and plotting his cunning revenges, would not say that these, and a thousand the like, must needs argue a base kind of sensitive discourse, such as wherein Imagination doth notably counterfeit Reason, and in some weak subjects so transcend it, as that Lactantius dares say, 
De Ira Dei, l. 1. c. 7.  (I dare not) Ista non facerent, nisi inesset illis intelligentia & cogitatio? It is true, our reasonable Soul is furnished with higher powers; but it is not more honour to have had them, than shame to have impaired them. If God doth not breath upon our dim glasses and wipe them clear, they show us nothing. To speak plainly; Indeed it is our Illumination that perfects Reason; and that Illumination is from the Father of lights, without whose Divine light natural Reason is but as a Dial without the Sun, eyes without light: For the natural man perceiveth not the things of the spirit of God, neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned, 1 Cor. 2. 14. And in that person it is that Agar the Son of Jakeh speaks, I am more brutish than man, I have not the understanding of a man, Prov. 30. 2. Why this? I have not the knowledge of the holy, vers. 3. The word is remarkable; no other then 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whence is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Jumentum, a Beast; the same that Ezekiel uses, when he says, I will give thee over into the hands of brutish men, Ezec. 21. 31. and the Psalmist, when he says, Oh ye foolish, or brutish, among the people, when will ye understand? So as, notwithstanding this muddy and imperfect Reason, God sees a kind of brutality in the natural man. Whereto it may please you to add, that in a man debauched Reason is so much worse than brutishness, by how much wickedness is worse heinous than simplicity; and if want of Reason make a Beast, abuse of Reason makes a Devil. It is a miserable advantage that make us only apt to evil, and capable of an Hell: small cause have we to brag of those powers which so distinguish us from beasts, that they make us worse than beasts. In short therefore, notwithstanding Shape, Speech, Reason, a natural (and thereby a vicious) man may well pass for a beast.  
And now that we see it apparent that he is so, let us a little inquire how he became so. Certainly, God made man upright, as in shape, so in disposition: What wrought this miserable Metamorphosis? What could do it but Sorcery? and what Witch could this be but the old Circe of the world, Sensuality? Man is led and informed by Reason, Beasts by Sense: now when man abandons Reason, and gives himself up to Sense, he casts off the man, and puts on the beast. Neither is this sensuality in the Affection only, but it goes through the whole Soul: there is a sensual Understanding as well as a sensual Appetite: the one makes a beast in Opinion, the other in Practice. Gross Error doth the one, Vice the other. Whosoever therefore is transported with either, is turned Beast. Give me a man that is given up to his filthy Lusts, give me a man whose Reason is drawn through his maw or his spleen; let him be otherwise what he will, I dare say he is no other than a beast.  
And now what variety think you is there of several kinds? no wilderness affords so many. Nero is a Lion, 2 Tim. 4. 17. Herod a Fox, Luke 13. 32. the Jewish false-teachers Dogs, Phil. 3. 2. David's persecutors Bulls of Basan, and Unicorns, Ps. 22. 12, 21. the Egyptian enemies Dragons, Ps. 74. 13. the Scribes and Pharisees Serpents, Vipers, Mat. 23. 33. the Babylonian Monarch an Eagle-winged Lion, the Persian a Bear, the Macedonian a Leopard, Dan. 7. 4, 5, 6. the enemies of the Church wild Boars, Ps. 80. 13. Greedy Judges evening Wolves, Zeph. 3. 3. Schismatics Foxes cubs, Cant. 2. 15. The time and my breath would fail me if I should reckon up all the several kinds of beasts in the skins of men. Surely as there is thought to be no beast upon earth which hath not his fellow in the sea, and which hath not his semblance in Plants; so I may truly say, there is no beast in the vast desert of the world which is not paralleled in man. Yea, as Effects and Qualities are in an higher degree found in Causes and Subjects equivocal then in their own, (as Heat is more excellently in the Sun then in the Fire;) so certainly is brutishness more eminent and notorious in man then in beast.  
Look into all herds and droves, and see if you can find so very a beast as the Drunkard. It was S. Austin's reason of old, Those beasts will drink no more than they think enough; and if the Panther (which they say is the drunkennest beast) or the Swine be overtaken with unaccustomed liquor, it is upon ignorance of the power of it; (so a Noah himself may be at first mistaken.) But man's Reason foretells him that those intoxicating draughts will bereave him of Reason, yet he swills them down wilfully; as if it were a pleasure to forgo that whereby he is a man. The beast when he hath his load, may frisk a little, and move inordinately, and then lie down in an ordinary posture of harmless rest: but for the Drunkard, his tongue reel● strait either into railing or ribaldry, his hands into swaggering and bloomed; all his motions are made of disorder and mischief, and his rest is no less odious than his moving. See how he lies wallowing in his own filthy excretions, in so loathsome a fashion as were enough to make the beholder hate to be a man. And now, when we have all done, after all the shame and scorn, here is Sus ad volutabrum. All the world cannot reclaim an habituated Drunkard; that which the beasts know not how to do, his wit projects when he is sober how he may be drunk; and, which St. chrysostom well observes, as more transcending all humours of beasts, how he may force others to his own shameful excess. Far, far be this abominable vice from any of you, Courtiers. That which the Lacedæmonians scorned in their very Slaves, that which our former times had wont to disdain in Beggars, let not that stain the honour of a Christian Court. Or if any such should hear me this day, Awake ye drunkards and weep, and howl ye drinkers of wine, Joel 1. 5. return back your superfluous liquor into tears: or if ye will not weep, ye shall howl, if ye will not weep with penitents, ye shall howl with hellhounds; and ye that now pour down vessels more to make then quench thirst, shall one day in vain wish to give all the world for but one drop of water to cool that flaming tongue which a whole Ocean cannot so much as moisten.  
Look if in all the mountains or falls there be any such Goat or Stallion as the Voluptuous man. Those silly beasts are carried with the sway of their natural desires into those actions of lust which are uncapable both of shame and sin; but in their own seasons, and within their own line: these high-fed steeds are ever neighing after strange flesh, and, as was said of beastly Messalina, may be wearied, cannot be satisfied. Those beasts affect not to go in any other than the ordinary road of Nature: but these prodigies of Sodomitical lewdness, as St. Paul speaks to his Romans (even then infamous, for this not-to-be-named villainy) burn in lust one towards another, and man with man work that which is unseemly. In that impure City beasts might have been Saints to the men; even out of that reason which the wanton Roman Dame gave of old for their silly innocence, because they are beasts.  
Look into all the cribbs and troughs of brutish diet, and see whether you can find such a beast as a Glutton. Those irrational creatures take that simple provision which Nature yields them but to a sufficiency; not affecting curiosity of dress, varieties of mixtures, surcharges of measures: whereas the liquorous palate of the Glutton ranges through seas and lands for uncouth delicacies, kills thousands of creatures for but their tongues or giblets, makes but one dish of the quintessence of an hundred fouls or fishes, praises that for the best flesh that is no flesh, cares only to solicit that which others would be glad to satisfy, appetite. What shall I say more? this Gourmand sacrifices whole hecatombs to his paunch, and whiffs himself away in Necotian Incense to the Idol of his vain intemperance, and tears his own bowels, yea his Soul, with his teeth.  
Look into all the caves and dens of the wildest desert, see if there be any such Tiger or Wolf as an Enemy, as an Usuring oppressor. Even the savagest beasts agree with themselves, else the wilderness would soon be unpeopled of her fourfooted inhabitants. Cruel man falls upon his own kind, and spills that blood which, when both are shed, he cannot distinguish from his own. The fiercest beast, if he seize upon a weaker prey, is incited by a necessity of hunger, and led by a natural law of self-preservation, which once satisfind, puts an end to his cruelty: man is carried with a furious desire of revenge, which is as unsatiable as hell itself. Hence are Murders of men, rapes of Virgins, braining and broaching of Infants, mangling of carcases, carousing of blood, refossion of graves, torturing of the surviving, worse than many deaths; firing of Cities, demolishing of Temples, whole Countries buried in rubbish and ashes, and even the Christian World turned to a Shambles or Slaughter-house.  
It were too easy for me to prosecute the rest, and in every vicious man to find more beasts than hides, or horns, or hoofs, or paws can discover. Brag of thyself therefore, O man, that thou art anoble creature, and vaunt of thine own perfections, look big and speak high; but if thou be no other than thou hast made (yea marred) thyself, the very brute beasts, if they could speak as thou dost, would in pity call thee, as the Philosopher did in Laertius, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Thrice man, in stead of thrice miserable, God and his Angels and good men look upon thee with no less scorn than thou look'st upon that which thou art and think'st not, a beast; yea it were well if no worse. Let me say, there is not the most loathly and despicable creature that crawls upon the earth, which thou shalt not once envy, and wish to have been rather than what thou art. Raise up thyself therefore from this woeful condition of depraved humanity (naturam vincat institutio, as Ambrose) and let it be thine holy ambition to be advanced to the blessed participation of the Divine nature, and thereby to be more above thyself then the beast is below thee. Fight with thyself till thou hast beaten away the beast; and wrestle with God till his blessing have sent the Angel away with thee.  
But from the common view of these beasts may it please you to cast down your eyes to the specials. There are beasts of Game, there are beasts of Service: neither of these are for this place. They are harmful beasts with which this fight is maintained, and yet not every harmful beast neither. Ye know the Philosopher, when he was asked which was the harmfullest of all beasts, answered, Of tame, the Flatterer; of wild, the Detractor. We have nothing to do with the former; and never may that pestilent beast have aught to do with this Presence: those Serpents that swell up the Soul with a plausible poison, that kill a man laughing and sleeping, those Dogs that worry their masters, those Vultures that feed on the eyes, on the hearts of the Great; Hell is a fitter place for them than Christian Courts. The Detractor is a spiteful beast; his teeth are spears and arrows, his tongue a sharp sword, Ps. 57 4. (It was a great vaunt that the witty Captain made of his sword, that it was sharper than Slander) and, which is most dangerous, this beast is a close one, mordet in silentio, bites without noise, Eccles. 10. 11. He carries the poison of Asps under his tongue, as David speaks; and in lingua diabolum, as Bernard. Deliver my soul, O God, from lying lips, and from a deceitful tongue. St. Paul was vexed with two kinds of them; 1 the Sophisters, 2 the Idolaters: 1 the wrangling adversaries of the Gospel, 2 the superstitious abettors of Diana, Act. 19 Both of them had foenum in cornu.  
The first, after three months' confutation, not only remained refractory, but blasphemous, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, railing on Christianity, and that openly before the multitude. What beasts were these every way? Beasts, in that they would not be convinced by the clear and irrefragable demonstrations of truth, by the undeniable Miracles of the Apostles; in that as they had no Reason, so they would hear none. Beasts, in that they bellowed out blasphemies against the sacred name of Christ. In analogy whereto let me safely and not uncharitably say, that whosoever he is that wilfully stands out against a plain evidence of truth, and sharpens his tongue against the way of God, is no other than a beast. There is a faction of men, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (Tit. 1. 14.) that do not only turn their backs upon that bright-shining truth whose clear beams have these hundred years glared upon their faces; but also spend their clamorous mouths in barking against this glorious light. What marts of invectives, what Bulls of censure, what thunderbolts of Anathemas do we still receive from these spiteful enemies of peace? What doth this argue but the litter of the Beast? Revel. 13.  
The latter were the superstitious Demetrians, the doting Idolaters of Diana: Beasts indeed, as for their sottishness, so for their violence and impetuosity.  
Their Sottishness is notable even in their ringleader Demetrius. Do you hear his exception against St. Paul? vers. 26. No other than this; He says that they are not Gods that are made with hands. Did ever any Ephesian beast bray out such another challenge? Is it possible that humane reason should be so brutified as to think a man may make his own God, as to seek a Deity in liveless metals, as to bow his knees to what hath fallen from his fingers? O Idolatry, the true Sorceress of the world! what beasts do thine enchantments make of men! Even the fine Athenian (not the gross Theban) wits were fain to be taught that the Godhead is not like to gold, or silver, or stone. And would to God the modern Superstition were less foppish. Hear this, ye seduced souls that are taught to worship a pastry-God. Ergo adeo stolidi opifices ab se fabrefieri Deos credunt? saith our Jesuit Lorinus of these Ephesians, These so foolish workmen think they can make their Gods. And why not of Gold as well as of Grain? why not the Smith as well as the Baker? Change but the name, the absurdity is but one. To hold that a man can make his own fingers, or that those fingers can make that wheat whereof the wafer is made, were a strange folly: but that a man can make the God that made him, and eat the God that he hath made, is such a monster of Paradoxes as puts down all the fancies of Paganism, and were enough to make a wavering soul say with Averro, Sit anima mea cum Philosophis. I remember their learned Montanus upon Luke 22. 19 construes that Hoc est corpus meum, thus, Verum corpus meum in hoc Sacramento panis continetur sacramentaliter, & etiam corpus meum mysticum, My true body is sacramentally contained in this Sacrament of bread, as also my body mystical; and withal, as willing to say something if he durst speak out, adds, cujus arcanam & mysteriis refertissimam rationem, ut explicatiorem habeant homines Christiani, dabit aliquando Dominus, whose secret and most deeply-mystical meaning, God will one day more clearly unfold to his Christian people. Now the God of Heaven make good this honest Prophecy, and open the eyes of poor misled souls, that they may see to distinguish betwixt a slight corruptible wafer, and an incomprehensible immortal God. And if from this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Bread-worship, I should lead you to their 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Cross-worship, and from thence to their 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Image-worship, you would find reason enough why that man of Sin, the author of these Superstitions, should be called the Beast.  
The Violence and impetuosity of these Ephesians was answerable: for here was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Trouble, verse 23. then 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Concourse, verse 40. then 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Confusion, and that in the whole City, verse 29, and more than that, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a furious rushing into the Theatre, and then 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a boisterous snatching of those that were conceived opposites, besides all their shouting, and out-cries, and savage uproar. What should I need to tell you, that this furious prosecution is no other than an ordinary symptom of Idolatry? and to make it good, what should I need to lay before your eyes all those turbulent effects that in our days have followed malicious Superstition, those instigations of public Invasions, those conspiracies against maligned Sovereignty, those suffossions of walls, those powder-trains, those shameless Libels, those patrocinations of Treasons; and, to make up all, those late Bulls that bellow out prohibitions of justly-sworn allegiance, those bold absolutions from sacred Oaths (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as he said of the Lacedæmonians?) In all these we too well feel that we have to do with the beast; with S. John's beast, no whit short of S. Paul's.  
God knows how little pleasure I take in displaying the enormities of our fellow-Christians. Although, to say as it is, not the Church, but the Faction, is it that by their practice thus merits the title of savageness. Of that Faction let me say with sorrow of heart, that their wilful opposition to truth, their uncharitable and bloody courses, their palpable Idolatry hath poured shame and dishonour, and hath brought infinite loss and disadvantage to the blessed Name of Christ.  
And now ye see by this time that in the generality natural and vicious men are no other than beasts; that specially all contentious adversaries to the Truth and impetuous Idolaters are beasts of S. Paul's Theatre. Wherefore then serves all this, but to stir us up to a threefold use; of holy Thankfulness, of Pity, of Indignation?  
The two first are those duo ubera Sponsa, the two breasts of Christ's Spouse, as Bernard calls them, Congratulation and Compassion.  
The former, of Thankfulness to our good God that hath delivered us, as from the wretchedness of our corrupt Nature, so from blind and gross misdevotion, yea from the tyranny of Superstition. Alas! what are we better, what other than our neighbours, that our Goshen should be shined upon, whiles their Egypt is covered with darkness? What are we that we should be renewed in the spirit of our minds, and be created according to the Image of God, whiles they continue in the woeful deformation of their bestial corruptions? that our Understanding should be enlightened with the beams of Divine truth, whereas those poor souls are left in the natural dungeon of their ignorance, or grovelling to base earthly unreasonable traditions? O God of mercies, had it pleased thee to give them our illumination and attraction, and to have left us in their miserable darkness and indocility, we had been as they are, and they perhaps had been as we should be. Non nobis, Domine, Not unto us, Lord, not unto us, but to thy Name let the praise be given of this thy gracious sequestration; and thou that only hast done it, take to thyself the glory and improvement of thine own work.  
Of Pity and yearning of bowels; whether to those careless unregenerates that cannot so much as complain of their too-pleasing corruptions, but applaud themselves in the free scope of their own brutish sensuality, as if they had made a covenant with death, an agreement with hell; or whether to our poor seduced brethren, that are nursed up in an invincible ignorance of Truth, and are held down with the imperious sway of Antichristian usurpation. Alas! it is too true which our learned Spalatensis (why should I not call him ours, who sealed up that truth of ours, which his pen had so stoutly maintained, with his last blood?) hath observed and published, Nam & plebem rudiorem, etc. that the ruder multitude under the Papacy are carried commonly with more inward religious affection toward the Blessed Virgin, or some other Saint, then towards Christ himself. Whose heart would not bleed at the thought of this deplorable irreligion? and yet these poor souls think they do so well, as that they cry out of our damnation for not accompanying them. At tu, Domine, usque quò? How long, Lord, how long wilt thou suffer the world to be deluded with these foul and pernicious impostures? how long shall thy Church groan under the heavy yoke of their sinful impositions? O thou that art the great Shepherd, look down and visit thy wand'ring flock; and at last let lose those silly sheep of thine that are fast entangled in the briers of Antichristian exaction. And we, why do not we as heartily labour to reclaim them, as they to withdraw us? why should they burn with zeal, whiles we frieze with indifferency? Oh let us spend ourselves in prayers, in tears, in persuasions, in unweariable endeavours for the happy conversion of those ignorant misguided souls, who having not our knowledge, yet shame our affections.  
Of Indignation lastly, as on the one side, at those practical revolters, that having begun in the spirit will needs end in the flesh; that having made a show of godliness, deny the power of it in their lives, returning with that impure beast to their own vomit; so on the other, at those speculative relapsers, that have out of policy or guiltiness abandoned a known and received truth. Pity is for those silly creatures that could never be blessed with Divine Reason and upright forms; but for a Gryllus, that was once a man, to quit his humanity, and to be in love with four feet, what stomach can but rise at so affected a transformation? The Chameleon is for a time beautiful with all pleasing varieties of colours, in the end no skin is more nasty. Woe is me, the swept house is repossessed with seven Devils: This recidivation is desperate: although indeed there would not be a revolt, without an inward unsoundness. Do ye see an apple fall untimely from the tree? view it, ye shall find it worm-eaten, else it had held. Avolent, quantum volent, paleoe istae levis fidei, as that Father said, Let this light chaff fly whither it will; it shows it to be but chaff. God's heap shall be so much the purer: and, in the mean time, what do they make themselves fit for, but the fire? What shall we say to these absurd changes? Our forefather's thought themselves in Heaven when first the bright beams of the Gospel broke forth in their eyes; and shall we, like those fond subterraneous people that Rubruquis speaks of, curse those glorious beams of the Sun now risen up to us, and lay our ears close to the ground, that we may not hear the harmony of that motion? Our Fathers blessed themselves in this Angelical Manna; and shall our mouths hang towards the onions and garlic of Egypt? Revertimini filii aversantes, Return ye backsliding children, return to the fountains of living waters which ye have exchanged for your broken cisterns. Recordamini priorum, as Esay speaks 46. 9 But if their will do lie still in their way, it were happy for them if authority would deal with them as confident riders do with a startling horse, spur them up, and bring them back to the block they leaped from. But if still their obstinacy will needs, in spite of contrary endeavours, feoff them in the style of filii desertores, it is a fearful word that God speaks to them, Vae eis quoniam vagantur à me, Woe to them, for they have wandered from me, Ose 7. 13. Now the God of Heaven reclaim them, confirm us, save both them and us in the day of the Lord Jesus: to whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, one infinite God, be given all Praise, Honour and Glory, now and for ever. Amen.   

St. PAUL'S COMBAT. THE SECOND PART.  1 Cor. 15. 32. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
I Have carried you into S. Paul's Theatre at Ephesus, I have showed you his Beasts; you must now see his Fight. It was his charge to Timothy that he should be an example; know then that what he bids, he practices. It is an exemplary combat which S. Paul fought, and that wherein we must follow him as Teachers, as Christians.  
Here he says, I have fought; afterwards, in imitation of him that saw his own works and approved them, he says, I have fought a good fight; doubtless, as with principalities and powers elsewhere, so even with these beasts at Ephesus.  
Let it please you to see, first, the person of the combatant; then, secondly, the manner of the fight.  
In the former ye may not look at S. Paul as a common soldier, but as a selected Champion of God; not merely as Paul, but as an Apostle, as a public person, as the spiritual Leader of God's people: so 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, I have fought with beasts.  
There is no trained man in the whole troup of God but must have his bout with the beasts of the Time. Vita hominis militia super terram; we are here in a militant Church. As we have all received our press-money in Baptism, so we must every one according to our engagement maintain this fight against the world. But if a man be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as S. Paul, singled out to a public calling, now he must think himself made for combats, because for victories: for Bellum durius contra victores, as Gregory speaketh.  
It was the charge of the Apostle, that a Bishop should be no striker, and Clericus percussor is an old brand of irregularity: But if in this kind he strike not, I must say of him as S. Paul to Ananias, God shall smite thee, thou whited wall. 
Jer. 15. 10.  All his whole life must be spent in these blows: he must be, as Jeremy speaks of himself, 
Epist. 23.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a man of strife and contention; there is no beast comes in his way but he must have a fling at him. When Gregory Nazianzen speaks of Basil designed to the Bishopric of Caesarea, If any man, saith he, pretend his weakness, non athletem, sed doctorem creabitis. But in this spiritual sense, if he be a Doctor in the Chair, he must be a Champion in the Theatre. No S. Martin may plead here, I am Christ's Soldier, I may not fight; yea therefore must he fight, because he is Christ's Soldier. Whosoever then would be a fit combatant for God, to enter into these lists against the beasts of the world, must be a S. Paul in proportion; so must he be a follower of him, as he is of Christ. Will it please you to see him first qualified, then armed.  
Qualified first, with Holiness, Skill, Courage. Holiness: For he must be a man of God, and, as the Apostle charges, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. irreprehensible; otherwise he is a beast himself, and had need of some body to bait him. Woe be to those Champions of God that take upon them to wield the sword of the Spirit with unclean hands. That divine weapon is not so fit to wound any as their own Souls. Ex ore tuo, serve nequam. Let me say truly, It were an happy and hopeful thing, that even our external and secular Wars should be managed with pure and innocent hands. I shall tell you that which perhaps few of you have either known or considered, that of old a soldier was a sacred thing; and it is worth your notice what in former times was the manner of our Ancestors in consecrating a Soldier or a Knight to the wars. Some six hundred years ago and upward, as I find in the history of Ingulphus, the manner was this; Anglorum erat consuetudo, quod qui militiae legitimae consecrandus esset, etc. He that should be devoted to the trade of war, the evening before his consecration came to the Bishop or Priest of the place, and in much contrition and compunction of heart made a confession of all his sins; and, after his absolution, spent that night in the Church, in watching, in prayers, in afflictive devotions: on the morrow being to hear Divine Service, he was to offer up his Sword upon the Altar, and after the Gospel, the Priest was with a solemn benediction to put it about his neck; and then after his communicating of those sacred mysteries, he was to remain miles legitimus. Thus he; who tells us how that valiant and successful Knight Heward came thus to his uncle, one Brandus, the devout Abbot of Peterborough, for his consecration; and that this Custom continued here in England till the irreligious Normans by their scorns put it out of countenance, accounting such a one non legitimum militem, sed equitem socordem, & Quiritem degenerem. This was their ancient and laudable manner (some shadow whereof we retain, whiles we hold some Orders of Knighthood Religious.) And can we wonder to hear of noble victories achieved by them, of Giants and Monsters slain by those hands that had so pious an initiation? These men professed to come to their combats as David did to Goliath, in the name of the Lord; no marvel if they prospered. Alas! now, Nulla fides pietásque, etc. ye know the rest: the name of a soldier is misconstrued by our Gallants as a sufficient warrant of debauchedness; as if a Buff-Jerkin were a lawful cover for a profane heart. Woe is me for this sinful degeneration. How can we hope that bloody hands of lawless Ruffians should be blessed with palms of triumph; that adulterous eyes should be shaded with garlands of victory; that profane and atheous instruments, if any such be employed in our wars, should return home loaded with success and honour? How should they prosper whose sins fight against them more than all the swords of enemies; whose main adversary is in their own bosom and in Heaven? If the God of Heaven be the Lord of hosts, do we think him so lavish that he will grace impiety? Can we think him so in love with our persons, that he will overlook or digest our crimes? Be innocent, O ye warriors, if ye would be speedful; be devout, if ye would be victorious. Even upon the Bridles of the horses in Zachary must be written, Holiness to the Lord: how much more upon the foreheads of his Priests, the Leaders of his spiritual war? With what face, with what heart can he fight against beasts that is a beast himself?  
It is not Holiness yet that can secure us from blows: Job's Behemoth, as he is construed, durst set upon the holy Son of God himself. To our Holiness therefore must be added Skill; skill to guard, and skill to hit; skill in choice of weapons, places, times, ways of assault or defence: else we cannot but be wounded and tossed at pleasure. Hence the Psalmist, Thou teachest my hands to war and my fingers to fight. The title that is given to David's Champions was not dispositi ad clypeum, as Montanus hath it (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) but disponentes, such as could handle the shield and the buckler, 1 Chron. 12. 8. Alas, what is to be looked for of raw, untaught, untrained men, (if such should be called forth of their shops on the sudden) that know not so much as their files or motions or postures, but either slight or filling of ditches? He that will be a Petus in Jovius his history, or a Servilius in Plutarch, to come off an untouched victor from frequent challenges, had need to pass many a guard and Veny in the fence-school. So skilful must the man of God be, that he must know (as S. Paul) even 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the very plots and devices of that great challenger of hell. We live in a knowing age; and yet how many teachers are very novices in the practic part of this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and therefore are either born down, or tossed up with the vices of the Time? whose miscarriages would God it were as easy to remedy as to lament.  
Lastly, what is Skill in our weapon without an heart and hand to use it? Rabshakeh could say, Counsel and strength are for the war, 2 Kings 18. 20. Strength without Counsel is like a blind Giant, and Counsel without Strength is like a quicksighted Cripple. If heart and eyes and limbs meet not, there can be no fight, but tu pulsas, ego vapulo. What are men in this case but lepores galeati, or as Sword-fish, that have a weapon, but no heart? Hear the spirit of a right Champion of Heaven; I am ready not to be bound only, but to die for the name of the Lord Jesus. Here was a man fit to grapple with beasts. It is the word of the sluggish Coward, There is a Lion or a Bear in the way. What if there be? If thou wilt be a Samson, a David, encounter them. There is no great glory to be looked for but with hazard and difficulty. When the Soldier said, The enemy is strong, it was bravely answered of the Captain, The victory shall be so much more glorious.  
I have showed you the man Qualified; I should stay to show you him Armed; armed with Authority without, with Resolution within: but I long to show you the Fight.  
A Fight it must be; which I beseech you observe in the first place. Neither doth he say, I played with beasts, except you would have it in Joab's phrase; as neither did the beasts play with him, except, as Erasmus speaks, Ludus exiit in rabiem: He says not, I humoured their bestiality; I struck up a league or a truce with the vices of men: No, S. Paul was far from this; he was at a perpetual defiance with the wickedness of the times, and, as that valiant Commander said, would die fight.  
The world wanted not of old plausible spirits, that, if an Ahab had a mind to go up against Ramoth, would say, Go up and prosper, and would have horns of iron to push him forward. S. Paul was none of them, neither may we. He hath indeed bidden us (if it be possible) to have peace with all men; not with beasts. If wickedness shall go about to glaver with us, Is it peace, Jehu? we must return a short answer, and speak blows. Far, far be it from us to fawn upon vicious Greatness, to favour even Court-sins. If here we meet with bloody Oaths, with scornful Profaneness, with Pride, with Drunkenness, we must fly in the face of it with so much more fierceness as the eminence of the sin may make it more dangerously-exemplary: quò grandius nomen, eò grandius scandalum, as Bernard. Let the clearest water mix with the best earth, it makes but mire. If we be the true Sons of Thunder, even the tallest Cedar-sins must be blasted with our Lightning, and riven with our bolts. Cato would not (they say) have a dumb soldier; I am sure Christ will not. Woe be to us if we preach not the Gospel: yea, woe be to us if we preach not the Law too; if we do not lash the guilt of the Great with the scorpions of Judgement. What stand we upon bulk? if the Sin be an Elephant, harnessed, and carrying Castles upon his back, we must with Eleazar creep under his belly, and wound that vast enemy with the hazard of our own crushing. It is the charge of God, Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and show my people their transgressions, and the house of Jacob their sins, Es. 58. 1. The words are Emphatical, whereof the first signifies a straining of the throat with crying; and the next (the trumpet) implies a sound of war. This same bellum cum vitiis, war with sins, must be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, uncapable of so much as a truce, yea as a respiratió. As that undaunted soldier therefore held first with his right hand, and when that was cut off, with his left, and when both were cut off, with his teeth; so must we resolve to do. That which is the praise of the Mastiffs of our Nation, must be ours, to leave our life with our hold. Profectò stabimus, & pugnabimus usque ad mortem, We will stand, and fight it out to the very death, as Bernard speaks.  
The manner of the Fight follows, and that must needs vary according to the divers fashions of the onset. For all beasts assail not alike: one fights with his tusks, another with his paws, another with his horn, another with his heel, another with his sting; one rampeth upon us, another leaps in to us, a third either rusheth us down, or casts us upward, a fourth galls us afar, a fifth wounds us unseen; one kills by biting, another by striking, another by piercing, another by envenoming. According to these manifold changes of assaults must the expert champion dispose of himself. To speak morally; as these Men-beasts are either Beasts of Opinion, or beasts of Practice, and both of them maintain the fight either by close subtlety or by open violence; so did S. Paul's opposition suit them, so must ours, whether for defence or for offence. The beasts of Opinion were either Idolatrous Ethnics, or refractory Jews; the one worshipping Diana for their Goddess, the other refusing the true Messias for their Saviour. The one he beats with the downright blows of right Reason; the other he hews with the two-edged sword of the Spirit, the Word of God. The beasts of Practice he smites through with the darts of the Law, whereof Exod. 19 13. If a beast touch the Mount he shall be shot through. Their subtlety he declined by a wise evasion, their violence he repelled with an irresistible force. The particularities would be infinite; neither do any of you expect that I should turn the Pulpit into a Fence-school or a Paris-garden. Only let me reduce S. Paul's practice herein to some few useful rules, as to express his beast-combat, so to direct our own. Whereof the first (to begin with the beasts of Opinion) was and shall be, To fight still at the head. When he comes to the Theatre of Ephesus, he deals not with collateral matters of a secondary nature, but flies upon the main heads of the highest contradiction, whether one true God only should be worshipped, whether Christ should be acknowledged for the Messiah. No doubt, Ephesus was full of curious and nice scruples: the wise Apostle waves all these; and, as some magnanimous Mastive, that scorns to set upon every Cur that barks at him in the way, he reserves himself for these Lions and Tigers of Error. Oh how happy were it for Christendom, if we that profess to sit at S. Paul's feet (as he at Gamaliel's) could learn this wit of him! It is true which Chromatius hath, Non sunt parva quae Dei sunt, None of God's matters are slight: but yet there is a difference, and that would be observed. The working brains of subtle man have been apt to mince Divinity into infinite Atoms of speculation; and every one of those speculations breeds many questions, and every question breeds troubles in the Church; like as every corn of powder flies off and fires his fellow. Hence are those 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. foolish and unlearned disquisitions, 2 Tim. 2. 23. that have set the whole Christian world together by the ears. Ex utraque parte sunt qui pugnare cupiunt, as Tully said of his time, There are enough on both sides that would fight. The main Fort of Religion is worth not our sweat, but our blood: thus must we strive pro aris: so even Heresy shall be found (as chrysostom observes) not more dangerous than profitable. But if it be only matter of rite, or of unimporting consequence, (de venis capillaribus, as he said) Oh what ●adness is it in us to draw the world into sides, and to pour out the souls of God's people like water? what is this, but as if some generous Bandog should leave the Bear or Lion (primae formae feram) which he comes to bait, and run after a Mouse? Melanchthon citys and approves that saying of Dionysius of Corinth in Eusebius, that Schism is no less sin than idolatry. And if the Fish be the better where the seas are most unquiet, I am sure the Souls are worse where the Church is tumultuous. I cannot skill of these Swans eggs that are never hatched without thunder, nor of that unnatural brood that eats through the dam to make passage into the light of reputation. Oh for the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. Justly did Agesilaus lament the state of Greece, that had lost as many soldiers in domestic wars as might have made them Masters of the world. Let me say, Had all our swords and pens been happily bend against the common enemy of Christendom, long ago had that Mahometan Moon waned to nothing, and given way to the glorious Sun of the Gospel.  
Our second rule must be, When we do smite, to strike home: It is S. Paul's, I so fight, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as not beating the air, 1 Cor. 9 26. Here is not a blow lost, non verberat ictibus auras. How doth he cut the throat of the Ephesian beast, Idolatry, whiles he argues, They are not Gods that are made with hands? All the Silversmiths of Diana cannot hammer out a reply to this charge. It is no flourishing when we come to this combat. Weak proofs betray good causes. Demonstrations must have place here, not Probabilities. How powerfully doth he convince the unbelieving Jews of Ephesus and Rome, out of Moses and the Prophets, Act. 28. 23. This, this is the weapon whereby our grand Captain vanquished the great challenger of the bottomless pit, Scriptum est. All other blades are but Led to this Steel. Councils, Fathers, Histories are good helps; but ad pompam rather then ad pugnam. These Scriptures are they whereof S. Augustin justly, Hac fundamenta, haec firmamenta. What do we multiply volumes, and endlessly go about the bush? That of Tertullian is most certain, Aufer ab haereticis quaecunque Ethnici sapiunt, ut de Scriptures solis questiones suas sistant, & stare non poterunt, Take from Heretics what they borrow of Pagans, and hold them close to the trial by the Scriptures alone, they cannot stand. Bring but this fire to the wildest beast, his eye will not endure it; he must run away from it: for these kind of creatures are all (as that Father) Lucifugae Scripturarum. What worlds of volumes had been spared, how infinite distractions of weak and wavering souls had been prevented, if we had confined ourselves to S. Paul's fence?  
Our third rule must be, To redouble our strokes uncessantly, unweariably, not giving breath to the beast, not fainting for want of our own. S. Paul laid on three months together in the Synagogue of Ephesus; two years more in the school of Tyrannus, Act. 19 8, 9 and accordingly gives us our charge, State ergo, Stand close to it, Eph. 6. 14. If when we have dealt some few unsuccessful blows, we throw up the bucklers, or lean upon our pummels, we lose our life with the day. I could, as the case might stand, easily be of the mind of that soldier, who when he heard Xenophantus by his music stirring up Alexander to the fight, wished rather to hear a Musician that could take him off: but since we have to do with an enemy which nec victor nec victus novit quiescere, as Annibal said of Marcellus, there is no way but to fight it out. Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, faith the Apostle: If need be, we must do so. Serpens, sit is, ardour arena, Dulcia virtuti, as he said. Oh be constant to your own holy resolutions, if ever ye look for an happy victory. Well did the dying Prophet chide the King of Israel, that he struck but thrice; Thou shouldst have smitten often, than thou shouldst have smitten Syria till thou hadst consumed it, 2 Kings 13. 19 Let neither bugs of fear, nor suppalpations of favour weaken your hands from laying load upon the beast of Error: Fight zealously, fight indefatigably, and prevail. In the battles of Christ, as S. chrysostom observes, the issue is so assured that the crown goes before the victory; but when ye once have it, hold fast that you have, that no man take your crown, Revel. 3. 11.  
Our last rule is, To know our distance; and where we find invincible resistance, to come off fairly. So did S. Paul in the Theatre of the Ephesian Synagogue, when after three months' disputation some were hardened, and in stead of believing blasphemed the way of God, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, he departed, and separated, Act. 19 9 Those beasts we cannot master, we must give up: If Babylon will not be cured, she must be left to herself. To apply this to the Theatre of the times. There is no challenge either more frequent or more heavy than that we have left that Church which they miscall our Mother. Had we gone from her that is gone from herself, we had but followed her in leaving her; had we left her that hath blasphemed her forsaken truth, we had but followed S. Paul: but now let the world know, we have not left her, she hath abandoned us; Non fugimus, sed fugamur, as Casaubon citys from our late Learned Sovereign. It is her violence, not our choice, that hath excluded us: Because we could not but leave her errors, she hath ejected our persons. This schism shall one day before that great Tribunal of Heaven fall heavily upon those perverse spirits, that had rather rend the Church then want their will, and can be content to sacrifice both Truth and Peace, together with millions of Souls, to their own ambition.  
Let this suffice for the beasts of Opinion, which are Errors. Turn your eyes now (if you please) to S. Paul's fight with the beast of Practice, Vices. And in the first place, see how the Ephesian beasts fought with S. Paul, Act. 19 28, 29. Ye find them as so many enraged Bulls, scraping the earth with their feet, and digging it with their horns, snuffing up the air with their raised nostrils, rushing furiously into the Theatre, tossing up Gaius and Aristarchus, Paul's companions, into the air, and with an impetuous violence carrying all before them. This hath been ever the manner of wickedness, to be headstrong in the pursuit of its own courses, impatient of opposition, cruel in revenge of the opposers. Doth Eliah cry out against the murders and Idolatries of Ahab? the beast hath him in chase for his life, and earths him in his cave. Doth Michaiah cross the designs of the false Prophets in the expedition of Ramoth? the beast with the iron-horns pusheth him in the face, and beats him down into the dungeon. Doth John Baptist bend his Non licet against Herodias' incest? the beast flies in his throat, and with one grasp tears his head from his shoulders. So it ever was, so it ever will be. Am I become your enemy because I tell you the truth? saith S. Paul. Stetisse lego judicandos Apostolos, saith Bernard. If still therefore heart-burnings and malicious censures attend the faithful delivery of God's sacred errand, the Beast is like itself. Sagittant in obscura luna rectos cord, as St. chrysostom reads that in the Psalm.  
In the mean time what doth S. Paul? Doth he give in? doth he give out? No, here was still 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Ephes. 6. 20. He traverses his ground indeed for his advantage, from Ephesus to Macedonia; but still he galls the beast wherever he is: as Idolaters, so all sorts of flagitious sinners, felt the weight of his hand, the dint of his stroke; all which, wheresoever he finds them, he impartially pierces through with the darts of denounced Judgement, that is the verbum asperum and sagitta volans in Psal. 91. the curse of the Law, Gal. 3. 13. See how he wowds those other beasts of Ephesus; No whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, which is an Idolater, hath any inheritance in the Kingdom of God, Ephes. 5. 5. and, For these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience, verse 6. Tribulation and anguish to every soul that doth evil: In flaming fire rendering vengeance to those that know not God and obey him not. And why do not we, in imitation of this noble champion of God, strike through the loins of wickedness wherever we find it, that, if it be possible, it may rise up no more? Why do not we spend the whole quiver of God's threatened vengeance upon wilful sinners? And thus must we bait the beast.  
Is it a Drunken beast we are committed with? woe to them that rise up early to follow strong drink, Esa. 5. 11. woe to him that giveth his neighbour drink to make him drunk, Abac. 2. 15. The cup of the Lords right hand shall be turned to that man, & vomitus ignominiosus ad gloriam, verse 16. Oh it is a bitter cup, this of the Lords right hand, whereof he shall wring out the dregs unto that soul; so as in stead of quaffing the excessive healths of others, he shall drink up his own death and eternal confusion.  
Is it a Gluttonous beast? woe to him, his God is his belly, his glory shall be in his shame, and his end damnation, Phil. 3. 19 Whiles the flesh is yet between his teeth, ere it be chewed, the wrath of the Lord is kindled against him, Numb. 11. 33. Yea, but it goes down sweetly. Oh fool, the meat in thy belly shall be turned into the gall of Asps within thee, Job 20. 14. Vae saturis, Woe be to the full, for they shall hunger; they shall famish to death, and die famishing, and live dying, and have enough of nothing but fire and brimstone.  
Is it a Ravenous beast, a Covetous oppressor? His tooth, like a mad dogs, envenomes and emphrensies; so saith Solomon, that knew the nature of all beasts, Oppression makes a wise man mad, Eccles. 7. 7. Tabifici sunt, Ps. 79. 7. Woe be to you that join house to house, Es. 5. 8. Woe be to the mighty sins of them whose tread are upon the poor, that afflict the just, that take bribes, and turn away the poor in the gates, Amos 5. 11, 12. Therefore the Lord, the God of Hosts saith thus, Wailing shall be in all their streets, and they shall say in all highways, Alas, alas! verse 16. They have robbed their poor Tenants, and oppressed the afflicted in the gate, therefore the Lord will plead their cause, and spoil the soul of those that spoilt them.  
Is it an Unclean beast? Whoso committeth adultery with a woman destroyeth his own soul, Prov. 6. 32. A fornicator in the body of his flesh will never cease till he have kindled a fire, Ecclus. 23. 16. His fire of lust flames up into a fire of disease, and burns down into the fire of Hell.  
Is it a Foul-mouthed beast that bellows out Blasphemies and bloody Oaths? There is a word that is clothed about with death; God grant it be not found in the heritage of Jacob, Ecclus. 23. 12. A man that useth much swearing shall be filled with iniquity, and the plague shall never depart from his house, verse. 11.  
Thus must we lay about us, spiritu or is, yea gladio spiritûs, and let drive at the Beast of what kind soever. But if we shall still find that which blind Homer saw, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that the worse hath the better, and that this spiritual edge shall either turn again, or (through our weak wieldance) not enter the stubborn and thick hide of obdured hearts; give me leave, most Gracious Sovereign, and ye honourable Peers, to whom is committed the sword of either supreme or subordinate Justice, to say, that both God and the world expects that this Beast of sin should be baited by you in another fashion. It is not for nothing that God hath set you so conspicuously in this great Amphitheatre, where the eyes of Angels and men are bend upon you, and that he hath given into your hands the powerful instruments of death. If this pernicious beast dare contest with our weakness, and ofttimes leave us gasping and bleeding on this pavement, yet we know that it cannot but fall under the power of your mercy, yea your vengeance. Oh let it please you to rouse up your brave and Princely spirits, and to give the fatal blow to presumptuous wickedness. If that monster of impious Sacrilege, of atheous Profaneness, of outrageous Inordinateness dares lift up his hated head in the sight of this Sun, let him be strait crushed with the weight of that Royal Sceptre, let him be hewn in pieces with the sharp sword of your Sacred Authority. As we abound with wholesome Laws for the repressing of vice, so let it please you in an holy zeal to revive their hearty and effectual execution; that the precious Gospel of our Lord Jesus, which we profess, may not be either shamed or braved by insolent wickedness; that Justice and Peace may flourish in our Land, and that your Crown may long and happily flourish upon that Royal head, until it shall receive a late and blessed exchange for a Crown of Glory and Immortality in the highest Heavens. Amen.    


THE OLD RELIGION.  
A TREATISE, Wherein Is laid down the true State of the difference betwixt the REFORMED and ROMAN CHURCH, and the blame of this Schism is cast upon the true Authors.  
Serving for the Vindication of our Innocence, for the settling of wavering minds, for a Preservative against Popish Insinuations.  
With an ADVERTISEMENT for such Readers as formerly stumbled at some passages in the Book.  
By JOS. HALL., B. of Exon.  
LONDON, Printed by James Flesher, in the year M DC LXI.   

TO My new and dearly-affected CHARGE, the Diocese of EXCESTER, All Grace and Benediction.  
THE truth of my heart gives me boldness to profess before him who only knows it, that the same God who hath called me to the oversight of your Souls, hath wrought in me a zealous desire of your Salvation. This desire cannot but incite me to a careful prevention of those dangers which might threaten the disappointment of so happy an end. Those Dangers are either Sins of Practice, or Errors of Doctrine. Against both these I have faithfully vowed my utmost endeavours. I shall labour against the first by Preaching, Example, Censures; wherein it shall be your choice to expect either the Rod, or the Spirit of meekness. Against the latter my Pen hath risen up in this early assault. It hath been assured me that in this time of late Vacancy, false Teachers, catching the forelock of Occasion, have been busy in scattering the tares of Errors amongst you. I easily believe it, since I know it is not in the power of the greatest vigilancy to hinder their attempts of evil. Even a full See is no sufficient bar to crafty Seducers; their Suggestions we cannot prevent, their Success we may. This I have here assayed to do, bending my style against Popish Doctrine with such Christian moderation as may argue zeal without malice, desire to win Souls, no will to gall them. And since the commonest of all the grounds of Romish deceit is the pretence of their Age and our Novelty, and nothing doth more dazzle the eyes of the simple than the name of our Forefathers, and the challenge of a particular recital of our Professors before Luther's revolt; I have (I hope) fully cleared this coast, so as out of the right apprehension of these differences my Reader shall evidently see the vanity of this cavil, and find cause to bless God fox the safety of his station in so pregnant and undeceivable a truth.  
For me, I shame not to profess, that I have passed my most and best hours in quiet Meditations; wherein I needed not bend mine edge against any Adversary but Satan and mine own corruptions. These controversary points I have rather crossed in my way, then taken along with me. Neither am I ignorant what incomparably-clear beams (in this kind) some of the worthy Lights of our Church have cast abroad into all eyes, to the admiration of present and future times; no corner of truth hath lain unsearched, no plea unargued: the wit of man cannot make any essential additions either to our proofs or answers. But as in the most perfect discovery, where Lands and Rivers are specially described, there may be some small obscure inlets reserved for the notice of following experience; so is it in the business of these sacred quarrels: that brain is very unhappy which meets not with some traverse of discourse more than it hath borrowed from another's Pen. Besides which, having fallen upon a method and manner of Tractation which might be of use to plain understandings, the familiarity whereof promised to contribute not a little to the information and settling of weaker Souls, I might not hide it from you, to whose common good I have gladly resolved to sacrifice myself. Let it be taken with the same construction of love wherewith it is tendered. And that you may improve this and all other my following labours to a sensible advantage, give me leave to impart myself to you a little in this short and free Preamble.  
It is a large body, I know, and full of ordinate variety, to which I How direct my words: Let me a while in these lines sever them, whom I would never abide really disjoined.  
Ye, my dear fellow-labourers (as my immediate Charge) may well challenge the first place. It is no small joy to me to expect so able hands, upon whom I may comfortably unload the weight of this my spiritual care. If Fame do not over-speak you, there are not many soils that yield either so frequent Flocks or better fed. Go on happily in these high steps of true Blessedness, and save yourselves and others. To which purpose let me commend to you (according to the sweet experience of a greater Shepherd) two main helps of our Sacred trade; first, the tender Pastures, and secondly, the still Waters: By the one I mean an inuring of our people to the principles of wholesome Doctrine; by the other, an immunity from all Faction and disturbance of the public peace.  
It was the observation of the learnedst King that ever sat hitherto on the English Throne, that the cause of the miscarriage of our People into Popery and other Errors was, their ungroundedness in the points of Catechism. How should those Souls be but carried about with every wind of Doctrine, that are not well ballasted with solid informations? Whence it was that his said late Majesty (of happy memory) gave public order for bestowing the latter part of God's Day in familiar Catechising; than which nothing could be devised more necessary and behoveful to the Souls of men. It was the Ignorance and ill-disposedness of some cavillers that taxed this course, as prejudicial to Preachings; since, in truth, the most useful of all Preaching is Catechetical. This lays the Grounds, the other raiseth the Walls and Roof; this informs the Judgement, that stirs up the Affections. What good use is there of those Affections that run before the Judgement, or of those walls that want a Foundation? For my part, I have spent the greater half of my life in this station of our holy service; I thank God, not unpainfully, not unprofitably. But there is no one thing whereof I repent so much, as not to have bestowed more hours in this public Exercise of Catechism; in regard whereof I could quarrel with my very Sermons, and wish that a great part of them had been exchanged for this Preaching conference. Those other Divine Discourses enrich the Brain and the Tongue, this settles the Heart; those other are but the descants to this plainsong. Contemn it not, my Brethren, for the easy and noted homeliness: the most excellent and beneficial things are most familiar. What can be more obvious than Light, Aire, Fire, Water? Let him that can live without these, despise their commonness. Rather, as we make so much more use of the Divine bounty in these ordinary benefits, so let as the more gladly improve these ready and facile helps to the Salvation of many Souls; the neglect whereof breeds instability of Judgement, misprision of necessary Truths, fashionableness of profession, frothiness of discourse, obnoxiousness to all Error and Seduction. And if any of our people loath this Manna because they may gather it from under their Feet, let not their palates be humoured in this wanton nauseation. They are worthy to fast, that are weary of the bread of Angels. And if herein we be curious to satisfy their roving appetite, our favour shall be no better then injurious. So we have seen an undiscreet Schoolmaster, whiles he affects the thanks of an overweening Parent, mar the progress of a forward child, by raising him to an higher form and Author, ere he have well learned his first rules; whence follows an empty ostentation, and a late disappointment. our fidelity and care of profit must teach us to drive at the most sure and universal good, which shall undoubtedly be best attained by these safe and needful groundworks.  
From these tender Pastures let me lead you (and you others) to the still Waters. Zeal in the Soul is as natural heat in the body; there is no life of Religion without it: But as the kindliest heat, if it be not tempered with a due equality of moisture, wastes itself and the body; so doth Zeal, if it be not moderated with discretion and charitable care of the common good. It is hard to be too vehement in contending for main and evident truths; but litigious and immaterial verities may soon be over-striven for: in the prosecution whereof, I have oft lamented to see how heedless too many have been of the public welfare; whiles in seeking for one scruple of truth, they have not cared to spend a whole poundweight of precious Peace.  
The Church of England, in whose Motherhood we have all just cause to pride ourselves, hath in much Wisdom and Piety delivered her judgement concerning all necessary points of Religion, in so complete a body of Divinity as all hearts may rest in: These we read, these we write under, as professing not their truth only, but their sufficiency also. The voice of God our Father in his Scriptures, and (out of these) the voice of the Church our Mother in her Articles, is that which must both guide and settle our resolutions: Whatsoever is besides these, is but either private, or unnecessary and uncertain. Oh that whiles we sweat and bleed for the maintenance of these oracular Truths, we could be persuaded to remit of our Heat in the pursuit of Opinions! These, these are they that distract the Church, violate our peace, scandalise the weak, advantage our enemies. Fire upon the Hearth warms the Body, but if it be misplaced, burns the House. My brethren, let us be Zealous for our God; every hearty Christian will pour Oil and not Water upon this holy flame: But let us take heed lest a blind self-love, stiff prejudice and factious partiality impose upon us, in stead of the causes of God. Let us be suspicious of all New Verities, and careless of all unprofitable; and let us hate to think ourselves either wiser than the Church, or better than our Superiors. And if any man think that he sees further than his fellows in these Theological prospects, let his tongue keep the counsel of his eyes; left whiles he affects the fame of deeper learning, he embroile the Church, and raise his glory upon the public ruins.  
And ye worthy Christians, whose Souls God hath entrusted with our spiritual Guardianship, be ye alike minded with your Teachers. The motion of their tongues lies much in your ears: your modest desires of receiving needful and wholesome Truths shall avoid their labour after frivolous and quarrelsome Curiosities. God hath blessed you with the reputation of a wise and knowing people: In these Divine matters let a meek Sobriety set bounds to your inquiries. Take up your time and hearts with Christ and Him crucified, with those essential Truths which are necessary to Salvation: leave all curious disquisitions to the Schools, and say of those Problems as the Philosopher did of the Athenian shops, How many things are here that we have no need of? Take the nearest cut you can, ye shall find it a sideway to Heaven; ye need not lengthen it with undue circuitions. I am deceived if (as the times are) ye shall not find work enough to bear up against the oppositions of professed hostility. It is not for us to squander our thoughts and hours upon useless janglings; wherewith if we suffer ourselves to be still taken up, Satan shall deal with us like some crafty Cheater, who whiles he holds us at gaze with tricks of juggling, picks our pockets.  
Dear Brethren, whatever become of these worthless driblets, be sure to look well to the freehold of your Salvation. Error is not more busy than subtle; Superstition never wanted sweet insinuations: make sure work against these plausible dangers. Suffer not yourselves to be drawn into the net by the common stale of the Church. Know that outward Visibility may too well stand with an utter exclusion from Salvation. Salvation consists not in a formality of Profession, but in a Soundness of Belief. A true body may be full of mortal diseases: So is the Roman Church of this day; whom we have long pitied, and laboured to cure in vain. If she will not be healed by us, let us not be infected by her. Let us be no less jealous of her contagion, than she is of our remedies. Hold fast that precious Truth which hath been long taught you by faithful Pastors, confirmed by clear evidences of Scriptures, evinced by sound Reasons, sealed up by the blood of our blessed Martyrs: So whiles no man takes away the crown of your constancy, ye shall be our Crown and rejoicing in the day of our Lord Jesus; to whose all-sufficient Grace I commend you all, and vow myself  
Your common Servant in him whom we all rejoice to serve, JOS. EXON.   

The Contents.  

CHAP. I. THE extent of the Differences betwixt the Churches. Pag. 375  
CHAP. II. The Original of the Differences. 376  
CHAP. III. The Reform unjustly charged with Novelty, Heresy, Schism. 378  
CHAP. IV. The Roman Church guilty of this Schism. 380  
CHAP. V. The Newness of the Article of Justification by inherent Righteousness. 381 

Sect. 2. This Doctrine proved to be against Scripture. 383  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. 384    
CHAP. VI The Newness of the Doctrine of Merit. 385 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 386  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. ibid.    
CHAP. VII. The Newness of the Doctrine of Transubstantiation. 387 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 389  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. 390    
CHAP. VIII. The Newness of the Half-Communion. 391 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 392  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. ibid.    
CHAP. IX. The Newness of Missal Sacrifice. 393 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. ibid.  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. 394    
CHAP. X. The Newness of Image-Worship. ibid. 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 396  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. 397    
CHAP. XI. The Newness of Indulgences and Purgatory. ibid. 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 399  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. 400    
CHAP. XII. The Newness of Divine Service in an unknown tongue. ibid. 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 402  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. ibid.    
CHAP. XIII. The Newness of a full, forced Sacramental Confession. 403 

Sect. 2. Not warranted by Scripture. 404  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. ibid.  
Sect. 4. The Novelty of Absolution before Satisfaction. 405    
CHAP. XIV. The Newness of the Romish Invocation of Saints. ibid. 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 406  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. 407    
CHAP. XV. The Newness of Seven Sacraments. 408 

Sect. 2. Besides Scripture. 409  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. ibid.    
CHAP. XVI. The Newness of the Romish Doctrine of Traditions. ibid. 

Sect. 2. Against Scripture. 411  
Sect. 3. Against Reason. 412    
CHAP. XVII. The Newness of the universal Headship of the Bishop of Rome. ibid. 

Sect. 2. The Newness of challenged Infallibility. 414  
Sect. 3. The Newness of the Pope's Superiorities to Councils. 415  
Sect. 4. The new presumption of Papal Dispensation. ibid.  
Sect. 5. The new challenge of pope's domineering over Kings and Emperors. 416    
CHAP. XVIII. The Epilogue both of Exhortation and Apology. 417    

THE OLD RELIGION.  
CHAP. I. The extent of the Differences betwixt the Churches.  
THE first blessing that I daily beg of my God for his Church is, our Saviour's Legacy, 
John 14. 27.  Peace; that sweet Peace which in the very name of it comprehends all happiness both of estate and disposition. As that Mountain whereon Christ ascended, 
Adrichom. desc. Hiero. foi. fig. 192.  though it abounded with Palms and Pines and Myrtles, yet it carried only the name of Olives, which have been an ancient Emblem of Peace. Other Graces are for the Beauty of the Church; this for the Health and Life of it. For howsoever 
a Faciunt favos & vespae, faciunt Ecclesias & Marcionita. Tertull. advers. Martion. lib. 4. cap. 5.  even Wasps have their Combs, and Heretics their Assemblies, (as Tertullian) so as all are not of the Church that have Peace; yet so essential is it to the Church in S. 
b Ecclefiae nomen consensus concordiaeque est. Chrylost. come. in Ep. ad Gai.  Chrysostome's opinion, that the very name of the Church implies a consent and concord. No marvel then if the Church labouring here below, make it her daily suit to her glorious Bridegroom in Heaven, Da pacem, Give Peace in our time, O Lord. The means of which happiness are soon seen, not so soon attained; even that which 
c Sit inter nos una fides, & illico pax scquetur. Hier. advers. Ruff.  Hierome hath to his Ruffinus, Una fides: Let our Belief-be but one, and our hearts will be but one.  
But since, as 
d Erasm. Epist. lib. 20. Pau●o Decimario.  Erasmus hath too truly observed, there is nothing so happy in these humane things wherein there are not some intermixtures of distemper, and Saint 
e 1 Cor. 11. 19  Paul hath told us there must be Heresies, and the Spouse in Solomon's Song compares her blessed Husband to a young Hart upon the Mountain of Bether, that is, Division; yea rather, as under 
f Victor. Pe●sar. Atric. lib. 5.  Gensericus and his Vandals the Christian Temples flamed higher than the Towns, so for the space of these last hundred years there hath been more combustion in the Church then in the Civil State: my next wish is, that if differences in Religion cannot be avoided, yet that they might be rightly judged of, and be but taken as they are. Neither can I but mourn and bleed to see how miserably the World is abused on all hands with prejudice in this kind. Whiles the adverse part brands us with unjust censures, and with loud clamours cries us down for Heretics: on the other side some of ours do so slight the Errors of the Roman Church, as if they were not worth our Contention, as if our Martyrs had been rash and our quarrels trifling; 
Spalat. de histor. Eccles. to●n. ult. lib. 7.  others again do so aggravate them, as if we could never be at enough defiance with their Opinions, nor at enough distance from their Communion. All these three are dangerous extremities; the two former whereof shall (if my hopes fail me not) in this whole Discourse be sufficiently convinced: wherein as we shall fully clear ourselves from that hateful slander of Heresy or Schism; so we shall leave upon the Church of Rome an unavoidable imputation of many no less foul and enormous then novel Errors, 
Melancht. Postil. de Baptismo Christ:  to the stopping of the mouths of those Adiaphorists, whereof Melanchthon seems to have long ago prophesied, Metuendum est, etc. It is to be feared (saith he) that in the last Age of the World this error will reign amongst men, that either Religions are nothing, or differ only in words.  
The third comes now in our way. 
Diog. Laert.  That 〈◊〉 Laertius speaks of Menedemus, that in disputing his very ears would spark●●●, 
Hooker Eccles.  is true of many of ours, whose zeal transports them to such a detestation of the Roman Church, 
Pol. lib. 4. ●. 3.  as if it were all Error, no Church; affecting nothing more than an utter opposition to their Doctrine and Ceremony, because theirs; like as 
a Commentar. in Euang.  Maldonat professeth to mislike and avoid many fair interpretations, not as false, but as Calvin's. These men have not learned this in S. Augustine's School, 
b Sape Patres nostri & salubcrrimam consuc●udinem 〈◊〉, ut quiequid divin●ra ac i●gi●imum, etc. Aug. Neque proper palcan relinquimus aream Domini, neque prop●er pisces malos rumpimus r●tia Domini. Aug. Epi. 48. Sic Anabaptistae accusant Paedobaptismum Papismi. Clifton. contr. Smith. Si● N●ariani Trinitatem arg●●nt ut articulum Papae. Prolaeus Fa●cic. cap. 1.  who tells us that it was the rule of the Fathers, as well before Cyprian and Agrippinus as since, that whatsoever they found in any Schism or Heresy warrantable and holy, that they allowed for its own worth, and did not refuse it for the abettors. Neither for the chaff do we leave the floor of God, neither for the bad Fishes do we break his nets. Rather, as the Priests of Mercury had wont to say, when they eat their Figs and Honey, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. All truth is sweet: it is indeed Gods, not ours, wheresoever it is found; the King's Coin is current, though it be found in any impure Channel.  
For this particular, they have not well heeded that charitable profession of zealous Luther, 
c No● fatemur s●b Papatu plurimum esse boni Christiani, im● omne bonum Christianum; dico insuper & imo vero, verum nucle●m Christianitatis. Luther. in Ep. ad 2. pleb. de Anabap. cit. à Cromero de fals. relig. Lutheran. Aliud est credere quod Papa credit, aliud credere quod est Papae. Prolaeus ibid. ubi supr.  Nos fatemur, etc. We profess (saith he) that under the Papacy there is much Christian good, yea all, etc. I say moreover that under the Papacy is true Christianity, yea the very kernel of Christianity, etc. No man I trust will fear that fervent spirits too much excess of indulgence; under the Papacy may be as much good as itself is evil. Neither do we censure that Church for what it hath not, but for what it hath. Fundamental truth is like that Maronaean wine, which if it be mixed with twenty times so much water, holds his strength. 
d Euseb. de vita Constant. lib. 3. cap. 25.  The Sepulchre of Christ was overwhelmed by the Pagans with earth and rubbish, and more than so, over it they built a Temple to their impure Venus; yet still in spite of malice there was the Sepulchre of Christ. And it is a ruled case of 
e Justin. Tit. 1. §. 4. Annot. in leg. 12. Tab.  Papinian, that a Sacred place loseth not the Holiness with the demolished walls: No more doth the Roman lose the claim of a true visible Church, by her manifold and deplorable corruptions; her unsoundness is not less apparent than her being. If she were once the Spouse of Christ, and her Adulteries are known, yet the Divorce is not sued out.   

CHAP. II. The Original of the Differences.  
IT is too true, 
Magistris utentes Ambitione & Avaritia. Ber. ad Henric. Senonens. Quae fuerant vitia, mores fiunt. Gers. de Negligentia Praelatorum, Ex Senec. Gravam. Germ.  that those two main Elements of evil, (as Timon called them) Ambition and Covetousness, which Bernard professes were the great Masters of that Clergy in his times, having palpably corrupted the Christian World both in doctrine and manners, gave just cause of scandal and complaint to godly minds; which (though long smothered) at last broke forth into public contestation, augmented by the fury of those guilty defendants which loved their reputation more than Peace: But yet so as the Complainants ever professed a joint allowance of those Fundamental Truths, which descried themselves by their bright lustre in the worst of that confusion; as not willing that God should lose any thing by the wrongs of men, or that men should lose any thing by the envy of that 
f Matth. 13. 25.  evil spirit, which had taken the advantage of the public sleep for his Tares. Shortly then, according to the prayers and predictions of many Holy Christians, God would have his Church reform. How shall it be done? Licentious courses (as 
a Per disciplinam & metum, nunquam spont● Sen.  Seneca wisely) have sometimes been amended by correction and fear, never of themselves. As therefore their own Precedent was stirred up in the 
b Corrigenda & refer manda est Ecclesiastica disciplina, quae ja●diu depravata atque corrupt etc. Orat. praesid Conc. Tried says 11.  Council of Trent to cry out of their corruption of Discipline; so was the Spirit of Luther, somewhat before that, stirred up to tax their corruption of Doctrine. But, as 
c Primordia ●uncta pavida sunt. Cass.  all beginnings are timorous, how 
d Luther offered 95. Conclus. to be disputed at Wittenb. Jo. Tecclius offers the contrary Propos. at Francf. vid hist. Conc. Tr●. 1. Luther. etc.  calmly did he enter? and with what submiss Supplications did he sue for redress? 
e Ita venio, beatissime Pa●cr, etc. & adhuc prostratus rogo, etc. Ep. ad Leon 10.  I come to you, (saith he) most holy Father, and humbly prostrate before you, beseech you that, if it be possible, you would be pleased to set your helping hand to the work. Entreaties prevail nothing; the whiles the importune insolence of Eckius, and the undiscreet carriage of Cajetan (as 
f Ib. Luth. Jo. Eckius, & Sylu. Prierius cont. Luth. Vid. hist. Concil. Trid.  Luther there professes) forced him to a public opposition. At last, (as 
g Saepe saluti fuerc pestifera. Senec.  sometimes even Poisons turn Medicinal) the furious prosecution of abused Authority increased the Zeal of Truth; like as the repercussion of the flame intends it more: and as Zeal grew in the plaintiff, 
h James Hogostrot a Dominican Inquisitor stirs up Pope Leo to capital punishments of Luth. and his followers. Ibid. hist Conc.  so did Rage in the Defendant; so as now that was verified of 
i A primordio justitia vim patitur; statim ut coli Deus coepit, invidiam religio sortita est. Tert. Scorpiac. advers. Gnostic. cap. 8.  Tertullian, A primordio, etc. From the beginning Righteousness suffers violence; and no sooner did God begin to be worshipped, but Religion was attended with Envy. The masters of the Pythonisse are angry to part with a gainful (though evil) guest. Am I become your enemy, because I told you the truth? saith Saint Paul: yet that truth is not more unwelcome, then successful. For as the breath of a man that hath chewed Saffron discolours a Painted face; so this blunt sincerity shamed the glorious falsehood of Superstition.  
The proud offenders, impatient of reproof, 
k Bapt, Porta, Leonis Bulla, anno 1518.  try what fire and faggot can do for them: and now, according to the old word, 
l Punitis ingeniis gliscit author it as. Erasm. Godesch. Rosemund.  suppressed spirits gather more authority; as the Egyptian violence rather addeth to God's Israel. Insomuch as Erasmus could tell the Rector of Lovan, that by burning Luther's Books, they might rid him from the Libraries of men, not from their Hearts.  
The ventilation of these points diffused them to the knowledge of the World; and now, upon serious scanning, it came to this (as that Honour of Rotterdam professeth) 
* Non defuisse magnos Theologos qui non verebantur affirmar●, nihil osse in Luthero quin per probatos authores defendi possit. Erasmus lib. Epist. 15. Godeschalco Rosemund. etc.  Non defuisse, that there wanted not great Divines which durst confidently affirm, that there was nothing in Luther which might not be defended by good and allowed Authors.  
Nothing doth so whet the edge of wit as contradiction. Now he who at first, like the blind man in the Gospel (it is 
m Theod. Beza contra Andraeam, etc. vid. histor. Council Trid. l 2.  Beza's comparison) saw men like trees, upon more clear light, sees and wonders at those gross Superstitions and Tyrannies wherewith the Church of God had been long abused. And now, as the first Hue and Cry raiseth a whole Country, the World was awakened with the noise, and startling up, saw, and stood amazed to see, it's own Slavery and besottedness. Mean while, that God who cannot be wanting to himself, raiseth up 
n Hul. Zuingl. in Eccl. Zurich. opponit se Tratii Samps. Mediola. Francis. Hugo Constantien. Epis. opponit se Zuinglio ibid.  Abettors to his Truth. The contention grows, Books fly abroad on both parts. Strait 
o Bulla secunda Leonis Papae, Anno 1520.  Bulls bellow from Rome, nothing but Death and Damnation to the opposites; Excommunications are thundered out from their Capitoline powers against all the partakers of this (so called) Heresy; the flashes of public Anathemas strike them down to Hell.  
The condemned reprovers stand upon their own integrity, call Heaven and Earth to record, how justly they have complained, how unjustly they are censured; in large Volumes defending their innocence, and challenging an undeniable part in the true visible Church of God, from which they are pretended to be ejected; appeal (next to the Tribunal of Heaven) to the sentence of a free general Council for their right.  

a Anno 1518. vid. hist. Conc. Trid. lib. 1.  Proffer is made at last of a Synod at Trent; but neither free, nor general, nor such as would afford (after all semblances) either 
b Tres salvi conductus concessi Protestantibus; sed quam frustra vid. Junii animadversiones in Bellar.  safety of access, or possibility of indifferency. That partial meeting (as it was 
c Vid. Ep. Epi. Quinque Eccles. in hist. Concil. Trid.  prompted to speak) condemns us unheard: right so as 
d Judicandi potestas apud accusatores erat. Ruffin. hist. l. 1. cap. 17.  Ruffinus reports it in that case of Athanasius, Judicandi potestas, etc. The power of judging was in the accusers; contrary to the rule of their 
e 2. q. Multo, etc. 3. q. 7. Nullus debet.  own Law, Non debet, etc. The same party may not be the Judge, Accuser, Witness; contrary to that just rule of Theodericus, reported by 
f Sententia non praesentibus partibus dicta, nullius momenti est. Cassiod. de Amic. cap. 5. Nullus ante rectam cognitionem causae debet privari suo jure. Rodrigu●z Cas. cons. cap. 241.  Cassiodore, Sententia, etc. The sentence that is given in the absence of the parties is of no moment. We are still where we were, opposing, suffering: in these terms we stand. What shall we say then? if men would either not have deserved, or have patiently endured reproof, this breach had never been. Woe be to the men by whom this offence cometh. For us, that rule of Saint Bernard shall clearly acquit us before God and his Angels, 
g Cum carpuntur vitia, & inde scandalum oritur, ipse sibi scandali causa est qui fecis quod argui debet, non ille qui arguit. Bern. ad Hugo. de S. Vict. Epist. 78.  Cam carpuntur vitia, etc. When faults are taxed, and scandal grows, he is the cause of the scandal who did that which was worthy to be reproved, not he that reproved the ill-doer.   

CHAP. III. The Reform unjustly charged with Novelty, Heresy, Schism.  
BE it therefore known to all the world, that our Church is only Reform or 
h Nos vetera instauramus, nova non prodimus. Erasm. Godeschalco, etc. Vide Fregevillii Pontíque Reform. An. 1588.  Repaired, not made new: there is not one Stone of a new foundation laid by us; yea the old Walls stand still; only the overcasting of those ancient stones with the untempered mortar of new inventions displeaseth us. Plainly, set aside the Corruptions, and the Church is the same: And what are these Corruptions, but unsound adjections to the Ancient structure of Religion? These we cannot but oppose; and are therefore unjustly and imperiously ejected. Hence it is that ours is by the opposite styled an 
i Haeresia non tam docet credere nova, quam vetera non credere: magis enim haereses in non credendo. Joan. Lensaeus Bellidavus de Christ. libert. l. 12. c. 7.  Ablative or Negative Religion; forsomuch as we join with all true Christians in all affirmative positions of ancient Faith, only standing upon the denial of some late and undue additaments to the Christian belief. Or if those Additions be reckoned for ruins; it is a sure Rule which 
k Durand. Ration. lib. 1.  Durandus gives concerning Material Churches, appliable to the Spiritual, That if the Wall be decayed, not at once, but successively, it is judged still the same Church, and (upon reparation) not to be reconsecrated, but only reconciled. Well therefore may 
l Fisher. contra D. White, & D. Featly.  those mouths stop themselves, which loudly call for the names of the Professors of our Faith in all succession of times till Luther looked forth into the World. Had we gone about to broach any new positive Truths, unseen, unheard of former times, well and justly might they challenge us for a deduction of this line of Doctrine from a pedigree of Predecessors: Now that we only disclaim their superfluous and novel opinions and practices, which have been by degrees thrust upon the Church of God, retaining inviolably all former Articles of Christian Faith, how idle is this plea, how worthy of hissing out? Who sees not now that all we need to do is, but to show that all those points which we cry down in the Roman Church, are such as carry in them a manifest brand of Newness and Absurdity. This proof will clearly justify our refusal. Let them see how they shall once, before the awful Tribunal of our last Judge, justify their 
m Accusatio non debet admitti quae non procedit ex charitate 4. q. 5.  uncharitableness, who cease not upon this our refusal to eject and condemn us.  
The Church of Rome is sick; ingenuous 
a Nec inficior Rom. Ecclesiam à prisco suo decore & splendore non parum diversam, multisque morbis & vitiis deformatan. Cass. de Offi. boni viti, etc.  Cassander confesseth so, Nec inficior, etc. I deny not (saith he) that the Roman Church is not a little changed from her ancient beauty and brightness, and that she is deformed with many diseases and vicious distempers. 
b Utilia vero et nolëti ingerenda. Ber. de vit. solit.  Bernard tells us how it must be dieted; profitable, though unpleasing, medicines must be poured into the mouth of it. Luther and his associates did this office, as Erasmus acknowledgeth; 
c Luther, porrexit orbi pharmacum violentum & amarum: Id quale quale sit, optarim ut aliquid b●nae sanitatis, etc. ●rasm. Georgio Sax. Duci, l. 21. Novis morbis novis obviandū medicamentis. Bern Ep. 161.  Lutherus porrexit, Luther, saith he, gave the World a potion violent and bitter: whatever it were, I wish it may breed some good health in the body of Christian people so miserably foul with all kinds of evils. Never did Luther mean to take away the life of that Church, but the sickness; wherein (as Socrates answered to his Judges) surely, he deserved recompense in stead of rage. For (as S. 
d Dulcior est religiosa castigatio, quam blanda romissio. Ambr. in obit. Theod. ser. 6.  Ambrose worthily) Dulcior est, Sweeter is a religious chastisement than a smoothing remission.  
This that was meant to the Church's health, proves the Physician's disease; so did the bitterness of our wholesome draughts offend, that we are beaten out of doors: neither 
e Non sugimus, sed fugamur. Casaub. ad Peron.  did we run from that Church, but are driven away, as our late Sovereign professeth by Casaubon's hand. We know that of 
f Qui ab Eccl. & communicne, etc. Cytil. orat. de exitu Animae.  Cyrill is a true word, Those which sever themselves from the Church and communion, are the enemies of God, and friends of Devils; and that which 
g Oportebat quidem nibil non far, ne Ecclesiam Dei scinderes. Dion. ad Novat. Euseb. lib. 8. c. 44, etc.  Dionysius said to Novatus, Any thing must rather be born, then that we should rend the Church of God. Farneze, far was it from our thoughts to tear the seamless coat; or with this precious Oil of Truth to break the Church's head.  
We found just faults, else 
h Qui statum conturbat Ecclesiae, ab ejus liminib. arceatur. 2 Epi. Alexand. Pap.  let us be guilty of this disturbance. If now Choler, unjustly, exasperated with an wholesome reprehension, have broken forth into a furious persecution of the gainsayers, the sin is not ours: if we have defended our innocence with blows, the sin is not ours. Let us never prosper in our good Cause, if all the water of Tiber can wash off the blood of many thousand Christian Souls that hath been shed in this quarrel from the hands of the Romish Prelacy. Surely, as it was observed of old, that none of the Tribe of Levi were the professed followers of our Saviour; so it is too easy to observe, that of late times this Tribe hath exercised the bitterest enmity upon the followers of Christ. Suppose we had offended in the undiscreet managing of a just reproof: it is a true rule of 
i Ingenia generosa doceri cupiunt, cogi non ferunt; cogere tyrannorum est, cogi tantum asinorum. Erasm. Rosemund. ubi supra.  Erasmus, that generous spirits would be reclaimed by teaching, not by compulsion; and, as 
k Cavendum est ne cum rem dubiam emendare volumus, majora vulnera faciamus. Alip. August. Epist. 239.  Alipius wisely to his Augustine, Heed must be taken, lest whiles we labour to redress a doubtful complaint, we make greater wounds than we find. Oh how happy had it been for God's Church, if this care had found any place in the hearts of her Governors; who regarding more the entire preservation of their own Honour, than Truth and Peace, were all in the harsh language of war, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, smite, kill, burn, persecute! Had they been but half so charitable to their modern reprovers as they profess they are to the foregoing, how had the Church flourished in an uninterrupted Unity? 
l Index expuigat. Bel. jussu Phil. 2. Antuerp. Offic. Plant. In Catholicis veteribus alios plurimos, etc.  In the old Catholic Writers (say they) we bear with many Errors, we extenuate and excuse them, we find shifts to put them off, and devise some commodious senses for them. Guiltiness, which is the ground of this favour, works the quite contrary courses against us. Alas! how are our Writings racked and wrested to envious senses, how misconstrued, how perverted, and made to speak odiously on purpose to work distaste, to enlarge quarrel, to draw on the deepest censures!  
Woe is me, this cruel uncharitableness is it that hath brought this miserable calamity upon distracted Christendom. Surely as the ashes of the burning 
* Magdeb. 〈◊〉 en. 2  Mountain Vesuvius being dispersed far and wide bred a grievous Pestilence in the Regions round about; so the ashes that fly from these unkindly flames of discord have bred a woeful infection and death of Souls through the whole Christian world.   

CHAP. IU. The Church of Rome guilty of this Schism.  
IT is confessed by the 
a Quae jamdiu depravata atque corrupta, harum ipsarum haresium magna exparte caus● origóque exstitit. Orat, praes. Cont. Trid. sess. 11. Petrus Oxon. sum. Conc. sub Sixto 4.  Precedent of the Tridentine Council, that the depravation of the discipline and manners of the Roman Church was the chief cause and original of these dissensions. Let us cast our eyes upon the Doctrine, and we shall no less find the guilt of this fearful Schism to fall heavily upon the same heads.  
For first, (to lay a sure ground) Nothing can be more plain, then that the 
b Si authorit as quaratur, Orbis major est Urbc, ubicunque fucrit Episcopus, five Rom. five Eugabii. Hieron. Evagrio, Walden. doctr. fid. Tom. 1. lib. 2. Pighius Hierar. Eccl. lib. 6. 3. Turrecremat. & alii, V. Mort. Appel. lib. 4. cap. 2. §. 6. Answer of the Bishop of St. David's Chapl. to Fisher.  Roman is a particular Church, as the Fathers of Basil well distinguish it, not the universal; though we take in the Churches of her subordination or correspondence. This truth we might make good by authority, if our very senses did not save us the labour.  
Secondly, 
c Nec Papa nec Episcopus proprie potest propositionem, etc. Gers. An liceat in causis fidei, etc. Nil. Thessaly. Orat. de dissens.  No particular Church (to say nothing of the universal since the Apostolic times) can have power to make a Fundamental point of Faith: It may explain or declare, it cannot create Articles.  
Thirdly, Only an error against a point of Faith is Heresy.  
Fourthly, Those Points wherein we differ from the Romanists are they which only the Church of Rome hath made Fundamental, and of Faith.  
Fifthly, The Reformed therefore, being by that Church illegally condemned for those Points, are not Heretics.  

d Is propri● haereticus dicitur, qui suo ipsius judicio condemnatus, sua sponte scipsum ●yicit ab Ecclesia. Hosius de legitim. Judic. rerú Eccle. l. 2.  He is is properly an Heretic (saith Hosius) who being convicted in his own judgement, doth of his own accord cast himself out of the Church. For us, we are neither convicted in our own judgement, nor in the lawful judgement of others: we have not willingly cast ourselves out of the Church, but however we are said to be violently ejected by the undue sentence of malice, hold ourselves close to the bosom of the true Spouse of Christ, never to be removed; as far therefore from Heresy as Charity is from our Censurers. Only we stand convicted by the doom of good Pope 
e Subesse Romano, etc. Ext. de major. et obed, unam, etc.  Boniface; or 
f Sylu. Prior. Epit. resp. ad Luth. l. 2. cap. 7.  Sylvester Prierius, Quicunque non, etc. Whosoever doth not rely himself upon the Doctrine of the Roman Church and of the Bishop of Rome as the infallible rule of Faith, from which even the Scripture itself receives her force, he is an Heretic. Whence follows, that the Church of Rome condemning and ejecting those for Heretics which are not, is the Author of this woeful breach in the Church of God.  
I shall therefore, I hope, abundantly satisfy all wise and indifferent Readers, if I shall show that those Points which we refuse and oppose, are no other than such as by the confessions of ingenuous 
g Nilus' imputat divisiones orbis Christiani prasumptioni Romanoe Eccl. quae susceperit in se absque Gracis definire de rebus fidei, & contra sentientes anathemate ferire. Orat. de Diffens. Eccles.  Authors of the Roman part have been (besides their inward falsities) manifest upstarts, lately obtruded upon the Church; such as our ancient progenitors in many hundreds of successions either knew not, or received not into their Belief, and yet both lived and died worthy Christians. Surely it was but a just speech of S. 
h Ego si percgrinum dogma induxero, ipse peccavi, Bern. in Cant● Ser. 30.  Bernard, and that which might become the mouth of any Pope or Council, Ego si peregrinum, etc. If I shall offer to bring in any strange opinion, it is my sin. It was the wise Ordinance of the Thurians, as 
i Cir. de Modest. Annot. in leg. 12 Tab.  Diodorus Siculus reports, that he who would bring in any new Law amongst them to the prejudice of the old, should come with an Halter about his neck into the assembly, and there either make good his project, or die. For however in humane constitutions, 
k 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Modest. Annot. Ibid.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc. the later orders are stronger than the former: yet in Divinity, Primum verum, The first is true, as Tertullian's rule is; the old way is the good way, according to the Prophet. Here we hold us: and because we dare not make more Articles than our Creeds, nor more sins then our Ten Commandments, we are indignly cast out.  
Let us therefore address ourselves roundly to our promised task, and make good the Novelty and Unreasonableness of those Points we have rejected. Out of too many Controversies disputed betwixt us, we select only some principal; and out of infinite varieties of evidence, some few irrefragable testimonies.   

CHAP. V. The Newness of the Article of Justification by inherent Righteousness.  
TO begin with Justification. The Tridentine Fathers in 
a Card. de Monte praes. Conc. Orat. sua ses. 11. professes what they meant to have dispatched in 15 days, cost seven month's work.  their seven months debating of this point have so cunningly set their words, that the Error which they would establish might seem to be either hid or shifted; yet at the last they so far declare themselves, as to determine that the 
b Unica formalis causa est justitia Dei, non qua ipse justus est, sed qua nos justos facit, etc. Conc. Trid. Sess. 6.  only formal cause of our Justification is God's Justice, not by which he himself is Just, but by which he makes us just; wherewith being endowed by him, we are renewed in the Spirit of our minds, and are not only reputed, but are made truly just, receiving every man his own measure of Justice, which the Holy Ghost divides to him 
c Secundum propriam cujusque dispositionem & cooperationom. Ibid.  according to each man's predisposition of himself and cooperation. And withal they denounce a flat 
d Si quis dixerit, etc. per eam ipsam formaliter justos esse, vel solae imputatione justitiae Christi, vel sola remissione peccatorum, etc. Anathema sit. Can. 10, 11.  Anathema to all those who dare to say, that we are formally justified by Christ's Righteousness, or by the sole imputation of that Righteousness, or by the sole remission of our sins, and not by our inherent Grace diffused in our hearts by the holy Ghost. Which terms they have so craftily laid together, as if they would cast an aspersion upon their Adversaries of separating the necessity of Sanctification from the pretended Justification by Faith; wherein all our words and writings will abundantly clear us before God and men. That there is an inherent Justice in us, is no less certain, then that it is wrought in us by the Holy Ghost. For God doth not justify the wicked man as such; but of wicked makes him good, not by mere acceptation, but by a real change, whiles he Justifies him whom he Sanctifies. 
e Nunquam remittetur culpa, quin suni●● in●undatur justitia. Bellar. l. 2. de Justif. c. 13. Perfecta sunt opera Dei, ex Deuter. 32. Bellar. lib. 2. de Justific. cap. 14. Justitiam in nobis recipientes, unusquisque suam secundùm mensuram quam Spiritus sanctus partitur singulis prout vult, & secundùm propriam cujusque dispositionem. Cone. Trid. ubi supra.  These two acts of Mercy are inseparable. But this Justice being wrought in us by the Holy Spirit according to the model of our weak receipt, and not according to the full power of the infinite agent, is not so perfect as that it can bear us out before the Tribunal of God.  
It must be only under the garment of our elder Brother that we dare come in for a Blessing; His Righteousness made ours by Faith, is that whereby we are justified in the sight of God. This Doctrine is that which is blasted with a Tridentine curse.  
Heat now the History of this Doctrine of Justification, related by their Andrew Vega (de Justif. lib. 7. cap. 24.) Magnafuit, etc. Some Ages since (saith he) there was a great concertation amongst Divines what should be the formal cause of our Justification. Some thought it to be no created Justice infused into man, but only the favour and merciful acceptation of God. In which opinion the Master of Sentences is thought by some to have been. Others, whose opinion is more common and probable, held it to be some created quality informing the Souls of the Just. This Opinion was allowed in the Council of Vienna: and the School-Doctors, after the Master of Sentences, delivered this not as probable only, but as certain. Afterwards, when some defended the opposite part to be more probable, it seemed good to the holy Synod of Trent thus to determine it. So as till the late Council of Trent (by the confession of Vega himself) this Opinion was maintained as probable only, not as of Faith: Yea, I add, (by his leave) the contrary was till than most current.  
It is not the Logic of this Point we strive for, it is not the 
* ●orense vocab. Justif verbum 〈…〉 in alia significatione usurpant patres. Chemn. exam. De justis. Causa formalis propter qud homo dicitur justus cord Deo, Bell. l. 2 de Just. c. 1. Yet in the next chapter he corrects this propter in Chemnitius, and expresses it otherwise, l. 2. c. 2.  Grammar; it is the Divinity. What is that whereby we stand acquitted before the Righteous Judge, whether our inherent Justice, or Christ's imputed Justice apprehended by Faith? The Divines of Trent are for the former, all Antiquity with us for the latter. A just Volume would scarce contain the pregnant Testimonies of the Fathers to this purpose.  
Saint 
a Chrysoft. in Con. hom. 2. O miscricor diae magnitudinem, etc. repentéque justus apparet. Chrysoft. in Galat. c. 3. Crux sustulit execrationem, ●ides invexit justitiam, justitia vero gratiam spiritus allexit.  chrysostom tells us it is the wonder of God's Mercy, that he who hath sinned confesseth, is pardoned, secured, and suddenly appears Just. Just? but how? The Cross took away the Curse, (saith he most sweetly,) Faith brought in Righteousness, and Righteousness drew on the Grace of the Spirit.  
Saint 
b Amb. de Jacob. & vita beata. Non operibus justificamur, sed side, quoniam carnalis infirmitas, etc. Ib. cap. 3. Non g'oriabor quia men●, etc. Similiter de Cain & Ab. l. 1. c. 9 de Fuga §. c. 3. & 7.  Ambrose tells us that our carnal infirmity blemisheth our works; but that uprightness of our Faith covers our errors, and obtains our pardon: And professeth that he will glory, not for that he is Righteous, but for that he is Redeemed; nor for that he is void of sins, but for that his sins are forgiven him.  
Saint 
c Hieron. adv. Pelag. lib. 1. Tunc justi sumus cum imperfectos nos, etc.  Jerome tells us, than we are just when we confess ourselves sinners; and that our Righteousness stands not in any Merit of ours, but in the mere Mercy of God; and that the acknowledgement of our imperfection is the imperfect perfection of the Just.  
Saint 
d Gregor. in Ezech. hom. 7. ad finem, Justus igitur advocatus noster, etc.  Gregory tells us that our Just Advocate shall defend us Righteous in his Judgement, because we know and accuse ourselves unrighteous; and that our confidence must not be in our acts, but in our Advocate.  
But the sweet and passionate speeches of Saint Austin and S. Bernard would fill a book alone; neither can any Reformed Divine either more disparage our inherent Righteousness, or more magnify and challenge the imputed. It shall suffice us to give a taste of both.  

e Ergo, Fratres, omnes de plenitudine ejus accepimus, de plenitudine misericordiae, etc. Quid? remissionem peccatorum, ut justificaremur exside. August. Tract. 3. in Joan.  We have all therefore, Brethren, received of his fullness; of the fullness of his Mercy, of the abundance of his Goodness have we received: What? Remission of sins, that we might be justified by Faith; and what more? Grace for Grace, that is, for this Grace wherein we live by Faith, we shall receive another, saith that Divinest of the Fathers. And soon after, 
f Omnes qui ex Adam cum peccato, peccatores; omnes qui per Christum justificati, justi, non in se, sed in illo. Name in se, si interroges, Adam sunt; etc. Ib. Aug.  All that are from sinful Adam, are sinners; all that are justified by Christ, are just, not in themselves, but in him: for in themselves, if ye ask after them, they are Adam; in him, they are Christ's. And elsewhere, 
g Laetaminí, etc. O qui laetamini in vob●● O impii, O superbi, qui laetamini in vobis! jam credentes in eum qui justificas impium, etc. Aug. 2. Enar. in Ps. 31.  Rejoice in the Lord and be glad, O ye Righteous. O wicked, O proud men that rejoice in yourselves! now believing in him who justifieth the wicked, your Faith is imputed to you for Righteousness. Rejoice in the Lord, why? Because now ye are just. And whence are ye just? Not by your own Merits, but by his Grace. Whence are ye just? Because ye are justified.  

h Quis accusavit, etc. Sufficit mihi ad omnem justitiam solum habere propitium cui soli peccavi. Omne quod. etc. Non peccare Dei justitia; hominis justitia est indulgentia Dei, Bern. in Cant. Ser. 23.  Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's Elect? It sufficeth me for all Righteousness, that I have that God propitious to me against whom only I have sinned. All that he hath decreed not to impute unto me, is as if it had not been. Not to sin is God's Justice; man's Justice is God's indulgence, saith devout Bernard.  
How pregnant is that famous Profession of his! 
i Et si miscricordia Domini, etc. Nunquid justitias meas, Domine? memorabo justitiae tuae solius, etc.  And if the mercies of the Lord be from everlasting and to everlasting, I will also sing the mercies of the Lord everlastingly. What shall I sing of mine own righteousness? No, Lord I will remember thy Righteousness alone, for that is mine too: Thou art made unto me of God Righteousness; should I fear that it will not serve us both? 
a Non est pallium breve, etc.  It is no short Cloak, that it should not cover twain. Thy Righteousness is Righteousness for ever; and what is longer than Eternity? Behold, thy large and everlasting mercy will largely 
b Et te pariter & me operiet largiter larga & aterna justitia, etc. Ber. sup. Cant. serm 61.  cover both thee and me at once: in me it covers a multitude of sins; in thee, Lord, what can it cover but the treasures of Pity, the riches of Bounty? Thus he.  
What should I need to draw down this Truth through the times of Anselm, Lombard, Bonaventure, Gerson?  
The Manual of Christian Religion set forth in the Provincial Council of Colen shall serve for all. 
c Bellar. de Justif. l. 2. c. 1. & l. 3. c. 3.  Bellarmine himself grants them herein ours; and they are worth our entertaining. That Book is commended by 
d Quiliber abomnib. cruditioribus Theologis etiam per Italiam & Galliam summopere commendatus ●uit, etc. Cass. Consult. Art 4.  Cassander, as marvellously approved by all the learned Divines of Italy and France, as that which notably sets forth the sum of the judgement of the Ancients concerning this and other Points of Christian Religion. 
e Nos dicimus hominem per fidem donum justificationis tum demum accipere, etc. Enchir. Colon.  Nos dicimus, etc. We say that a man doth then receive the gift of Justification by Faith, when being terrified and humbled by repentance, he is again raised up by Faith, believing that his sins are forgiven him for the Merits of Christ, who hath promised Remision of sins to those that believe in him; and when he feels in himself new desires, so as detesting evil, and resisting the infirmity of his flesh, he is inwardly enkindled to an endeavour of good, although this desire of his be not yet perfect. Thus they in the voice of all Antiquity, and the then present Church. Only the late Council of Trent hath created this Opinion of Justification a Point of Faith.  

Sect. 2. The Error hereof against Scripture.  
YET if age were all the quarrel, it were but light: For though Newness in Divine Truths is a just cause of suspicion; yet we do not so shut the hand of our munificent God, that he cannot bestow upon his Church new Illuminations in some parcels of formerly-hidden Verities. It is the charge both of their Canus and Cajetan, 
Can. loc. come. lib 7. cap. 7. ●es. haec de Cajet.  that no man should detest a new sense of Scripture for this, that it differs from the ancient Doctors; for God hath not (say they) tied exposition of Scripture to their senses.  
Yea, if we may believe 
f Quo juniores, eo perspicaciores. Salmer. in Rom. 5. Disput. 51.  Salmeron, the latter Divines are so much more quicksighted; they, like the Dwarf sitting on the Giant's shoulder, overlook him that is far taller than themselves. This Position of the Roman Church is not more new than faulty. 
g Harese non tam novitas quam veritas revincit. Tertul. de Veland. Virgin.  Not so much Novelty as Truth convinceth Heresies, as Tertullian. We had been silent, if we had not found this Point (besides the lateness) erroneous: erroneous both against Scripture and Reason. Against Scripture, which every where teacheth, as, on the one side, the imperfection of our Inherent Righteousness, so, on the other, our perfect Justification by the Imputed Righteousness of our Saviour, brought home to us by Faith.  
The former Job saw from his dunghill; 
Job 9 2, 3.  How should a man be justified before God? If he will contend with him, he cannot answer one of a thousand. Whence it is that wise Solomon asks, 
Prov. 20. 9  Who can say, My heart is clean; I am pure from sin? 
Eccles. 7. 20.  And himself answers, There is not a just man upon earth, which doth good, and sinneth not. A Truth which (besides his experience) he had learned of his Father David, 
Psal. 143. 2.  who could say, Enter not into Judgement with thy Servant, (though a man after God's own Heart) for in thy sight shall no man living be justified: 
& 130. 3.  and, If thou, Lord, shouldst mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand? 
Esay 64. 6.  For we are all as an unclean thing (we, saith the Prophet Esay, including even himself) and all our Righteousness are as filthy rags. And was it any better with the best Saints under the Gospel? 
Rom. 7. 23.  I see (saith the chosen Vessel) in my members another law warring against the law of my mind, and leading me captive to the law of sin, 
Jam. 32.  which is in my members. So as In many things we sin all. And, If we say that we have no sin, 
1 Joh. 1. 8.  we do but deceive ourselves, and there is no truth in us.  
The latter is the sum of Saint Paul's Sermon at Antioch; Be it known unto you, 
Acts 13 38, 39  men and brethren, that through this Man is preached to you forgiveness of sins; and by him all that believe are justified. They are justified, but how? Freely, 
Rom. 3 24.  by his Grace. What Grace? Inherent in us, and working by us? No: By Grace are ye saved through Faith; 
Eph 2 8▪ 9  and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast. Works are ours; but this is Righteousness of God, 
Rom. 3 22. & 4. 5.  which is by the faith of Jesus Christ, to all them that believe. And how doth this become ours? By his gracious imputation: Not to him that worketh, but believeth in him who justifieth the wicked, is his faith imputed for righteousness.  
Lo, it is not the Act, not the Habit of Faith that justifieth; it is he that justifies the wicked, 
2 Cor. 5. 21.  whom our Faith makes ours, and our sin his: He was made sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. Lo, so were we made his Righteousness, as he was made our sin. Imputation doth both; it is that which enfeoffs our sins upon Christ, and us in his Righteousness; which both covers and redresses the imperfection of ours. That distinction is clear and full; 
Philip. 3. 9  That I may be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the Law, but that which is through the Faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by Faith. S. Paul was a great Saint; he had a Righteousness of his own, (not as a Pharisee only, but as an Apostle) but that which he dares not trust to, but forsakes, and cleaves to God: not that essential Righteousness which is in God without all relation to us, nor that habit of Justice which was remaining in him; but that Righteousness which is of God, by faith made ours. 
Rom. 5. 1.  Thus being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. For what can break that peace but our sins? and those are remitted: 
& 8. 33.  For God's elect? it is God that justifies. And in that Remission is grounded our Reconciliation: For 
a Cor. 5. 19, 21▪  God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not imputing their sins unto them: but contrarily, imputing to them his own righteousness, and their Faith for righteousness. 
b Rom. 3. 28. & 4 6, 7.  We conclude then, that a man is justified by faith. And, Blessed is he to whom the Lord imputes righteousness without works: 
Ad hac vide Gen. 15. 6.  Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins covered.  
Let the vain Sophistry of carnal minds deceive itself with idle subtleties, 
Esa. 45. 25 & 50. 8. & 53. 11.  and seek to elude the plain Truth of God with shifts of wit; we bless God for so clear a light, 
Rō. 3. 20, 26, 30. & 4. 2, 3, 9, 16. & 5. 9▪ 18, 19 & 8. 1. & 10. 5, 10.  and dare cast our Souls upon this sure evidence of God, attended with the perpetual attestation of his ancient Church.   

Sect. 3. Against Reason. 
1 Cor. 4. 4. Gal. 2. 16. & 3. 6, 11, 12, 14.   
LAstly, Reason itself fights against them. Nothing can formally make us Just but that which is perfect in itself: 
Non majue est creare coelum & terram quam peccatores justificare. Gers. Trac. sup. Magnif. 10.  How should it give what it hath not? Now our Inherent Righteousness at the best is, in this life, defective. Nostra, siqua est, humilis, etc. Our poor Justice (saith 
c Bern. deverbis Esai. serm. 5.  Bernard) if we have any, it is true, but it is not pure: For how should it be pure, where we cannot but be faulty? Thus he. The challenge is unanswerable.  
To those that say they can keep God's Law, let me give S. 
d Hierad Ctes.  Hierome's answer to his Ctesiphon; Proffer quis impleverit, Show me the man that hath done it. For, as that 
e Hieron, de filio prodigo.  Father elsewhere, In thy sight shall none living be justified: He said not, no man, but, none living, not Evangelists, not Angels, not Thrones, not Dominions. 
f Ber. in Cant. ser. 73.  If thou shalt mark the iniquities even of thine Elect, saith S. Bernard, Who shall abide it? To say now that 
g Justitia actualis imperfecta, etc. non desinit tamen esse vera justitia, & suo quodam modo perfecta. Bellar. de Justif. lib. 2. cap. 14.  our actual Justice, which is imperfect through the admixtion of venial sins, ceaseth not to be both true, and (in a sort) perfect Justice, is to say, there may be an unjust Justice, or a just Injustice; that even muddy water is clear, or a leprous face beautiful.  
Besides, all experience evinceth our wants. For, as it is S. Austin's true observation, He that is renewed from day to day, is not all renewed, so much he must needs be in his old corruption. 
* August. ad Hier. Ep. 29.  And, as he speaks to his Hierome of the degrees of Charity, There is in some more, in some less, in some none at all; but the fullest measure which can receive no increase is not to be found in any man while he lives here: and so long as it may be increased, surely that which is less than it ought, is faulty; from which faultiness it must needs follow, that there is no just man upon earth which doth good, and sinneth not; and thence in God's sight shall none living be justified. Thus he. To the very last hour our Prayer must be, Forgive us our trespasses. Our very daily endeavour therefore of increasing our Renovation convinceth us sufficiently of Imperfection; and the imperfection of our Regeneration convinceth the impossibility of Justification by such Inherent Righteousness.  
In short therefore, since this Doctrine of the Roman Church is both new and erroneous, against Scripture and Reason, we have justly refused to receive it into our Belief; and for such refusal are unjustly ejected.    

CHAP. VI 
Conc. Tri ses. 6. c. 16. c. 31. si quis, etc. augmentum gratiae, vitam aeternam, & ipsius vitae aeternae cons●●utionem, Anathema sit.   
The Newness of the Doctrine of Merit.  
MErit is next; wherein the Council of Trent is no less peremptory: If any man shall say that the good works of a man justified do not truly merit eternal life, let him be Anathema.  
It is easy for Error to shroud itself under the ambiguity of words. The word Merit hath been of large use with the Ancients, who would have abhorred the present sense: with them it sounded no other than 
a O felix culpa quae talem meruis habere salvatorem Ecclesia canit in benedictione Ceroi. Sal. in 1. Tim. 1. Apostoli à sui● civibus occids merucrunt. Aug in Psalm. 35. Major est mea iniquitas qud ut veniam merear, Gen. 3. Vulg. Tral. Vide Mort. appell.  Obtaining or Impetration; not, as now, earning in the way of condign wages, as if there were an equality of due proportion betwixt our Works and Heaven, without all respects of pact, promise, favour; according to the bold Comment of Scotus, Tolet, Pererius, Costerus, Weston, and the rest of that strain.  
Far, far was the gracious humility of the Ancient Saints from this so high a presumption. Let S. 
b Manct sempiterna requies, etc. Basil. in Ps. 114. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  Basil speak for his fellows; Eternal rest remains for those who in this life have lawfully striven; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. not for the Merits of their deeds, but of the grace of that most munificent God in which they have trusted. Why did I name one, when they all with full consent (as 
c Veteres omnes summo consensu tradunt, etc. Cassan. Consul. de bonies quaest. Neque ab hac, etc. Scholastici scrip●ores & recentiores Ecclesiastici, etc.  Cassander witnesseth) profess to repose themselves wholly upon the mere Mercy of God and Merit of Christ, with an humble renunciation of all worthiness in their own works? Yea that unpartial Author derives this Doctrine even through the lower Ages of the Schoolmen, and later Writers, Thomas of Aquine, Durand, Adrian de Trajecto, (afterwards Pope) Clictoveus; and delivers it for the voice of the then present Church. And before him 
d Thom. Wald. to. 6. facr. Tit. 1. cap. 7. T. Wald. praeclarus Wiclifistarum impugnator. And. Veg. 1. 7. de ●a●sis Justif. cap.  Thomas Waldensis, the great Champion of Pope Martin against the miscalled Heretics of his own name, professes him the sounder Divine and truer Catholic which simply denies any such Merit, and ascribes all to the mere Grace of God, and the will of the giver. What should I need to darken the air with a cloud of witnesses, their Gregory Ariminensis, their Brugensis, Marsilius, Pighius, Eckius, Ferus, Stella, Faber Stapulensis? Let their famous Preacher 
e Royard. to. 5. Dominic. 11. post Pent●cost.  Royard shut up all, Quid igitur is qui Merita praetendit, etc. Whosoever he be that pretends his Merits, what doth he else but deserve hell by his Works?  
Let Bellarmine's Tutissimum est, etc. ground itself upon S. Bernard's experimental resolution, Periculosa habitatio est, Perilous is their dwelling-place who trust in their own Merits; perilous, because ruinous. All these and many more teach this, not as their own Doctrine, but as the Churches. Either they and the Church, whose voice they are, are Heretics with us; or we Orthodox with them, and they and we with the Ancients.  
The Novelty of this Roman Doctrine is accompanied with Error, against Scripture, against Reason.  

Sect. 2. Against Scripture.  
THat God doth graciously accept and munificently recompense our good Works, even with an incomprehensible Glory, we doubt not, we deny not; but this either out of the riches of his Mercy, or the justice of his Promise: But that we can earn this at his hands out of the intrinsical worthiness of our acts, is a challenge too high for flesh and blood, yea for the Angels of Heaven. How direct is our Saviour's instance of the servant come out of the field, 
Luke 17. 9, 10.  and commanded by his Master to attendance? Doth he thank that Servant because he did the things that were commanded him? I trow not: So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants. Unprofitable perhaps (you will say) in respect of meriting thanks; 
Rom. 4. 4.  not unprofitable in respect of meriting wages: For to him that worketh is the reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt. True, therefore herein our case differeth from servants, that we may not look for God's reward as of Debt, 
Ephes. 2. 8.  but as of Grace; By Grace are ye saved through Faith: neither is it our earning, 
Rom. 11. 6.  but God's gift. Both it cannot be. For if by Grace, than it is no more of Works (even of the most Renewed;) otherwise Grace is no more Grace: but if it be of Works, than it is no more Grace; otherwise Work should be no more Work. Now, 
Tit. 3. 5.  not by works of Righteousness which we have done (at our best) but according to his Mercy he saveth us. Were our Salvation of Works, than should Eternal life be our wages; 
Rom. 6. 25.  but now, The wages of sin is Death, but the gift of God is Eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.   

Sect. 3. Against Reason.  
IN very Reason, where all is of mere Duty, there can be no Merit; for how can we deserve reward by doing that, which if we did not we should offend? It is enough for him that is obliged to his task, that his work is well taken. Now all that we can possibly do, and more, is most justly due unto God by the bond of our Creation, of our Redemption, by the charge of his Royal Law, and that sweet Law of his Gospel: Nay, alas! we are far from being able to compass so much as our duty; In many things we sin all. It is enough that in our Glory we cannot sin: though their Faber Stapulensis would not yield so much, and taxeth Thomas for saying so: with the same presumption that Origen held the very good Angels might offend. 
Alex. Pesaut. in 1. 2ae. qu. 4. artic 4. disp. 4.  Then is our Grace consummate: till than our best abilities are full of Imperfection. 
Gloria est gratia consummata. P. Ferius Specim. Scholar Ort. c. 13.  Therefore that conceit of Merit is not more arrogant than absurd.  
We cannot merit of him whom we gratify not: we cannot gratify a man with his own. All our good is God's already, his gift, his propriety: What have we that we have not received? 
1 Cor. 4. 7.  Not our talon only, but the improvement also is his mere bounty. There can be therefore no place for Merit.  
In all just Merit there must needs be a due proportion betwixt the act and the recompense. It is our favour if the gift exceed the worth of the service. Now what proportion can be betwixt a finite, 
Pesaut in 3.  weak, imperfect Obedience, (such is ours at the best) and an infinite, 
Tho. q. 1. a●t. 2. Valour physicus & entitativus operum Christi, etc.  full and most perfect Glory? The old Schools dare say, that the natural and entitative value of the Works of Christ himself was finite, though the moral value was infinite. What then shall be said of our works, which are like ourselves, mere imperfection? We are not so proud that we should scorn (with 
a Absit ut justi vitam aeternam exspe●tent sicut pauper elcemosynam. Ruard. Tap. ●x A●t. Colon. Aug. de verb. Apo. se●. 2.  Ruard. Tapperus) to expect Heaven as a poor man doth an Alms: rather, according to S. Austin's charge, Non sit caput turgidum, etc. Let not the head be proud, that it may receive a Crown. We do with all humility and self-dejection look up to the bountiful hands of that God who crowneth us in mercy and compassion.  
This Doctrine then of Merit being both New and Erroneous, hath justly merited our reproof and detestation; and we are unjustly censured for our censure thereof.    

CHAP. VII. The Newness of the Doctrine of Transubstantiation.  
THE Point of Transubstantiation is justly ranked amongst our highest differences. 
Fons Idol●maniarū Transub. Melancht. ad amicum, 1544 Boxhorn. Isag. ad concord. l. 3.  Upon this quarrel, 
* Fox Acts and Mon. passim.  in the very last Age, how many Souls were sent up to Heaven in the midst of their flames; as if the Sacrament of the Altar had been sufficient ground of the bloody Sacrifices?  
The definition of the Tridentine Council is herein (beyond the wont) clear and express. 
a Si quis dixerit in sacrosanctae, etc. Conc. Tri. de Transub. c 4. Can. 2.  If any man shall say that in the Sacrament of the Sacred Eucharist there remains still the substance of Bread and Wine, together with the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, and shall deny that marvellous and singular conversion of the whole substance of Bread into the Body, and the whole substance of Wine into Blood, the (Species) semblances or shows only of Bread and Wine remaining; (which said Conversion the Catholic Church doth most fitly call Transubstantiation) let him be accursed. Thus they.  
Now let us inquire how old this piece of Faith is. 
In Synaxi s●ro Transubstantiationem definivit Ecclesia. Diu satis erat credere, sive sub panc consecrato, sive quccunque modo, adesse verum corpus Christi. Erasm. Annot. in 1 Cor. 7.  In Synaxi sero, etc. It was late ere the Church defined Transubstantiation (saith Erasmus:) For of so long it was (saith he) held sufficient to believe that the true Body of Christ was there, whether under the consecrated Bread, or howsoever. And how late was this? Scotus shall tell us; Ante Concil. Lateranense, Before the Council of Lateran, Transubstantiation was no point of Faith; as Cardinal 
b Bellar. de Euc. lib. 3. cap. 23. Ibid. Bellar.  Bellarmine himself confesses his Opinion, with a minimè probandum. And this Council was in the year of our Lord 1215. Let who list believe that this Subtle Doctor had never heard of the Roman Council under Gregory the Seventh, which was in the year one thousand seventy nine; or that other under Nicolas the Second, which was in the year one thousand and threescore; or that he had not read those Fathers which the Cardinal had good hap to meet with. Certainly his acuteness easily found out other senses of those Conversions which Antiquity mentions; 
Confitente etiā●uarez.  and therefore dares confidently say (wherein Gabriel Biel seconds him) Non admodum antiquam, that this Doctrine of Transubstantiation is not very ancient. 
Saltem ab annis quingentis d●gma Transub. sub anathemat● stabilitum. Bel. de Euch. lib. 3. cap. 21.  Surely, if we yield the utmost time wherein Bellarmine can plead the determination of this point, we shall arise but to (saltem ab annis quingentis, etc.) five hundred years ago: so long, (saith he) at least, was this opinion of Transubstantiation upon pain of a curse established in the Church. The Church, but what Church? The Roman, I wis, not the Greek. That word of Peter Martyr is true, That the Greeks ever abhorred from this Opinion of Transubstantiation: 
Concil. Floren●ess ult.  Insomuch as at the shutting up of the Florentine Council, which was but in the year 1539. when there was a kind of agreement betwixt the Greeks and Latins about the Procession of the Holy Ghost, the Pope earnestly moved the Grecians, that amongst other differences they would also accord de Divina panis Transmutatione, concerning the Divine Transmutation of the Bread; wherein notwithstanding they departed, as formerly, dissenting. How palpably doth the Cardinal shuffle in this business, whiles he would persuade us, that the Greeks did not at all differ from the Romans in the main head of Transubstantiation; but only concerning the particularity of those words whereby that unspeakable change is wrought? whenas it is most clear by the Acts of that Council, related even by their Binius himself, that after the Greeks had given in their answer, 
* Se firmiter credere verbis illis Dominicis Sacramentum fieri. Ibid. sess. ult.  That they do firmly believe that in those words of Christ the Sacrament is made up, (which had been sufficient satisfaction, if that only had been the question) the Pope urges them earnestly still, ut de Divina panis Transmutatione, etc. that in the Synod there might be treaty had of the Divine Transmutation of the Bread; and when they yet stiffly denied, he could have been content to have had the other three questions, of Unleavened bread, Purgatory, and the Pope's Power, discussed, waving that other of Transubstantiation, which he found would not abide agitation. Since which time their Patriarch Jeremias of Constantinople hath expressed the judgement of the Greek Church; 
** Act. Theol. Wittenberg. anno 1584.  Etenim verè, For the Body and Blood of Christ are truly Mysteries; not that these are turned into man's body, but that (the better prevailing) we are turned into them: yielding a change, but Mystical, not Substantial.  
As for the Ancients of either the Greek or Latin Church, they are so far from countenancing this Opinion, that our learned 
a Whitak. cont. Dur. lib. 2. fol. 220.  Whitaker durst challenge his Duraeus, Si vel unum, etc. If you can bring me but one testimony of sincere Antiquity, whereby it may appear that the Bread is transubstantiate into the Flesh of Christ, I will yield my cause. It is true that there are fair flourishes made of a 
b Ignat. ad Smyrn. Iren. lib. 5. contr. haeres. Tertul. de resur. Orig. hom. 5. in diver. loc Cypr. de Coen. Do. Bas. in reg. br. q. 172. Greg. Nyss. in Cat●ch. Cyril. Hierosol. Cat. mist. 4. Hilar. l. 8. de Trin. Ambr. de sacr. libr. 4. cap. 4 & 5. Greg. Naz. in Epit. Gorgon. Epiph. in Anc. Chrysost. hom. 24 in 1 Cor. Cyril. Alex. Epist. ad Coelesyrium, Aug. in Psal. 33. Hier. ad Hedib. Theol. dial. 3. Leo serm. 6. de Jejun. Damase. l. 4. de fide Orthod. Theophylact. in Luc. 22.  large Jury of Fathers giving their verdict this way, whose very names can hardly find room in a margin: Scarce any of that sacred rank are missing. But it is as true, that their witnesses are grossly abused to a sense that was never intended; they only desiring in an holy excess of speech to express the 
c Et quidem mutatur; est enim alia elementi natura, Sacramentialia. aliens. contr. Bellarm.  Sacramental change that is made of the elements in respect of use, not in respect of substance; and passionately to describe unto us the benefit of that Sacrament in our blessed Communion with Christ, and our lively incorporation into him.  
Insomuch as Cardinal 
d Bell. de Euch. lib. 2. c. 4.  Bellarmine himself is fain to confess a very high Hyperbole in their speeches. Non est novum, It is no unusual thing (saith he) with the Ancients, and especially Irenaeus, Hilary, Nyssen, Cyril, and others, to say that our bodies are nourished by the holy Eucharist.  
Neither do they use less height of speech (as our Learned 
e Bish. Morton's Appell.  Bishop hath particularly observed) in expressing our participation of Christ in Baptism, wherein yet never any man pleaded a Transubstantiation.  
Neither have there been wanting some of the Classical Leaders of their Schools, which have confessed more probability of ancient evidence for Consubstantiation then for this change. Certainly, neither of them both entered ever into the thoughts of those Holy men, however the sound of their words have undergone a prejudicial mistaking. Whereas the sentences of those Ancients against this mis-opinion are direct, punctual, absolute, convictive, and uncapable of any other reasonable sense. What can be more choking then that of their Pope 
f Gelas. Pap. de duabus Christ. nature. Biblioth. Patr. tom. 4.  Gelasius above a thousand years since, Et tamen, etc. Yet there ceaseth not to be the very substance of Bread and Wine? What can be more plain than that of S. 
g Aug. in Ps. 98. Non hoc ipsum corpus quod videtis, etc. neque hunc ipsum sanguinem, etc. sacramentum vobis aliquod come. etc.  Augustine, It is not this Body which you see, that you shall eat, neither is it this Blood which my Crucifiers shall spill, that you shall drink: it is a Sacrament that I commend unto you; which being spiritually understood, shall quicken you? Or that other, 
h Ubi fiagitium, etc. August. de doct. Christ. l. 3. c. 16.  Where a flagitious act seems to be commanded, there the speech is figurative; as, when he saith, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, etc. it were an horrible wickedness to eat the very flesh of Christ: therefore here must needs be a figure understood? What should I urge that of 
i Tertul. contra Martion. lib. 4.  Tertullian (whose speech Rhenanus confesseth to have been condemned after in Berengarius) My Body, that is, the figure of my Body? That of 
k Theod. Dial. 2 & 3. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, &c  Theodoret, The mystical signs after consecration lose not their own nature? That of S. 
a Carnale est dubitare quo modo de coelo descendit, etc. & quo modo possit carnem svam dare ad mand●candum; Haec, inquam, omnia carnalia, quae mystice & spiritualiter intelligenda sunt, Chrysostom▪ in cap. 6 Joan. hom. 46.  chrysostom, It is a carnal thing to doubt how Christ can give us his flesh to eat; whenas this is mystically and spiritually to be understood? And soon after enquiring what it is to understand carnally, he thus explicates it; 
b Similiter ut res dicuntur, neque aliud quippiam excogitare, etc. Ibid. in illud, Siquis dixerit contra filium hominis.  It is to take things simply as they are spoken, and not to conceive of any other thing meant by them. This wherein we are is a beaten path, trod with the feet of our holy Martyrs, and traced with their blood. What should I need to produce their familiar and ancient Advocates, who have often wearied and worn this bare, Athanasius, 
c Contr. Tryphon.  Justine, 
d Homil. 7. in Levit.  Origen, 
e De Coen. Domini.  Cyprian, 
f In Epitaph. Caesarii, & ad cives Nazianz.  Nazianzen, 
g Libr. de Baptismo.  Basil, 
h In Esai. 66.  Hierome, 
i Libr. 8 de Trinitar.  Hilary, 
k In Joan. lib. 3. cap. 34.  Cyril, 
l Homil. 27.  Macarius, 
m Lib. de Corp. & Sanguine. etc.  Bertram, besides those whom I formerly cited? Of all others (which I have not found pressed by former Authors) that of our 
n Albin. in Jo. cap. 6.  Albinus, or Alcuinus, Beda's learned Scholar (who lived in the time of Charles the Great) seems to me most full and pregnant: Hoc est ergo, This is therefore to eat that flesh, and to drink that blood, to remain in Christ, and to have Christ remaining in us: so as he that remains not in Christ, and in whom Christ remaineth not, without doubt doth not spiritually eat his flesh, although carnally and visibly he 
o Dentibus premat, etc.  chew the Sacrament of his body and blood with his teeth; but rather he eats and drinks the Sacrament of so great a thing unto his own Judgement, because he presumed to come unclean unto those Sacraments of Christ, which none can take worthily but the clean. Thus he.  
Neither is this his single testimony, but such as he openly professeth the 
p Sicut etiam ante nos intellexerunt homines Dei. Ib.  common voice of all his Predecessors. And a little after, upon those words, The flesh profiteth nothing, he addeth, The flesh profiteth nothing, if ye understand the flesh so to be eaten as other meat, as that flesh which is bought in the Shambles. This is the ordinary language of Antiquity, whereof we may truly say as the Disciples did of Christ, 
q John 16. 29.  Behold, now thou speakest plainly, and speakest no Parable. At last Ignorance and misunderstanding brought forth this Monster of Opinion, which Superstition nursed up, but fearfully and obscurely, and not without much scope of contrary judgements; till after Pope Nicolas had made way for it in his proceedings against Berengarius (by so gross an expression as the Gloss is fain to put a caveat upon) Anno 1060. the Lateran Council authorised it for a matter of Faith, Anno 1215.  
Thus young is Transubstantiation. Let Scripture and Reason show how erroneous.  

Sect. 2. Transubstantiation against Scripture.  
WEre it not that men do wilfully hoodwink themselves with their own prejudice, the Scripture is plain enough. For the mouth that said of bread, 
Joh. 6. 55, 51.  This is my Body, said also of the same body, My flesh is meat indeed, long before there can be any plea of Transubstantiation; and, I am the bread that came down from Heaven: so was he Manna to the Jews as he is bread to us. 
1 Cor. 12. 27.  And S. Paul says of his Corinth's, Ye are the body of Christ; yet not meaning any transmutation of substance.  
And in those words wherein this powerful conversion is placed, he says only, 
Matth. 26. 26.  This is, not, This is transubstantiate: and if whiles he says, This is, he should have meant a Transubstantiation, 
Mark. 14. 22.  than it must needs follow that his Body was transubstantiate before he spoke; for, This is, implies it already done. He adds, This is my body. His true natural humane Body was there with them, took the Bread, broke it, gave it, ate it; if the Bread were now the Body of Christ, either he must have two bodies there, or else the same body is by the same body taken, broken, eaten, and is (the while) neither taken, nor broken, nor eaten. 
Luke 22. 19  Yet he adds, which is given for you. This was the body which was given for them, betrayed, crucified, humbled to the death; not the glorious body of Christ, which should be capable of ten thousand places at once, both in Heaven and Earth, invisible, incircumscriptible. Lastly, he adds, Do this in remembrance of me. Remembrance implies an absence; neither can we more be said to remember that which is in our present sense, then to see that which is absent.  
Besides, that the great Doctor of the Gentiles tells us that after consecration, it is bread which is broken and eaten; 
1 Cor. 11, 23, 24: 26.  neither is it less than five times so called after the pretended change.  
Shortly, 
Heb. 2. 17.  Christ as man was in all things like to us except sin; and our humane body shall be once like to his glorious body. The glory which is put upon it shall not strip it of the true essence of a body; and if it retain the true nature of a body, it cannot be at the same instant both above the Heavens, and below on earth, 
Acts 3. 21.  in a thousand distant places. He is locally above; for the heavens must receive him till the times of the restitution of all things. He is not at once in many distant places of the earth; 
Matth. 28. 6.  for the Angel even after his Resurrection says, He is not here, for he is risen.   

Sect. 3. Transubstantiation against Reason.  
NEver did or can Reason triumph so much over any prodigious Paradox as it doth over this. Insomuch as the Patrons of it are fain to disclaim the Sophistry of Reason, and to stand upon the suffrages of Faith, and the plea of Miracles. We are not they who, with the Manichees, refuse to believe Christ unless he bring Reason; we are not they who think to lad the Sea with an eggshell, 
August. de util. cred. cap. 14.  to fathom the deep Mysteries of Religion with the short reach of natural apprehension. We know there are wonders in Divinity fit for our adoration, not fit for our comprehending: But withal we know, that if some Theological Truths be above right Reason, yet never any against it; for all Verity complies with itself, 
〈◊〉.  as springing from one and the same Fountain.  
This Opinion therefore we receive not, not because it transcends our conceit, but because we know it crosseth both true Reason and Faith. It implies manifest contradiction, in that it refers the same thing to itself in opposite relations; 
Quod cum affirmatur negatur, impossibile est, & implicat contradictionem, Cassan in impl. contradict.  so as it may be at once present and absent, near and far off, below and above.  
It destroys the truth of Christ's humane body, in that it ascribes Quantity to it without extension, without 
* Spatia locorum tolle corporibus. Aug. Epist. 57  locality; turning the flesh into spirit, and bereaving it of all the properties of a true body; those properties which (as 
a Nicetas in Naz. Orat. de Pentec. quidem ne cogitation 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. Sic & Aug. Tollc ipsa corpo●● qualitatibus, etc.  Nicetas truly) cannot so much as in thought be separated from the essence of the body: insomuch as 
b Nam si verè sectionem & partitionem divinanatura reciperet etc. Cyrill. Alex.  Cyril can say, If the Deity itself were capable of partition, it must be a body; and if it were a body, it must needs be in a place, and have quantity and magnitude, and thereupon should not avoid circumscription.  
It gives a false body to the Son of God, making that every day of Bread by the power of words, which was made once of the substance of the Virgin by the Holy Ghost.  
It so separates Accidents from their Subjects, that they not only can subsist without them, but can produce the full effects of Substances; so as bare Accidents are capable of Accidents; so as of them Substances may be either made or nourished.  
It utterly overthrows (which learned 
c Resp. ad Epist. viri docti.  Cameron makes the strongest of all reasons) the nature of a Sacrament; 
Tom. 2. Dialog. de Trin. lib. 2.  in that it takes away at once the Sign, and the Analogy betwixt the Sign and the thing signified: The Sign, in that it is no more Bread, but accidents; the Analogy, in that it makes the Sign to be the thing signified.  
Lastly, it puts into the hands of every Priest, power to do every day a greater Miracle than God did in the Creation of the World: for in that the Creator made the Creature; but in this the creature daily makes the Creator.  
Since then this Opinion is both New, and convinced to be grossly Erroneous by Scripture and Reason, justly have we professed our deterstation of it; and for that are unjustly ejected.    

CHAP. VIII. The Newness of the Half-Communion.  
THE Novelty of the Half-Sacrament, or dry Communion, delivered to the Laity, 
Const. Synod. sess. 13.  is so palpable, as that the Patrons of it, in the presumptuous Council of Constance, profess no less. Licet Christus, etc. Although Christ, (say they) after his Supper, instituted and administered this venerable Sacrament under both kinds of Bread and Wine, etc. Licet in primitiva, etc. Although in the Primitive Church this Sacrament were received by the faithful under both kinds; Non obstance, etc. Yet this custom, for the avoiding of 
a Inter alia, propter periculum effusionis. Jo. de Burgo, 4 partis cap. 8.  some dangers and scandals, was upon just reason brought in, that Laics should receive only under one kind: and those that stubbornly oppose themselves against it, shall be ejected, and punished as Heretics. Now this Council was but in the year of our Lord God 1453. Yea but these Fathers of Constance, however they are bold to control Christ's Law by Custom, yet they say it was consuetudo diutissimè observata, 
Ibid.  a custom very long observed.  
True, but the full age of this Diutissimè is openly and freely calculated by Cassander: 
Cassan. consult. de uttraque spec. sacr. etc.  Satis constat, It is apparent enough, that the Western or Roman Church, for a thousand years after Christ, in the solemn and ordinary Dispensation of this Sacrament, gave both kinds of Bread and Wine to all the members of the Church. A point which is manifest by innumerable ancient Testimonies both of Greeks and Latins. And this they were induced to do by the example of Christ's institution. Quare non temerè, etc. It is not therefore (saith he) without cause, that most of the best Catholics, and most conversant in the reading of Ecclesiastical Writers, are inflamed with an earnest desire of obtaining the Cup of the Lord; that the Sacrament may be reduced to that ancient custom and use, which hath been for many Ages perpetuated in the universal Church. Thus he. We need no other Advocate.  
Yea, their Vasquez draws it yet lower, Negare non, etc. We cannot deny that in the Latin Church there was the use of both kinds, and that it so continued until the days of Saint Thomas, which was about the year of God, 1260.  
Thus it was in the Roman Church: but as for the Greek, the World knows it did never but communicate under both kinds. These open Confessions spare us the labour of quoting the several testimonies of all Ages: else it had been easy to show how in the Liturgy of Saint Basil and chrysostom, 
Liturg. Basil. & Chrylost.  the Priest was wont to pray, Vouchsafe, O Lord, to give us thy Body and thy Blood, and by us to thy people; 
Vide Cassand. consult. ubi sup.  how in the order of Rome, the Archdeacon taking the Chalice from the Bishop's hand, confirmeth all the receivers with the blood of our Lord: and from 
b In Epist. ad Phil.  Ignatius' 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, One Cup distributed to all, to have descended along through the clear records of S. Cyprian, 
Lib. 1. Ep. 2.  Hierome, Ambrose, 
Lib. de Coen.  Augustine, 
Dom. Quaest in Levi●. 57  Leo, Gelafius, Paschasius and others, to the very time of Hugo and Lombard, and our Halensis; and to show how S. Cyprian would not deny the blood of Christ to those that should shed their blood for Christ; how Saint Austin (with him) makes a comparison betwixt the blood of the Legal Sacrifices, which might not be eaten, and this blood of our Saviour's Sacrifice, which all must drink.  
But what need allegations to prove a yielded truth? So as this halfing of the Sacrament is a mere novelty of Rome, and such a one as their own Pope 
* Great. decret. de consecrat. dict. 2 c. 12. comperimus, Divisio unius ejusdemque Mysterii non ●inc grandi sacrilegio potest pervenire.  Gelasius sticks not to accuse of no less than Sacrilege.  

Sect. 2. Half-Communion against Scripture.  
NEither shall we need to urge Scripture, when it is plainly confessed by the last Councils of Lateran and Trent, that this practice varies from Christ's institution. Yet the Tridentine Fathers have left themselves this evasion, that however our Saviour ordained it in both kinds, 
Etsi Christus Dominus, etc. non tamen illa institutio & traditio eo tendunt ut omnes Christi fideles statuto Domini ad utramque speciem accipiendam astringantur, etc. Concil. Trid. sess. 5. sub Pio. An. 1562. c. 1.  and so delivered it to his Apostles, notwithstanding he hath not by any command enjoined it to be so received of the Laity: Not considering that the charge of our Saviour is equally universal in both; to whom he said, Take and eat, to the same also he said, Drink ye all of this; so as by the same reason our Saviour hath given no command at all unto the Laity to eat or drink; and so this Blessed Sacrament should be to all God's people (the Priests only excepted) arbitrary and unnecessary. But the great Doctor of the Gentiles is the best Commenter upon his Master, who writing to the Church of God at Corinth, 
* 1 Cor. 1. 2. Nihil differt sacerdos à subdito quandofruendum est mysteriis. Chrys.  to them that are sanctified in Christ Jesus, 
1 Cor. 11. 28.  with all that in every place call upon the Name of Jesus Christ, so delivers the institution of Christ, as that in the use of the Cup he makes no difference; six times conjoining the mention of drinking with eating; and fetching it in with an 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, equality of the manner, and necessity of both, charges all Christians indifferently, Probet seipsum, Let every man examine himself, etc. and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup.   

Sect. 3. Half-Communion against Reason.  
IN this practice Reason is no less their enemy. 
Gal. 3. 15.  Though it be but a man's testament, yet if it be confirmed, no man disannulleth it (saith Saint Paul.) How much less shall flesh and blood presume to alter the last Will of the Son of God; and that in so material a Point as utterly destroys the institution? For, 
Doct. White cont. Fisherum.  as our Learned Bishop of Carlisle argues truly, half a Man is no Man, half a Sacrament is no Sacrament.  
And as well might they take away the Bread as the Cup; both depend upon the same ordination: It is only the command of Christ that makes the Bread necessary; the same command of Christ equally enjoins the Cup; both do either stand or fall upon the same ground.  
The pretence of concomitancy is so poor a shift, that it hurts them rather; for if by virtue thereof the Body of Christ is no less in the Wine then the Blood is in the Bread, it will necessarily follow, that they might ' as well hold back the Bread and give the Cup, as hold back the Cup and give the Bread.  
And could this Mystery be hid from the eyes of the Blessed Authors of this Sacrament? Will these men be wiser than the wisdom of his Father? If he knew this, and saw the Wine yet useful, who dares abrogate it? and if he had not seen it useful, why did he not then spare the labour and cost of so needless an element?  
Lastly, the Blood that is here offered unto us, is that which was shed for us: that which was shed from the Body, is not in the Body: in vain therefore is concomitancy pleaded for a separated blood.  
Shortly then, this mutilation of the Sacrament being both confessedly late, and extremely injurious to God and his people, and contrary to Scripture and Reason, is justly abandoned by us; and we for abandoning it unjustly censured.    

CHAP. IX. The Newness of the Missal Sacrifice.  
IT sounds not more prodigiously that a Priest should every day make his God, then that he should sacrifice him. Antiquity would have as much abhorred the sense as it hath allowed the word. Nothing is more ordinary with the Fathers, then to call 
* Macarium in altar insultasse, mensam Domini evertisse. Socrat. lib. 1. c. 10.  God's Table an Altar, the holy Elements an Oblation, the act of Celebration an Immolation, the Actor a Priest. Saint 
a Chrysost. in Psal. 95.  chrysostom reckons ten kinds of Sacrifice, and at last (as having forgotten it) adds the eleventh. All which we well allow; and indeed many Sacrifices are offered to God in this one: but a 
b Conc. Tri. Ses. 6. c. 2. Can. 1. Verum, proprium, propitiatorium, etc.  true, proper, propitiatory Sacrifice for quick and dead, (which the Tridentine Fathers would force upon our belief) would have seemed no less strange a Solecism to the ears of the Ancients than it doth to ours. 
* In li. sen. Prof. hom. 17. ad Heb.  Saint Augustine calls it a Designation of Christ's offering upon the Cross; Saint chrysostom (and Theophylact after him) a Remembrance of his Sacrifice; Emissenus, a daily Celebration in mystery of that which was once offered in payment; and 
c Prece mystica consecratur nobis in memoria Dominica Passionis. Lom. sent. lib. 4. d. 12.  Lombard himself, a memorial and representation of the true Sacrifice upon the Cross. That which 
d Cassand, consult. de sacrificio. Et ibid. hoc autem sacrificium exemplar est illius. Chrys ubi supr.  Cassander citys from Saint Ambrose or chrysostom, may be in stead of all: In Christ is the Sacrifice once offered able to give Salvation. What do we therefore? Do we not offer every day? Surely, if we offer daily, it is done for a recordation of his death. This is the language and meaning of Antiquity, the very same which the Tridentine Synod condemneth in us. 
e Si quis dixerit Missa Sacrificium tantum esse laudis & gratiarum actionis, etc. Sess. 6. cap. 9  If any man shall say that the Sacrifice of the Mass is only a Sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, or a bare commemoration of the Sacrifice offered upon the Cross, let him be accursed.  

Sect. 2. Sacrifice of the Mass against Scripture.  
HOw plain is the Scripture, 
Hebr. 7. 27.  whiles it tells us, that our High Priest needeth not daily, as those High Priests (under the Law) to offer up sacrifice, first for his own sins, then for the peoples; for this he did once, when he offered up himself? The contradiction of the Trent-fathers' is here very remarkable. 
Conc. Trid. Ses. 6. cap. 2.  Christ (say they) who on the Altar of the Cross offered himself in a bloody Sacrifice, is now this true Propitiatory Sacrifice in the Mass made by himself: He is one and the same Sacrifice, and one and the same offerer of that Sacrifice, by the Ministry of his Priests, who then offered himself on the Cross. So then, they say, that Christ offered up that Sacrifice then, and this now: Saint Paul says, he offered up that Sacrifice and no more. Saint Paul says, our High Priest needs not to offer daily Sacrifice: They say, these daily Sacrifices must be offered by him. Saint Paul says that he offered himself but once for the sins of the people: They say, he offers himself daily for the sins of quick and dead. And if the Apostle in the Spirit of Prophecy foresaw this Error, and would purposely forestall it, he could not speak more directly then when he saith, We are sanctified through the offering of the Body of Jesus Christ once for all. 
Heb. 10. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14.  And every High Priest standeth daily ministering and offering oftentimes the same Sacrifices which can never take away sins: But this man after he had offered one Sacrifice for sins, for ever sat down on the right hand of God; from henceforth expecting till his enemies be made his footstool: For by one offering he hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified.  
Now let the vain heads of men seek subtle evasions in the different manner of this offering, 
Sola offerendi rations diversa. Ibid. Conc. Tr.  bloody then, unbloody now. The Holy Ghost speaks punctually of the very substance of the act, and tells us absolutely, there is but one Sacrifice once offered by him in any kind: Else the opposition that is there made betwixt the Legal Priesthood and his should not hold, if, as they, so he had often properly and truly sacrificed.  
That I may not say they build herein what they destroy; for an unbloody Sacrifice, 
Hebr. 9 22.  in this sense, can be no other than figurative and commemorative. Is it really propitiatory? Without shedding of blood there is no remission. If therefore sins be remitted by this Sacrifice, it must be in relation to that blood which was shed in his true personal Sacrifice upon the Cross; and what relation can be betwixt this and that but of representation and remembrance? 
Cassan. Consul. de sacrif.  in which their moderate Cassander fully resteth.   

Sect. 3. Missal Sacrifice against Reason.  
IN Reason there must be in every Sacrifice (as Cardinal Bellarmine grants) a destruction of the thing offered; and shall we say that they make their Saviour to crucify him again? 
Bellar. lib. 1 de Missa, cap. 3.  No, but to eat him; for, Consumptio seu manducatio quae fit à Sacerdote, The consumption or manducation which is done of the Priest is an essential part of this Sacrifice, saith the same Author: For in the whole action of the Mass there is (saith he) no other real destruction but this.  
Suppose we then the true humane flesh, blood and bone of Christ, God and man, really and corporally made such by this Transubstantiation, whether is more horrible, to crucify, or to eat it?  
By this rule it is the Priests teeth, and not his tongue, that makes Christ's body a Sacrifice. By this rule it shall be hostia an host, when it is not a Sacrifice; and a reserved host is no Sacrifice, howsoever consecrated. And what if a mouse or other vermin should eat the Host? 
Jo. de Burg. 4 partis cap. 8. de Ministratione Euch.  (it is a case put by themselves) who then sacrificeth?  
To stop all mouths; Laics eat as well as the Priest, there is no difference in their manducation, 
Salmer. Tom. 9 Tract. 29. An Euchar. sit proprie sacrificium.  but Laics sacrifice not; and (as Salmeron urges) the Scripture distinguisheth betwixt the Sacrifice, and the participation of it: 
a 1 Cor. 9 13.  Are not they which eat of the Sacrifices, partakers of the Altar? And in the very Canon of the Mass, Ut quotquot, etc. the prayer is, That all we which in the participation of the Altar have taken the sacred Body and Blood of thy Son, etc. Wherein it is plain, saith he, that there is a distinction betwixt the Host, and the eating of the Host.  
Lastly, sacrificing is an act done to God: if then eating be sacrificing, the Priest eats his God to his God; Quorum Deus venture. Whiles they in vain study to reconcile this new-made Sacrifice of Christ already in Heaven with Jube haec praferri, Command these to be carried by the hands of thine holy Angels to thine high Altar in Heaven, in the sight of thy Divine Majesty; we conclude, That this proper and propitiatory Sacrifice of the Mass, as a new, unholy, unreasonable Sacrifice, is justly abhorred by us, and we for abhorring it unjustly ejected.    

CHAP. X. The Newness of Image-Worship.  
AS for the setting up and worshipping of Images, we shall not need to climb so high as Arnobius, 
Epist. Epiphan. Inter opera Hieron.  or Origen, or the Council of Eliberis, Anno 305. or to that fact and history of Epiphanius, (whose famous Epistle is honoured by the Translation of Hierome) of the picture found by him in the Church of the Village of Anablatha, though out of his own Diocese; how he tore it in an holy zeal; and wrote to the Bishop of the place, beseeching him that no such Pictures may be hanged up, contrary to our Religion: though (by the way) who can but blush at Master Fisher's evasion, 
Quae 〈◊〉 religionem 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc.  that it was sure the Picture of some profane Pagan? when as Epiphanius himself there says, it had Imaginem quasi Christi, vel Sancti cujusdam, the Image as it were of Christ, or some Saint. Surely therefore the Image went for Christ's, or for some noted Saints; neither doth he find fault with the irresemblance, but with the Image, as such.  
That of Agobardus is sufficient for us; 
Biblio. Patr. tom. 9  Nullus antiquorum Catholicorum, None of the ancient Catholics ever thought that Images were to be worshipped or adored: They had them indeed, but for history sake; to remember the Saints by, not to worship them.  
The decision of Gregory the Great (some 600 years after Christ) which he gave to Serenus Bishop of Massilia, 
Greg. Epist. l. 9 Epi. 9 Indict. 4▪  is famous in every man's mouth and pen; El quidem quia eas ador ari vetuisses, etc. We commend you (saith he) that you forbade those Images to be worshipped; but we reprove your breaking of them: adding the reason of both, For that they were only retained for history and instruction, not for adoration. 
Cassan. Consul. 21. 〈◊〉 cultu Imag.  Which ingenuous Cassander so comments upon, as that he shows this to be a sufficient declaration of the judgement of the Roman Church in those times, Videlicet ideo haberi picturas, etc. That Images are kept not to be adored and worshipped, but that the ignorant by beholding those Pictures might, as by written records, be put in mind of what hath been formerly done, and be thereupon stirred up to Piety. And the same Author tells us that Sanioribns scholiasticis displicet, etc. The sounder Schoolmen disliked that opinion of Thomas Aquine, who held, that the Image is to be worshipped with the same adoration which is due to the thing represented by it; reckoning up Durand, Holcot, Biel. Not to spend many words in a clear case: What the judgement and practice of our Ancestors in this Island was concerning this point, appears sufficiently by the relation of Roger Hoveden our Historian, who tells us that in the year 792. 
Rog. Hoveden. Part. Annal. 1. Ann. 792. fol 3.  Charles the King of France sent into this Isle a Synodal Book directed unto him from Constantinople, wherein there were divers offensive passages; but especially this one, that by the unanimous consent of all the Doctors of the East, and no fewer than 300: Bishops, it was decreed that Images should be worshipped, quod Ecclesia Dei execratur, saith he, which the Church of God abhors. Against which Error Albinus (saith he) wrote an Epistle marvellously confirmed by authority of Divine Scriptures; and in the person of our Bishops and Princes exhibited it, together with the said Book, unto the French King. This was the settled resolution of our Predecessors: And if since that time prevailing Superstition have encroached upon the ensuing succession of the Church, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, let the old rules stand, as those Fathers determined; away with Novelties.  
But, 
Vide Binnium in vita Constant. P.  good Lord, how apt men are to raise or believe lies for their own advantage? Urspergensis and other friends of Idolatry tell us of a Council held at London in the days of Pope Constantine, Anno 714. wherein the worship of Images was publicly decreed; the occasion whereof was this: Egwin the Monk (after made Bishop) had a Vision from God, wherein he was admonished to set up the Image of the Mother of God in his Church. The matter was debated, and brought before the Pope in his See Apostolic: there Egwin was sworn to the truth of his Vision. Thereupon Pope Constantinus sent his Legate Boniface into England, who called a Council at London; wherein, after proof made of Egwin's Vision, there was an act made for Image-worship. A figment so gross, that even their Baronius and Binnius fall foul upon it, with a facilè inducimur, etc. we are easily induced to believe it to be a lie. Their ground is, that it is destitute of all testimony of Antiquity; and besides, that it doth directly cross the report of Beda, who tells us that our English, together with the Gospel, received that use of Images from their Apostle Augustine: and therefore needed not any new Vision for the entertainment thereof. 
Beda Eccl. hist. Ang. lib. 1. cap. 25, etc.  Let us inquire then a little into the words of Beda; At illi, but they, (Augustine and his fellows) non daemoniaca, etc. came armed not with the power of Devils, but of God, bearing a silver Cross for their Standard, and the Image of our Lord and Saviour painted in a Table, and singing Litanies both for the Salvation of themselves, and of them whom they came to convert. Thus he.  
This shows indeed, that Augustine and his fellows brought Images into England, unknown here before; (a point worthy of good observation:) but how little this proves the allowed Worship of them, will easily appear to any Reader, if he consider that Gregory the first and Great was he that sent this Augustine into England; whose judgement concerning Images is clearly published by himself to all the world in his forecited Epistle, absolutely condemning their Adoration (Augustine should have been an ill Apostle, if he had herein gone contrary to the will of him that sent him;) if withal he shall consider, that within the very same Century of years the Clergy of England, by Albinus Bede's Scholar, sent this public declaration of their earnest disavowing both of the doctrine and practice of Image-worship.  

Sect. 2. Image-worship against Scripture.  
AS for Scripture, we need not to go further than the very Second Commandment; the charge whereof is so inevitable, that it is very ordinarily (doubtless in the guiltiness of an apparent check) left out in the devotional Books to the people. 
a Azorius jast. lib▪ 9 c●6. citys for this opinion, Alex. p. 3. q. 30. memb. 3. art. 3. Alber. 3. d. 9 art. 4. Bonav. 3. d. 9 1. q. Richard. 3. d. 9 art. 2. q. 1. Palud. 3. d 9 q. 1. Marsil. 3. q. 8. Henric. quodl. 10. q. 6. Cent. 2. cap. 5.  Others, since they cannot raze it out, would fain limit it to the Jews, pretending that this precept against the worship of Images was only Temporal and Ceremonial, and such as ought not to be in force under the Times of the Gospel.  
Wherein they recall to my thoughts that which Epiphanius the son of Carpocrates answered, when his Lust was checked with the command of Non concupisces; True, said he, that is to be understood of the Heathen, whose Wives and Sisters we may not indeed lust after.  
Some more modest spirit are ashamed of that shift, and fly to the distinction of Idols and Images: 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 saepe simula●rum ver. Act. 7. 41. & 15. 20. 1 Cor. 12. 2. 1 John 5. 21. Levit. 26. 1.  a distinction without a difference; of their making, not of Gods; of whom we never learned other, then that as every Idol is an Image of something, so every Image worshipped turns Idol: the Language differs, not the thing itself.  
To be sure, God takes order for both, Ye shall make you no Idol nor graven Image, neither rear you up any standing image, neither shall you sct up any image of stone in your Land to bow down to it. Yea, as their own Vulgar turns it, 
b Deut. 16. 22.  Non facies tibi, etc. statuam, Thou shalt not set thee up a Statue which God hateth. The Book of God is 
* Esay 42. 17. & 45. 16. Mic. 5. 13. Abac. 2. 18, 19 Zach. 10. 2. Esa. 2. 8. & 30. 22. & 41. 7, 22, 23, 24. 29. & Esay 44. 12. Jer. 7● 18. & 8 9 & 10 8. Ezec. 6. 4, 13. & 20. 28, 32. & 23. 7. Ose 8. 4, 5. Mich. 1. 7.  full of his indignation against this practice.  
We may well shut up all with that curse in Mount Geresim, 
c Deut. 27. 15.  Cursed be the man that maketh any graven or molten image, an abomination unto the Lord; the work of the hands of the craftsman, and putteth it in a secret place. And all the people shall say Amen. Surely their 
* Durand. Rat●. 1. c. 3. Ex his & similibus authoritatibus reprobatur nimius imaginum usus.  Durandus, after he hath cited divers Scriptures against Idols, as Exod. 20. Levit. 26. Deut. 4. Numb, 25, etc. at last concludes, Ex his & similibus, etc. By these and the like authorities is condemned the too much use of Images.  
Now because many eyes are bleared with a pretence of worshipping these not as Gods, but as resemblances of God's friends, let any indifferent man but read the Epistle of Jeremy, Baruch 6. (canonical to them, though not to us) and compare the estate and usage of those ancient Idols with the present Images of the Roman Church; and if he do not find them fully paralleled, let him condemn our quarrel of injustice.  
But we must needs think them hard driven for Scripture, 
1 Pet 4 3. We turn ●t well abominable Ideluries Greg Vol. l. 2. Apol. de Idol. c 7.  when they run for shelter under that Text which professedly taxeth them. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc. in illicitis idolorum cultibus, saith S. Peter, in unlawful Idolatries; speaking of the Gentiles: Therefore, saith Valentia, there is a lawful worship of Idols. As if that were an Epithet of favour, which is intended to aggravation. So he that should call Satan an unclean Devil, 
Neque absurde prosecto putave● is B. Petrum insinuavisse cultum ai●quē simulacroruam rectum ●sse, etc. cont. Hebrandum.  should imply that some Devil is not unclean; or, deceivable lusts, some lusts deceitlesse; or, hateful wickedness, some wickedness not hateful. The man had forgot that the Apostle spoke of the heathenish Idolatry; wherein himself cannot plead any colour of lawfulness. May this therefore befriend them, to call Idolatry abominable, the Scripture is theirs; neither can they look for any other countenance from those Sacred monuments.   

Sect. 3. Against Reason.  
WHat need we seek any other Reason of God's prohibition then his will? and yet God himself hath given abundant reason of his prohibition of Images erected to himself.  

a Esay 40. 18  To whom will ye liken God? or what likeness will ye compare unto him? 
b Deut. 4 15.  Ye saw no manner of similitude in the day that the Lord spoke to you in Horcb. It is an high injury to the infinite and Spiritual nature of God to be resembled by bodily shapes. And for the worship of Images erected to himself or his creature, 
c Esay 42. 8.  I am the Lord, that is my name, and my glory will I not give to another, nor my praise to molten images. The holy jealousy of the Almighty will not abide any of his honour divided with his creature; and 
d Siquis puram creaturam prepter quameumque excellentia● colit cultu & honore majori quam puro humano, cultus hic jam accdit ad cultum religiosum, & per conseq. ad divinum. Spalat. de Rep. Eccl. 1. 7. c. 12. Sed neque Elias adorandus est, etiamfis in vivis sit, neque Johannes ad●andus, etc. Epiph. cont. Collyrid. bae●. 79.  whatever worship more than mere humane is imparted to the creature, sets it in rivaltie with our Maker.  
The man is better than his picture; and if religious worship will not be allowed to the Person of man or Angel, how much less to his Image? Not to man; 
e Acts 10. 26.  Saint Peter forbids it: not to Angel; 
f Revel. 19 10.  himself forbids it. What a madness than is it for a living man to stoop unto a dead stock; unless (as that 
g Diog. Laert.  Cynic had wont to speak unto statues) to use himself to repulses?  
This courtesy was too shameful in the Pagans of old, how much more intolerable in Christians? And as for that last shift of this unlawful devotion, that they worship not the Image, but by it the 
* Per illa colitur Deus. Lesle. de Jure etc. de Relig. l. 2. 36. dub.  Person represented; Haec à Paganis afferri solebat, This (saith 
h Cassand. Co●s. A●t. 21.  Cassander, out of the evidence of Arnobius & Lactantius, to whom he might have added Saint Augustine) was the very evasion of the old Heathen; Nec valebat tunc illa ratio, Neither would this colour then serve: how can it hope now to pass and find allowance?  
The Doctrine therefore and Practise of Image-worship, as late as erroneous, is justly rejected by us, who, according to 
i Nos non dice Martyrum relaquias, etc. Hier. ad Ripariam.  S. Hierome's profession, worship not the relics of Martyrs, nor Sun, nor Moon, nor Angels, nor Archangels, nor Cherubin, nor Seraphin, nor any name that is named in this world or in the world to come: and unjustly are we hereupon ejected.    

CHAP. XI. The Newness of Indulgences and Purgatory.  
NOthing is more palpable than the Novelty of Indulgences or Pardons, as they are now of use in the Roman Church; the intolerable abuse whereof gave the first hint to Luther's inquiry. 
Histor: Concil. Trid. lib. 1.  Pope Le● had gratified his sister Magdalen with a large Monopoly of German Pardons; Aremboldus her Factor was too covetous, and held the market too high: The height of these overrated Wares caused the Chapmen to inquire their worth. They were found, as they are, both for age and dignity. For age so new, as that 
a De vanit. scient. c. 16.  Cornelius Agrippa, and 
b De invent. rer. l. 8. c. 1. Dies Indulgent. referuntur ad paenitentias pro vita injunctas. Gers. reg. moral.  Polydore Virgil, and Machiavelli (and who not?) tell us, Boniface the Eighth, who lived Anno 1300. was the first that extended Indulgences to Purgatory, the first that devised a Jubilee for the full utterance of them. The Indulgences of former times were no other than relaxations of Canonical Penances, which were enjoined to heinous sinners; whereof Burchard the Bishop of Worms sets down many particulars, about the year 1020. For example, if a man had committed wilful murder, he was to fast forty days together in bread and water, (which the common people calls a Lent) and to observe a course of Penance for seven years after. Now these years of Penance and these Lents were they which the Pardons of former times were used to strike off or abate, according as they found reason in the disposition of the Penitent: which may give light to those terms of so many Lents and years remitted in former Indulgences. But that there should be a sacred treasure of the Church, wherein are heaped up piles of satisfaction of Saints, whereof only the Pope keeps the keys, and hath power to dispense them where he lists, is so late a device, 
Greg. de Val. & Bellarm. l. 2. de Indulgent.  that Gregory of Valence is forced to confess, that not so much as Gratian or Peter Lombard (which wrote about 400 years before him) ever made mention of the name of Indulgence.  
Well therefore might Durand and Antonine grant it not to be found either in the Scriptures or in the writings of the ancient Doctors: and our B. Fisher goes so far in the acknowledgement of the Newness thereof, that he hath run into the censure of late Jesuits.  
Just and warrantable is that challenge of Learned Chemnitius, 
Chemn. Exam. de Indulgent. c. 4.  that no testimony can be produced of any Father or of any ancient Church, that either such Doctrine or Practice of such Indulgences was ever in use until towards 1200 years after Christ. Talium indulgentiarum: Some there were in the time immediately foregoing; but such as now they were not. 
Ibidem.  Besides Eugenius his time which was too near the Verge; for the words of Chemnitius are, 
* For well-near a thousand two hundred years.  Per annos ferme mille ducentos. Bellarmine instances in the third Council of Lateran, about the year 1116. wherein Pope Paschal the second gave Indulgences of forty days to those which visited the threshold of the Apostles. But it must be considered, that we must take this upon the bare word of Conrade. Urspergensis. Secondly, that this Indulgence of his is no other but a relaxation of Canonical Penance. For he adds, (which Bellarmine purposely concealeth) iis qui de capitalibus, etc. to those that should do Penance for capital sins, he released forty day's Penance. So as this instance helps nothing; neither are the rest, which he hath raked together within the compass of a few preceding years, of any other alloy.  
Neither hath that Cardinal offered to cite one Father for the proof of this Practice, the birth whereof was many hundred years after their expiration; but cunningly shifts it off with a cleanly excuse, 
Bellaum. l. 2. de Indul. cap. 17.  Neque mirum, etc. Neither may it seem strange if we have not many ancient Authors that make mention of these things in the Church, which are preserved only by use, not by writing. So he. He says, Not many Authors; he shows not one. And if many matters of rite have been traduced to the Church without notice of Pen or Press; yet let it be shown what one Doctrine or Practice of such importance as this is pretended to be hath escaped the report and maintenance of some Ecclesiastic Writer or other, and we shall willingly yield it in this. Till then, we shall take this but for a mere colour, and resolve that our honest Rossensis deals plainly with us, who tells us, Quamdiu nulla fuer at de Purgatorio cura, etc. So long as there was no care of Purgatory, no man sought after Indulgences; for upon that depends all the opinion of Pardon: If you take away Purgatory, wherefore should we need pardons? Since therefore Purgatory was so lately known and received of the whole Church, who can marvel concerning Indulgences, that there was no use of them in the beginning of the Church? Indulgences than began after men had trembled some while at the torments of a Purgatory. Thus their Martyr, not partially for us, but ingenuously out of the power of truth, professes the Novelty of two great Articles of the Roman Creed, Purgatory and Indulgences. Indeed, both these now hang on one string: although there was a kind of Purgatory dreamt of before their Pardons came into play. That device peeped out fearfully from Origen, and pulled in the head again, as in 
a Aug. ●nc●. c. 69. De Civi● Dei, l. 21. c. 26. Quicquid s● quod illo signis●catur; 〈◊〉 braha. Confess. l. 9 c. 3. Ser, de Temp. 232. Qui cum Christo reg●are non meruerit, cum diabelo absque dubitatione peribit, etc. ib, and the like, De civet. Dei, lib. 21. c. 25.  S. Austin's time doubting to show it; Tale aliquod, etc. That there is some such thing (saith he) after this life, it is not utterly incredible, and may be made a question. And elsewhere, I reprove it not, for it may perhaps be true. And yet again, as retracting what he had yielded, he resolves, Let no man deceive himself, my brethren; there are but two places, and a third there is none. Before whom 
b Cypr. con●. Demetriam, ad finem.  S. Cyprian is peremptory, Quando isthinc excessum fuerit, When we are once departed hence, there is now no more place of repentance, no effect of satisfaction; here is life either lost or kept. And 
c— Hîc etiam nobis est prompta modela; Post autem clausa est omnis medicina salai●. Naz. Car. de rebus suis, Carm. 1. fig. 13  Gregory Nazianzen's verse sounds to the same sense. And 
d Ambr. de obitu Theodos. ad medium, etc.  S. Ambrose can say of his Theodosius, that being freed from this earthly warfare, Fruitur nunc luce perpetuâ, etc. he now enjoies everlasting light, during tranquillity, and triumphs in the troops of the Saints. But what strive we in this? We may well take the word of their Martyr, our Roffensis, for both: And true 
e Eras. Epist. l. 20. Hier. Agathio.  Erasmus for the ground of this defence; Mirum in modum, etc. They do marvellously affect the fire of Purgatory, because it is most profitable for their Kitchens.  

Sect. 2. Indulgences and Purgatory against Scripture.  
THese two then are so late come strangers, that they cannot challenge any notice taken of them by Scripture; neither were their names ever heard of in the language of Canaan: yet the wisdom of that allseeing Spirit hath not left us without preventions of future Errors, in blowing up the very grounds of these humane devices.  
The First and main ground of both is, the remainders of some temporal punishments to be paid after the guilt and eternal punishment remitted; the driblets of Venial sins to be reckoned for when the Mortal are defrayed. Hear what God saith; 
Esay 43. 25.  I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins. Lo, can the Letter be read that is blotted out? Can there be a back-reckoning for that which shall not be remembered I have done away thy transgressions as a Cloud. 
Esay 44. 22.  What sins can be less than transgressions? 
Psal. 51. 7.  What can be more clearly dispersed then a Cloud? Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Who can tell where the spot was, when the skin is rinsed? 
1 John 1. 9  If we confess our sins, he is faithful to forgive our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Lo, he cleanseth us from the guilt, and forgives the punishment. What are our sins but debts? What is the infliction of punishment, but an exaction of payment? What is our remission, but a striking off that score? 
Mat. 6. 12  And when the score is struck off, what remains to pay? Remit debita, Forgive our debts, is our daily Prayer. Our Saviour tells the Paralytic, Thy sins are forgiven thee; 
Ma●. 2. 5.  in the same words implying the removing of his Disease. If the sin be gone, the punishment cannot stay behind. We may smart by way of chastisement after the freest remission, not by way of revenge; for our amendment, not for God's satisfaction.  
The Second ground is, a middle condition betwixt the state of eternal life and death, of no less torment for the time then Hell itself, whose flames may burn off the rust of our remaining sins; the issues wherefrom are in the power of the great Pastor of the Church. How did this escape the notice of our Saviour? Verily, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  verily I say unto you, he that heareth my Word and believeth in him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and comes not into judgement (as the Vulgar itself terms it) but is passed from death unto life. 
John 5. 24.  Behold, a present possession, and immediate passage, no judgement intervening, no torment.  
How was this hid from the great Doctor of the Gentiles, who putting himself into the common case of the believing Corinthians, 
2 Cor. 5. 1.  professes, We know that if once our earthly house of this Tabernacle be dissolved, we have a building of God, not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens? The dissolution of the one is the possession of the other; here is no interposition of time, of estate.  
The Wise man of old could say, 
Wisd. 3. 1, 3.  The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God; and there shall no torment touch them. Upon their very going from us they are in peace. 
Revel. 14. 13.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as S. John heard from the heavenly voice, From their very dying in the Lord is their blessedness.   

Sect. 3. Indulgences against Reason.  
IT is absurd in Reason, to think that God should forgive our Talents, and arrest us for the odd Farthings. Neither is it less absurd to think that any living soul can have superfluities of Satisfaction; whenas all that man is capable to suffer cannot be sufficient for one (and that the least) sin of his own, the wages whereof is eternal death: or that those superfluities of humane satisfaction should piece up the infinite and perfectly-meritorious superabundance of the Son of God: or that this supposed treasure of Divine and humane satisfactions should be kept under the key of some one sinful man: 
Collegia clericorum & conventus religiosorum aspergunt & incensant corpus Papae, & absolvunt. Sacr. Cerem.  or that this one man, who cannot deliver his own Soul from Purgatory, no not from Hell itself, should have power to free what others he pleaseth from those fearful flames, to the full Gaol-delivery of that direful prison; which though his great power can do, yet his no less charity will not, doth not: or that the same Pardon which cannot acquit a man from one hours' toothache, should be of force to give his Soul ease from the temporary pains of another world.  
Lastly, Gild and Punishment are Relatives, and can no more be severed then a perfect forgiveness and a remaining compensation can stand together.  
This Doctrine therefore of Papal Indulgences, as it led the way to the further discovery of the corruptions of the degenerated Church of Rome, so it still continues justly branded with Novelty and Error, and may not be admitted into our belief; and we for rejecting it are unjustly refused.    

CHAP. XII. The Newness of Divine Service in an unknown tongue.  
THat Prayers and other Divine offices should be done in a known tongue, understood of the people, is not more available to edification (as their 
a Cajet. in 1 Cor. 14. Ex has Pauli doctrina habetur, quod melius ad aedificationem Ecclesiae est ora●iones publicas, quae audiente populo dicuntur, dici lingua communi clcricis & populo, quam dici Latin.  Cajetan liberally confesseth) then consonant to the practice of all Antiquity; insomuch as 
b Lyr. ibid.  Lyranus freely, In the Primitive Church, blessings and all other services were done in the vulgar tongue.  
What need we look back so far, when even the 
c Concil. Later. Anno 1215.  Lateran Council, which was but in the year 1215. under Innocent the third, makes this Decree, Quoniam in plerisque, Because in many parts within the same City and Diocese, people are mixed of divers languages, having under one Faith divers Rites and fashions, we strictly command that the Bishops of the said Cities or Dioceses provide fit and able men, who, according to the diversities of their Rites and Languages, may celebrate Divine Services, and administer the Sacraments of the Church to them, instructing them both in word and example. Cardinal Bellarmine's evasion is very gross, That in that place Innocentius and the Council speak only of the Greek and Latin tongue: For then (saith he) Constantinople was newly taken by the Romans, by reason whereof there was in Greece a mixture of Greeks and Latins; insomuch as they desired that in such places of frequency two Bishops might be allowed for the ordering of those several Nations. Whereupon it was concluded, that since it were no other than monstrous to appoint two Bishops unto one See, it should be the charge of that one Bishop to provide such under him as should administer all holy things to the Grecians in Greek, and in Latin to the Latins. For who sees not that the Constitution is general, Plerisque partibus, for very many parts of the Christian world, and Populi diversarum linguarum, People of sundry languages; not, as Bellarmine cunningly, diversae linguae, of a divers language? And if these two only Languages had been meant, why had it not been as easy to specify them, as to intimate them by so large a circumlocution? The Synod is said to be universal, comprehending all the Patriarches, seventy seven Metropolitans, and the most eminent Divines of both East and West Churches, to the number of at least 2212 persons, or, as some others, 2285. besides the Ambassadors of all Christian Princes, of several Languages. Now shall we think that there were in all their Territories and Jurisdictions no mixtures of inhabitants, but only of Grecians and Romans; or, that all these Fathers were careless of the rest? especially, since the end which they profess to propose unto themselves herein is, the instruction of the people, of what Nation or Language soever; which end as it was never meant to be limited to two sorts of people, so could it never be attained without this liberty of Language fitted to their understanding. To which may be added, that the Greeks and Latins, of all other, had the least need of this provision, since it was famously known that they had their several Services already of received and current use, before this Constitution was hatched.  
Neither is it of any moment which he addeth, That in Italy itself this Decree was not extended to the use of Vulgar tongues: for that it is evident that S. Thomas (who lived soon after) composed in Latin the Office of the Feast of Corpus Christi, not in the Italian; although the same Aquinas confesses that the vulgar tongue of Italy at that time was not Latin. For what child cannot easily see, that if their great Doctor would write an Office for the public use (as is intended) of the whole Church, he would make choice to write it in such a Language as might improve it to the most common benefit of all the Christian world? not confining it to the bounds of a particular Nation. Besides, what was the Italian (in those times especially) but a broken and corrupt Latin, differing more in Idiom and termination then in the substance of speech? That which Radevicus about the year 1170. records for the voice of the people, in the election of Pope Victor, Papa Vittore S. Pietro l'elege, makes good no less; for what such difference is betwixt this, and Papam Victorem Sanctus Petrus elegit? So as this instance doth nothing at all infringe that just Decree of the Roman Fathers. 
Nec lingua vulgaris popalo subjiracta est, sed popalus ab ca rec●ssit. Eras. decls. ad Censur. Purif. 〈◊〉. 12. sect. 14.  Howsoever, that observation of Erasmus is true, and pregnant to this purpose, Nec lingua vulgaris, etc. Neither was the vulgar tongue (i. the Latin) withdrawn from the people, but the people went off from it.  
And as for our Ancestors in this Island, our Venerable 
* E●●a Histor 〈◊〉.  Beda witnesses that in England the Scriptures were read by them in five Languages, according to the number of the Books wherein the Law of God was written, namely English, Scotish, British, Pictish, and Latin; which, saith he, in meditation of the Scriptures is made common to all the rest. A point which the said Author specifies for a commendation of the well-instructednesse of those people: not as purposing to intimate that the use of the Latin did thrust out the other four, for he there tells us that in all four they did not only search, but confess and utter the knowledge of the highest truth. This restraint than is not more New than envious, and prejudicial to the Honour of God and the Souls of men.  

Sect. 2. Against Scripture.  
AS for Scriptures; were this practice so old as it is pretended, the rule is, Longaevae consuetudinis, 
Longaevae consuetudinis non est vilis authoritas, dummo●o canonibus non sit contraria. 11. dist. consu●●. etc.  etc. The authority of an ancient Custom is not to be slighted, so long as it is not against the Canons. Nothing can be more against the Canons of the blessed Apostle then this; who, did he live in these our days, and would bend his speech against the use of a Language not understood in God's service, could not speak more directly, more punctually, than he doth to his Corinth's. How doth he tell us, that the speaking in a strange tongue edifies not the Church, 
1 Cor. 14. 5. 6.  profits not the hearers, produces a necessary ignorance of the thing spoken; 
Verse 9  makes me a Barbarian to him that speaketh, and him that speaketh a Barbarian to me? 
11.  How doth he require him that speaketh in an unknown tongue to pray that he may interpret? 
13.  And if he must pray that he may do it, how much more must he practise it when he can do it? How doth he tell us that in a strange-languaged Prayer the understanding is unfruitful? 
14.  that it is better to speak five words with understanding, 
19  that we may teach others, 
23.  than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue? that those which speak with strange tongues are but as mad men to the unlearned, or unbelievers.   

Sect. 3. Against Reason.  
IN which Scriptures (besides Authority) the Apostle hath comprised unanswerable and convincing Reasons against this Romish abuse: Amongst the rest is intimated that utter frustration of the use of the tongue in God's service. For it is a true Rule which Salmeron citys out of Lactantius, 
Salmeron in illa, Ves estis sal terrae● ex Lactant.  Nihil valet ex se, etc. That thing is to no purpose which avails not unto the end whereto it serves. Silence doth as much express the thought, as a language not understood. In this sense is that of Laurentius too well verified, 
Laurent. Presb. Pisan. Paradox. Euangelic.  Sacerdos imperitus mulier sterilis, A Priest unable to express himself is a barren woman; uncapable of bringing forth children to God. 
Quid prodest ●ons siga●us?  As good no tongue as no understanding. What good doth a Well sealed up? as Ptolemy said of the Hebrew Text.  
Wherefore do we speak, if we would not be understood? It was an holy resolution of S. Augustine, that he would rather say Ossum in false Latin, to be understood of the people, then Os in true, not to be understood. This practice, however it may seem in itself slight & unworthy of too much contention, yet in regard of that miserable blindness and mis-devotion which it must needs draw in after it, is so heinous, as it may well deserve our utmost opposition. The unavoidableness of which effects hath carried some of their Casuists into an opinion of the unnecessariness of devotion in these holy businesses; so as one says, 
Jac. Graph. decis. aur. Sylu. quaest. 80. art. 9  He that wants devotion sins not; another, Though it be convenient that the Communicant should have actual devotion, yet is it not necessary. Alas! what service is this which poor souls are taught to take up with, which God must be content to take from hoodwinked suppliants? This Doctrine, this Practice, thus new, thus prejudicial to Christians, we bless God that we have so happily discarded; and for our just refusal are unjustly ejected.    

CHAP. XIII. The Newness of forced Sacramental Confession.  
THE necessity of a particular, 
Conc●●. Trident. S● quis dix●rit in Sa●ram. Poeni●●●●iae ad 〈◊〉, etc.  secret, full Sacramental Confession of all our sins to a Priest, upon pain of non-remission, is an Act or Institution of the Roman Church: For as for the Greek Church, it owns not either the Doctrine or Practice. So the Gloss of the Canon Law directly, Confessio apud Graecos, 
〈◊〉 etc. Se●●. 14.  etc. Confession is not necessary amongst the Grecians, unto whom no such Tradition hath been derived.  
That Gloss would tell us more, 
Gless. Grat. de Poenitentia, dist. 5. c. In poenitentia.  & so would Gratian himself, if their tongues were not clipped by a guilty expurgation. But in the mean time the Gloss of that Canon (hitherto allowed) plainly controls the Decree of that late Council: For if the necessity of Confession be only a Tradition, 
〈…〉  and such a one as hath not been deduced to the Greek Church, than it stands not by the Law of God, which is universal, not making differences of places or times; like an high-elevated Star which hath no particular aspect upon one Region.  
That there is a lawful, 
In noti● ibid.  commendable, beneficial use of Confession was never denied by us; but to set men upon the rack, and to strain their Souls up to a double pin, of absolute necessity (both praecepti and medii) and of a strict particularity, and that by a screw of Jus divinum, God's Law, is so mere a Roman Novelty, that many ingenuous Authors of their own have willingly confessed it.  
Amongst whom Cardinal Bellarmine himself yields us 
a In Annor, Hi●ro. ad Ocean.  Erasmus and 
b In not. Tertul. de poeni●●n. etc.  Beatus Rhenanus, 
Bellar. de poeni●. l. 3. c. 1  two noble Witnesses; whose joint Tenet he confesses to be, Confessionem secretam, etc. That the secret Confession of all our sins is not only not instituted or commanded Jure divino, by God's Law; but that it was not so much as received into use in the Ancient Church of God. To whom he might have added, out of Maldonat's account, omnes Decretorum, etc. all the Interpreters of the Decrees; and, amongst the Schoolmen, Scotus.  
We know well those sad and austere Exomologeses which were publicly used in the severe times of the Primitive Church: whiles these took place, what use was there of private? These obtained even in the Western or Latin Church till the days of Leo, 
De presby● poenitentiari●s, vide Socrat. l. 5. c. 19  about 450. years: in which time they had a grave public Penitentiary for this purpose. Afterwards (whether the noted inconveniences of that practice, or whether the cooling of the former fervour occasioned it) this open Confession began to give way to secret; which continued in the Church, but with freedom, and without that forced and scrupulous strictness which the latter times have put upon it. It is very remarkable which Learned Rhenanus hath, 
Beatus Rhenanus Argum. in 〈◊〉 de poenit. 〈◊〉 etc.  Caeterum Th. ab Aquino, etc. But (saith he) Thomas of Aquine and Scotus (men too acute) have made confession at this day such, as that Joh. Geilerius a grave and holy Divine, which was for many years' Preacher at Strasburgh, had wont to say to his friends, that according to their rules it is an impossible thing to confess: adding, that the same Geilerius being familiarly conversant with some religious Votaries, both Carthusians and Franciscans, learned of them with what torments the godly minds of some men were afflicted, by the rigour of that Confession which they were not able to answer; and thereupon he published a book in Dutch, entitled The sickness of Confession. The same therefore which Rhenanus writes of his Geilerius, he may well apply unto us, Itaque Geilerio non displicebat, etc. Geilerius therefore did not dislike Confession, but the serupulous anxiety which is taught in the Sums of some late Divines, more fit indeed for some other place then for Libraries. Thus he. What would that ingenuous Author have said, if he had lived to see those volumes of Cases which have been since published, able to perplex a world; and those peremptory Decisions of the Fathers of the Society, whose strokes have been with Scorpions in comparison of the Rods of their Predecessors? To conclude, This bird was hatched in the Council of Lateran, (Anno 1215.) fully plumed in the Council of Trent, and now lately hath her feathers imped by the modern Casuists.  

Sect. 2. Romish Confession not warranted by Scripture.  
SInce our quarrel is not with Confession itself, which may be of singular use and behoof, but with some tyrannous strains in the practice of it, which are the violent forcing and perfect fullness thereof: it shall be sufficient for us herein to stand upon our negative, That there is no Scripture in the whole Book of God wherein either such necessity, or such entireness of Confession is commanded. A Truth so clear, that it is generally confessed by their own Canonists. Did we question the lawfulness of Confession, we should be justly accountable for our grounds from the Scriptures of God: now that we cry down only some injurious circumstances therein, well may we require from the fautors thereof their warrants from God; which if they cannot show, they are sufficiently convinced of a presumptuous obtrusion.  
Indeed, 
John 20. 23.  our Saviour said to his Apostles and their successors, Whose sins ye remit, they are remitted; and whose sins ye retain, they are retained. But did he say, No sin shall be remitted but what ye remit? or, No sin shall be remitted by you but what is particularly numbered unto you? 
James 5. 16.  S. James bids, Confess your sins one to another. But would they have the Priest shrieve himself to the penitent, as well as the penitent to the Priest? This act must be mutual, not single. 
Acts 19 18.  Many believing Ephesians came and confessed, and showed their deeds. Many; but not all, not Omnes utriusque sexus. They confessed their deeds; some that were notorious, not all their sins.  
Contrarily rather, 
John 20. 21.  so did Christ send his Apostles, as the Father sent him; he was both their warrant and their pattern. But that gracious Saviour of ours many a time gave absolution where was no particular confession of sins: Only the sight of the Paralyticks Faith setcht from him, 
Matt. 9 2.  Son be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee; the noted Sinner in Simon's house, approving the truth of her Repentance by the humble and costly testimonies of her Love, without any enumeration of her sins heard, Thy sins are forgiven thee.   

Sect. 3. Against Reason.  
IN true Divine Reason this supposed duty is needless, dangerous, impossible. Needless, in respect of all sins, not in respect of some: for however in the cases of a burdened Conscience nothing can be more useful, more sovereign; yet in all our peace doth not depend upon our lips. 
Rom. 5. 1.  Being justified by faith, me have peace with God through Jesus Christ our Lord.  
Dangerous, 
Chrysost. in Psal. 50.  in respect both of exprobration, as Saint chrysostom worthily, and of infection; 
Sayr. Summa Cas. Navar.  for Delectabile carnis (as a Casuist confesseth,) Fleshly pleasures, the more they are called into particular mention, the more they move the appetite. I do willingly conceal from chaste eyes and ears what effects have followed this pretended act of Devotion in wanton and unstaied Confessors.  
Impossible; for who can tell how oft he offendeth? He is poor in sin that can count his stock; and he sins always that so presumes upon his innocence, as to think he can number his sins; and if he say of any sin, as Lot of Zoar, Is it not a little one? 
Isaac. Syr. Presb. Antiochen. de Contemp●mundi, etc.  as if therefore it may safely escape the reckoning. It is a true word of Isaac the Syrian, Qui delicta, etc. He that thinks any of his offences small, even in so thinking falls into greater.  
This Doctrine and Practice therefore, both as new and unwarrantable, full of Usurpation, Danger, Impossibility, is justly rejected by us; and we for so doing unjustly ejected.   

Sect. 4. The Novelty of Absolution before Satisfaction.  
LEst any thing in the Roman Church should retain the old form, how absurd is that innovation which they have made in the order of their Penance and Absolution? 
Cassand. consult. Art. de Confess.  The ancient course, as Cassander and Lindanus truly witness, was, that Absolution and Reconciliation and right to the Communion of the Church was not given by imposition of hands unto the Penitent, 
Lindan. Panop. lib. 4.  till he had given due satisfaction by performing of such penal acts as were enjoined by the discreet Penitentiary; 
Cassand. Ibid.  yea, those works of Penance (saith he) when they were done out of Faith, and an heart truly sorrowful, and by the motion of the Holy Spirit, preventing the mind of man with the help of his Divine Grace, were thought not a little available to obtain remission of the sin, and to pacify the displeasure of God for sin: Not that they could merit it by any dignity of theirs, but that thereby the mind of man is in a sort fitted to the receipt of God's Grace. But now, immediately upon the Confession made, the hand is laid upon the Penitent, and he is received to his right of Communion, and after his Absolution, certain works of piety are enjoined him, for the chastisement of the flesh, and expurgation of the remainders of sin. Thus Cassander. In common apprehension this new order can be no other than preposterous; 
Resp. ad F●herum.  and (as our learned Bishop of Carlisle) like Easter before Lent. But for this, Ipsi viderint; it shall not trouble us how they nurture their own child.    

CHAP. XIV. The Newness of the Romish Invocation of Saints.  
OF all those Errors which we reject in the Church of Rome, there is none that can plead so much show of Antiquity as this of Invocation of Saints: 
Spalat. de Resp. Eccl. l. 7. c. 12. §. 16.  which yet, as it hath been practised and defended in the later times, should in vain seek either example or patronage amongst the Antient. However there might be some grounds of this Devotion secretly muttered, and at last expressed in Panegyric forms; yet until almost 500 years after Christ it was not in any sort admitted into the public service. 
Rex Jacob. Praemonit. ad Principes, etc.  It will be easily granted that the Blessed Virgin is the prime of all Saints; neither could it be other then injurious that any other of that Heavenly Society should have the precedency of her: Now the first that brought her name into the public Devotions of the Greek Church is noted by Nicephorus to be Petrus Gnapheus, 
Niceph. lib. 15. cap. 28.  or Fullo, a Presbyter of Bythinia, afterwards the Usurper of the See of Antioch, much about 470 years after Christ; who (though a branded Heretic) found out four things (saith he) very useful and beneficial to the Catholic Church; 
Ecclesiae Catholicae commodissima, ibid.  whereof the last was, Ut in omni precatione, etc. That in every Prayer the Mother of God should be named, and her Divine name called upon. The phrase is very remarkable wherein this rising Superstition is expressed.  
And as for the Latin Church, we hear no news of this Invocation in the public Litanies till gregory's time, 
Jos. Sca●ig. Notis in Novum Test.  about some 130 years after the former.  
And in the mean time some Fathers speak of it fearfully and doubtfully. How could it be otherwise, when the common opinion of the Ancients, even below Saint Austin's age, did put up all the Souls of the Faithful, except Martyrs, in some blind receptacles, whether in the Centre of the earth or elsewhere, where they might in candida exspectare diem Judicii, as Tertullian hath it four several times? And 
a Stapl. lib. de author. scr.  Stapleton himself sticks not to name divers of them thus foully mistaken.  
Others of the Fathers have let fall speeches directly bend against this Invocation. 
a Chrys. hom. de penitent. hom. 4. Which place the Margin of the Latin Edition of Venice, set forth by the authority of the Inquisition, tells us, (and we must believe it) makes nothing against Invocation of Saints.  Non opus est patronis, etc. There is no need of any Advocates to God, saith S. chrysostom: and most plainly 
* Vide ibid.  elsewhere, Homines si quando, etc. If we have any suit to men (saith he) we must fee the porters, and treat with jesters and parasites, and go many times a long way about. In God there is no such matter; he is exorable without any of our Mediators, without money, without cost, he grants our petitions: It is enough for thee to cry with thine heart alone, to pour out thy tears, and presently thou hast won him to mercy. Thus he.  
And those of the Ancients that seem to speak for it, lay grounds that overthrew it. Howsoever it be, all holy Antiquity would have both blushed and spit at those forms of Invocation which the late Clients of Rome have broached to the world. If perhaps they speak to the Saints tanquam deprecatores, (vel potius comprecatores) as 
b Spalat. lib. 7. c. 12. §. 26.  Spalatensis yields, moving them to be competitioners with us to the throne of Grace, not properly, but improperly, as 
c Gul. Altis. in 4. sent. etc.  Altissiodore construes it: how would they have digested that blasphemous Psalter of our Lady imputed to Bonaventure, and those 
d Dea, primas Coeli, etc. praecipe Angelis ut nos custodiant. In Rosar. Canon. Reg. Anonym. Dividunt coram Patre inter se Mater & filius pietatis ●fficia, & condunt inter se reconciliationis nostrae inviolabile testamentum. Arnold. Carnot. de Laudibus 5. Virg.  styles of mere Deification which are given to her, and the division of all offices of Piety to mankind betwixt the Mother and the Son? How had their ears glowed to hear, Christus oravit, Franciscus exoravit, Christ prayed, Francis prevailed? How would they have brooked that which 
e Lud. Vives in Aug. de Civitar. D●i lib. 8. c. ult.  Ludovicus Vives freely confesses, Multi Christiani, etc. Many Christians worship dives divasque the Saints of both sexes, no otherwise than God himself? Or that which 
f Name & plebem rudiorem religiose, etc. Et magis plurimos interne religioso affectu crga B. Virgin. etc. quam 〈◊〉 Christum. Spalat. de Re Eccl. lib. 7. cap. 12. §. 28.  Spalatensis professes to have observed, that the ignorant multitude are tarried with more entire religious affection to the Blessed Virgin, or some other Saint, then to Christ their Saviour? These foul Superstitions are not more heinous than new, and such as wherein we have justly abhorred to take part with the practisers of them.  

Sect. 2. Invocation of Saints against Scripture.  
AS for the better side of this mis-opinion, even thus much colour of Antiquity were cause enough to suspend our censures (according to that wise & moderate resolution of learned 
g Ego certe ab Antiquitate non recedo nisi coactus. Zanch. in Coloss.  Zanchius;) were it not that the Scriptures are so flatly opposite unto it, as that we may justly wonder at that wisdom which hath provided Antidotes for a disease that of many hundred years after should have no being in the World. The ground of this Invocation of Saints is their notice of our earthly condition, and special Devotions. 
h Job 14. 20, 21.  And behold, thou prevailest ever against man, and he passeth: thou changest his countenance, and sendest him away. His sons come to honour, and he knows it not; and they are brought low, and he perceiveth it not, saith Job. 
i Eccles. 9 5, 6.  The dead know nothing at all, saith wise Solomon: Also their love and their hatred and their envy is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the Sun. No portion in any thing, therefore not in our miseries, nor in our allocutions. If we have a portion in them, for their love and Prayers in common for the Church, they have no portion in our particularities, whether of want or complaint. 
Esay 63. 16.  Abraham our Father is ignorant of us (saith Esay) and Israel acknowledges us not. Lo, the Father of the Faithful above knows not his own children, till they come into his bosom; and he that gives them their names, 
2 King. 22. 20.  is to them as a stranger. Wherefore should good Josiah be gathered to his Fathers, as Hulda tells him, but that his eyes might not see all the evil which should come upon Jerusalem?  
We cannot have a better Commenter then S. Augustine; 
August. de cura pro mort. gerend. cap. 13.  If (saith he) the Souls of the dead could be present at the affairs of the living, etc. surely my good Mother would no night forsake me, whom, whiles she lived, she followed both by land and sea. Far be it from me to think that an happier life hath made her cruel, etc. But certainly that which the holy Psalmist tells us is true; My Father and my Mother have forsaken me, but the Lord took me up. If therefore our Parents have left us, how are they present or do interest themselves in our cares or businesses? And if our Parents do not, who else among the dead know what we do, or what we suffer? Esay the Prophet saith, Thou art our Father, for Abraham is ignorant of us, and Israel knows us not. If so great Patriarches were ignorant what became of that people which came from their loins, and which upon their belief was promised to descend from their stock, how shall the dead have aught to do either in the knowledge or aid of the affairs or actions of their dearest survivers? How do we say that God provides mercifully for them who die before the evils come, if even after their death they are sensible of the calamities of humane life? etc. How is it then that God promised to good King Josiah for a great blessing, that he should die beforehand, that he might not see the evils which he threatened to that place and people? 
Hiero. in Eccl. 3. add fin.  Thus that divine Father. With whom agrees Saint Hierome, Nec enim possumus, etc. Neither can we, (saith he) when this life shall once be dissolved, either enjoy our own labours, or know what shall be done in the World afterwards.  
But could the Saints of Heaven know our actions, yet our hearts they cannot: This is the peculiar skill of their Maker. 
Psal 7. 9  Thou art the searcher of the hearts and reins, 
Psal. 44. 21. & 139. 1. 4, etc.  O righteous God: God only knows abscondita animi, the hidden secrets of the soul. 
Prov. 15. 11. & 17. 3. & 24. 12. Jer. 11. 20. & 17. 10 & 20. 12.  Now the Heart is the seat of our Prayers: the Lips do but vent them to the ears of men: Moses said nothing, when God said, Let me alone, Moses. Solomon's argument is irrefragable; 
* 1 Kings 8 39  Hear thou in Heaven thy dwelling place, and do, and give to every man according to his ways, whose heart thou knowest: For thou, even thou only, knowest the hearts of all the children of men. He only should be implored that can hear; he only can hear the Prayer that knows the heart.  
Yet could they know our secretest desires, it is an Honour that God challengeth as proper to himself, 
Psal. 50. 15.  to be invoked in our prayers; Call upon me in the day of thy trouble, 
1 Tim. 2. 5.  and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. There is one God, and one mediator betwixt God and man, the man Jesus Christ. One and no more; 
Ephes. 2. 18.  not only of redemption, but of intercession also: for through him (only) we have access by one Spirit unto the Father: and he hath invited us to himself, Come to me all ye that labour and are heavy laden.   

Sect. 3. Against Reason.  
HOw absurd therefore is it in Reason, when the King of Heaven calls us to him, to run with our Petitions to the Guard or Pages of the Court? Had we to do with a finite Prince, whose ears must be his best informers, or whose will to help us were justly questionable, we might have reason to present our suits by second hands: But since it is an Omnipresent and Omniscious God with whom we deal, from whom the Saints and Angels receive all their light and love to his Church, how extreme folly is it to sue to those Courtiers of Heaven, 
Heb: 7 25.  and not to come immediately to the Throne of Grace? That one Mediator is able (and willing also) to save them to the utmost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.  
Besides, how uncertain must our Devotions needs be, when we can have no possible assurance of their audience? for who can know that a Saint hears him? That God ever hears us, we are as sure, as we are unsure to be heard of Saints: Nay, we are sure we cannot be all heard of them; for what finite nature can divide itself betwixt ten thousand Suppliants at one instant in several regions of the world, much less impart itself whole to each? Either therefore we must turn the Saints into so many Deities, or we must yield that some of our prayers are unheard; And whatsoever is not of faith is sin.  
As for that heavenly glass of Saint gregory's, 
Hug de Sancto Vict de sacr. l 1.  wherein the Saints see us and our suits (confuted long since by Hugo de S. Victore) it is as pleasing a fiction, as if we imagined therefore to see all the corners of the earth, because we see that Sun which sees them. And the same eyes that see in God the particular necessities of his Saints below, see in the same God such infinite Grace and Mercy for their relief, as may save the labour of their reflecting upon that Divine mirror in their special intercessions.  
The Doctrine therefore and Practise of the Romish Invocation of Saints, both as new and erroneous, against Scripture and Reason, we have justly rejected; and are thereupon ejected as unjustly.    

CHAP. XV. The Newness of Seven Sacraments.  
THE late Council of Florence indeed insinuates this number of Seven Sacraments, 
S●mma Caranzae, etc.  as Suarez contends: but the later Council of Trent determines it, 
Concil. Trident. Sess. 7. Can. 1.  Si quis dixerit aut plura, etc. If any man shall say, that there are either more or fewer sacraments than seven, viz. Baptism, Confirmation, etc. or that any of these is not truly and properly a Sacrament, let him be Anathema.  
It is not more plain that in Scripture there is no mention of Sacraments, then that in the Fathers there is no mention of Seven. Cardinal Bellarmine's evasion, that the Scripture and Fathers wrote no Catechism, is poor and ridiculous: no more did the Councils of Florence and Trent, and yet there the number is reckoned and defined.  
So as the word Sacrament may be taken, (for any holy, significant rite) there may be as well seventy as seven; so strictly as it may be, and is taken by us, there can no more be seven then seventy. This determination of the number is so late, that 
a Cassand. consult. Art. 13. de num. Sacram.  Cassander is forced to confess, Nec temerè, etc. You shall not easily find any man before Peter Lombard, Which hath set down any certain and definite number of Sacraments. And this observation is so just, that upon the challenges of our Writers, no one Author hath been produced by the Roman Doctors for the disproof of it elder than Hugo, and the said Master of Sentences. But, 
Clem. recognit. l. 1. Justin. Apol. 2. Tertull. de Coron. Milit. & ad Scap●lam.  numbers are ceremonies. Both 
b Luther, de captivit. Babylon.  Luther and 
c In loc. come. Cassand ibid. Thus all Antiquity runs upon two.  Philip Melanchthon profess they stand not much upon them. It is the number numbered (which is the thing itself mis-related into that sacred order) that we stick at. There we find that none but Christ can make a Sacrament; for none but he who can give Grace, 
Cypr. l. 2. Ep. 1.  can ordain a Sign and Seal of Grace. Now it is evident enough that these adscititious Sacraments were never of Christ's institution. 
Cyril. Hierosol●● Catech. Ambros. August. etc.  So was not Confirmation, as our Alexander of Hales and Holcot; so was not Matrimony, as Durand; so was not Extreme Unction, as Hugo, Lombard, Bonaventure, Halensis, 
Suar. Tom. 4. disp. 39 s. 2.  Altissiodore, by the confession of their Suarez. These were ancient Rites, 
Vide Mort.  but they are new Sacraments: All of them have their allowed and profitable use in God's Church, 
Appell. l. 2. cap. 26. §. 5.  though not in so high a nature; except that of Extreme Unction, which as it is an apish mis-imitation of that extraordinary course which the Apostolic times used in their cures of the sick, so it is grossly mis-applied to other purposes than were intended in the first institution. Then it was Ungebant & sanabant; the oil miraculously conferring bodily recovery: 
Mark 6. 13.  but now, 
James 5. 14.  Non nisi in mortis articulo adhibetur, it is not used but upon the very point of death, 
Fran. Jun. Animad. in Bellar. l. de verb. Dei 4.  as Cajetan and Cassander confess, and all experience manifests; and by Felix the Fourth drawn to a necessity of address to eternal life.  

Sect 2. Seven Sacraments beside Scripture.  
NOT to scan particulars, which all yield ample exceptions, but to wind them all up in one bottom. Whosoever shall look into the Scripture, shall find it apparent, that as in the time of man's Innocency there were but Two Sacraments, the Tree of Life; and the Tree of Knowledge: so before and under the Law, however they had infinite Rites, yet in the proper sense they had but Two Sacraments, the same in effect with those under the Gospel; the one, the Sacrament of Initiation, which was their Circumcision, paralleled by that Baptism which succeeded it; the other the Sacrament of our holy Confirmation, that spiritual meat and drink, which was their Paschall Lamb and Manna, and water from the rock, prefiguring the true Lamb of God, and bread of life, and blood of our Redemption. The great Apostle of the Gentiles, that well knew the Analogy, 
1 Cor. 10. 1, 2, 3, 4.  hath compared both; Moreover, brethren, I would not have you ignorant how that all our fathers were under the cloud, and all passed through the sea; and all were baptised in the cloud, and in the sea; and all did eat the same spiritual meat, and all did drink the same spiritual drink: for they drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them, and that Rock was Christ. What is this in any just construction, but that the same two Sacraments of Baptism and the Lords Supper, which we celebrate under the Gospel, were the very same with those which were celebrated by God's ancient people under the Law; they two, and no more? Hoc facite, Do this, is our warrant for the one; and Ite baptizate, etc. Go teach and Baptise, for the other. There is deep silence in the rest.   

Sect. 3. Against Reason.  
IN Reason it must be yielded, that no man hath power to set to a seal but he whose the writing is. Sacraments then being the seals of Gods gracious evidences, whereby he hath conveyed to us eternal life, can be instituted by no other than the same power that can assure and perform life to his creature. In every Sacrament therefore must be a Divine institution and command of an Element that signifies, of a Grace that is signified, of a word adjoined to that element, of an holy act adjoined to that word. Where these concur not, there can be no true Sacrament; and they are palpably missing in these five Adjections of the Church of Rome.  
Lastly, The Sacraments of the new Law (as Saint Austin often) flowed out of the side of Christ: None flowed thence but the Sacrament of water, which is Baptism, and the Sacrament of blood in the Supper; whereof the Author saith, This cup is the new Testament in my blood, which is shed for you. The rest never flowing either from the side or from the lips of Christ, are as new and misnamed Sacraments justly rejected by us, and we thereupon as unjustly censured.    

CHAP. XVI. The Newness of the Doctrine of Tradition.  
THE chief ground of these and all other Errors in the Church of Rome is the over-valuing of Traditions, 
Concil. Trident. Sess. 4.  which the Tridentine Synod professes to receive and reverence with no less pious affection then the Books of the Old and New Testament; 
In his rebus de quibus nihil certi statuit Scriptura divina, mos populi Dei vel instituta a majerum pro lege tenenda sun●. Aug. Ep. 86.  and that not in matter of Rite and History only, but of Faith and Manners also: wherein as they are not unwilling to cast a kind of imputation of imperfection upon the written Word, so they make up the defects of it by the supply of unwritten Traditions; to which indeed they are more beholden for the warrant of the greater part of their superadded Articles, then to the Scriptures of God.  
Both which are Points so dangerously envious, as that Antiquity would have abhorred their mention. Neither is any thing more common with the holy Fathers of the Church, than the magnifying the complete perfection of Scripture, in all things needful either to be believed or done.  
What can be more full and clear then that of Saint Austin? 
Aug. l. 2. de doctrina Christ. c. 9 In his quae apertè posita sunt in Scriptura, inveniuntur illa omnia quae continent fidem morésque vivendi.  In his quae apertè, etc. In these things which are openly laid forth in Scripture, are found all matters that contain either Faith or Manners.  
Cardinal 
* Bellarm. l. 4. de verb. Dei, c. 11.  Bellarmine's elusion is not a little prejudicial to his own Cause. He tells us that Saint Austin speaks of those Points which are simply necessary to Salvation for all men; all which he acknowledges to be written by the Apostles: But besides these, there are many other things (saith he) which we have only by Tradition. Will it not therefore hence follow, that the common sort of Christians need not look at his Traditions? that commonly men may be saved without them? that Heaven may be attained though there were no Traditions? Who will not now say, Let me come to Heaven by Scripture, go you whither you will by Traditions? To which add, that agreat, yea the greater part (if we may believe some of their own) of that which they call Religion is grounded upon only Tradition. If then Tradition be only of such things as are not simply necessary to Salvation, than the greater part of their misnamed Religion must needs be yielded for simply unnecessary to all men: And if we may be saved without them, and be made Citizens of Heaven, how much more may we without them be members of the true Church on Earth?  
As for this place, S. Augustine's words are full and comprehensive, expressing all those things which contain either Faith or Manners, whether concerning Governors or people. If now they can find out any thing that belongs not either to belief or action, we do willingly give it up to their Traditions: but all things which pertain to either of those are openly comprised in Scripture.  
What can be more direct than that of holy Athanasius? 
Athanas. lib. 4. cot. Get. Initio, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. etc. The Holy Scriptures inspired by God are in themselves all-sufficient to the instruction of truth; and, if Chemnitius construe it, all truth? This needs not raise a cavil; the word signifies no less: for if they be all-sufficient to instruction, they must needs be sufficient to all instruction in the truth intended. 
* Tertul. lib. adv. Hermogen.  Tertullian professes openly, Adoro Scripturae plenitudinem, etc. I adore the fullness of Scripture. Let the skill of Hermogenes show where it is written; if it be not written, let him fear that woe which is propounced against those that add or detract. 
Sufficiunt per se vertit Nannius.  Thus he. Who can but fear that the Cardinal shifts this evidence against his own heart? For (saith he) Tertull. speaks of that one point, That God created all things of nothing, and not of a pre-existent matter, as Hermogenes dreamt: now because this Truth is clearly expressed in Scripture, therefore the fullness of Scripture as concerning this Point is adored by Tertullian; and for that Hermogenes held an opinion contrary to Scripture, he is said to add unto Scripture, and to incur that malediction. Now let any Reader of common sense judge, whether the words of Tertullian be not general, without any limitation; and if the first clause could be restrained, the second cannot, Scriptum esse doceat, etc. Whatsoever therefore is not written, by this rule may not be obtruded to our belief. Neither doth he say, If it be written against; but, If it be not written; and his challenge is, nusquam legi, that the words are no where read, as if this were quarrel enough, without a flat contradiction to what is read.  
So as the Cardinal's Gloss merely corrupts the Text. How easy were it for me to tyre my Reader with the full suffrages of Origen, Cyprian, chrysostom, Basil, Cyril, Epiphanius, Hierome, Ambrose, Theodoret, Hilary, Vincentius Lirinensis, and, in a word, with the whole stream of Antiquity, which though they give a meet place to Traditions of Ceremony, of History, of Interpretation, of some immaterial Verities, yet reserve the due honour to the Sacred monuments of Divine Scriptures? Our learned Chemnitius hath freely yielded seven sorts of Traditions, such as have a correspondence with or an attestation from the written Word; the rest we do justly (together with him) disclaim, as unworthy to appear upon that awful Bench amongst the inspired Penmen of God.  

Sect. 2. Traditions against Scripture.  
IT is not to be imagined that the same word of God, which speaks for all other Truths, should not speak for itself: how fully doth it display its own sufficiency and perfection? 
2 Tim. 3. 16.  All Scripture (saith the Chosen Vessel) is given by inspiration of God; and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness. 
Bellar. deverb Dei, lib. 4. c. 10.  Profitable, saith the Cardinal, but not sufficient. Many things may avail to that end whereto they suffice not; so meat is profitable to nourish, but without natural heat it nourisheth not. Thus he. Hear yet what followeth; That the man of God may be perfected, 
2 Tim. 3. 17.  and throughly furnished unto all good works. Lo, it is so profitable to all these services, that thereby it perfects a Divine; much more an ordinary Christian. That which is so profitable as to cause perfection, is abundantly sufficient, and must needs have full perfection in itself: That which can perfect the Teacher, is sufficient for the Learner. The Scriptures can perfect the man of God, both for his calling in the instruction of others, 
2 Tim 3. 15.  and for his own glory. Thou hast known the Scriptures from a child (saith S. Paul to his Timothy) which are able (not profitable only to make thee wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus. It is the charge therefore of the Apostle, not to be wise above that which is written. The same with wise Solomon's, 
Prov 30. 5, 6.  The whole word of God is pure: Add thou not unto his words, lest he reprove thee, and thou be found a liar. Lo, he saith not, Oppose not his words, but, Add not to them: Even Addition detracts from the majesty of that Word. For the Law of the Lord is perfect, converting the Soul; 
Psal. 19 7, 3.  the Testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple: The Statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the Commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.  
As for those Traditions which they do thus lift up to an unjust competition with the written Word, our Saviour hath beforehand humbled them into the dust; In vain do they worship me, 
Matth. 15. 9  teaching for doctrines the commandments of men: making this a sufficient cause of abhorring both the persons and the services of those Jews, that they thrust humane Traditions into God's chair, and respected them equally with the institutions of God. Cardinal Bellarmine would shift it off with a distinction of Traditions; These were such, saith he, quas acceperunt à recentioribus, etc. as they had received from some later hands, whereof some were vain, some other pernicious; not such as they received from Moses and the Prophets. 
Epiph. in haeres. Ptolom.  And the Authors of these rejected Traditions he citys from Epiphanius to be R. Akiba, R. Juda, and the Asamoneans; from Hierome, to be Sammai, Hillel, Akiba. But this is to cast a mist before the eyes of the simple: 
Hieron. in c. 8. Isa. & in Epist. ad Algas. ●. 10.  For who sees not that our Saviour's challenge is general, to Traditions thus advanced, not to these or those Traditions? And where he speaks of some later hands, 
Matth. 5. 21, 27, 33.  he had forgotten that our Saviour upon the Mount tells him, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that these faulted Traditions were of old. And that he may not cast these upon his Sammai and Hillel, let him remember that our Saviour citys this out of Esay though with some more clearness of expression) who far overlooked the time of those pretended Fathers of mis-traditions. That I may not say, how much it would trouble him to show any dogmatical Traditions that were derived from Moses and the Prophets; in parallel whereof let them be able to deduce any Evangelical tradition from the Apostles, and we are ready to embrace it with all observance. Shortly, it is clear that our Saviour never meant to compare one Tradition with another, as approving some, rejecting others; but with indignation complains that Traditions were obtruded to God's people in a corrivalty with the written Word: which is the very Point now questioned.   

Sect. 3. Traditions against Reason.  
EVen the very light of Reason shows us that as there is a God, so that he is a most wise and most just God: needs therefore must it follow, that if this most just and wise God will give a Word whereby to reveal himself and his will to mankind, it must be a perfect Word: for as his Wisdom knows what is fit for his creature to know of himself, so his Justice will require nothing of the creature but what he hath enabled him to know and do. Now then, since he requires us to know him, to obey him, it must needs follow that he hath left us so exquisite a Rule of this knowledge and obedience, as cannot admit of any defect or any supplement. This Rule can be no other than his written Word; therefore written, that it might be preserved entire, for this purpose, to the last date of time. As for oral Traditions, what certainty can there be in them? what foundation of truth can be laid upon the breath of man? How do we see the reports vary of those things which our eyes have seen done? How do they multiply in their passage, and either grow or die upon hazards?  
Lastly, we think him not an honest man, whose tongue goes against his own hand. How heinous an imputation then do they cast upon the God of Truth, which plead Traditions derived from him contrary to his written Word? Such apparently are the worship of Images, the mutilation of the Sacrament, Purgatory, Indulgences, and the rest which have passed our agitation. Since therefore the authority of Romish Traditions is (besides Novelty) Erroneous, against Scripture and Reason, we have justly abandoned it, and are thereupon unjustly condemned.  
As for those other dangerous and important Innovations, concerning Scriptures, their Canon enlarged, their faulty Version made authentical, their fountains pretended to be corrupted, 
Serious Dissuasive, etc.  their mis-pleaded Obscurity, their restraint from the Laity, we have already largely displayed them in another place.    

CHAP. XVII. The Newness of the universal Headship of the Bishop of Rome.  
THose transcendent Titles of Headship and Universality, which are challenged to the Bishop and See of Rome, 
Hareseos mater est principatus cupiditas, Chrys. in Gal. 5.  are known to be the upstart brood of noted ambition. Simple and holy Antiquity was too modest either to require, or tolerate them. Who knows not the profession of that holy Martyr in the Council of Carthage, 
a Neque enim quisquam nostrum Episcopum Episcoporum se constituit, aut tyrannico terrore ad obscquendi necessitatem suos adigit. Orat. Cyp in Syn.  Neque enim, etc. There is none of us that makes himself a Bishop of Bishops, or by a tyrannous fear compels his underlings to a necessity of obedience? but perhaps, at Rome it was otherwise. Hear then with what zeal their own Pope 
b Greg. Epist. lib. 4 Epist. 32, & 34. Et lib. 6. Ep. 24. N●vum, scelestum, profanum, etc. Et lib. 4. Epist. 38 39, etc.  Gregory the Great inveighs against the arrogance of John Bishop of Constantinople, for giving way to this proud style. His Epistles are extant in all hands, so clear and convictive as no art of Sophistry can elude them; wherein he calls this Title (affected by the said John, and Cyriacus after him) a new name, a wicked, profane, insolent name, the general plague of the Church, a corruption of the Faith, against Canons, against the Apostle Peter, against God himself: as if he could never have branded it enough.  
And lest any man should cavil that this style is only cried down in the Bishops of Constantinople, which yet might be justly claimed by the Bishops of Rome; Gregory himself meets with this thought, and answers beforehand, Nunquam pium virum, 
Nunquam 〈◊〉 virum 〈…〉 esse, etc. nullum 〈…〉, etc.  etc. That never any godly man, never any of his Predecessors used those Titles; and more than so, That whosoever shall use this proud style, he is the very forerunner of Antichrist. If in a foresight of this Usurpation Gregory should have been hired to have spoken for us against the Pride of his following Successors, he could not have set a keener edge upon his style. Consonant whereto it is yet extant in the very Canon Law, 
Pelag. 2. omnibus Epi●copis, Flicitè à Joan. & Decret. p. 1. dist. 96. c. 4. Null●●, etc.  (as quoted by Gratian out of the Epistle of Pope Pelagius the second) Universalis autem nec etiam Romanus Pontifex appelletur, Not the Bishop of Rome himself may be called Universal.  
Yet how famously is it known to all the World, that the same gregory's next Successor save one, Boniface the third, obtained this title of Universal Bishop from the Emperor Phocas? which the said Emperor gave him in a spleen against Cyriacus Patriarch of Constantinople, 
Ba●on An. 606.  for delivering Constantina the Wife of Mauritius and her Children; or (as some others relate it) upon a worse occasion. And accordingly was this haughty Title communicated by the same power to the See of Rome, and by strong hand ever since maintained.  
This qualification their Register Platina confesses was procured not without great contention. 
Plat. in 〈◊〉 B●nif. 3.  And Otho Frisingensis fully and ingenuously writeth thus; 
Gregoriu● 〈◊〉 ad Deminum, etc.  Gregory departed hence to the Lord: after whom (the next save one) Boniface obtained of Phocas, 
Aquo, etc. ut ipsius authoritate, etc.  that by his authority the Roman Church might be called the head of all Churches; for at that time the See of Constantinople (I suppose, because of the seat of the Empire translated thither) wrote herself the first. Thus their Bishop Otho. 
Otho Frising. lib. 5. cap. 8.  Now if any man shall think that hence it will yet follow, that the See of Rome had formerly enjoyed this Honour, however the Constantinopolitan for the present shouldered with her for it; let him know the ground of both their challenges, which (as it was supposed by Otho, so) is fully for the satisfaction of any indifferent judgement) laid forth in the General Council of Chalcedon. 
Council 5. Gen. Act 15.  The same (say those Fathers) we determine of the privileges of the most holy Church of Constantinople, called new Rome: For the Fathers have justly heretofore given privilege to the Throne of old Rome, because that City was then the Governess of the world; and upon the same consideration were the hundred and fifty Bishops (men beloved of God) moved to yield equal privileges to the Throne of new Rome, rightly judging that this City, which is honoured with the Empire and Senate, and is equally privileged with old Rome the then Queen of the world, should also in Ecclesiastical matters be no less extolled and magnified. Thus they. And this act is subscribed, Bonifacius Presbyter Ecclesiae Romanae statui & subscripsi, I Boniface, Presbyter of the Church of Rome, have so determined and subscribed; Et coeteri, etc. And the rest of the Bishops of divers Provinces and Cities subscribed. What can be more plain? This Headship of the Bishop was in regard of the See; and this headship of the See was in regard of the preeminence of the City; 
Sever. Bin. in notis Concil. Chal●e●.  which was variable, according to the changes of times, or choice of Emperors. But Binius wrangleth here. Can we blame him, when the freehold of their Great Mistress is so nearly touched? This Act (saith he) was not Synodical, as that which was closely and cunningly done in the absence of the Pope's Legates and other Orthodox Bishops, at the instance of Anatolius Patriarch of Constantinople, an ambitious man, by the Eastern Bishops only. How can this plea stand with his own confessed subscription? Besides that their Caranza, 
Caranz Epitome. Concil.  in his Abridgement, shows, that this Point was long and vehemently canvassed in that Council, between Lucentius and Boniface, Legates of the Roman Church, and the rest of the Bishops; and at last so concluded as we have related; 
Sedes Apostolica Nobis praesentibus humiliari non deber.  not indeed without the protestation of the said Legates, Nobis proesentibus, etc. The Apostolic See must not in our presence be abased. Notwithstanding this act then carried: and after this, Pope Simplicius, succeeding to Hilarius, 
Ibid.  made a Decree to the same purpose, not without allusion to this contention for precedency, that 
a Constantinop●litano Episcopo damnato, Ecclesiarum omnium primam esse Romanam, Caranz. Epit.  Rome should take place of Constantinople. Yea so utterly unthought of was this absolute Primacy and Headship of old, as that when the Roman Dition was brought down to a Dukedom, and subjected to the Exarchate of Ravenna, the Archbishop of Ravenna, upon the very same grounds, 
Concil. Carthag. 3. Can. 26.  stuck not (as Blondus tells us) to strive with the Bishop of Rome for Priority of place. So necessarily was the rising or fall of the Episcopal Chair annexed to the condition of that City wherein it was fixed.  
But in all this, we well see what it is that was stood upon, an arbitrable precedency of these Churches in a priority of order; and according thereunto 
b Decr. p. 1. d. 99 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 privilegium concessum à Justiniano. Sanc●mus Senioris Romae Papam primum esse omnium sacerdotum.  the Bishop of Rome is determined to be primae sedis Episcopus, the Bishop of the first See. A style which our late Learned Sovereign professed with Justinian not to grudge unto the modern Bishops of that See. But as for a Primacy of Sovereignty over all Churches, 
Praerog. ante alios residendi. Cod. de sacros. Eccl. decernimus.  and such an Headship as should inform and inliven the body, and govern it with 
* Influentia vitae. Capistran. Influentia regiminis. August.  infallible influences, it is so new and hateful, as that the Church in all Ages hath opposed it to the utmost; neither will it be endured at this day by the Greek Church, notwithstanding the colourable pretence of subscription hereunto by their dying Patriarch Joseph of Constantinople in the late Florentine Council, and the letters of union subscribed by them Anno 1539.  
Yea, 
Triumph.  so far is it from that, 
Bin. in Concil. Florent.  as that their Emperor Michael Palaeologus, for yielding a kind of subjection of the Eastern Bishops to the Roman, would not be allowed the honour of Christian Burial, 
P. Aemil. hist. Gall.  as Aemilius hath recorded. And in our time, Basilius the Emperor of Russia (which challengeth no small part in the Greek Church) threatened to the Pope's Legate (as I have been informed) an infamous death and burial, if he offered to set foot in his Dominions, out of a jealous hate of this Usurpation.  

Sect. 2. The Newness of challenged Infallibility.  
THE particularities of this new arrogation of Rome are so many, that they cannot be penned up in any straight room. I will only instance in some few.  
The Pope's Infallibility of Judgement is such a Paradox, as the very Histories of all times and proceedings of the Church doth sufficiently convince. For, to what purpose had all Councils been called even of the remotest Bishops, to what purpose were the agitations of all controversal causes in those Assemblies, (as Erasmus justly observes) if this Opinion had then obtained? Or how came it about that the Sentences of some Bishops of Rome were opposed by other Sees, by the Successors of their own, by Christian Academies, if this conceit had formerly passed for current with the World? How came it to pass that whole Councils have censured and condemned some Bishops of Rome for manifest Heresies, if they were persuaded beforehand of the impossibility of those Errors? 
Multi Pontifices in errores & harese lapsi esse leguntur. Conc. Basil. in Ep. Synod.  Not to speak of Honorius, of Liberius, and others; the Council of Basil shall be the voice of common observation; Multi Pontifices, etc. Many Popes (say they) are recorded to have fallen into Errors and Heresies. Either all stories mock us, or else this parasitical dream of impeccancy in judgement is a mere stranger. And his disguise is so foul, that it is no marvel if Errare non possum, 
Aventin. l. 7.  I cannot err, seemed to Eberhardus, Bishop of Saltzburgh, no other than the suit of an Antichrist.   

Sect. 3. The Newness of the Pope's Superiority to General Councils.  
HOW bold and dangerous a Novelty is that which Cardinal Bellarmine, and with him the whole Society, and all the late Fautors of that See (after the Florentine Synod) stick not to avouch, 
Bella rm. ●. 2 de Conc. cap. 17.  Summus Pontifex, etc. The Pope is absolutely above the whole Church, and above a General Council, so as he acknowledges no Judges on earth over himself? How would this have relished with those well-near a thousand Fathers in the Council of Constance, 
Concil. Const. Sess. 4 & 5.  who punctually determined thus, Ipsa Synodus, etc. The Synod lawfully assembled in the Holy Ghost, making a General Council, representing the Catholic Church militant upon earth, 
Caranz. Anno 1415.  hath immediately power from Christ; whereunto every man, whosoever he be, of what state or dignity soever, although he be the Pope himself, is bound to obey in those things which pertain to Faith, or to the extirpation of Schism? And fifteen years after that, 
Anno 1431.  the General Council of Basil, wherein was Precedent Julianus Cardinal of Saint Angelo, the Pope's Legate, defined the same matter in the same words. It is no marvel if Cardinal Bellarmine, and some others of that strain, reject these as unlawful Councils: but they cannot deny, first, that this Decree was made by both of them; secondly, that the Divines there assembled were (in their allowance) Catholic Doctors, and such as in other Points adhered to the Roman Church, insomuch as they were the men by whose sentence John hus and Hierome suffered no less than death: and yet even so lately did these numerous Divines in the voice of the Church define the Superiority of a Council above the Pope. What speak we of this, when we find that the Bishops of the East excommunicated in their assembly Julius the Bishop of Rome himself, 
Sozom. lib. 3. c. 11.  amongst others, without scruple, as Solzomen reporteth?  
How ill would this Doctrine or practice now be endured? Insomuch as Gregory of Valence dares confidently say, that whosoever he be that makes a Council superior to the Pope, fights directly (though unawares) against that most certain Point of Faith concerning Saint Peter's and the Roman Bishops Primacy in the Church.   

Sect. 4. The new presumption of Papal Dispensations.  
FRom the opinion of this supereminent Power hath flowed that common course of Dispensations with the Canons and Decrees of Councils, which hath been of late a great eyesore to moderate beholders. 
F. Vict. Relect. de potest. Papae & Concil. pag. 151.  Franciscus à Victoria makes a woeful complaint of it, professing to doubt whether in the end of the year, there be more that have leave by this means to break the laws than those that are tied to keep them. Thereupon wishing (for remedy) that there were a restraint made of those now boundless Dispensations; and, at last, objecting to himself that such a Decree of restriction would be new, and not heard of in any former Council, he answers, Tempore Conciliorum antiquorum, etc. In the time of the ancient Councils, Popes were like to the other Fathers of those Councils, so as there was no need of any act for holding them back from this immoderate licence of dispensing; yea, if we do well turn over the laws and histories of the Ancient, we shall find that Popes did not presume so easily and commonly to dispense with Decrees of Councils, but observed them as the Oracles of God himself; yea, not only did they forbear to do it ordinarily, but perhaps not once did they ever dispense at all, against the Decrees of Councils: But now (saith he) by little and little are we grown to this intemperance of dispensations, and to such an estate, as that we can neither abide our mischiefs, nor our remedies. Thus that learned Spaniard, in an honest confession of the degenerate courses of the late Popes from the simple integrity of their Predecessors.  
What should I add unto these the presumptuous Dispensations with Vows and Oaths, 
Pontificalis authoritas à juramento fidelitatis absolvit.  with the Laws of God himself, with the Law of Nature? a privilege ordinarily both yielded and defended by flattering Canonists, and that which meets with us at every turn in Hostiensis, 
Decr. p. 2. 15. q. 6. Alius. Almain, de poorest. Eccles. & Laica cap. 12. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was the rule of old. Diatrib. Papa Antichrist. lib. 4. cap. 9  Archidiaconus, Felinus, Capistranus, Triumphus, Angelus de Clavasio, Petrus de Ancorano, Panormitan, as is largely particularised by our learned Bishop of Derry.   

Sect. V. The new challenge of Pope's domineering over Kings and Emperors.  
I May well shut up the Scene with that notorious Innovation of the Pope's subducing himself from the due Obedience of his once-acknowledged Lord and Sovereign, and endeavouring to reduce all those Imperial powers to his homage and obedience.  
The time was, 
Greg. lib. 4.  when Pope Gregory could say to Mauritius, 
Ep. 32. & serenissimis jussionibus obedientiam praebco. Ibid.  Vobis obedientiam praebere desidero, I desire to give you due obedience; and when Pope Leo came with cap and knee to Theodosius for a Synod to be called, with Clementia vestra concedat, as Cardinal Cusanus citys it from the History. The time was, when Nemo Apostolicae, etc. No man did offer to take upon him the steering of the Apostolic Bark, till the authority of the Emperor had designed him; as their 
a Hier. Balb. de Cor.  Balbus out of their own law. That of Pope 
b Ecce serenissimus dominus Imperator fieri simiam Leonem jussit, etc.  Gregory is plain enough, Ecce serenissimus, etc. Behold (saith he, speaking of his own advancement to the Bishopric of Rome) our gracious Lord the Emperor hath commanded an Ape to be made a Lion; and surely at his command it may be called a Lion, but it cannot be one: so as he must needs lay all my faults and negligences not upon me, but upon his own piety, 
Gregor. Ep. 5. Qui virtutis ministerium infirmo commisit, ibid.  which hath committed this Ministry of power to so weak an Agent.  
The time was, when the Popes of Rome dated their Apostolic letters with the style of 
c Guicciard. l. 4. hist. Imperante Carolo D. nos●ro.  the reign of their Lords the Emperors: now, ever since Pope Paschal, they care only to note the 
d Paschalis Anno Euangelii 1070. primus, omissis Imperatoris annis, sui Pontificatus annos subscripsit. In da●. Apostolatus nostri Anno 1. dein Pontificatus. Lib. Sacr. Cerem.  year of their own Apostleship or Papacy.  
The time was, when the holy Bishops of that See professed to succeed Saint Peter in homely simplicity, in humble obedience, in piety, in zeal, in preaching, in tears, in sufferings: now since, the case is altered; the world sees and blushes at the change; for now, 
e Greg. l. 1. de major. & obed. cx Innoc.  Quanta inter solemn & Lunam, etc. Look how much the Sun is bigger than the Moon, so much is the Papal power greater than the Imperial; now Papa est Dominus Imperatoris, The Pope is the Emperor's Lord (saith their 
f Capist. 77.  Capistranus;) and the Emperor is subject to the Pope as his minister or servant, saith 
g Aug. Triumph. qu. 44. 1.  Triumphus: and lest this should seem the fashionable word of some clawing Canonist only, hear what Pope 
h Vide diatr. Derens. Ep. l. 4. c. 3. §. 2. Unde habet Imperator Imperii● nisi à nobis? Imperator quod habet, totum habet à nobis. Ecce in potes●ate nostra est ut demus illud cui volumus. Hadrian. Ep. apud Avent. l. 6.  Adrian himself saith, Unde habet, etc. Whence hath the Emperor his Empire but from us? all that he hath, he hath wholly from us. Behold, it is in our power to give it to whom we list. And to the same purpose is that of Pope 
i Innoc. 4. in cap. Licet de ●o●o compet.  Innocent the Fourth, Imperator est advocatus, etc. The Emperor is the Pope's Advocate, and swears to him, and holds his Empire of him. But perhaps this place is yet too high for an Emperor; a lower will serve: 
k Lib. sacr. Cerem.  fit Canonicus, etc. The Emperor is (of course) made a Canon, and brother of the Church of Lateran. Yet lower, he shall be the Sewer of his Holiness Table, and set on the 
l Etiam Imperator aut Rex aquam ad lavandas ejus manus ferre debet; primum item fer●●lum, etc. ibid.  first dish, and hold the Basin for his hands. Yet lower, he shall be the Train-bearer to the Pope in his walking 
m In processionibus, etc. ibid.  Processions; he shall be the query of his Stable, and hold his 
n Stapham equi Papalis tenet, etc. ibid.  stirrup in getting upon his horse; he shall be, lastly, his very 
o Sellam ipsam cum Pontifice hum●ris suis aliquantuium portare debet, Ibid.  Porter to carry his Holiness on his shoulder. And all this not out of will, but out of duty.  
Where now is Augustus ab Augendo, as 
a Alm. de potest. Eccl.  Almain derives him, when he suffers himself thus to be diminished? Although there is more wonder in the others exaltation. Papae! Men are too base to enter into comparison with him. His authority is more than of the Saints in Heaven, saith 
b Cassand. 4. patte, Consi 7. C. de Libellis 20. dist.  one; yet more, he excelleth the Angels in his Jurisdiction, saith another; yet more once, The Pope seems to make one and the same Consistory with God himself; and, which comprehends all the rest, 
Aug. Triumph. de pot. Eccl. q. 13.  Tu es omnia, & super omnia, Thou art all, and above all, as the Council of Lateran under Julius.  
Oh strange alteration, 
Vid. Derens. ubi supra.  that the great Commanders of the World should be made the drudges of their subjects; 
Cassand. Glor. mundi 4. part. Cons. 7.  That Order and Sovereignty should lose themselves in a pretence of Piety; That the professed Successor of him that said, Gold and silver have I none, 
I●●oc. & Host. in cap. 1 de Trans●.  should thus trample upon Crowns; That a poor silly Worm of the Earth should raise up itself above all that is called God, and offer to crawl into the glorious Throne of Heaven!    

CHAP. XVIII. The Epilogue both of Exhortation and Apology.  
NOT to weary my Reader with more particularities of Innovation; let now all Christians know and be assured, that such change as they sensibly find in the Head, they may as truly (though not so visibly) note in the Body of the Roman Church, yea rather in that Soul of Religion which informeth both. And if thereupon all our endeavour (as we protest before God and his holy Angels) hath been and is only to reduce Rome to itself, that is, to recall it to that original Truth, Piety, Sincerity, which made it long famous through the World and happy, how unjustly are we ejected, persecuted, condemned?  
But if that Ancient Mistress of the World shall stand upon the terms of her Honour, and will needs plead the disparagement of her retractions, and the age and authority of these her impositions, let me have leave to shut up all with that worthy and religious contestation of Saint Ambrose with his Symmachus.  
That eloquent Patron of Idolatry had pleaded hard for the old Rites of Heathenism, and brings in Ancient Rome speaking thus for herself; Optimi principes, 
Inter Epistclas Ambros●i l. 2. Epist. 11.  etc. Excellent Princes, the Fathers of your Country, reverence ye my years, into which my pious Rites have brought me. I will use the Ceremonies of my Ancestors, neither can I repent me. I will live after mine own fashion, because I am free. This Religion hath brought the World under the subjection of the Laws; these sacred Devotions have driven Hannibal from our walls, from our Capitol. Have I been preserved for this, that in mine old age I should be reproved? Say that I did see what were to be altered, 
Sera tamen & contumeltos● est em●n 〈◊〉 senectutis. ibid. Ambros. Epist. lib. 2. Ep. 1●.  yet late and shameful is the amendment of age. To which that holy Father no less wittily and elegantly answers by way of retortion, bringing in Rome to speak thus rather; I am not ashamed in mine old age to be a Convert with all the rest of the World. It is surely true that in no age it is too late to learn. Let that old age blush that cannot mend itself. It is not the gravity of years, but of manners, that deserves praise. 
Nullus pudor est ad meli●ra trans●re, ibid.  It is no shame to go to the better. And when Symmachus urges, Majorum servandus est ritus, We must observe the Rites of our forefathers: Dicant igitur, (saith Saint Ambrose) Let them as well say, that all things should remain in their own imperfect Principles; that the World once overcovered with darkness, offends in being shined upon by the glorious brightness of the Sun. And how much more happy is it, to have dispelled the darkness of the Soul then of the body; to be shined upon by the beams of Faith then of the Sun? Thus he, most aptly to the present occasion; whereto, did that blessed Father now live, he would doubtless no less readily apply it. Nec erubescas mutare sententiam, 
Non es tantae authoritatis ut errasse te pudeat, etc.  Never blush to change, Ruffinus, never blush to change your mind; you are not of such authority as that you should be ashamed to confess you have erred. Oh that this meek ingenuity could have found place in that once-famous and Orthodox Church of Christ; 
Hier. Apol. adver. Ruffin.  how had the whole Christian World been as a City at unity in itself, and triumphed over all the proud hostilities of Paganism? But since we may not be so happy, we must sit down and mourn for our desolations, for our divisions. In the mean time we wash our hands in innocence. There are none of all these instanced particulars (besides many more) wherein the Church of Rome hath not sensibly erred in corrupt additions to the Faith; so as herein we may justly (before Heaven and earth) warrant our disagreement of judgement from her. The rest is their act, and not ours: we are mere patients in this schism; and therefore go, because we are driven. That we hold not Communion with that Church, the fault is theirs, who both have deserved this strangeness by their Errors, and made it by their Violence. Contrary to that rule which Cato in Tully gives of unpleasing Friendship, they have not ripped it in the seam, but torn it in the whole cloth.  
Perhaps I shall seem unto some to have spoken too mildly of the estate of that debauched Church: There are that stand upon a mere nullity of her Being, not resting in a bare depravation. For me, I dare not go so far: If she be foul, if deadly diseased, (as she is) these qualities cannot utterly take off her Essence, or our relations.  
Our Divines indeed call us out of Babylon, and we run; so as here is an actual separation on our parts. True, but from the Corruptions, (wherein there is a true confusion) not from the Church. Their very charge implies their limitation: as it is Babylon, we must come out of it; as it is an outward visible Church, 
Fr. Jun. de Ecclesia.  we neither did nor would. This Dropsy, that hath so swollen up the body, doth not make it cease to be a true body, but a sound one. The true Principles of Christianity which it maintains, 
Capitis autem male sani & deli●● contagia vitanda sunt, ne & ipsi artus pes●ilenti humore labesecrent. Fr. Pic. Mirandula, Theor. 23.  maintain life in that Church; the Errors which it holds together with those Principles, struggle with that life, and threaten an extinction. As it is a visible Church then, we have not detracted to hold Communion with it (though the contemptuous repulse of so many admonitions have deserved our alienation;) as Babylon, we can have nothing to do with it. Like as in the course of our life, we freely converse with those men in civil affairs with whom we hate to partake in wickedness.  
But will not this seem to savour of too much indifferency? What need we so vehemently labour to draw from either part, and triumph in winning Proselytes, and give them for lost on either side, and brand them for Apostates that are won away, if (which way soever we fall) we cannot light out of a true visible Church of Christ? what such necessity was there of Martyrdom, what such danger of relapses, if the Church be with both?  
Let these Sophisters know, that true Charity needs not abate any thing of zeal. If they be acquainted with the just value of Truth, they shall not inquire so much into the Persons as into the Cause. Whatever the Church be, if the Errors be damnable, our blood is happily spent in their impugnation; and we must rather choose to undergo a thousand deaths, then offend the Majesty of God, in yielding to a known falsehood in Religion: neither doth the outward Visibility of the Church abate aught of the heinousness of mis-opinions, or the vehemence of our oppositions. Were it Saint Peter himself, if he halt in Judaizing, Saint Paul must resist him to his face: neither is his fault less, because an Apostles; yea, let me say more. Were the Church of Rome and ours laid upon several Foundations, these Errors should not be altogether so detestable, since the symbolising in many Truths makes gross Errors more intolerable, as the Samaritan Idolatry was more odious to the Jews then merely Paganish. If the dearest daughter of God upon earth should commit spiritual whoredom, 
Maldon. in 4. Joan.  her uncleanness is so much more to be hated as her obligations were greater. Oh the glorious crowns therefore of those blessed Martyrs of ours, who rather gave their bodies to be burnt to ashes, than they would betray any parcel of Divine Truth!  
Oh the woeful and dangerous condition of those Souls, which shutting their eyes against so clear a light, either willingly sit down in palpable darkness, or fall back from the sincerity of the Gospel into these miserable enormities both of Practice and Doctrine! It is not for me to judge them; that I leave unto that high and awful Tribunal, before which I shall once appear with them. But this I dare say, that if that righteous Judge shall punish either their obstinacy or relapses with eternal damnation, he cannot but be justified in his judgements, whiles in the midst of their torments they shall be forced to say, 
Nehem. 9 33.  Thou, O God, art just in all that is befallen us; for thou hast done right, but we have done wickedly.  
For us, as we would save our Souls, let us carefully preserve them from the contagion of Romish Superstition; let us never fear that our discretion can hate Error too much; let us awaken our holy zeal to a serious and servant opposition, joined with a charitable endeavour of reclamation; shortly, let us hate their Opinions, strive against their Practice, pity their misguiding, neglect their censures, labour their recovery, pray for their Salvation.   

AN APOLOGETICAL ADVERTISEMENT to the READER.  
Reader,  
Nothing can be so well said or done, but may be ill taken. Whiles I thus sincerely plead for Truth, the well-meaning ignorance of some mistakers hath passed as deep, as unjust censures upon me, as if Preferment had changed my note, and taught me to speak more plausible language concerning the Roman Church than I either did or ought. Wherein as I pity their Uncharitableness, so I earnestly desire to rectify their Judgement; lest their prejudice may turn more to their sin then to my wrong.  
The main ground of the Exception is, That I yield the Church of Rome a true visible Church; wherein the harsh noise of a misconstrued phrase offends their ear, and breeds their quarrel. For this (belike) in their apprehension seems to sound no less then as if I had said, The Church of Rome is a true-believing Church, or a true part of the mystical body of Christ: a sense which is as far wide from my words or thoughts, as from truth itself. Wherefore serves this Book but to evince the manifold Corruptions of that foul Church? That she is truly visible, abates nothing of her abominations: For who sees not that Visible refers to outward Profession, True to some essential Principles of Christianity, neither of them to soundness of Belief? So as these two may too well stand together, A true visible Church, in respect of outward Profession of Christianity; and an Heretical, Apostatical, Antichristian Synagogue, in respect of Doctrine and Practice. Grant the Romanists to be but Christians, how corrupt soever, and we cannot deny them the name of a Church. Outward Visibility gives them no claim either to Truth or Salvation.  
Shortly then, in two things I must crave leave to vindicate myself: One, that I do no whit differ from myself; the other, that I differ not from the Judgement of our best, Orthodox, and approvedly-classicall Divines. Both which cleared, what have I done?  
It is a grievous challenge, this of Inconstancy: for though, whiles we are here in this region of Mutability, our whole man is subject to change, yet we do all herein affect a likeness to the God of Truth, in whom there is no shadow by turning; especially in Religion, so much more as that doth more assimilate and unite us to that unchangeable Deity. 
No peace with Rome; Et, Roma irreconci●iabilis, Sect. 1.  Lo, (say they) the man that once wrote, No peace with Rome, now cries nothing but Peace with Rome, whiles he proclaims it a true visible Church, and allows some Communion with it. Alas, brethren, why will ye suffer a rash and ignorant Zeal thus to lie palpably in your way to Truth? Be but pleased to cast your eyes upon the first Chapter of that Book of mine (which is thus objected to me in a causeless exprobration) that which long since I wrote, of the Irreconcilablenesse of Rome, and see if that Section be not a full expression of the same Truth (and that in the same words) which I have here published. There shall you find taught, That there is no other difference betwixt us and Rome, then betwixt a Church miserably corrupted, and happily purged; betwixt a sickly, languishing, dying Church, and one that is healthful, strong, and flourishing: That Valdus, Wiclef, Luther, did never go about to frame a new Church, which was not, but to cleanse, restore, reform that Church which was: That they meant only to be Physicians to heal, not Parents to beget a Church. There you shall find, That we are all the same Church by virtue of our outward Vocation, whosoever all the world over worship Jesus Christ the only Son of God, the Saviour of the world, and profess the same common Creed; that some of us do this more purely, others more corruptly; that in the mean time we are all Christians, but sound Christians we are not. There ye shall find this very Objection so fully answered, as if it had been either formerly moved, or so long since prevented: the words are these;  
But how harshly doth this sound to a weak reader, and more than seems to need reconciliation with itself, that the Church should be one, and yet cannot be reconciled? Certainly yet so it is. The dignity of the outward form (which comprehends this Unity in itself) avails nothing to Salvation, nothing to Grace, nothing to the soundness of Doctrine. The Net doth not strait make all to be Fish that it hath dragged together; ye shall find in it vile weeds, and whatsoever else that devouring element hath disgorged. The Church is at once one in respect of the common Principles of Faith; and yet in respect of consequences and that rabble of opinions which they have raked together, so opposed, that it cannot (as things now stand) by any glue of Concord (as Cyprian speaketh) nor bond of Unity, be conjoined. That which Rome holds with us, makes it a Church; that which it obtrudes upon us, makes it Heretical: the truth of Principles makes it one; the Error and impiety of Additions makes it irreconcilable, etc. Look on the face therefore of the Roman Church, she is ours, she is Gods: look on her back, she is quite contrary, Antichristian. More plainly, Rome doth both hold the Foundation, and destroy it; she holds it directly, destories it by consequent: In that she holds it, she is a true Church, howsoever impured; in that she destroys it, (what semblance soever she makes) she is a Church of malignants. If she did altogether hold it, she should be sound and Orthbox; if altogether she destroyed it, she should be either no Church, or devilish: but now that she professes to hold those things directly which by inferences she closely overthrows, she is a truly visible Church, but an unsound one.  
Thus I wrote well-near twenty years agone, without clamour, without censure. And since that, in my Latin Sermon to the Convocation, did I very ought from this hold? 
Columba Noae, etc.  Did I not there call heaven & earth to record of our innocence in separating from the Roman Church? Did I not cast the fault upon their violence, not our will? Did I not profess, Lubentes quidem discessimus, etc. We willingly indeed departed from the Communion of their Errors, but from the Communion of the Church we have not departed. Let them abandon their Errors, and we embrace the Church: Let them cast away their Soul-killing Traditions, and false appendances of their new Faith, we shall gladly communicate with them in the right of the same Church, and hold with them for ever?  
This I freely both taught and published, with the allowance, with the applause of that most Reverend Synod; and now, doth the addition of a Dignity bring envy upon the same Truth? Might that pass commendably from the pen or tongue of a Doctor, which will not be endured from the hand of a Bishop? My brethren, I am where I was; the change is yours. Ever since I learned to distinguish betwixt the right hand of Verity, and the left of Error, thus I held, and shall (I hope) at last send forth my Soul in no other resolution. And if any of you be otherwise minded, I dare boldly say, he shall do more wrong to his Cause then to his adversary.  
That I differ not from myself, you have seen; see now that I differ not from our learned, judicious, approved Divines.  
That the Latin or Western Church subject to the Romish Tyranny (unto the very times of Luther) was a true Church, in which a saving profession of the truth of Christ was found, and wherein Luther himself received his Christianity, 
Append. to the Book of the Church, 3 part. chap. 2.  Ordination, and power of Ministry, our Learned Doctor Field hath saved me the labour to prove, by the suffrages of our best and most renowned Divines; amongst whom he sites the Testimony of Calvin, Bucer, Melanchthon, Beza, Mornay, Deering. And if since that time it be foully corrupted, so as now that acute Author is driven to the distinction of Verè Ecclesia, and Vera Ecclesia; yet at last he thus concludes, But will some man say, Is the Roman Church at this day no part of the Church of God? Surely a● Austin noteth that the societies of Heretics, 
Aug. de Baptis. contr. Donatist. lib. 1. c. 8, & 10.  in that they retain the profession of many parts of heavenly truth, and the ministration of the Sacrament of Baptism, are so far still conjoined with the Catholic Church, and the Catholic Church in and by them bringeth forth children unto God: so the present Roman Church is still in some sort a part of the visible Church of God; but no otherwise then other societies of Heretics are, in that it retaineth the profession of some parts of heavenly truth, and ministereth the true Sacrament of Baptism to the Salvation of the Souls of many thousand infants, etc. Thus he.  
Junius, 
Jun. de Eccl. lib. sing. c. 17.  distinguishing betwixt the Church and Papacy, determines the Church of Rome to be a truely-living (though sick) Church, whereof the Papacy is the disease, marring the health, threatening her life; and punctually resolves, Ecclesia Papalis qua id habet, etc. The Popish Church in that it hath in it that which pertains to the definition of a Church, is a Church.  
Doctor Raynolds makes it his Position, 
Thes. Rain. 5.  That the Church of Rome is neither the Catholic Church, nor a sound member of the Catholic; yielding it a member, whiles he disproves it sound.  
Paraeus, 
Par. in Rom. 16.  Accusant nos, etc. They accuse us (saith he) that we have made a division in departing from the Church; Nos verò, etc. But we have not departed from the Church, but from the Papacy.  
Master Hooker is most pregnant for this point: 
Hook. 3 Book of Eccles. pol. c. 1.  Apparent it is (saith he) that all men are of necessity either Christians, or not Christians. If by external Profession they be Christians, they are of the visible Church of Christ: 
One Lord, one Faith, one Baptism.  and Christians by external profession they are all, whose mark of recognizance hath in it those things which we have mentioned; yea although they be impious Idolaters, wicked Heretics, persons Excommunicable, yea and cast out for notorious improbity. Thus he; and going on, he shows how it is possible for the selfsame men to belong to the Synagogue of Satan, and to the Church of Jesus Christ. The passages are too long to transcribe, and the Books are obvious.  
Doctor Crakenthorp, 
Crak. desen. Eccles. Angel. c. 16.  in his learned answer to Spalatensis, defends heretical Churches to be truly members of the Catholic Church, though unsound ones; subscribing herein to the determination of Alphonsus; and descending to this particular, concludes, Haec tamen ipsa tua Romana, etc. This your Roman Church must be accounted both to be in the Church, and to be a Church: not simply, not according to the integrity of Faith, not according to any inward virtue, not so effectually that it should avail to Salvation for a man to be in it; but yet a Church it is in some respects, according to the external profession of Faith and of the Word of God, according to the administration of the Sacraments, according to some Doctrines of true belief, by which, as by so many outward Ligaments, she is yet knit to the Orthodox and Catholic Church. Thus he fully to my words and meaning.  
I might swell up the bulk with many more, 
Pet. Baro Conc. ad clerum. Bunnie treat. of Purif. D. Some against Penrie. Peter Mart. Epistle.  a Catalogue whereof Brierley hath for his own purpose fetched up together. I will only shut up this Scene with out late most Learned Sovereign, King James; who in the Conference at Hampton Court, with the acclamation of all his judicious hearers, avowed, that no Church ought further to separate itself from the Church of Rome in Doctrine or Ceremony, 
Answer to Machiavelli, p. 8. D. Covel Fregevil. polit. ●ef. B. of S. David's Chap. D. Williams of the Church. Confer pag. 75.  than she hath departed from herself when she was in her flourishing and best estate, and from Christ her Lord and Head.  
Well therefore doth my Reader see that I have gone along with good company in this assertion. Although I am not ignorant that 
* Zanc. miscell. de Eccles. Whitak. C●uaes. 6. c. 1. pag 444, 445. in qu●r. Perk. in 1. ad Galat. Cameron.  some worthy Divines of ours speak otherwise, in the height of Zeal denying the Church of Rome to be a true Church, to be a Church at all; whose contradiction gives colour to this offence. But let my Reader know, that however their words are opposite, yet not their judgement; a mutual understanding shall well accord us in the matter, however the terms sound contrary. Our old word is, Things are as they are taken: The difference is in the acception of True and Church; both which have much latitude, and variety of sense. Whiles by True, they mean right believing, and by Church, 
Zanch. ubi supra. In quo purum Dei verbum Orthodoxe intellectium & sincere pradica●um, Sacramenta sol● & legitimè juxta institutum Christi administrata, etc.  a company of Faithful which have the Word of God rightly understood and sincerely preached, and the Sacraments duly administered, it is no marvel if they say the Church of Rome is neither true nor Church; who would, who can say otherwise? But whiles we mean by a true Church, a multitude of Christians professing to agree in the main Principles of Religion, how can they but subscribe to us, and in this sense yield the Church of Rome both a Church, and truly visible? So as shortly, in a large sense of True Church, these Divines cannot but descend to us; in a strict sense of both, we cannot but ascend to them: in fine, both agree in the substance, whiles the words cross. 
M. Perk. Ref. Cath.  Certainly in effect Master Perkins saith no other, whiles he defines his Reformed Catholic to be one that holds the same necessary Heads of Religion with the Roman Church, yet so as he pares off and rejects all Errors in Doctrine whereby the same Religion is corrupted: wherein that well-allowed Author speaks home to my meaning, though in other terms. That the Roman Church holds the necessary Heads of Religion, gives it a right, in my sense, to a true visibility; that it holds foul Errors, whereby the Doctrine is corrupted, makes it false in belief, whiles it hath a true Being.  
This than may give sufficient light to that passage in my sixth page, whereat some have heedlessly stumbled. That which I cited from Luther out of Cromerus, I find also alleged by Doctor Field out of Luther himself; 
Append. ubi supra.  the words are, that under the Papacy is the very kernel of Christianity, much good, yea all. Know, Reader, the words are Luther's, not mine: neither doth he say, in the Papacy, but, under it; under it, indeed, to trample upon, not to possess; or if to possess, yet not to enjoy. Their fault is not in defect of necessary Truths, but in excess of superfluous additions. Luther explicates himself; For his Kernel is the several Articles of Christian belief; his all good, is Scriptures, Sacraments, Creeds, Councils, Fathers; all these they have, but (God knows) miserably corrupted. That they thus have them, is no whit worse for us, and little better for themselves: would to God they were theirs as well in true use as in possession.  
It was an ill descant that a nimble Papist made upon those words of Luther, which yield them the kernel of Christianity, If we have the kernel (saith he) let them take the shell. Soft, friend, you are too witty: Luther did not give you the kernel, and reserve us the shell: He yielded you both kernel and shell, such as it is, but the shell rotten, the kernel worm-eaten. Make much of your kernel, but (as you have used it) it is but a bitter morsel; swallow that if you please, and save the shell in your pocket.  
Neither think to go away with an idle misprision, We are a true visible Church, what need we more? why should we wish to be other than we are? Alas, poor souls! a true Visibility may and doth stand with a false Belief. Ye may be of a true visible Church, and yet never the nearer to Heaven. It is your interest in the true mystical body of Christ that must save your Souls, not in the outwardly visible: your Errors may be, and are, no less damnable, for that ye are by outward profession Christians, yea so much the more, Woe is me, your danger is more visible than your Church. If ye persist wilfully in these gross Corruptions, which do by consequent raze that foundation which ye profess to lay, ye shall be no less visible spectacles of the wrath of that just God, whose Truth and Spirit ye have so stubbornly resisted. The God of Heaven open your eyes to see the glorious light of his Truth, and draw your hearts to the love of it; and make your Church as truly sound, as it is truly visible.  
Thus, in a desire to stand but so right as I am in all honest judgements, I have made this speedy and true Apology; beseeching all Readers in the fear of God (before whose bar we shall once give an account of all our overlashing) to judge wisely and uprightly of what I have written; in a word, to do me but justice in their opinions, and, when I beg it, favour. Farewell, Reader; and God make us Wise and Charitable.    

THE RECONCILER.  
AN EPISTLE PACIFICATORY Of the seeming Differences of Opinion, concerning the Trueness and Visibility of the Roman Church.  By JOS. EXON. 
TO THE Right Honourable and Truly Religious, My singular good Lord, EDWARD Earl of NORWICH.  
My ever Honoured Lord;  
I Confess my Charity led me into an Error. Your Lordship well knows how apt I am to be overtaken with these better deceits of an over-kinde credulity. I had thought that any dash of my Pen, in a sudden and easy advertisement, might have served to have quitted that ignorant Scandal which was cast upon my mistaken Assertion of the true Visibility of the Roman Church. The issue proves all otherwise: I find, to my grief, that the misunderstanding tenacity of some zealous spirits hath made it a quarrel. It cannot but trouble me to see that the Position which is so familiarly current with the best Reformed Divines, and which hath been so oft and long since published by me without contradiction, yea not without the approbation and applause of the whole representative body of the Clergy of this Kingdom, should now be quarrelled, and drawn into the detestation of those that know it not. As one therefore that should think it corrosive enough, that any occasion should be taken by aught of mine to ravel but one thread of that seamless Coat, I do earnestly desire by a more full explication to give clear satisfaction to all Readers; and by this seasonable Reconcilement to stop the floodgates of contention. I know it will not be unpleasing to your Lordship, that through your Honourable and Pious hands these welcome Papers should be transmitted to many. Wherein I shall first beseech, yea adjure, all Christians under whose eyes they shall fall, by the dreadful Name of that God who shall judge both the quick and the dead, to lay aside all unjust Prejudices, and to allow the words of Truth and Peace. I dare confidently say, Let us be understood, and we are agreed.  
The Searcher of all hearts knows how far it was from my thoughts to speak aught in favour of the Roman Synagogue: If I have not sufficiently branded that Strumpet, 
Obj.  I justly suffer. Luther's broad word is by me already both safely construed, and sufficiently vindicated. But do you not say, It is a true visible Church? 
Resp.  Do you not yield some kind of Communion with these clients of Antichrist? What is, if this be not, Favour? Mark well, Christian Reader, and the Lord give thee understanding in all things. To begin with the latter: No man can say but the Church of Rome holds some Truths; those Truths are God's, and in his right ours; why should not we challenge our own wheresoever we find it? If a very Devil shall say of Christ, Thou art the Son of the living God, we will snatch this Truth out of his mouth as usurped, and in spite of him, proclaim it for our own. Indeed, there is no communion betwixt light and darkness; but there is communion betwixt light and light: Now all Truth is Light, and therefore symbolizeth with itself. With that light therefore whose glimmering yet remains in their darkness, our clearer light will and must hold communion. If they profess Three Persons in one Godhead, Two Natures in one Person of Christ; shall we detract to join with them in this Christian Verity? We abhor to have any Communion with them in their Errors, in their Idolatrous or Superstitious practices; these are their own, not ours. If we durst have taken their part in these, this breach had not been. Now, who can but say that we must hate their evil, and allow their good? It is no countenance to their Errors that we embrace our own Truths; it is no disparagement to our Truths that they have blended them with their Errors. Here can be no difference then, if this Communion be not mistaken: No man will say that we may sever from their common Truths; no man will say that we may join with them in their hateful Errors.  
For the former, He that saith a Thief is truly a man, doth he therein favour that Thief? He that saith a diseased, dropsied, dying body is a true (though corrupt) body, doth he favour that Disease, or that living carcase? It is no other, no more that I say of the Church of Rome. Trueness of Being and outward Visibility are no praise to her; yea these are aggravations to her falsehood. The advantage that is both sought and found in this Assertion is only ours, as we shall see in the sequel, without any danger of their gain. I say then, that she is a True Church; but I say withal, she is a false Church: True in Existence, but false in Belief. Let not the homonymy of a word breed jars, where the sense is accorded. If we do not yield her the true Being of a Church, why do we call her the Church of Rome? What speak we of? or where is the Subject of our question? Who sees not that there is a Moral Trueness, and a Natural? He that is morally the falsest man, is in Nature as truly a man as the honestest; and therefore in this regard as true a man. In the same sense therefore that we say the Devil is a true (though false) Spirit, that a Cheater is a true (though false) man, we may and must say, that the Church of Rome is a true (though false) Church. Certainly, there hath been a true Error and mistaking of the sense that is guilty of this quarrel. As for the Visibility there can be no question. Would God that Church did not too much fill our eye, yea the world. There is nothing wherein it doth more pride itself then in a glorious conspicuity, scorning in this regard the obscure paucity of their opposers.  
But you say, 
Obj.  What is this but to play with ambiguities? That the Church of Rome is itself, that is, a Church, that it is visible, that it is truly existent, there can be no doubt: but is it still a part of the truly existent visible Church of Christ? 
Resp.  Surely, no otherwise then an Heretical and Apostatical Church is and may be. Reader, whosoever thou art, for God's sake, for thy Soul's sake, mark where thou treadest; else thou shalt be sure to fall either into an open gulf of Uncharitableness, or into a dangerous precipice of Error. There is no fear nor favour to say, that the Church of Rome, under a Christian Face, hath an Antichristian Heart; overturning that Foundation by necessary inferences, which by open profession it avoweth. That Face, that Profession, those avowed Principles are enough to give it claim to a true outward visibility of a Christian Church; whiles those damnable inferences are enough to feoff it in the true style of Heresy and Antichristianisme. Now this Heresy, this Antichristianisme makes Rome justly odious and execrable to God, to Angels and Men; but cannot utterly dischurch it, whiles those main Principles maintain a weak life in that crazy and corrupted body.  
But is not this language different from that whereto our ears and eyes have been enured, from the mouths and pens of some Reverend Divines and Professors of our Church? Know, Reader, that the stream of the famous Doctors, both at home and abroad, hath run strongly my way: I should have feared and hated to go alone: what reason is there then to single out one man in a throng? Some few worthy Authors have spoken otherwise in the warmth of their zealous contention; yet so, as that even to them durst I appeal for my Judges: for if their sound differ from me, their sense agrees with me: that, which as I touched in my Advertisement, so I am now ready to make clear by the instance of Learned Zanchius, whose pregnant testimonies compared together, shall plainly teach us how easy a reconcilement may be made betwixt these two seemingly-contrary Opinions. That worthy Author, in his Profession of Christian Religion, which he wrote and published in the Seventieth year of his age, having defined the Church of Christ in general, and passed through the Properties of it, at last, descending to the sub-division of the Church Militant, comes to inquire, how particular Churches may be known to be the true Churches of Christ; whereof he determins thus, Illas igitur, etc. Those Churches therefore do we acknowledge for the true Churches of Christ, in which, first of all, the pure Doctrine of the Gospel is preached, heard, admitted; and so only admitted, that there is neither place nor ear given to the contrary. For both these are the just Property of the flock or sheep of Christ; namely, both to hear the voice of their own Pastor, and to reject the voice of strangers, John 10. 4. In which, secondly, the Sacraments instituted by Christ are lawfully, and (as much as may be) according to Christ's institution, administered and received; and therefore, in which the Sacraments devised by men are not admitted and allowed. In which, lastly, the Discipline of Christ hath the due place; that is, where both publicly and privately charitable care is had, both by Admonitions, Corrections, and at last (if need be) by Excommunications, that the Commandments of God be duly kept, and that all persons live soberly, justly, and piously, to the glory of God, and edification of their Neighbour. Thus he: wherein who sees not how directly he aims both at the justifying of our Churches, and the cashiering of the Roman, which is palpably guilty of the violation of these wholesome Rules? And indeed it must needs be said, if we bring the Roman Church to this touch, she is cast for a mere counterfeit; she is as far from Truth, as Truth is from Falsehood. Now by this time you go away with an opinion that Learned Zanchy is my professed Adversary, and hath directly condemned my Position, of the Trueness and Visibility of the Roman Church. Have but patience, I beseech you, to read what the same excellent Author writes in his golden Preface to that noble Work, De natura Dei, where this question is clearly and punctually decided. There you shall find, that having passed through the woeful and gloomy offuscations of the Church of God in all former Ages, he descending to the darkness of the present Babylon, concludes thus, to have no less ceased to be the Church of Christ, than those Eastern Deinde non potuit Satan, etc. Moreover, Satan could not in the very Roman Church do what he listed, as he had done in the Eastern; to bring all things to such pass as that it should no more have the form of a Christian Church: for, in spite of Satan, that Church retained still the chief Foundations of the Faith, although weakened with the Doctrines of men; it retained the public Preaching of the Word of God, though in many places misunderstood, and misconstrued; the invocation of the Name of Christ, though joined also with the invocation of dead men; the administration of Baptism, instituted by Christ himself, howsoever defiled with the addition of many Superstitions. So as, together with the Symbol of the Covenant, the Covenant itself remained still in her, I mean in all the Churches of the West; no otherwise than it did in the Church of Israel, even after that all things were in part profaned by Jeroboam and other impious and idolatrous Kings, upon the defection made by them from the Church and Tribe of Juda. For neither do I assent to them which would have the Church of Rome Churches which afterwards turned Mahometan. What Church was ever more corrupt than the Church of the Ten Tribes? yet we learn from the Scriptures that it was still the Church of God. And how doth Saint Paul call that Church wherein Antichrist (he saith) shall sit, the Temple of God? Neither is it any Baptism at all, that is administered out of the Church of Christ. The Wife that is an Adulteress doth not cease to be a Wife, unless being despoiled of her marriage-ring, she be manifestly divorced. The Church of Rome therefore is yet the Church of Christ; but what manner of Church? Surely so corrupted and depraved, and with so great tyranny oppressed, that you can neither with a good Conscience partake with them in their holy things, nor safely dwell amongst them. Thus he again: wherein you see he speaks as home for me as I could devise to speak for myself, and as appositely professeth to oppose the contrary.  
Look now how this Learned Author may be reconciled to his own pen; and by the very same way shall my pen be reconciled with others. Either he agrees not with himself, or else in his sense I agree with my gainsayers. Nothing is more plain, then that he in that former speech, and all other Classic Authors that speak in that Key, mean by a True Church, a sound, pure, 
Ibid. Praefat. de nat. Dei.  right-believing Church; so as their vera is rather verax. Zanchie explicates the term, whiles he joins veram & puram together; so as in this construction it is no true Church that is an unsound one; as if truth of Existence were all one with truth of Doctrine. In this sense whosoever shall say the Church of Rome is a true Church, I say he calls evil good, and is no better than a teacher of lies. But if we measure the true Being of a Visible Church by the direct maintenance of Fundamental Principles, though by consequences indirectly overturned, and by the possession of the Word of God and his Sacraments, though not without foul adulteration; what judicious Christian can but with me subscribe to Learned Zanchius; that the Church of Rome hath yet the true Visibility of a Church of Christ? What should I need to press the latitude and multiplicity of sense of the word Church? there is no one term that I know in all use of Speech so various. If in a large sense it be taken to comprehend the Society of all that profess Christian Religion through the whole world, howsoever impured, who can deny this title to the Roman? If in a strict sense it be taken (as it is by Zanchius here, and all those Divines who refuse to give this style to the Synagogue of Rome) for the Company of Elect Faithful men gathered into one mystical Body under one Head Christ, washed by his Blood, justified by his Merits, sanctified by his Spirit, conscionably waiting upon the true Ordinances of God in his pure Word and holy Sacraments, who can be so shameless as to give this title to the Roman Church? Both these sentences than are equally true, The Church of Rome is yet a true Church in the first sense; The Church of Rome long since ceased to be a true Church in the second. As those friendly Soldiers therefore of old said to their fellows, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; why fight we? Stay, stay, dear brethren, for God's sake, for his Church's sake, for your Soul's sake, stay these busy and unprofitable litigations; put up on both sides your angry pens; turn your Swords into Siths, to cut down the rank corruptions of the Roman Church, and your Spears into Mattocks, to beat down the walls of this mystical Babylon. There are enemies enough abroad, let us be friends at home. But if our sense be the same, you will ask why our terms vary, and why we have chosen to fall upon that manner of expression which gives advantage to the Adversary, offence to our own. Christian Reader, let me beseech thee in the bowels of Christ to weigh well this matter, and then tell me why such offence, such advantage should be rather given by my words, then by the same words in the mouth of Luther, of Calvin, of Zanchie, Junius, Plessee, Hooker, Andrews, Field, Crakenthorp, Bedell, and that whole cloud of Learned and Pious Authors who have without exception used the same language; and why more by my words now, then twenty years ago, at which time I published the same Truth in a more full and liberal expression. Wise and charitable Christians may not be apt to take offence where none is given. As for any advantage that is hereby given to the Adversaries, they may put it in their eye, and see never the worse. Lo, say they, we are of the true visible Church; this is enough for us; why are we forsaken, why are we persecuted, why are we solicited to a change? Alas, poor souls! do they not know that Hypocrites, lewd persons, Reprobates, are no less members of the true visible Church? what gain they by this but a deeper damnation? To what purpose did the Jews cry, The Temple of the Lord, whiles they despited the Lord of that Temple? Is the Seaweed ever the less vile, because it is dragged up together with good fish? They are of the visible Church, such as it is: what is this but to say, they are neither Jews, nor Turks, nor Pagans; but misbelievers, damnably Heretical in opinion, shamefully Idolatrous in practice? Let them make their best of this just Eulogy, and triumph in this style; may we never prosper if we envy them this glory. Our care shall be, that besides the Church sensible, 
Epist. l. 2. resp. ad Catabaptist.  (as Zuinglius distinguisheth) we may be of the Church spiritual; and not resting in a fruitless Visibility, we may find ourselves lively limbs of the mystical body of Christ: which only condition shall give us a true right to Heaven; whiles fashionable Profession in vain cries, Lord, Lord, and is barred out of those blessed gates with an I know you not.  
Neither may the Reader think that I affect to go byways of speech: no, I had not taken this path, unless I had found it both more beaten and fairer. I am not so unwise, to teach the Adversary what disadvantage I conceive to be given to our most just Cause by the other manner of explication. Let it suffice to say, that this form of defence more fully stops the Adversaries mouth in those two main and envious Scandals which he casts upon our holy Religion, Defection from the Church and Innovation; than which no suggestion hath wont to be more prevalent with weak and ungrounded hearts. What we further win by this not more charitable than safe Tenet, I had rather it should be silently conceived by the judicious, then blazoned by my free pen. Shortly, in this state of the Question, our gain is as clear as the Adversaries loss; our ancient Truth triumphs over their upstart Errors, our Charity over their merciless Presumptions. Fear not therefore, dear Brethren, where there is no room for danger; suspect not fraud where there is nothing but plain, honest simplicity of intentions; censure not where there is the same Truth, clad in a different, but more easy, habit of words. But if any man's fervent zeal shall rather draw him to the liking of that other rougher and harder way, so as in the mean time he keep within the bounds of Christian Charity, I tax him not: let every man abound in his own sense; only let our hearts and tongues and hands conspire together in peace with ourselves, in war with our common enemies.  
Thus far have I (Right Honourable) in a desire of peace, poured out myself into a plain explication and easy accordance. Those whom I strive to satisfy, are only mistakers; whose censures if some man would have either laughed out or despised, yet I have condescended to take off by a serious deprecation and just defence.  
It is an unreasonable motion to request minds prepossessed with Prejudice to hear Reason. Whole Volumes are nothing to such as have contented themselves only to take up Opinions upon trust, and will hold them because they know where they had them. In vain should I spend myself in beating upon such anviles; but for those ingenuous Christians which will hold an ear open for Justice and Truth, I have said enough, if ought at all needed.  
Alas, my Lord, I see, and grieve to see it; it is my Rochet that hath offended, and not I; in another habit I long since published this and more without dislike; it is this colour of innocence that hath bleared some overtender eyes. Wherein I know not whether I should more pity their Error, or applaud my own Sufferings. Although I may not say with the Psalmist, What hath the righteous done? let me (I beseech your Lordship) upon this occasion have leave to give a little vent to my just grief in this point.  
The other day I fell upon a Latin Pamphlet, homely for style, tedious for length, zealously uncharitable for stuff, wherein the Author (only wise in this, that he would be unknown) in a grave fierceness flies in the face of our English Prelacy; not so much inveighing against their Persons, (which he could be content to reverence) as their very Places. I blest myself to see the case so altered. Heretofore the Person had wont to bear off many blows from the Function; now the very Function wounds the Person. In what case are we, when that which should command respect brands us? What black Art hath raised up this spirit of Aerius from his pit? Woe is me, that zeal should breed such monsters of conceit. It is the Honour, the Pomp, the Wealth, the Pleasure (he saith) of the Episcopal Chair that is guilty of the depravation of our Calling; and if himself were so overlayed with Greatness, he should suspect his own Fidelity. Alas, poor man! at what distance doth he see us? Foggy Air useth to represent every Object far bigger than it is. Our Saviour in his Temptation upon the Mount had only the Glory of those Kingdoms showed to him by that subtle Spirit, not the Cares and vexations: Right so are our Dignities exhibited to these envious beholders; little do these men see the Toils and Anxieties that attend this supposedly-pleasing eminence.  
All the revenge that I would wish to this uncharitable Censurer should be this, that he might be but for a while adjudged to this so glorious seat of mine; that so his experience might taste the bewitching Pleasures of this envied Greatness: he should well find more danger of being over-spent with work, then of languishing with ease and delicacy.  
For me, I need not appeal to Heaven, eyes enough can witness how few free hours I have enjoyed since I put on these Robes of Sacred Honour. Insomuch as I could find in my heart, with holy Gregory, to complain of my change; were it not that I see these public troubles are so many acceptable services to my God, whose Glory is the end of my Being. Certainly, my Lord, if none but earthly respects should sway me, I should heartily wish to change this Palace (which the Providence of God and the Bounty of my Gracious Sovereign hath put me into) for my quiet Cell at Waltham, where I had so sweet leisure to enjoy God, your Lordship, and myself. But I have followed the calling of my God, to whose service I am willingly sacrificed; and must now, in an holy obedience to his Divine Majesty, with what cheerfulness I may, ride out all the storms of Envy, which unavoidably will alight upon the least appearance of a conceived Greatness. In the mean time, whatever I may seem to others, I was never less in my own apprehensions; and, were it not for this attendance of Envy, could not yield myself any whit greater than I was. Whatever I am, that good God of mine make me faithful to him, and compose the unquiet spirits of men to a conscionable care of the public peace: with which Prayer, together with the apprecation of all happiness to your Lordship and all yours, I take leave, and am  
Your Lordships truly devoted in all hearty Observance and Duty, JOS. EXON.   

TO THE Right Reverend Father in GOD, THOMAS LORD Bishop of Coventry and Litchfield.  
MY Lord, may your leisure serve you to read over this poor sheet of Paper, and to censure it. Your Name is left out in the Catalogue of some other famous Divines mentioned in the body of it, that you might not be forestalled. I suffer for that wherein yourself, amongst many renowned Orthodox Doctors of the Church, are my partner. As if you had not already said it enough, I beseech your Lordship, say once more what you think of the true Being and Visibility of the Roman Church. Your excellent and zealous Writings have justly won you a constant reputation of great Learning and no less Sincerity, and have placed you out of the reach of suspicion: No man can, no man dare misdoubt your decision. If you find any one word amiss in this Explication, spare me not; I shall gladly kiss your Rod, and hold your utmost severity a favour. But if you here meet with no other than the words of a commonly-professed Truth, acquit me so far as to say, there is no reason I should suffer alone. And let the wilful or ignorant mistakers know that they wound Innocence, and through my sides strike their best friends. I should not herein desire you to tender my Fame, if the injury done to my name did not reflect upon my holy Station, upon my well-meant Labours, upon almost all the famous and well-deserving Authors that have stood for the Truth of God; and lastly, if I did not see this mistaken Quarrel to threaten much prejudice to the Church of God, whose Peace is no less dear to us both then our Lives. In earnest desire and hope of some few satisfactory lines from your Reverend hand, in answer to this my bold, yet just, suit, I take leave, and am  
Your much devoted and loving Brother JOS. EXON.   

TO THE Right Reverend Father in GOD, My very good Lord and Brother, JOSEPH Lord Bishop of EXON, these.  
RIght Reverend, and as dearly beloved, Brother, I have (I confess) been too long in your Lordship's debt for these Letters, which are now to Apologise for me, that although I had my payment ready and in numeratis at the first reading of your Reconciler, yet I reserved my Answer until I had perused the two other Books and seconds, that so I might return my payment cum foenore.  
In that your Lordship's Tractate I could not but observe the lively Image of yourself; that is (according to the general interpretation of all sound Professors of the Gospel of christ) of a most Orthodox Divine. And now remembering the Accordance your Lordship hath with others touching the Argument of your Book, I must needs reflect upon myself, who have long since defended the same Point in the defence of many others. I do therefore much blame the Petulcity of whatsoever Author that should dare to impute a Popish affection to him whom (besides his excellent Writings and Sermons) God's visible, eminent and resplendent Graces of Illumination, Zeal, Piety and Eloquence have made truly Honourable and glorious in the Church of Christ. Let me say no more; I suffer in your suffering, not more in consonancy of Judgement then in the sympathy of my Affection. Go on, dear Brother, with your deserved Honour in God's Church with holy courage, knowing that the dirty feet of an adversary, the more they tread and rub, the more lustre they give the figure graven in Gold. Our Lord Jesus preserve us to the glory of his saving Grace.  
Your Lordship's unanimous friend and Brother, THO. Covent. and Litchfield.   

TO THE Right Reverend Father in GOD, JOHN LORD Bishop of SALISBURY.  
MY Lord, I send you this little Pamphlet for your censure. It is not credible how strangely I have been traduced every where for that which I conceive to be the common Opinion of Reformed Divines, yea of reasonable men; that is, for affirming the true Being and Visibility of the Roman Church. You see how clearly I have endeavoured to explicate this harmless Position; yet I perceive some tough misunderstandings will not be satisfied. Your Lordship hath with great reputation spent many years in the Divinity-Chair of the famous University of Cambridge. Let me therefore beseech you, whose Learning and Sincerity is so throughly approved in God's Church, that you would freely (how shortly soever) express yourself in this Point: and if you find that I have deviated but one hairs breadth from the Truth, correct me: if not, free me by your just Sentence. What need I to entreat you to pity those, whose desires of faithful offices to the Church of God are unthankfully repaied with Suspicion and Slander? whose may not this case be? I had thought I had sufficiently in all my Writings, and in this very last Book of mine (whence this quarrel is picked) showed my fervent zeal for God's Truth against that Antichristian Faction of Rome; and yet I doubt not but your own ears can witness what I have suffered. Yea as if this calumny were not enough, there want not those whose secret whisper cast upon me the foul aspersions of another Sect, whose name is as much hated as little understood. My Lord, you know I had a place with you (though unworthy) in that famous Synod of Dort, where (howsoever sickness bereft me of the hours of a conclusive Subscription) yet your Lordship heard me with equal vehemency to the rest crying down the unreasonableness of that way. God so love me as I do the tranquillity and happiness of his Church; yet can I not so overaffect it, that I would sacrifice one dram of Truth to it. To that good God do I appeal as the witness of my sincere heart to his whole Truth, and no-less-then-ever-zealous detestation of all Popery and Pelagianism. Your Lordship will be pleased to pardon this importunity, and to vouchsafe your speedy Answer to  
Your much devoted and faithful Brother JOS. EXON.   

TO THE Right Reverend Father in GOD, JOSEPH Lord Bishop of EXON, these.  
My LORD;  
YOU desire my Opinion concerning an Assertion of yours, whereat some have taken offence. The Proposition was this [That the Roman Church remains yet a True Visible Church.] The occasion which makes this an ill-sounding Proposition in the ears of Protestants (especially such as are not throughly acquainted with School Distinctions) is the usual acception of the word True in our English Tongue. For though men skilled in Metaphysics hold it for a Maxim, Ens, Verum, Bonum convertuntur: yet with us, he which shall affirm such a one is a true Christian, a true Gentleman, a true Scholar, or the like, he is conceived not only to ascribe Trueness of Being unto all these, but those due Qualities or requisite Actions whereby they are made commendable or praiseworthy in their several kinds. In this sense the Roman Church is no more a True Church in respect of Christ, or those due Qualities and proper Actions which Christ requires, than an arrant Whore is a true and loyal Wife unto her Husband. I durst upon mine oath be one of your Compurgators, that you never intended to adorn that Strumpet with the title of a true Church in this meaning. But your own Writings have so fully cleared you herein, that suspicion itself cannot reasonably suspect you in this Point. I therefore can say no more concerning your mistaken Proposition then this, If in that Treatise wherein it was delivered, the Antecedents or Consequents were such as served fitly to lead the Reader into that Sense, which under the word True comprehendeth only Truth of Being or existency, and not the due Qualities of the thing or Subject, you have been causelessly traduced. But on the other side, if that Proposition comes in ex abrupto, or stands solitary in your Discourse, you cannot marvel though, by taking the word True according to the more ordinary acception, your true meaning was mistaken. In brief, your Proposition admits a true sense; and in that sense is by the best Learned in our Reformed Church not disallowed. For the Being of a Church does principally stand upon the gracious action of God, calling men out of Darkness and Death unto the Participation of Light and Life in Christ Jesus. So long as God continues this Calling unto any people, though they (as much as in them lies) darken this Light, and corrupt the means which should bring them to Life and Salvation in Christ; yet where God calls men unto the Participation of Life in Christ by the Word and by the Sacraments, there is the true Being of a Christian Church, let men be never so false in their Expositions of God's Word, or never so untrusty in mingling their own Traditions with God's Ordinances. Thus the Church of the Jews lost not her Being of a Church when she became an Idolatrous Church. And thus under the government of the Scribes and Pharisees, who voided the Commandments of God by their own Traditions, there was yet standing a true Church, in which Zacharias, Elizabeth, the Virgin Mary, and our Saviour himself was born, who were members of that Church, and yet participated not in the Corruptions thereof. Thus to grant that the Roman was and is a True Visible Christian Church, (though in Doctrine a False, and in Practice an Idolatrous Church) is a true Assertion, and of greater use and necessity in our Controversy with Papists about the Perpetuity of the Christian Church, then is understood by those who gainsay it. This in your Reconciler is so well explicated, as if any shall continue in traducing you in regard of that Proposition so explained, I think it will be only those who are better acquainted with wrangling then reasoning, and deeper in love with Strife than Truth. And therefore be no more troubled with other men's groundless suspicions, than you would be in like case with their idle Dreams. Thus I have enlarged myself beyond my first intent. But my love to yourself, and the assurance of your constant love unto the Truth, enforced me thereunto. I rest always  
Your loving Brother, JO. SARUM. Jan. 30. 1628.   

TO THE Reverend and Learned MASTER DOCTOR PRIDEAUX, Professor of Divinity in OXFORD, and Rector of EXETER College.  
WOrthy Master Doctor Prideaux, all our little world here takes notice of your Worth and Eminency, who have long furnished the Divinity Chair in that famous University with mutual grace and honour. Let me entreat you upon the perusal of this sorry sheet of Paper, to impart yourself freely to me in your Censure; and to express to me your clear Judgement concerning the true Being and Visibility of the Roman Church. You see in what sense I profess to hold it, neither was any other ever in my thoughts: Say, I beseech you, whether you think any learned Orthodox Divine can, with any colour of Reason, maintain a contradiction hereunto. And if you find (as I doubt not) much necessity and use of this true and safe Tenet, help me to add (if you please) a further supply of Antidotes to those Popish Spiders that would fain suck Poison out of this Herb. It was my earnest desire that this satisfactory Reconcilement might have stilled all tongues and pens concerning this ill-raised brabble: but I see to my grief how much men care for themselves more than peace. I suffer, and the Church is disquieted; your Learning and Gravity will be ready to contribute to a seasonable Pacification. In desire and expectation of your speedy Answer, I take my leave, and am  
Your very loving Friend and Fellow-labourer, JOS. EXON.   

TO THE Right Reverend Father in GOD, And my very good LORD, JOSEPH Bishop of EXCESTER.  
Right Reverend Father in GOD;  
UPon the receipt of your Reconciler, which it pleased you to send me, I took occasion (as my manifold distractions would permit) to peruse what had been said on both sides concerning the now-being of the Roman Church. Wherein I must profess that I could not but wonder at the needless Exceptions against your Tenet, you affirming no new thing in that passage misliked in your Old Religion. And this your Advertisement (afterward) so fully and punctually cleareth, and your Reconciler so acquitteth it, with such satisfying ingenuity, that I cannot imagine they have considered it well, or mean well, that shall persist to oppose it. For who perceives not, that your Lordship leaves no more to Rome then our best Divines ever since the Reformation have granted? If their speeches have been sometimes seemingly different, their meaning hath been always the same, that in respect of the common Truths yet professed among the Papists, they may and aught to be termed a True Visible Church, in opposition to Jews, Turks and Pagans, who directly deny the Foundation; howsoever their Antichristian additions make them no better than the Synagogue of Satan. This being agreed upon by those whose Judgement we have good reason to follow (cited in your Advertisement, and by others,) they do an ill office to our Church (in my opinion) who set them at odds in this Point that are so excellently reconciled; and give more advantage to the Adversary by quarrelling with our Worthies, than the Adversary is like to get by our acknowledgement, that they are such a miserable Church as we discover them to be.  
What I have thought long since in this behalf, it appeareth in my Lecture De Visibilitate Ecclesiae; and as often as this hath come in question in our public Disputes, we determine here no otherwise then your Lordship hath stated it. And yet we trust to give as little advantage to Popery as those that do detest it; and are as circumspect to maintain our received Doctrine and Discipline, without the least Scandal to the weakest, as those that would seem most forward.  
That distinction of Rome's case before and since the Council of Trent, holds not to dis-Church it, but shows it rather to be more incurable now then heretofore.  
Neither find I any particulars objected, which those Worthy men have not sufficiently cleared that have justified your Assertion. Not to trouble therefore your weightier affairs with my needless interposition: as that Controversy about the Altar (Josuah 22.) had presently a fair end upon the full understanding of the good meaning on both sides; so I trust in God this shall have: In which I am so persuaded, that if it were to be discussed there after our Scholastical manner, it might well be defended either pro or con, without prejudice to the Truth, according to the full stating which your Advertisement and Reconciler have afforded. And thus, with tender of my due Observance and Prayers for your happiness, I rest  
Your Lordships in Christ to be commanded, JO. PRIDEAUX. From Exon Coll. Martii 9 No.   

TO My Reverend and Learned Friend, MASTER DOCTOR PRIMROSE, PREACHER to the FRENCH CHURCH in LONDON.  
WOrthy Master Doctor Primrose, You have been long acknowledged a great Light in the Reformed Churches of France, having for many years shined in your Orb, the famous Church of Bordeaux, with notable effects and singular approbation both for Judgement and Sincerity; both which also your Learned Writings have well approved; so as your Sentence cannot be liable to the danger of any suspicion: Let me entreat you to declare freely what you hold concerning the Trueness and Visibility of the Roman Church as it is by me explicated; and withal to impart your knowledge of the common Tenet of those foreign Divines with whom you have so long conversed concerning this Point, which (if I mistake not) only a stubborn ignorant will needs make litigious. It grieves my Soul to see the Peace of the Church troubled with so absurd a misprision. In expectation of your Answer I take leave, and commend you and your holy Labours to the blessing of our God. Farewell. From  
Your loving Brother and Fellow-labourer, JOS. EXON.   

TO THE Right Reverend Father in GOD, And my very good Lord, JOSEPH Bishop of EXCESTER.  
Right Reverend Father in God,  
I Have been so busied about my necessary Studies for preaching on Sunday, Tuesday, and this Thursday, that I could not give sooner a full Answer to your Lordship's Letter which I received on Friday last at night, whereby I am desired to declare freely what I think concerning the Trueness and Visibility of the present Roman Church as it is by your Lordship explicated, and what is the common Tenet of the foreign Divines with whom I have so long conversed beyond the Seas concerning that Point. I might answer in two lines, that I have read your Reconciler, and judge your Opinion concerning that Point to be learned, sound and true. Though that if I durst favour an officious lie, I would willingly give my Suffrage to those Divines, which out of a most fervent Zeal to God and perfect hatred to Idolatry, hold that the Roman Church is in all things BA●EL, in nothing BETHEL. And as they which seek to set right a crooked Tree, bow it the clean contrary way to make it strait; so to recover and pull out of the fire of eternal Damnation the Roman Christians, I would gladly portray them with sable colours, and make their Religion more black in their own eyes than they are in ours, the hellish-coloured faces of the flat-nosed Ethiopians, or to the Spaniard the monstrous Sambenit of the Inquisition.  
But fearing the true reproach cast by Job in his friends teeth, Will ye speak wickedly for God, 
Job 13. 7.  and talk deceitfully for him? and knowing that we must not speak a lie, no not against the Devil which is the Father of lies; I say that the Roman Church is both BABEL and BETHEL; and as God's Temple was in Christ's days at once the house of Prayer, 
Matth. 21. 13.  and a den of thiefs, so she is in our day's God's Temple and the habitation of Devils, 
2 Thes. 2. 4.  the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird. 
Rev. 18. 1, 2.  Which I prove thus:  
The Church is to be considered three manner of ways. First, according to God's right which he keepeth over her, and maintaineth in her by the common and external Calling of his Word and Sacraments. Secondly, according to the pure Preaching of the Word, and external Obedience in hearing, receiving, and keeping the Word sincerely preached. Thirdly, according to the election of Grace, and the personal Calling, which hath perpetually the inward working of the Holy Ghost joined with the outward Preaching of the Word, 
Acts 16. 14.  as in Lydia. Thence cometh the answer of a good conscience toward God, 
1 Pet. 3. 21.  by the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.  
To begin with the last Consideration: These only are God's Church which are Jews inwardly in the spirit, 
Rom. 2. 28, 29.  as well as outwardly in the letter, whose praise is not of men, 
John 1. 47.  but of God; who are Nathanaels', and true Israelites, in whom there is no guile; 
2 Tim. 2. 19  invisible to all men, visible to God alone, who knoweth them that are his; 
1 Cor. 2. 12.  and each of them to themselves, because they have received the Spirit which is of God, that they might know the things which are freely given them of God, 
Rev. 2. 17.  and the white stone and new name, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it. Of this Church, called by the Apostle the people which God foreknew, Rom. 11. 2. there is no controversy amongst our Divines.  
In the second Consideration these only are the true visible Church of God, amongst whom the Word of God is truly preached without the mixture of humane Traditions, the holy Sacraments are celebrated according to their first institution, and the people consenteth to be led and ruled by the word of God. 
Exod. 19 7, 8. 24. 3, 7.  As when Moses laid before the faces of the people, all the words which the Lord commanded him; And all the people answered together, All that the Lord hath spoken we will do. 
Exod. 34. 27.  The Lord said unto Moses, Write thou these words: for after the tenor of these words I have made a covenant with thee and with Israel. 
Deut. 26. 17▪ 18.  And Moses said to the people; Thou hast avouched this day the Lord to be thy God, and to walk in his ways, and to keep his Statures and his Commandments and his Judgements, and to hearken unto his voice: And the Lord hath avouched thee this day to be his peculiar people, as he hath promised thee, and that thou shouldest keep all his Commandments. This condition of the Commandment God did often inculcate into their ears by his Prophets: 
Jer. 7. ●3. 11. 4.  As when he said to them by Jeremiah, This thing commanded I them, saying, Obey my voice, and I will be your God, and ye shall be my people; and walk ye in all the ways that I have commanded you, that it may be well unto you.  
So in the Gospel Christ saith, 
John 10. 27, 5.  My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: But a stranger will they not follow, but will fly from him; for they know not the voice of strangers: where he giveth the first mark of the Visible true and pure Church, to wit, the pure Preaching and Hearing of Christ's voice. 
1 John 4. 6.  As likewise St. John saith, He that knoweth God, heareth us: Hereby know we the Spirit of Truth, and the spirit of Error.  
Again, 
John 13. 35.  the Lord saith, By this shall all men know that ye are my Disciples, if ye love one another, pointing out the Concord and holy agreement which is among the Brethren, as another mark of the Orthodox Church. As likewise when he saith, Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in Heaven, 
Matt. 5. 16.  he showeth that good Works are the visible mark of the true Orthodox Church. The true Preaching and reverend Hearing of the Gospel is a visible mark of our Faith and Hope; our Concord in the Lord is a mark of our Charity; our good Works are real and sensible testimonies of our inward Faith, Hope and Charity. Where we find these three Signs, we know certainly that there is Christ's true Church; and judge charitably, that is probably, that every one in whom we see these outward tokens of Christ's true and Orthodox Church, is a true member of the mystical body of the Lord Jesus. I say charitably, because outward marks may be outwardly counterfeited by Hypocrites; as it is said of Israel, 
Ps. 78. 36. 37.  They did flatter with their mouth, and they lied unto him with their tongues; For their heart was not right with him, neither were they steadfast in his Covenant: and of many of those that followed our Saviour, 
John 2. 23, 24.  Many believed in his Name, when they saw the Miracles which he did: But Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he knew all men.  
Therefore when the people of Israel departed from the Covenant, and by their Idolatry broke, as much as in them lay, the contract of Marriage between them and God, they ceased in that behalf to be Gods true Spouse and people, though still they called him their Husband and their God. When they made a molten Calf in the wilderness, and worshipped the works of their own fingers, God said to Moses, Thy people which thou broughtest out of the Land of Egypt have corrupted themselves, 
Exod. 32. 7.  and not my people. And Moses, to show that on their part they had broken the Covenant, 
32. 19  broke the Tables of the Covenant. When under Achaz they did worse, 
Esay 1● 4, 10, 21.  Isaiah called them children that are corrupted, their Prince and Governors, Rulers of Sodom, themselves people of Gomorrah, their holy City an Harlot. 
Mi●h. 2. 7. 8.  And God about the same time cried unto them by Micah, Thou that art named the house of Jacob, thou that wast of late my people: and to the Ten Tribes by Hosea, 
Ho●●●●. 9  Ye are not my people, and I will not be your God. After the same manner Christ said to the Jews, which gloried and made their boast that God was their Father, 
John 8● 42, 44.  If God were your Father, ye would love me: Ye are of your father the Devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do.  
If we speak of the Romish Church according to this Distinction, defining the Church by the keeping of the Covenant in pureness of Doctrine and Holiness of life, God himself hath stripped her of that glorious name, calling her spiritually Sodom, 
Rev. 11. 8.  Egypt, and Babylon: Sodom, in the pollution of her most filthy life; 
14. 8.  Egypt, in the abominable multitude of her filthy Idols; Babylon, in the cruel and bloody oppression and persecution of the Saints. And because she was to call herself as falsely as arrogantly, the Mother-Church, the Angel calleth her The Mother of Harlots and abominations of the Earth: 
17. 5.  Because also she was to bring and magnify herself in the multitude of her Saints, 
6.  he saith that she is drunk with the blood of the Saints, and with the blood of the Martyrs of Jesus. And taking from her the name of the Church, which she challengeth privatively to all other Christian Congregations, 
18. 2.  he nameth her, as I have already said, The habitation of Devils, the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful Bird.  
In the first sense Moses said to God, 
Exod. 32. 11.  Why doth thy wrath wax hot against Thy people? because although they had broken the Covenant on their part by the works of their hands, God had not as yet broken it on his part. Jeremiah in the greatest heat of their monstrous Idolatries prayed after the same manner, 
Jer. 14. 2●.  Do not abhor us, for thy Names sake, do not disgrace the Throne of thy glory: Remember, break not thy Covenant with us: and Esaiah, 
Esay 64. 8, 9  Thou art our Father, we are ALL thy people. For so long as God calls a people to him by his Word and Sacraments, and honours them with his Name, so long as they consent to be called by his Name, professing it outwardly, they remain his people, although they answer not his Calling, neither in soundness of Faith, nor in Holiness of life: Even as rebellious Subjects are still true Subjects on the King's behalf, who loseth not his right by their Rebellion: nay, on their own also in some manner, because they still keep and profess his name, and give not themselves to any foreign Prince. Did David lose his right by the Rebellion of the people under his son Absalon? And therefore when the King subdueth these Traitors, he carrieth himself towards them, both in forgiving and in punishing, as their lawful and natural Prince, and not as a Conqueror of new Subjects. So as a Strumpet is a true Wife, so long as her Husband consents to dwell with her, and she is named by his name; and as Agar, when she fled from her Mistress Sarai, was still Sarai's maid, 
Gen. 16. 8.  as she confessed, saying, I flee from the face of my mistress Sarai: In like manner a rebellious, fugitive and whoring Church, is still a true Church, so long as God keeping the right of a King, of a Master, of a Husband over her, giveth her not the bill of divorcement, but consents that his Name be called upon her, and she still calleth herself his Kingdom, 
Esay 58. 1.  his Maid, his Wife. Thus God calleth the Jews His people, even then when he said they were not his people, because he had not broken the band of Marriage with them, and put them away by divorcement. Therefore he said unto them, 
50. 1.  Where are the letters of your Mother's divorcement, whom I have put away? Meaning, he had not given unto them a writing of divorcement, but did still acknowledge them to be his Spouse, notwithstanding their manifold and most filthy whoredoms with false gods, which he charged them with, 
Jer. 3. 2, 3, 4, 14.  saying unto them by Jeremiah, Thou hast polluted the Land with thy whoredoms and with thy wickedness: Thou hast a whore's forehead, and refusest to be ashamed. Wilt thou not for this time cry unto me, My Father, thou art the Guide of my youth? Turn, O backsliding children, saith the Lord, for I am married unto you; or, according to the French Translation, I have the right of an husband over you. So after he had called the Ten Tribes Loruhama and Lohammi, 
Hos. ●. 6, 9  saying he would no more have mercy upon them, and that they were not his people, he calleth them his people; 
4. 12.  My people, saith he, asketh counsel at their stocks, and their stuff answereth them.  
But after that God had scattered them among the Medes and other Nations of Assyria, and broken his Covenant with them, they became not only in the second, but also in the first sense, Jesrehel, and no more Israel, Loruhama, and no more Ruhama, Lohammi, and no more Hammi. Then was fulfilled the Prophecy, 
Hos. 2. 2.  Plead with your Mother, plead: for she is not my wife, neither am I her husband. So the Jews, which were God's people in the midst of their Idolatry, since they have denied Christ to be the Messias, the Mediator between God and them, and have crucified the Lord of Glory, are no more God's people, although they beg still that name. They are, saith Christ, 
Rev. 3. 9  the Synagogue of Satan: They say they are Jews, and are not, 
Rom. 11. 17.  but do lie. For seeing God hath broken them off, and grafted the Gentiles in their room, they qualify themselves God's people as falsely and injuriously, as a Whore lawfully divorced by her Husband calleth herself his Wife.  
To apply this to the Roman Church, which hath adulterated and corrupted the whole service of God, and is more adulterous than was at any time Juda or Ephraim, and therefore is not a true visible Church in the second sense; I say she is one in some sort in the first. In her God doth still keep his true word in the Old and New Testament, as the contract of his Marriage with her. In her is the true Creed, the true Decalogue, the true Lords Prayer, which Luther calleth the kernal of Christianity. In her Christ is preached, though corruptly. In her the Trinity and Incarnation of Christ are believed. In her the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost are prayed unto, though in an unknown tongue to the most part. In her the little Children are Baptised in the Name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. And no Divine will deny that their Baptism is a true Sacrament, whereby their Children are born to God, seeing we do not rebaptise them, where leaving her, they adjoin themselves to us. Who then can deny that she is a true Church? For out of the Church there is no Baptism, and the Church alone beareth children to God. In her sitteth the man of sin, the son of perdition, who sitteth in the Temple of God, 
2 Thess. 24.  which is the Church. It's granted that she is Babylon in the second sense: 
Rev. 18. 4.  and God's people is commanded to come out of Babylon. What is God's people but God's Church, which forsaketh her successively; as of old the typical people came out of the typical Babylon, not at once, but at many several times? If then we apply unto her God's commandment, exhorting her to come out of Babylon, either we understand not what we say, or we acknowledge her to be God's people, that is, God's Church, though Idolatrous, Rebellious and Disobedient. Neither shall she cease to be God's people in this sense till the coming of that blessed day, when the air shall rebound with the shouting of the Saints, 
Rev. 14. 8.  Babylon is fallen, she is fallen, that great City, because she made all Nations drunk with the wine of the wrath of her fornication.  
I say then, that as Jerusalem was at the same time the holy City, and a Harlot; the Temple was Bethel and Bethaven, God's House and a house of Iniquity; the Jews were God's people and no people, God's children and the Devils; Ephraim was Hammi and Lohammi, in divers respects: even so the Romish Church is both Bethel and Babel; Bethel from God, calling her to the communion of his grace in Christ by his Word and Sacrament of Baptism; Babel from herself, because she hath made a gallimaufry of the Christian Religion, confounding pellmell her own Traditions with God's Word, her own Merits with Christ's, the blood of Martyrs with the blood of the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world, 
John 1, 29.  Purgatory with the same blood which purgeth us from all sin, 
1 John 1. 7.  Justification by Works with Justification by Faith only, 
Gal. 2. 16.  Praying to the Creatures with praying to the Creator, Idols of men, women, beasts, Angels, with God's worship, the mediation of Saints with the mediation of him who is the surety of the New Testament, 
Heb. 7. 22, 25.  and is able to save to the uttermost all those that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them. Nay, as Calvin said truly, in the Romish Church Christ is scarcely known among the Saints, of whom some are in Heaven, as the Apostles, etc. some on Earth, as the Pope; some in Hell, as Saint Dominick, the firebrand of the war against the Albigeois, Saint Garnet, whom Tyborn sent to his own place, to be rewarded of the Gunpowder Treason; some did never die, because they had never the honour to live, as Saint Christopher, Saint Katherine, Saint Ur●ule, Saint Longin, who was a Spear, Saint Eloi, who was two couple of sharp nails, and many more of the same stuff. In a word, the roaring of the Gamards of Bahal is so loud in that Church, that Christ's voice is scant heard in her; and yet heard both in the mouth of these Babylonian builders, which understand not one another, and in the mouths of the people halting between Christ and the Pope their Bahal. And therefore in that behalf not the true, but a true Christian Church.  
This testimony is the praise of the most wonderful patience of God, who suffereth so long that common hackney to bear his name. It is her shame: As it is the shame of a Quean married to a good husband, to be convicted of running up and down after strangers. It's a vantage to us in our employment for her Conversion. For as when Agar had confessed truly, that she was Sarah 's maid, the Angel took her at her word, 
Gen. 16. 9  saying, Return to thy Mistress, and submit thyself to her, and persuaded her: Even so we take the Roman Church by the neck, when she confesseth that she is Christ's Church, as she is indeed, exhorting her to return unto Christ, to obey his word, to submit herself unto him, and to follow the true Faith of the ancient Catholic and Apostolic Church. Neither is it any vantage to her against us, to enforce us to return to her, or to upbraid us for forsaking her. For as Moses, when the people had committed Idolatry, took his Tabernacle, 
Exod. 33. 7.  and pitched it without the Camp, afar off from the Camp, breaking off all Communication with those which had broken the Covenant of the Lord their God, till they repented; as God said to Jeremiah of the Jews, 
Ezec 16. 25.  which had opened their legs to every one that passed by, and multiplied their whoredoms, Cast them out of my sight, and let them go forth: Let them return unto thee, 
Jer. 15.1, 19  but return not thou unto them; as Hosea said of Ephraim, 
Hos. 4. 17.  Ephraim is joined to Idols, let him alone: So Christ saith unto us, Come out of Babylon my people, 
Rev. 18. 4.  that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues. Her sins are a spiritual Leprosy: and we run away from leprous men, though true men, and our nearest and dearest Friends, crying what they are loath to cry, 
Leu. 13. 45.  Unclean, unclean, lest their breath should infect us. Her sins are Infidelity, not negative, but privative, not in whole, but in part; as S. Paul, a believing Jew, was in unbelief when he persecuted the Church: 
2 Co● 6. 14 15, 1●, 17, 18.  and S. Paul saith unto us, Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers, etc. Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing, and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, faith the Lord Almighty. A faithful Subject will not take a Traitor, though a Subject, by the hand, nor I a Papist in matter of his Religion: neither will honest women go unto the stews with the greatest Lady, though she be a great ones Wife.  
This I have ever taught privately, preached publicly, published in printed Books against Papists during these thirty three years of my Ministry in the French Churches, without any advantage to our Adversaries, without any contradiction of our Divines, without any exception taken against it by our Churches, or any particular among the Brethren, which all in their name preach and publish that they are of the same mind, calling themselves the Reformed Churches, and our Religion the Reformed Religion. For as the good Kings of Juda did not build a new Temple, call to God a new people, set up a new Religion, but repurge and cleanse the old Temple, restore the ancient Religion, exhorted God's people to shake off the new inventions of the new-patched Religion, and to return to the Lord their God by the old way which their Fathers had beaten, and Moses had traced unto them in the Law; 
Neh. 3. & 4.  and as Zorobabel, Esdras, Nehemiah, Jeshuah, builded the walls of Jerusalem upon the ancient Foundation, every man building next himself: even so the Protestant Divines have every one next himself, not builded a new Church upon a new Foundation, but repurged the ancient Church of Idolatry, Superstition, false Interpretations of the Scriptures and Traditions of men, whereof she was fuller than ever Augeas his Stable was full of muck; but beaten down, and burned with the fire of God's Word the walls of Wood, 
1 Cor. 3. 12.  Hay, Stubble, which the Babylonian builders had raised upon the old Foundation, which is Christ Jesus, and edified upon it a fair Palace of Silver, Gold, precious Stones. This same is the Opinion also of my Colleagues of the French Church of this City of London.  
If any self-conceited Christian thinketh this an advantage rather than a disparagement and disgrace to that punk the Roman Church, and taketh thereby occasion to persevere to be her Bawd or Stallion, and to run a whoring with her, I say with the Psalmist, 
Psal. 36. 3.  The wicked hath left off to be wise, and to do good; and with the Angel, 
Rev. 22. 11.  He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still. For neither must an honest heart speak a lie for the good that may come of it; nor conceal in time and place a necessary Truth for any evil that may ensue of it. If it harden more and more the flinty hearts of some unto death, it will soften and melt the iron hearts of others unto life; that seeing among us the mud and dirt of humane Traditions, wherewith the Pope and his Clergy had furred and soiled the bright-shining glass of the Gospel, wiped away from this heavenly mirror of God's favour, 
2 Cor. 3. 18.  they may come unto us, and beholding with open face, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, may be changed with us into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.  
Which last effect I pray with my heart your Reconciler may have with those that are children of Peace. And so recommending your Lordship, with all your learned, eloquent, sound and useful Labours to Gods most powerful blessing, and myself to the continuance of your godly Prayers and old Friendship, I remain for ever  
Your Lordship's most humble and affectionate Servant, GILBERT PRIMROSE. From London the 26. of February, 1629.   

To my Worthy and much respected Friend, Mr. H. CHOLMLEY.  
MAster Cholmley, I have perused your Learned and full Reply to Master Burton's Answer: wherein you have in a judicious eye abundantly righted yourself, and cleared a just Cause, so as the Reader would wonder where an Adversary might find ground to raise an opposition. But let me tell you, were i● a Book written by the Pen of an Angel from Heaven in this Subject, I should doubt whether to wish it public. How true, how just soever the plea be, I find (such is the self-love and partiality of our corrupt nature) the quarrel is enlarged by multiplying of words. When I see a Fire quenched with Oil, I will expect to see a Controversy of this nature stinted by public altercation. New matter still rises in the agitation, & gives hint to a fore-resolved Opposite of a fresh disquisition: So as we may sooner see an end of the common Peace, then of an unkindly jar in the Church; especially such a one as is fomented with a mistaken Zeal on the one side, and with a confidence of Knowledge on the other.  
Silence hath sometimes quieted such like misraised brabbles, never interchange of words. This very Question was on foot some forty years ago in the hot chase of great Authors; but whether through the ingenuity of the parties, or some overruling act of Divine Providence, it soon died without noise: so I wish it may now do. Rather let the weaker Title go away with the last word, than the Church shall be distracted. For that Position of mine which occasioned your Vindication, you see it sufficiently abetted and determined by so Reverend Authority as admits no exception: I dare say, no Learned Divine of our own Church or the foreign can but subscribe (in this our sense) to the Judgement of these Worthies. To draw forth therefore this cord of contention to any further length, were no less needless than prejudicial to the public peace. He is not worthy to be satisfied that will yet wrangle.  
As for those Personal aspersions that are cast upon you by Malice, be persuaded to despise them. These Western parts, where your reputation is deservedly precious, know your zeal for God's Truth no less fervent (though better governed) then the most fiery of your Censurers. No man more hateth Popish Superstition; only your fault is, that you do not more hate Error then Injustice, and cannot abide wrong measure offered to the worst enemy. Neither be you troubled with that idle exprobration of a Prebendary retribution; who would care for a contumely so void of truth? God knows that worthless gift was conferred upon you ere this task came into either of our thoughts; and whoso knows the entire respects betwixt us from our very Cradles till this day, may well think that a Prebend of three pounds by the year need not go for a Fee, where there is so much and so ancient cause of dearness. I am sorry to see such rancour under the coat of Zeal. Surely nothing but mere Malice can be guilty of this charge; no less than of that other envious challenge of your decay of Graces, of falling from your first Love, from industry to ease, from a weekly to a monthly preaching: when those that know the state of your Tiverton, the four-parted division of that charge, and your forced confinement to your own day by public authority, both Spiritual and Temporal, must needs acquit you, and cry down the wrong of an accuser. As for the vigour of God's good Graces in you, both common and sanctifying, all the Country are your ample witnesses. I that have interknown you from our childhood, cannot but profess to find the entrance of your age no less above the best of your youth in abilities then in time; and still no less fruitful in promises of increase, then in eminent performances.  
What need I urge this? your Adversaries do enough feel your worth. So as (to speak seriously) I cannot sufficiently wonder at the liberty of those men, who professing a strict conscience of their ways, dare let their Pens or Tongues loose to so injurious and uncharitable a detraction, whereof they know the just avenger is in Heaven. It should not be thus betwixt Brethren, no not with Enemies.  
For the main business, there wants not confidence on either side: I am appealed to by both, an unmeet Judge, considering my so deep engagements. But if my umpierage may stand, I award an eternal silence to both parts. Sat down in peace then, you and your worthy Second, whose young ripeness and modest and learned discourse is worthy of better entertainment than contempt: and let your zealous Opponents say, that you have overcome yourselves in a resolved cessation of Pens, and them in a love of Peace. Farewell from  
Your loving Friend and ancient Colleague, JOS. EXON.   

OCCASIONAL MEDITATIONS BY JOS. EXON.  Set forth by R. H. 

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, My very good Lord, JAMES Lord Viscount Doncaster,  
Right Honourable,  
FInding these Papers amongst others lying aside in my Father's Study, where of I conceived good use might be made, in regard of that spiritual advantage which they promised, I obtained of him good leave to send them abroad; whereto he professed himself the more easily induced, for that his continual and weighty employments in this large and busy Diocese will not yet afford him leisure to dispatch those his other fixed Meditations on the History of the New Testament. In the mean time, the expressions of these voluntary and sudden thoughts of his shall testify how fruitfully he is wont to improve those short ends of time which are stolen from his more important avocations; and (unless my hopes fail me) the pattern of them may prove not a little beneficial to others. Holy minds have been ever wont to look through these bodily Objects, at spiritual and heavenly. So Sulpitius reports of S. Martin, that seeing a Sheep newly shorn, he could say, Lo here is one that hath performed that command in the Gospel; having two Coats, she hath given away one: and seeing an Hogherd freezing in a thin suit of skins, Lo (said he) there is Adam cast out of Paradise: and seeing a Meadow part rooted up, part whole, but eaten down, and part flourishing, he said, The first was the state of Fornication, the second of Marriage, the third of Virginity. But what do I seek any other Author than the Lord of Life himself? who upon the drawing of water from the Well of Shilo on the day of the great Hosanna, took occasion to speak of those Living waters which should flow from every true believer, John 7. 38. and upon occasion of a bodily Feast, Luke 14. entered into that Divine discourse of God's gracious invitation of us to those spiritual viands of Grace and Glory. Thus, methinks, we should still be climbing up in our thoughts from Earth to Heaven, and suffer no Object to cross us in our way without some spiritual Use and Application. Thus it pleased my Reverend Father sometimes to recreate himself, whose manner hath been, when any of these Meditations have unsought offered themselves unto him, presently to set them down: a course which I wish had been also taken in many more, which might no doubt have been very profitable.  
These, as they are, I send forth under your Honourable Name, out of those many Respects which are in an hereditary right due to your Lordship, as being apparent Heir to those two singular Patrons of my justly-Reverenced Father; the eminent Virtue of which your Noble Parents in a gracious Succession yields to your Lordship an happy Example, which to follow is the only way to true Honour. For the daily increase whereof here, and the everlasting Crown of it hereafter, his Prayers to God shall not be wanting, who desires to be accounted  
Your Lordship's devoted in all humble observance, RO. HALL..   

Occasional MEDITATIONS.  
The Proem.  
I Have heedlessly lost (I confess) many good thoughts; these few my Paper hath preserved from vanishing; the example whereof may perhaps be more useful than the matter. Our active Soul can no more forbear to think, than the Eye can choose but see when it is open. Would we but keep our wholesome Notions together, mankind would be too rich. To do well, no Object should pass us without use; every thing that we see, reads us new lectures of Wisdom and Piety. It is a shame for a man to be ignorant or Godless under so many Tutors. For me, I would not wish to live longer than I shall be better for my eyes; and have thought it thankworthy, thus to teach weak minds how to improve their thoughts upon all like occasions. And if ever these lines shall come to the public view, I desire and charge my Reader, whosoever he be, to make me and himself so happy, as to take out my Lesson, and to learn how to read Gods great Book by mine.   

The TABLE of these MEDITATIONS following.  

MED. I. Upon the sight of the Heavens moving. Pag. 452  
MED. II. Upon the sight of a Dial. ib.  
MED. III. Upon the sight of an Eclipse of the Sun. ib.  
MED. IV. Upon the sight of a gliding Star. 453  
MED. V. Upon a fair Prospect. ib.  
MED. VI Upon the frame of a Globe casually broken. 454  
MED. VII. Upon a Cloud. ib.  
MED. VIII. Upon the sight of a Grave digged up. ib.  
MED. IX. Upon the sight of Gold melted. 455  
MED. X. Upon the sight of a Pitcher carried. ib.  
MED. XI. Upon the sight of a Tree full blossomed. ib.  
MED. XII. Upon the report of a man suddenly struck dead in his Sin. ib.  
MED. XIII. Upon the view of the Heaven and the Earth. 456  
MED. XIV. Upon occasion of a Redbreast coming into his Chamber. ib.  
MED. XV. Upon occasion of a Spider in his Window. ib.  
MED. XVI. Upon the sight of a Rain in the Sunshine. 457  
MED. XVII. Upon the length of the way. ib.  
MED. XVIII. Upon the Rain and Waters. ib.  
MED. XIX. Upon the same Subject. 458  
MED. XX. Upon occasion of the Lights brought in. ib.  
MED. XXI. Upon the same occasion. 459  
MED. XXII. Upon the blowing of the Fire. ib.  
MED. XXIII. Upon the barking of a Dog. ib.  
MED. XXIV. Upon sight of a Cockfight. ib.  
MED. XXV. Upon his lying down to rest. 460  
MED. XXVI. Upon the kindling of a Charcoal fire. ib.  
MED. XXVII. Upon the sight of an humble and patient Beggar. 461  
MED. XXVIII. Upon the sight of a Crow pulling off wool from the back of a Sheep. ib.  
MED. XXIX. Upon the sight of two Snails. ib.  
MED. XXX. Upon the hearing of the street-Cries in London. 462  
MED. XXXI. Upon the Flies gathering to a galled Horse. ib.  
MED. XXXII. Upon the sight of a dark Lantern. ib.  
MED. XXXIII. Upon the hearing of a Swallow in the Chimney. ib.  
MED. XXXIV. Upon the sight of a Fly burning itself in the Candle. 463  
MED. XXXV. Upon the sight of a Lark flying up. ib.  
MED. XXXVI. Upon the singing of the Birds in a Spring morning. ib.  
MED. XXXVII. Upon a Coal covered with Ashes. 464  
MED. XXXVIII. Upon the sight of a Blackmore. ib.  
MED. XXXIX. Upon the small Stars in the Galaxy or milky Circle in the Firmament. ib.  
MED. XL. Upon the sight of Boys playing. 465  
MED. XLI. Upon the sight of a Spider and her Web. ib.  
MED. XLII. Upon the sight of a Natural. ib.  
MED. XLIII. Upon the Loadstone and the Jet. 466  
MED. XLIV. Upon hearing of Music by night. ibid.  
MED. XLV. Upon the fanning of Corn. ib.  
MED. XLVI. Upon Herbs dried. 467  
MED. XLVII. Upon the quenching of Iron in Water. ib.  
MED. XLVIII. Upon a fair-coloured Flie. ib.  
MED. XLIX. Upon a Glow-worm. ib.  
MED. L. Upon the shutting of one eye. 468  
MED. LI. Upon a Spring-water. ib.  
MED. LII. Upon Gnats in the Sun. ib.  
MED. LIII. Upon the sight of Grapes. ib.  
MED. LIV. Upon a Cornfield overgrown with Weeds. 469  
MED. LV. Upon the sight of Tulips and Marigolds, etc. in his Garden. ib.  
MED. LVI. Upon the sound of a cracked Bell. ib.  
MED. LVII. Upon the sight of a Blind man. ib.  
MED. LVIII. Upon a Beech-tree full of Nuts. 470  
MED. LIX. Upon the sight of a piece of Money under the Water. ib.  
MED. LX. Upon the first rumour of the Earthquake at Lime, wherein a Wood was swallowed up with the fall of two Hills. ib.  
MED. LXI. Upon the sight of a Dormouse. 471  
MED. LXII. Upon Bees fight. ib.  
MED. LXIII. Upon Wasps falling into a Glass. ib.  
MED. LXIV. Upon a Spring in the wild Forest. 472  
MED. LXV. Upon the sight of an Owl in the twilight. ibid.  
MED. LXVI. Upon an Arm benumbed. 473  
MED. LXVII. Upon the Sparks flying upward. ib.  
MED. LXVIII. Upon the sight of a Raven. ib.  
MED. LXIX. Upon a Worm. 474  
MED. LXX. Upon the putting on of his clothes. ibid.  
MED. LXXI. Upon the sight of a great Library. ibid.  
MED. LXXII. Upon the red Cross on a Door. 475  
MED. LXXIII. Upon the change of Wether. ib.  
MED. LXXIV. Upon the sight of a Marriage. ib.  
MED. LXXV. Upon the sight of a Snake. 476  
MED. LXXVI. Upon the Ruins of an Abbey. ib.  
MED. LXXVII. Upon the discharging of a Piece. 477  
MED. LXXVIII. Upon the tolling of a passing-Bell. ib.  
MED. LXXIX. Upon a Defamation dispersed. 478  
MED. LXXX. Upon a ring of Bells. ib.  
MED. LXXXI. Upon the sight of a full Table at a Feast. ib.  
MED. LXXXII. Upon the hearing of a Lute well played on. 479  
MED. LXXXIII. Upon the sight and noise of a Peacock. ib.  
MED. LXXXIV. Upon a penitent Malefactor. ibid.  
MED. LXXXV. Upon the sight of a Lilly. 480  
MED. LXXXVI. Upon the sight of a Coffin stuck with Flowers. ib.  
MED. LXXXVII. Upon the view of the World. ib.  
MED. LXXXVIII. Upon the stinging of a Wasp. 481  
MED. LXXXIX. Upon the Arraignment of a Felon. ib.  
MED. XC. Upon the Crowing of a Cock. 482  
MED. XCI. Upon the variety of Thoughts. ib.  
MED. XCII. Upon the sight of an Harlot carted. ibid.  
MED. XCIII. Upon the smell of a Rose. 483  
MED. XCIV. Upon a canceled Bond. ib.  
MED. XCV. Upon the report of a great loss by Sea. ib.  
MED. XCVI. Upon sight of a bright Sky full of Stars. 484  
MED. XCVII. Upon the rumours of Wars. ib.  
MED. XCVIII. Upon a Child crying. 485  
MED. XCIX. Upon the beginning of a Sickness. ibid.  
MED. C. Upon the challenge of a Promise. 486  
MED. CI. Upon the sight of Flies. ib.  
MED. CII. Upon the sight of a fantastical Zealot. ib.  
MED. CIII. Upon the sight of a Scavenger working in the Canell. 487  
MED. CIV. Upon a pair of Spectacles. ib.  
MED. CV. Upon Moats in the Sun. ib.  
MED. CVI Upon the sight of a Bladder. ib.  
MED. CVII. Upon a man Sleeping. 488  
MED. CVIII. Upon the sight of a Deaths-head. ib.  
MED. CIX. Upon the sight of a Lefthanded man. ib.  
MED. CX. Upon the sight of an old unthatched Cottage. 489.  
MED. CXI. Upon the sight of a fair Pearl. ib.  
MED. CXII. Upon a Screen. ib.  
MED. CXIII. Upon a Bur-leaf. ib.  
MED. CXIV. Upon the Singing of a Bird. ib.  
MED. CXV. Upon the sight of a man Yawning. 490  
MED. CXVI. Upon the sight of a Tree lopped. ib.  
MED. CXVII. Upon a Scholar that offered violence to himself. ib.  
MED. CXVIII. Upon the coming in of the Judge. 491  
MED. CXIX. Upon the sight of an Heap of stones. ibid.  
MED. CXX. Upon sight of a Bat and Owl. ib.  
MED. CXXI. Upon the sight of a well-fleeced Sheep. 492  
MED. CXXII. Upon the hearing of Thunder. ib.  
MED. CXXIII. Upon the sight of an Hedgehog. ib.  
MED. CXXIV. Upon the sight of a Goat. 493  
MED. CXXV. Upon the sight of the Blind and the Lame. ib.  
MED. CXXVI. Upon the sight of a Map of the World. ib.  
MED. CXXVII. Upon the sight of Hemlock. 494  
MED. CXXVIII. Upon a Flower-de-luce. ib.  
MED. CXXIX. Upon the sight of two Trees, one high, the other broad. ib.  
MED. CXXX. Upon the sight of a Drunken man. ibid.  
MED. CXXXI. Upon the whetting of a scythe. 495  
MED. CXXXII. Upon the sight of a Looking-glass. ibid.  
MED. CXXXIII. Upon the shining of a piece of Rotten wood. ib.  
MED. CXXXIV. Upon an Ivy tree. 496  
MED. CXXXV. Upon a Quartan ague. ib.  
MED. CXXXVI. Upon the sight of a loaded Cart. ibid.  
MED. CXXXVII. Upon the sight of a Dwarf. 497  
MED. CXXXVIII. Upon an importunate Beggar. ibid.  
MED. CXXXIX. Upon a Medicinal potion. ib.  
MED. CXL. Upon the sight of a Wheel. 498    

Occasional MEDITATIONS.  
I. Upon the sight of the Heavens moving.  
I Can see nothing stand still but the Earth; all other things are in motion. Even the Water which makes up one Globe with the Earth is ever stirring in ebbs and flow, the Clouds over my head, the Heavens above the clouds: these, as they are most conspicuous, so are they the greatest patterns of perpetual action.  
What should we rather imitate then this glorious frame? O God, when we pray that thy will may be done in Earth as it is in Heaven, though we mean chiefly the Inhabitants of that place, yet we do not exclude the very Place of those Blessed inhabitants from being an example of our Obedience. The motion of this thy Heaven is perpetual; so let me ever be acting somewhat of thy will: the motion of thy Heaven is regular, never swerving from the due points; so let me ever walk steadily in the ways of thy will, without all diversions or variations from the line of thy Law. In the motion of thine Heaven, though some Stars have their own peculiar and contrary courses, yet all yield themselves to the sway of the main circumvolution of that First mover; so though I have a will of mine own, yet let me give myself over to be ruled and ordered by thy Spirit in all my ways.  
Man is a little World; my Soul is Heaven, my Body is Earth: if this Earth be dull and fixed, yet, O God, let my Heaven (like unto thine) move perpetually, regularly, and in a constant subjection to thine Holy Ghost.   

II. Upon the sight of a Dial.  
IF the Sun did not shine upon this Dial, no body would look at it: in a cloudy day it stands like an useless post, unheeded, unregarded; but when once those beams break forth, every passenger runs to it, and gazes on it.  
O God, whiles thou hidest thy countenance from me, methinks all thy Creatures pass by me with a willing neglect: indeed, what am I without thee? And if thou have drawn in me some lines and notes of able endowments; yet, if I be not actuated by thy Grace, all is in respect of use no better than nothing. But when thou renewest the light of thy loving countenance upon me, I find a sensible and happy change of condition; methinks all things look upon me with such cheer and observance, as if they meant to make good that Word of thine, Those that honour me, I will honour: now every line and figure which it hath pleased thee to work in me, serve for useful and profitable direction.  
O Lord, all the glory is thine: give thou me light, I shall give others information; both of us shall give thee praise.   

III. Upon the sight of an Eclipse of the Sun.  
LIght is an ordinary and familiar Blessing; yet so dear to us, that one hours' interception of it sets all the world in a wonder. The two great Luminaries of Heaven, as they impart light to us, so they withdraw light from each other. The Sun darkens the full Moon, in casting the shadow of the earth upon her opposed face; the new Moon repays this blemish to the Sun, in the interposing of her dark body betwixt our eyes and his glorious beams; the earth is troubled at both.  
O God, if we be so afflicted with the obscuring of some piece of one of thy created lights for an hour or two, what a confusion shall it be that thou, who art the God of these Lights, (in comparison of whom they are mere darkness) shalt hide thy face from thy creature for ever? O thou that art the Sun of Righteousness, if every of my sins cloud thy face, yet let not my grievous sins eclipse thy light. Thou shinest always, though I do not see thee: but, Oh, never suffer my sins so to darken thy visage that I cannot see thee.   

IV. Upon the sight of a gliding Star.  
HOw easily is our sight deceived? how easily doth our sight deceive us? We saw no difference betwixt this Star and the rest; the light seemed alike, both whiles it stood, and whiles it fell: now we know it was no other than a base slimy Meteor guilded with the Sunbeams; and now our foot can tread upon that which ere while our eye admired. Had it been a Star, it had still and ever shined; now the very fall argues it a false and elementary Apparition.  
Thus our Charity doth and must misled us in our Spiritual judgements. If we see men exalted in their Christian Profession, fixed in the upper region of the Church, shining with appearances of Grace, we may not think them other then●stars in this lower firmament; but if they fall from their holy station, and embrace the present world, whether in Judgement or Practice renouncing the Truth and power of Godliness, now we may boldly say, they had never any true light in them, and were no other than a glittering composition of Pride and Hypocrisy.  
O God, if my Charity make me apt to be deceived by others, let me be sure not to deceive myself. Perhaps some of these apostating Stars have thought themselves true: let their miscarriage make me heedful; let the inward light of thy Grace more convince my truth to myself, than my outward Profession can represent me glorious to others.   

V. Upon a fair Prospect.  
WHat a pleasing variety is here of Towns, Rivers, Hills, Dales, Woods, Meadows, each of them striving to set forth the other, and all of them to delight the eye? So as this is no other than a natural and real Landscap drawn by that Almighty & skilful hand in this table of the Earth for the pleasure of our view: no other creature besides Man is capable to apprehend this Beauty. I shall do wrong to him that brought me hither, if I do not feed my eyes, and praise my Maker. It is the intermixture and change of these Objects that yields this contentment both to the Sense and Mind.  
But there is a sight, O my Soul, that without all variety offers thee a truer and fuller delight, even this Heaven above thee: All thy other Prospects end in this. This glorious circumference bounds, and circles, and enlightens all that thine eye can see: whether thou look upward, or forward, or about thee, there thine eye alights, there let thy thoughts be fixed. One inch of this lightsome Firmament hath more Beauty in it then the whole face of the Earth: And yet this is but the floor of that goodly fabric, the outward curtain of that glorious Tabernacle. Couldst thou but (Oh that thou couldst) look within that veil, how shouldst thou be ravished with that blissful sight? There, in that incomprehensible light, thou shouldst see him whom none can see and not be blessed; thou shouldst see millions of pure and majestical Angels, of holy and glorified Souls: there, amongst thy Fathers many mansions, thou shouldst take happy notice of thine own. Oh the best of earth now vile and contemptible!  
Come down no more, O my Soul, after thou hast once pitched upon this Heavenly glory: or if this flesh force thy descent, be unquiet till thou art let loose to Immortality.   

VI Upon the frame of a Globe casually broken.  
IT is hard to say whether is the greater, Man's Art, or Impotence. He that cannot make one spire of grass, or corn of sand, will yet be framing of Worlds; he can imitate all things, who can make nothing. Here is a great World in a little room, by the skill of the workman, but in less room by mis-accident. Had he seen this, who upon the view of Plato's Book of Commonwealth eaten with Mice, presaged the fatal miscarriage of the public State, he would sure have construed this casualty as ominous.  
Whatever become of the Material world, (whose decay might seem no less to stand with Divine Providence then this Microcosm of individual man) sure I am, the frame of the Moral world is and must be disjointed in the last times: Men do and will fall from evil to worse. He that hath made all times hath told us that the last shall be perilous. Happy is he that can stand upright when the world declines, and can endeavour to repair the common ruin with a constancy in goodness.   

VII. Upon a Cloud.  
WHether it were a natural Cloud wherewith our ascending Saviour was intercepted from the eyes of his Disciples upon mount Olivet, I inquire not: this I am sure of, that the time now was when a Cloud surpassed the Sun in glory. How did the intentive eyes of those ravished beholders envy that happy Meteor; and since they could no more see that glorious Body, fixed themselves upon that Celestial Chariot wherewith it was carried up? The Angels could tell the gazing Disciples (to fetch them off from that astonishing prospect) that this Jesus should so come again as they had seen him depart. He went up in a Cloud, and he shall come again in the clouds of Heaven to his last Judgement.  
O Saviour, I cannot look upward, but I must see the sensible monuments both of thine Ascension and Return. Let no cloud of Worldliness or Infidelity hinder me from following thee in thine Ascension, or from expecting thee in thy Return.   

VIII. Upon the sight of a Grave digged up.  
THE Earth, as it is a great devourer, so also it is a great preserver too: Liquors and Flesh's are therein long kept from putrifying, and are rather heightened in their Spirits by being buried in it; but above all, how safely doth it keep our Bodies for the Resurrection?  
We are here but laid up for custody; Balms and Sere-cloths and Leads cannot do so much as this lap of our common Mother; when all these are dissolved into her dust (as being unable to keep themselves from corruption) she receives and restores her charge. I can no more withhold my body from the earth, than the earth can withhold it from my Maker.  
O God, this is thy Cabinet or Shrine, wherein thou pleasest to lay up the precious relics of thy dear Saints until the Jubilee of Glory. With what confidence should I commit myself to this sure reposition, whiles I know thy word just, thy Power infinite?   

IX. Upon the sight of Gold melted.  
THis Gold is both the fairest and most solid of all Metals; yet is the soon melted with the fire: others, as they are courser, so more churlish, and hard to be wrought upon by a dissolution.  
Thus a sound and good heart is most easily melted into sorrow and fear by the sense of God's Judgements; whereas the carnal mind is stubborn and remorseless. All Metals are but earth, yet some are of finer temper than others; all hearts are of flesh, yet some are, through the power of Grace, more capable of Spiritual apprehensions.  
O God, we are such as thou wilt be pleased to make us. Give me a heart that may be sound for the truth of Grace, and melting at the terrors of thy Law; I can be for no other than thy Sanctuary on earth, or thy Treasury of Heaven.   

X. Upon the sight of a Pitcher carried.  
THus those that are great and weak are carried by the ears up and down of Flatterers and Parasites: Thus ignorant and simple hearers are carried by false and mis-zealous Teachers. Yet to be carried by both ears is more safe then to be carried by one. It argues an empty Pitcher to be carried by one a●one. Such are they that upon the hearing of one part, rashly pass their sentence, whether of acquittal, or censure.  
In all disquisitions of hidden Truths, a wise man will be led by the ears, not carried; that implies a violence of Passion overswaying Judgement: but in matter of civil occurrence and unconcerning rumour, it is good to use the Ear, not to trust to it.   

XI. Upon the sight of a Tree full blossomed.  
HEre is a Tree over-laid with blossoms, it is not possible that all these should prosper; one of them must needs rob the other of moisture and growth. I do not love to see an Infancy over-hopefull: in these pregnant beginnings one Faculty starves another, and at last leaves the Mind sapless and barren. As therefore we are wont to pull off some of the too-frequent blossoms, that the rest may thrive; so it is good wisdom to moderate the early excess of the parts, or progress of overforward Childhood.  
Neither is it otherwise in our Christian profession; a sudden and lavish ostentation of Grace may fill the eye with wonder, and the mouth with talk, but will not at the last fill the lap with fruit. Let me not promise too much, nor raise too high expectations of my undertake. I had rather men should complain of my small hopes, then of my short performances.   

XII. Upon the report of a man suddenly struck dead in his Sin.  
I Cannot but magnify the Justice of God, but withal I must praise his Mercy. It were woe with any of us all, if God should take us at advantages. Alas! which of us hath not committed sins worthy of a present revenge? had we been also surprised in those acts, where had we been? O God, it is more than thou owest us, that thou hast waited for our Repentance; it is no more than thou owest us, that thou plaguest our offences. The wages of Sin is Death, and it is but Justice to pay due wages. Blessed be thy Justice, that hast made others Examples to me: blessed be thy Mercy, that hast not made me an Example unto others.   

XIII. Upon the view of the Heaven and the Earth.  
WHat a strange contrariety is here? The Heaven is in continual motion, and yet there is the only place of Rest; the Earth ever stands still, and yet here is nothing but Unrest and unquietness. Surely, the end of that Heavenly motion is for the benefit of the Earth; and the end of all these Earthly turmoils is our reposall in Heaven. Those that have imagined the Earth to turn about, and the Heavens to stand still, have yet supposed that we may stand or sit still on that whirling Globe of earth: how much more may we be perswased of our perfect Rest above those moving Spheres?  
It matters, not, O God, how I am vexed here below a while, if ere long I may repose with thee above for ever.   

XIV. Upon occasion of a Redbreast coming into his Chamber.  
PRetty Bird, how cheerfully dost thou sit and sing, and yet knowest not where thou art, nor where thou shalt make thy next meal, and at night must shroud thyself in a Bush for lodging? What a shame is it for me, that see before me so liberal provisions of my God, and find myself set warm under my own roof, yet am ready to droop under a distrustful and unthankful dulness? Had I so little certainty of my harbour and purveyance, how heartless should I be, how careful? how little list should I have to ●●ke music to thee or myself?  
Surely thou camest not hither without a Providence: God sent thee, not so much to delight, as to shame me; but all in a conviction of my s●llen unbelief, who under more apparent means am less cheerful and confident. Reason and Faith have not done so much in me, as in thee mere instinct of Nature. Want of foresight makes thee more merry, if not more happy, here, than the foresight of better things maketh me.  
O God, thy Providence is not impaired by those Powers thou hast given me above these Brute things: let not my greater helps hinder me from an holy security and comfortable reliance upon thee.   

XV. Upon occasion of a Spider in his Window.  
THere is no vice in man whereof there is not some Analogy in the brute Creatures. As amongst us men, there are Thiefs by Land, and Pirates by Sea, that live by spoil and blood; so is there in every kind amongst them variety of natural Sharkers, the Hawk in the Air, the Pike in the River, the Whale in the Sea, the Lion and Tiger and Wolf in the Desert, the Wasp in the Hive, the Spider in our Window. Amongst the rest, see how cunningly this little Arabian hath spread out his tent for a prey; how heedfully he watches for a Passenger. So soon as ever he hears the noise of a Fly afar off, how he hastens to his door? and if that silly heedless Traveller do but touch upon the verge of that unsuspected walk, how suddenly doth he seize upon the miserable booty; and after some strife, binding him fast with those subtle cords, drags the helpless Captive after him into his cave?  
What is this but an Emblem of those Spiritual Freebooters that lie in wait for our Souls? They are the Spiders, we the Flies: they have spread their nets of Sin; if we be once caught, they bind us fast, and hale us into Hell.  
O Lord, deliver thou my Soul from their crafty ambushes; their poison is greater, their webs both more strong and more insensibly woven. Either teach me to avoid Tentation, or make me to break through it by Repentance. Oh let me not be a prey to those Fiends that lie in wait for my destruction.   

XVI. Upon the sight of a Rain in the Sunshine.  
SUch is my best condition in this life; If the Sun of God's Countenance shine upon me, I may well be content to be wet with some Rain of Affliction. How oft have I seen the Heaven overcast with Clouds and Tempest, no Sun appearing to comfort me? yet even those gloomy and stormy seasons have I rid out patiently, only with the help of the common light of the day; at last those beams have broken forth happily, and cheered my Soul.  
It is well for my ordinary state, if through the mists of mine own dulness and Satan's Tentations, I can descry some glimpse of Heavenly comfort: let me never hope, while I am in this Veil, to see the clear face of that Sun without a shower: such Happiness is reserved for above; that upper Region of Glory is free from these doubtful and miserable vicissitudes. There, O God, we shall see as we are seen. Light is sown for the Righteous, and joy for the upright in heart.   

XVII. Upon the Length of the way.  
HOW far off is yonder great mountain? My very eye is weary with the foresight of so great a distance; yet time and patience shall overcome it; this night we shall hope to lodge beyond it. Some things are more tedious in their expectation then in their performance. The comfort is, that every step I take sets me nearer to my end. When I once come there, I shall both forget how long it now seems, and please myself to look back upon the way that I have measured.  
It is thus in our passage to Heaven. My weak nature is ready to faint under the very conceit of the length and difficulty of this Journey; my eye doth not more guide then discourage me: Many steps of Grace and true Obedience shall bring me insensibly thither. Only let me move, and hope; and God's good leisure shall perfect my Salvation.  
O Lord, give me to possess my Soul with patience, and not so much to regard speed, as certainty. When I come to the top of thine Holy hill, all these weary paces and deep sloughs shall either be forgotten, or contribute to my Happiness in their remembrance.   

XVIII. Upon the Rain and Waters.  
WHat a sensible interchange there is in Nature betwixt union and division? Many Vapours rising from the Sea meet together in one Cloud; that cloud falls down divided into several Drops; those drops run together, and in many rills of water meet in the same Channels; those channels run into the Brook, those brooks into the Rivers, those rivers into the Sea; one receptacle is for all, though a large one, and all make back to their first and main original.  
So it either is, or should be, with Spiritual Gifts. O God, thou distillest thy Graces upon us, not for our reservation, but conveyance: those manifold Faculties thou lettest fall upon several men, thou wouldst not have drenched up where they light; but wouldst have derived, through the channels of their special vocations, into the common streams of public Use, for Church or Commonwealth.  
Take back, O Lord, those few drops thou hast reigned upon my Soul, and return them into that great Ocean of the Glory of thine own Bounty, from whence they had their beginning.   

XIX. Upon the same Subject.  
MAny Drops fill the Channels, and many channels swell up the Brooks, and many brooks raise the Rivers over the banks: the Brooks are not out till the Channels be empty, the Rivers rise not whiles the small Brooks are full; but when the little Rivulets have once voided themselves into the main streams, than all is overflown. Great matters arise from small beginnings: many littles make up a large bulk. Yea what is the World but a composition of atoms? We have seen it thus in Civil Estates: the impairing of the Commons hath oft been the raising of the Great; their streams have run low, till they have been heightened by the confluence of many private inlets: Many a mean channel hath been emptied to make up their inundation.  
Neither is it otherwise in my whether outward or Spiritual condition. O God, thou hast multiplied my drops into streams. As out of many Minutes thou hast made up my Age, so out of many Lessons thou hast made up my competency of Knowledge: thou hast drained many beneficent friends to make me competently Rich; by many holy motions thou hast wrought me to some measure of Grace.  
Oh, teach me wisely and moderately to enjoy thy Bounty, and to reduce thy streams into thy drops, and thy drops into thy clouds, humbly and thankfully acknowledging whence and how I have all that I have, all that I am.   

XX. Upon occasion of the Lights brought in.  
WHat a change there is in the room since the Light came in? yea in ourselves? All things seem to have a new form, a new life; yea, we are not the same we were. How goodly a creature is Light, how pleasing, how agreeable to the spirits of man? No visible thing comes so near to the resembling of the nature of the Soul, yea of the God that made it. As contrarily, what an uncomfortable thing is Darkness? insomuch as we punish the greatest malefactors with obscurity of Dungeons; as thinking they could not be miserable enough, if they might have the privilege of beholding the Light. Yea, Hell itself can be no more horribly described then by outward Darkness. What is Darkness but absence of Light? The pleasure or the horror of light or darkness, is according to the quality and degree of the cause whence it ariseth.  
And if the light of a poor Candle be so comfortable, which is nothing but a little inflamed air gathered about a moistened snuff, what is the light of the glorious Sun, the great lamp of Heaven? But much more what is the light of that infinitely-resplendent Sun of Righteousness, who gave that light to the Sun, that Sun to the world? And if this partial and imperfect Darkness be so doleful, (which is the privation of a natural or artificial Light) how unconceivable dolorous and miserable shall that be which is caused through the utter absence of the all-glorious God, who is the Father of lights? O Lord, how justly do we pity those wretched Souls that sit in darkness and the shadow of death, shut up from the light of the saving knowledge of thee the only true God? But how am I swallowed up with horror, to think of the fearful condition of those damned Souls that are for ever shut out from the presence of God, and adjudged to exquisite & everlasting darkness? The Egyptians were weary of themselves in their three day's darkness; yet we do not find any pain that accompanied their continuing night. What shall we say to those woeful Souls, in whom the sensible presence of infinite torment shall meet with the torment of the perpetual absence of God?  
O thou who art the true Light, shine ever through all the blind corners of my Soul; and from these weak glimmerings of Grace, bring me to the perfect brightness of thy Glory.   

XXI. Upon the same occasion.  
AS well as we love the Light, we are wont to salute it at the first coming in with winking or closed eyes: as not abiding to see that without which we cannot see. All sudden changes (though to the better) have a kind of trouble attending them. By how much more excellent any Object is, by so much more is our weak sense mis-affected in the first apprehending of it.  
O Lord, if thou shouldest manifest thy glorious presence to us here, we should be confounded in the sight of it. How wisely, how mercifully hast thou reserved that for our glorified estate; where no infirmity shall dazzle our eyes, where perfect Righteousness shall give us perfect boldness both of sight and fruition?   

XXII. Upon the blowing of the Fire.  
WE beat back the flame, not with a purpose to suppress it, but to raise it higher, and to diffuse it more.  
Those Afflictions and repulses which seem to be discouragements, are indeed the merciful incitements of Grace. If God did mean Judgement to my Soul, he would either withdraw the fuel, or power water upon the fire, or suffer it to languish for want of new motions; but now that he continues to me the means and opportunities and desires of good, I shall misconstrue the intentions of my God, if I shall think his crosses sent rather to damp then to quicken his Spirit in me.  
O God, if thy bellows did not sometimes thus breath upon me in spiritual repercussions, I should have just cause to suspect my estate: those few weak gleeds of Grace that are in me, might soon go out, if they were not thus refreshed. Still blow upon them, till they kindle; still kindle them, till they flame up to thee.   

XXIII. Upon the barking of a Dog.  
WHat have I done to this Dog that he follows me with this angry clamour? Had I rated him, or shaken my staff, or stooped down for a stone, I had justly drawn on this noise, this snarling importunity. But why do I wonder to find this unquiet disposition in a brute creature, when it is no news with the reasonable?  
Have I not seen Innocence and Merit bayed at by the quarrelsome and envious Vulgar, without any provocation save of good offices? Have I not felt (more than their tongue) their teeth upon my heels, when I know I have deserved nothing but fawning on? Where is my Grace or spirits, if I have not learned to contemn both?  
O God, let me rather die then willingly incur thy displeasure; yea, then justly offend thy godly-wise, judicious, conscionable servants: but if humour or faction or causeless prejudice fall upon me for my faithful service to thee, let these bawling cuts tyre themselves, and tear their throats with loud and false censures, I go on in a silent constancy; and if my ear be beaten, yet my heart shall be free.   

XXIV. Upon sight of a Cockfight.  
HOW fell these creatures out? Whence grew this so bloody combat? Here was neither old grudge, nor present injury. What then is the quarrel? Surely nothing but that which should rather unite and reconcile them; one common nature, they are both of one feather. I do not see either of them fly upon creatures of different kinds; but whiles they have peace with all others, they are at war with themselves; the very sight of each other was sufficient provocation. If this be the offence, why doth not each of them fall out with himself, since he hates and revenges in another the being of that same which himself is?  
Since Man's sin brought Debate into the World, Nature is become a great quarrel. The seeds of discord were scattered in every furrow of the Creation, and came up in a numberless variety of Antipathies; whereof yet none is mote odious and deplorable than those which are betwixt creatures of the same kind. What is this but an image of that woeful hostility which is exercised betwixt us Reasonables, who are conjoined in one common Humanity, if not Religion? We fight with and destroy each other more than those creatrures that want Reason to temper their Passions. No Beast is so cruel to man as himself; where one man is slain by a beast, ten thousand are slain by man. What is that War which we study and practise, but the art of killing? Whatever Turks and Pagans may do, O Lord, how long shall this brutish fury arm christian's against each other? whiles even Devils are not at enmity with themselves, but accord in wickedness, why do we men so mortally oppose each other in good?  
O thou that art the God of Peace, compose the unquiet hearts of men to an happy and universal Concord, and at last refresh our Souls with the multitude of Peace.   

XXV. Upon his lying down to rest.  
WHat a circle there is of humane actions and events? We are never without some change, and yet that change is without any great variety: we sleep, and wake, and wake, and sleep; and eat, and evacuate, labour in a continual interchange: yet hath the infinite Wisdom of God so ordered it, that we are not weary of these perpetual iterations, but with no less appetite enter into our daily courses, then if we should pass them but once in our life. When I am weary of my day's labour, how willingly do I undress myself, and betake myself to my bed? and ere morning, when I have wearied my restless bed, how glad am I to rise and renew my labour?  
Why am I not more desirous to be unclothed of this body, that I may be clothed upon with Immortality? What is this but my closest garment, which when it is once put off, my Soul is at liberty and ease? Many a time have I lain down here in desire of rest, and after some tedious changing of sides have risen sleepless, disappointed, languishing. In my last uncasing, my Body shall not fail of repose nor my Soul of joy; and in my rising up, neither of them shall fail of Glory.  
What hinders me, O God, but my Infidelity, from longing for this happy dissolution? The world hath misery and toil enough, and Heaven hath more than enough Blessedness to perfect my desires of that my last and glorious change. I believe, Lord, help my unbelief.   

XXVI. Upon the kindling of a Charcoal fire.  
THere are not many Creatures but do naturally affect to diffuse and enlarge themselves: Fire and Water will neither of them rest contented with their own bounds: those little sparks that I see in those coals, how they spread and enkindle their next brands?  
It is thus morally both in good and evil; either of them dilates itself to their Neighbourhood: but especially this is so much more apparent in evil, by how much we are more apt to take it. Let but some spark of Heretical Opinion be let fall upon some unstable, proud, busy spirit, it catcheth instantly, and fires the next capable subject; they two have easily inflamed a third; and now the more Society, the more speed, and advantage of a public combustion. When we see the Church on a flame, it is too late to complain of the flint and steel. It is the holy wisdom of Superiors to prevent the dangerous attritions of stubborn and wrangling spirits, or to quench their first sparks in the tinder. But why should not Grace and Truth be as successful in dilating itself to the gaining of many hearts? Certainly these are in themselves more winning, if our corruption had not made us indisposed to good.  
O God, out of an holy envy and emulation at the speed of evil, I shall labour to enkindle others with these Heavenly flames, it shall not be my fault if they spread not.   

XXVII. Upon the sight of an humble and patient Beggar.  
SEE what need can do. This man, who in so lowly a fashion croucheth to that Passenger, hath in all likelihood as good a stomach as he to whom he thus abaseth himself; and if their conditions were but altered, would look as high, and speak as big to him, whom he now answers with a plausible and dejected reverence.  
It is thus betwixt God and us. He sees the way to tame us, is to hold us short of these earthly contentments. Even the savagest Beasts are made quiet and docible with want of food and rest.  
O God, thou only knowest what I would do if I had health, ease, abundance: do thou in thy Wisdom and Mercy so proportion thy gifts and restraints, as thou knowest best for my Soul. If I be not humbled enough, let me want; and so order all my estate, that I may want any thing save thyself.   

XXVIII. Upon the sight of a Crow pulling off wool from the back of a Sheep.  
HOw well these Creatures know whom they may be bold with? That Crow durst not do this to a Wolf or a Mastive. The known simplicity of this innocent beast gives advantage to this presumption.  
Meekness of spirit commonly draws on injuries. The cruelty of ill natures usually seeks out those, not who deserve worst, but who will bear most. Patience and mildness of Spirit is ill bestowed where it exposes a man to wrong and insultation. Sheepish dispositions are best to others, worst to themselves. I could be willing to take injuries; but I will not be guilty of provoking them by lenity. For harmlesness let me go for a Sheep; but whosoever will be tearing my fleece, let him look to himself.   

XXIX. Upon the sight of two Snails.  
THere is much variety even in creatures of the same kind. See there two Snails: one hath an house, the other wants it; yet both are Snails, and it is a question whether case is the better. That which hath an house hath more shelter, but that which wants it hath more freedom. The privilege of that cover is but a burden: you see if it have but a stone to climb over, with what stress it draws up that beneficial load; and if the passage prove straight, finds no entrance: whereas the empty Snail makes no difference of way.  
Surely it is always an ease, and sometimes an happiness, to have nothing. No man is so worthy of Envy as he that can be cheerful in want.   

XXX. Upon the hearing of the street-Cries in London.  
WHat a noise do these poor souls make in proclaiming their commodities? Each tells what he hath, and would have all hearers take notice of it; and yet (God wot) it is but poor stuff that they set out with so much ostentation. I do not hear any of the rich Merchants talk of what bags he hath in his chests, or what treasures of rich wares in his store-house; every man rather desires to hide his Wealth, and when he is urged, is ready to dissemble his ability.  
No otherwise is it in the true Spiritual Riches: He that is full of Grace and Good works, affects not to make show of it to the world, but rests sweetly in the secret testimony of a good Conscience, & the silent applause of God's Spirit witnessing with his own; whiles contrarily the venditation of our own Worth, or Parts, or Merits, argues a miserable indigence in them all.  
O God, if the confessing of thine own Gifts may glorify thee, my modesty shall not be guilty of a niggardly unthankfulness; but for aught that concerns myself, I cannot be too secret. Let me so hide myself, that I may not wrong thee; and wisely distinguish betwixt thy Praise and my own.   

XXXI. Upon the Flies gathering to a galled Horse.  
HOw these Flies swarm to the galled part of this poor Beast; and there sit feeding upon that worst piece of his flesh, not meddling with the other sound parts of his skin.  
Even thus do malicious tongues of Detractors: if a man have any infirmity in his person or actions, that they will be sure to gather unto and dwell upon; whereas his commendable parts and well-deserving are passed by without mention, without regard. It is an envious self-love and base cruelty that causeth this ill disposition in men. In the mean time this only they have gained; it must needs be a filthy Creature that feeds upon nothing but Corruption.   

XXXII. Upon the sight of a dark Lantern.  
THere is light indeed, but so shut up as if it were not; and when the side is most open, there is light enough to give direction to him that bears it, none to others: He can discern another man by that light which is cast before him, but another man cannot discern him.  
Right such is reserved Knowledge; no man is the better for it but the owner. There is no outward difference betwixt concealed skill and ignorance: and when such hidden knowledge will look forth, it casts so sparing a light, as may only argue it to have an unprofitable being; to have ability, without will to good; power to censure, none to benefit. The suppression or engrossing of those helps which God would have us to impart, is but a Thiefs Lantern in a true man's hand.  
O God, as all our light is from thee, the Father of lights, so make me no niggard of that poor Rush-candle thou hast lighted in my Soul: make me more happy in giving light to others, then in receiving it into myself.   

XXXIII. Upon the hearing of a Swallow in the Chimney.  
HEre is music, such as it is; but how long will it hold? When but a cold morning comes in, my guest is gone, without either warning or thanks. This pleasant season hath the least need of cheerful notes; the dead of Winter shall want, and wish them in vain.  
Thus doth an ungrateful Parasite: no man is more ready to applaud and enjoy our Prosperity; but when with the times our condition begins to alter, he is a stranger at least. Give me that Bird which will sing in Winter, and seek to my window in the hardest Frost. There is no trial of Friendship but Adversity. He that is not ashamed of my bonds, not daunted with my checks, not aliened with my disgrace, is a Friend for me. One dram of that man's Love is worth a world of false and inconstant formality.   

XXXIV. Upon the sight of a Fly burning itself in the Candle.  
WIse Solomon says the Light is a pleasant thing; and so certainly it is: but there is no true outward Light which proceeds not from Fire. The light of that fire than is not more pleasing then the fire of that light is dangerous; and that pleasure doth not more draw on our sight then that danger forbids our approach. How foolish is this Fly, that in a love and admiration of this light will know no distance, but puts itself heedlessly into that flame wherein it perishes? How many bouts it fetched, every one nearer than other, ere it made this last venture? and now that merciless fire taking no notice of the affection of an overfond Client, hath suddenly consumed it.  
Thus do those bold & busy Spirits who will needs draw too near unto that inaccessible light, and look into things too wonderful for them: So long do they hover about the secret Counsels of the Almighty, till the wings of their presumptuous conceits be scorched, and their daring Curiosity hath paid them with everlasting destruction.  
O Lord, let me be blessed with the knowledge of what thou hast revealed, let me content myself to adore thy Divine Wisdom in what thou hast not revealed; so let me enjoy thy Light, that I may avoid thy Fire.   

XXXV. Upon the ●ight of a Lark flying up.  
HOw nimbly doth that little Lark mount up singing towards Heaven in a right line; whereas the Hawk, which is stronger of body & swifter of wing, towers up by many gradual compasses to his highest pitch? That bulk of body and length of wing hinders a direct ascent, and requires the help both of air, and scope to advance his flight; whiles that small bird cuts the air without resistance, and needs no outward furtherance of her motion.  
It is no otherwise with the Souls of men in flying up to their Heaven: some are hindered by those powers which would seem helps to their soaring up thither: great Wit, deep Judgement, quick Apprehension, send men about with no small labour for the recovery of their own encumbrance; whiles the good affections of plain and simple souls raise them up immediately to the fruition of God. Why should we be proud of that which may slacken our way to Glory? why should we be disheartened with the small measure of that, the very want whereof may (as the heart may be affected) facilitate our way to Happiness?   

XXXVI. Upon the singing of the Birds in a Spring morning.  
HOw cheerfully do these little Birds chirp and sing out of the natural joy they conceive at the approach of the Sun and entrance of the Spring; as if their life had departed, and returned with those glorious and comfortable beams?  
No otherwise is the penitent and faithful Soul affected to the true Sun of Righteousness, the Father of lights. When he hides his face, it is troubled, and silently mourns away that sad Winter of Affliction: when he returns, in his presence is the fullness of joy; no Song is cheerful enough to welcome him.  
O thou who art the God of all consolation, make my heart sensible of the sweet comforts of thy gracious presence; and let my mouth ever show forth thy praise.   

XXXVII. Upon a Coal covered with Ashes.  
NOthing appears in this heap but dead Ashes: here is neither light, nor smoke, nor heat; and yet, when I stir up these embers to the bottom, there are found some living gleeds, which do but contain fire, and are apt to propagate it.  
Many a Christians breast is like this hearth; no life of Grace appears there for the time, either to his own sense, or to the apprehension of others; whiles the season of Temptation lasteth, all seems cold and dead: yet still at the worst, there is a secret coal from the Altar of Heaven raked up in their bosom, which, upon the gracious motions of the Almighty, doth both bewray some remainders of that Divine fire, and is easily raised to a perfect flame. Nothing is more dangerous then to judge by appearances. Why should I deject myself, or censure others, for the utter extinction of that Spirit, which doth but hide itself in the Soul for a glorious advantage?   

XXXVIII. Upon the sight of a Blackmore.  
LO, there is a man whose hue shows him to be far from home, his very skin bewrays his Climate; it is night in his face, whiles it is day in ours. What a difference there is in men, both in their fashion and colour; and yet all Children of one Father? Neither is there less variety in their insides; their Dispositions, Judgements, Opinions differ as much as their Shapes and Complexions. That which is Beauty to one, is Deformity to another. We should be looked upon in this man's Country with no less wonder and strange coyness than he is here; our Whiteness would pass there for an unpleasing indigestion of form. Outward Beauty is more in the eye of the beholder, then in the face that is seen: in every Colour that is fair which pleaseth. The very Spouse of Christ can say, I am black, but comely.  
This is our colour Spiritually; yet the eye of our gracious God and Saviour can see that Beauty in us wherewith he is delighted. The true Moses marries a Black-more, Christ his Church. It is not for us to regard the skin, but the Soul. If that be innocent, pure, holy, the blots of an outside cannot set us off from the love of him who hath said, Behold, thou art fair, my Sister, my Spouse; if that be foul and black, it is not in the power of an Angelical brightness of our hide to make us other then a loathsome eyesore to the Almighty.  
O God, make my inside lovely to thee: I know that beauty will hold; whiles weather, casualty, age, disease may deform the outer man, and mar both colour and feature.   

XXXIX. Upon the small Stars in the Galaxy or milky Circle in the Firmament.  
WHat a clear lightsomness there is in yonder Circle of the Heaven above the rest? What can we suppose the reason of it, but that the light of many smaller Stars is united there, and causes that constant brightness? And yet those small Stars are not discerned, whiles the splendour which ariseth from them is so notably remarkable.  
In this lower Heaven of ours, many a man is made conspicuous by his good qualities and deserts; but I most admire the Humility and Grace of those whose Virtues and Merits are usefully visible, whiles their Persons are obscure. It is secretly glorious for a man to shine unseen. Doubtless it is the height that makes those Stars so small and invisible; were they lower, they would be seen more. There is no true Greatness without a self-Humiliation. We shall have made an ill use of our advancement, if by how much higher we are we do not appear less: if our light be seen, it matters not for our hiding.   

XL. Upon the sight of Boys playing.  
EVery age hath some peculiar contentment. Thus we did, when we were of these years. Methinks I still remember the old fervour of my young pastimes. With what eagerness and passion do they pursue these Childish sports? Now that there is a handful of cherry-stones at the stake, how near is that boys heart to his mouth, for fear of his play-fellows next cast? and how exalted with desire and hope of his own speed? Those great Unthrifts, who hazard whole Manors upon the Dice, cannot expect their chance with more earnestness, or entertain it with more joy or grief.  
We cannot but now smile to think of these poor and foolish pleasures of our Childhood: there is no less disdain that the Regenerate man conceives of the dearest delights of his Natural condition. He was once jolly and jocund in the fruition of the world; Feasts and Revels and Games and dalliance were his life; and no man could be happy without these; and scarce any man but himself: but when once Grace hath made him both good and wise, how scornfully doth he look back at these fond felicities of his Carnal estate? now he finds more manly, more Divine contentments; and wonders he could be so transported with his former vanity. Pleasures are much according as they are esteemed; One man's delight is another man's pain: only Spiritual and Heavenly things can settle and satiate the heart with a full and firm contentation.  
O God, thou art not capable either of bettering, or of change: let me enjoy thee, and I shall pity the miserable fickleness of those that want thee, and shall be sure to be constantly happy.   

XLI. Upon the sight of a Spider and her Web.  
HOw justly do we admire the curious work of this Creature? What a thread doth it spin forth? what a web doth it wove? Yet it is full of deadly poison. There may be much venom, where is much Art.  
Just like to this is a learned and witty Heretic; fine conceits and elegant expressions fall from him, but his Opinions and secretly-couched Doctrines are dangerous and mortal. Were not that man strangely foolish, who because he likes the artificial drawing out of that web, would therefore desire to handle or eat the Spider that made it? Such should be our madness, if our wonder at the skill of a false Teacher should cast us into love with his Person, or familiarity with his Writings. There can be no safety in our Judgement or Affection, without a wise distinction; in the want whereof we must needs wrong God or ourselves: God, if we acknowledge not what excellent parts he gives to any Creature; ourselves, if upon the allowance of those excellencies we swallow their most dangerous enormities.   

XLII. Upon the sight of a Natural.  
O God, why am not I thus? What hath this man done, that thou hast denied Wit to him? or what have I done, that thou shouldest give a competency of it to me? What difference is there betwixt us but thy Bounty, which hath bestowed upon me what I could not merit, and hath withheld from him what he could not challenge? All is, O God, in thy good pleasure, whether to give or deny.  
Neither is it otherwise in matter of Grace. The unregenerate man is a Spiritual fool: no man is truly wise but the Renewed. How is it that whiles I see another man besotted with the vanity and corruption of his Nature, I have attained to know God and the great Mystery of Salvation, to abhor those sins which are pleasing to a wicked appetite? Who hath discerned me? Nothing but thy free mercy, O my God. Why else was I a man, not a brute beast? why right shaped, not a Monster? why perfectly limmed, not a cripple? why well-sensed, not a fool? why well-affected, not graceless? why a vessel of honour, not of wrath?  
If ought be not ill in me, O Lord, it is thine. Oh let thine be the Praise, and mine the Thankfulness.   

XLIII. Upon the Loadstone and the Jet.  
AS there is a civil commerce amongst men for the preservation of humane society, so there is a natural commerce which God hath set amongst the other Creatures for the maintenance of their common Being. There is scarce any thing therefore in Nature which hath not a power of attracting some other. The Fire draws Vapours to it, the Sun draws the Fire; Plants draw moisture; the Moon draws the Sea; all Purgative things draw their proper Humours. A Natural instinct draws all Sensitive creatures to affect their own kind; and even in those things which are of imperfect mixtion we see this experimented. So as the senseless Stones and Metals are not void of this active virtue: the Loadstone draws Iron; and the Jet, rather than nothing, draws up straws and dust. With what a force do both these Stones work upon their several subjects? Is there any thing more heavy and unapt for motion then Iron, or Steel? yet these do so run to their beloved Loadstone, as if they had the sense of a desire and delight; and do so cling to the point of it, as if they had forgotten their weight for this adherence. Is there any thing more apt for dispersion then small straws and dust? yet these gather to the Jet, and so sensibly leap up to it, as if they had a kind of ambition to be so preferred.  
Methinks I see in these two a mere Emblem of the hearts of men and their Spiritual attractives. The Grace of God's Spirit, like the true Loadstone or Adamant, draws up the iron heart of man to it, and holds it in a constant fixedness of holy purposes and good actions: The World, like the Jet, draws up the sensual hearts of light and vain men, and holds them fast in the pleasures of sin.  
I am thine Iron, O Lord; be thou my Loadstone. Draw thou me, and I shall run after thee: Knit my heart unto thee, that I may fear thy Name.   

XLIV. Upon hearing of Music by night.  
How sweetly doth this Music sound in this dead season? In the daytime it would not, it could not so much affect the ear. All harmonious sounds are advanced by a silent darkness.  
Thus it is with the glad tidings of Salvation. The Gospel never sounds so sweet as in the Night of Persecution or of our own private Affliction. It is ever the same, the difference is in our disposition to receive it.  
O God, whose praise it is to give Songs in the night, make my Prosperity conscionable, and my Crosses cheerful.   

XLV. Upon the fanning of Corn.  
SEE how in the fanning of this Wheat, the fullest and greatest grains lie ever the lowest; and the lightest take up the highest place.  
It is no otherwise in Morality: those which are most humble, are fullest of Grace; and ofttimes those have most conspicuity, which have the least substance. To affect obscurity or submission, is base and suspicious: but that   

LIV. Upon a Cornfield overgrown with Weeds.  
HEre were a goodly field of Corn, if it were not over-laid with Weeds: I do not like these reds and blews and yellows amongst these plain stalks and ears: This beauty would do well elsewhere. I had rather to see a plot less fair and more yielding.  
In this Field I see a true picture of the World, wherein there is more glory then true substance; wherein the greater part carries it from the better; wherein the native sons of the Earth outstrip the adventitious brood of Grace; wherein Parasites and unprofitable hangs-by do both rob and overtop their Masters. Both Field and World grow alike, look alike, and shall end alike; both are for the Fire: whiles the homely and solid ears of despised Virtue shall be for the garners of Immortality.   

LV. Upon the sight of Tulips and Marigolds, etc. in his Garden.  
THese Flowers are true Clients of the Sun: how observant they are of his motion and influence? At Even they shut up, as mourning for his departure without whom they neither can nor would flourish; in the Morning they welcome his rising with a cheerful openness, and at Noon are fully displayed in a free acknowledgement of his bounty.  
Thus doth the good heart unto God. When thou turnedst away thy face I was troubled, saith the man after Gods own heart. In thy presence is life, yea the fullness of joy. Thus doth the Carnal heart to the world; when that withdraws his favour he is dejected, and revives with a smile. All is in our choice; whatsoever is our Sun will thus carry us.  
O God, be thou to me such as thou art in thyself: thou shalt be merciful in drawing me; I shall be happy in following thee.   

LVI. Upon the sound of a cracked Bell.  
WHat an harsh sound doth this Bell make in every ea●e? The metal is good enough; it is the rift that makes it so unpleasingly jarring.  
How too like is this Bell to a scandalous and ill-lived Teacher? His Calling is honourable, his noise is heard far enough; but the flaw which is noted in his Life mars his Doctrine, and offends those ears which else would take pleasure in his teaching. It is possible that such a one, even by that discordous noise, may ring in others into the triumphant Church of Heaven; but there is no remedy for himself but the fire, whether for his reforming, or judgement.   

LVII. Upon the sight of a Blind man.  
HOW much am I bound to God that hath given me eyes to see this man's want of eyes? With what suspicion and fear he walks? How doth his hand and staff examine his way? With what jealousy doth he receive every morsel, every draught; and yet meets with many a post, and stumbles at many a stone, and swallows many a fly? To him the world is as if it were not, or as if it were all rubs and snares and downfalls; and if any man will lend him an hand, he must trust to his (however faithless) guide without all comfort save this, that he cannot see himself miscarry.  
Many a one is thus Spiritually blind; and because he is so, discerns it not; and not discerning, complains not of so woeful a condition. The god of this world hath blinded the eyes of the Children of disobedience; they walk on in the ways of death, and yield themselves over to the guidance of him who seeks for nothing but their precipitation into Hell. It is an addition to the misery of this inward occaecation, that it is ever joined with a secure confidence in them whose trade and ambition is to betray their Souls.  
Whatever become of these outward Senses, which are common to me with the meanest and most despicable creatures, O Lord, give me not over to that Spiritual darkness, which is incident to none but those that live without thee, and must perish eternally, because they want thee.   

LVIII. Upon a Beech-tree full of Nuts.  
HOW is this Tree overladen with mast this year? It was not so the last; neither will it (I warrant you) be so the next. It is the nature of these free trees so to power out themselves into fruit at once, that they seem after either sterile or niggardly.  
So have I seen pregnant Wits (not discreetly governed) overspend themselves in some one masterpiece so lavishly, that they have proved either barren, or poor and flat in all other Subjects. True Wisdom as it serves to gather due sap both for nourishment and fructification, so it guides the seasonable and moderate bestowing of it in such manner, as that one season may not be a glutton whiles others famish. I would be glad to attain to that measure and temper, that upon all occasions I might always have enough, never too much.   

LIX. Upon the sight of a piece of Money under the Water.  
I Should not wish ill to a Covetous man, if I should wish all his Coin in the bottom of the River. No pavement could so well become that stream; no sight could better fit his greedy desires: for there every piece would seem double, every teston would appear a shilling, every Crown an Angel. It is the nature of that Element to greaten appearing quantities: whiles we look through the air upon that solid body, it can make no other representations.  
Neither is it otherwise in Spiritual Eyes and Objects. If we look with Carnal eyes through the interposed mean of Sensuality, every base and worthless pleasure will seem a large contentment; if with Weak eyes we shall look at small and immaterial Truths aloof off, in another element of apprehension, every parcel thereof shall seem main and essential: hence every knack of Heraldry in the Sacred Genealogies, and every Scholastical querk in disquisitions of Divinity, are made matters of no less than life and death to the Soul. It is a great improvement of true Wisdom to be able to see things as they are, and to value them as they are seen.  
Let me labour for that power and staiedness of Judgement, that neither my Senses may deceive my Mind, nor the Object may delude my Sense.   

LX. Upon the first rumour of the Earthquake at Lime, wherein a Wood was swallowed up with the fall of two Hills.  
GOod Lord, how do we know when we are sure? If there were Man or Beast in that Wood, they seemed as safe as we now are; they had nothing but Heaven above them, nothing but firm Earth below them: and yet in what a dreadful pitfall were they instantly taken? There is no fence for God's hand. A man would as soon have feared that Heaven would fall upon him, as those Hills. It is no pleasing ourselves with the unlikelihood of Divine Judgements. We have oft heard of Hills covered with Woods, but of Woods covered with Hills I think never till now. Those that planted or sowed those Woods, intended they should be spent with Fire; but lo, God meant they should be devoured with Earth. We are wont to describe Impossibilities by the meeting of Mountains, and behold here two Mountains and met to swallow up a Valley. What a good God it is whose Providence overrules and disposes of all these events? Towns or Cities might as well have been thus buried as a solitary Dale, or a shrubby Wood  
Certainly the God that did this, would have the use of it reach further than the noise: this he did, to show us what he could, what he might do. If our hearts do not quake and rend at the acknowledgement of his infinite Power, and fear of his terrible Judgements, as well as that Earth did, we must expect to be made warnings, that would take none.   

LXI. Upon the sight of a Dormouse.  
AT how easy a rate do these Creatures live that are fed with rest? So the Bear & the Hedgehog (they say) spend their whole winter in Sleep, and rise up fatter than they lay down. How oft have I envied the thriving drowsiness of these Beasts, when the toil of thoughts hath bereft me of but one hours' sleep, and left me languishing to a new task? And yet, when I have well digested the comparison of both these conditions, I must needs say, I had rather waste with work then batten with ease; and would rather choose a life profitably painful, then uselessly dull and delicate. I cannot tell whether I should say those Creatures live which do nothing, since we are wont ever to notify life by motion: Sure I am, their life is not vital.  
For me, let me rather complain of a Mind that will not let me be idle, then of a Body that will not let me work.   

LXII. Upon Bees fight.  
WHat a pity it is to see these profitable, industrious Creatures fall so furiously upon each other, and thus ●●ing and kill each other in the very mouth of the Hive? I could like well to see the Bees do this execution upon Wasps and Drones, enemies to their common stock; this savours but of Justice: But to see them fall foul upon those of their own wing, it cannot but trouble their owner, who must needs be an equal loser by the victory of either.  
There is no more perfect resemblance of a Commonwealth, whether Civil or Sacred, then in an Hive. The Bees are painful and honest Compatriots, labouring to bring Wax & Honey to the maintenance of the public State; the Wasps and Drones are unprofitable and harmful Hangs-by, which live upon the spoil of others labours; whether as common Barrators, or strong Thiefs, or bold Parasites, they do nothing but rob their Neighbours. It is an happy sight when these feel the dint of Justice, and are cut off from doing further mischief. But to see well-affected and beneficial Subjects undo themselves with duels, whether of Law or Sword; to see good Christians of the same Profession shedding each others blood upon quarrels of Religion, is no other than a sad and hateful spectacle; and so much the more, by how much we have more means of Reason and Grace to compose our differences, and correct our offensive contentiousness.  
O God, who art at once the Lord of Hosts and Prince of Peace, give us War with Spiritual wickedness, and Peace with our Brethren.   

LXIII. Upon Wasps falling into a Glass.  
SEE you that narrow-mouthed Glass which is set near to the Hive? mark how busily the Wasps resort to it, being drawn thither by the smell of that sweet liquor wherewith it is baited; see how eagerly they creep into the mouth of it, and fall down suddenly from that slippery steepness into that watery trap, from which they can never rise; there, after some vain labour and weariness, they drown and die. You do not see any of the Bees look that way; they pass directly to their Hive, without any notice taken of such a pleasing Bait.  
Idle and ill-disposed persons are drawn away with every Temptation, they have both leisure and will to entertain every sweet allurement to sin, and wantonly prosecute their own wicked Lusts till they fall into irrecoverable damnation: Whereas the diligent and laborious Christian, that follows hard and conscionably the works of an honest Calling, is free from the danger of these deadly enticements, and lays up honey of comfort against the Winter of evil. Happy is that man who can see and enjoy the success of his labour: but however this we are sure of, if our Labour cannot purchase the good we would have, it shall prevent the evil we would avoid.   

LXIV. Upon a Spring in the wild Forest.  
LO here the true pattern of Bounty. What clear crystal streams are here, and how liberally do they gush forth and hasten down with a pleasing murmur into the Valley? Yet you see neither Man nor Beast that takes part of that wholesome and pure water. It is enough that those may dip who will; the refusal of others doth no whit abate of this proffered plenty.  
Thus bountiful Housekeepers hold on their set ordinary provision, whether they have Guests or no: Thus conscionable Preachers pour out the living Waters of wholesome Doctrine, whether their Hearers partake of those blessed means of Salvation, or neglect their holy Endeavours. Let it be our comfort, that we have been no niggards of these celestial streams; let the world give an account of the improvement.   

LXV. Upon the sight of an Owl in the twilight.  
WHat a strange Melancholic life doth this creature lead; to hide her head all the day long in an Ivy-bush, and at night, when all other Birds are at rest, to fly abroad and vent her harsh notes? I know not why the Ancients have sacred this Bird to Wisdom, except it be for her safe closeness and singular perspicacity; that when other domestical and airy creatures are blind, she only hath inward light to discern the least objects for her own advantage.  
Surely thus much wit they have taught us in her, That he is the wisest man that would have least to do with the multitude; That no life is so safe as the obscure; That retiredness, if it have less comfort, yet less danger and vexation; lastly, That he is truly wise who sees by a light of his own, when the rest of the world sit in an ignorant and confused darkness, unable to apprehend any Truth, save by the helps of an outward illumination.  
Had this Fowl come forth in the daytime, how had all the little Birds flocked wondering about her, to see her uncouth visage, to hear her untuned notes? She likes her estate never the worse, but pleaseth herself in her own quiet reservedness.  
It is not for a wise man to be much affected with the censures of the rude and unskilful Vulgar; but to hold fast unto his own well-chosen and well-fixed resolutions. Every fool knows what is wont to be done; but what is best to be done, is known only to the wise.   

LXVI. Upon an Arm benumbed.  
HOW benumbed and (for the time) senseless is this Arm of mine become, only with too long leaning upon it? Whiles I used it to other services, it failed me not; now that I have rested upon it, I find cause to complain.  
It is no trusting to an arm of flesh; on whatsoever occasion we put our confidence therein, this reliance will be sure to end in pain and disappointment.  
O God, thine arm is strong and mighty; all thy Creatures rest themselves upon that, and are comfortably sustained. Oh that we were not more capable of distrust, than thine Omnipotent hand is of weariness and subduction.   

LXVII. Upon the Sparks flying upward.  
IT is a feeling comparison (that of Job) of man born to labour, as the sparks to fly upward. That motion of theirs is no other than natural: neither is it otherwise for man to labour; his Mind is created active, and apt to some or other Ratiocination, his Joints all stirring, his Nerves made for helps of moving, and his occasions of living call him forth to action. So as an idle man doth not more want Grace, then degenerate from Nature. Indeed, at the first kindling of the fire, some sparks are wont, by the impulsion of the bellows, to fly forward or sideward: and even so in our first Age youthly vanity may move us to irregular courses; but when those first violences are overcome, and we have attained to a setledness of disposition, our sparks fly up, our life is labour. And why should we not do that which we are made for? Why should not God rather grudge us our Being, than we grudge him our work? It is no thank to us that we labour out of necessity.  
Out of my Obedience to thee, O God, I desire ever to be employed. I shall never have comfort in my toil, if it be rather a purveyance for myself, than a Sacrifice to thee.   

LXVIII. Upon the sight of a Raven.  
I Cannot see that Bird but I must needs think of Eliah, and wonder no less at the Miracle of his Faith then of his Provision. It was a strong belief that carried him into a desolate retiredness to expect food from Ravens. This fowl, we know, is ravenous; all is too little that he can forage for himself; and the Prophet's Reason must needs suggest to him, that in a dry barren Desert bread & flesh must be great dainties: yet he goes aside to expect victuals from that purveyance. He knew this Fowl to be no less greedy than unclean; unclean as in Law, so in the nature of his seed; what is his ordinary prey but loathsome carrion? Yet since God had appointed him this Caterer, he stands not upon the nice points of a fastidious squeamishness, but confidently depends upon that uncouth provision. And accordingly, those unlikely purveyors bring him bread and flesh in the Morning, and bread and flesh in the Evening. Not one of those hungry Ravens could swallow one morsel of those viands which were sent by them to a better mouth. The River of Cherith sooner failed him, than the tender of their service. No doubt, Eliah's stomach was often up before that his incurious diet came: when expecting from the mouth of his Cave, out of what coast of Heaven these his Servitors might be descried, upon the sight of them he magnified with a thankful heart the wonderful Goodness and Truth of his God; and was nourished more with his Faith then with his Food.  
O God, how infinite is thy Providence, Wisdom, Power? We creatures are not what we are, but what thou wilt have us; when thy turn is to be served, we have none of our own. Give me but Faith, and do what thou wilt.   

LXIX. Upon a Worm.  
IT was an homely expression which God makes of the state of his Church, Fear not, thou Worm Jacob. Every foot is ready to tread on this despised creature. Whiles it kept itself in that cold obscure Cell of the Earth (wherein it was hidden) it lay safe, because it was secret; but now that it hath put itself forth of that close Cave, and hath presented itself to the light of the Sun, to the eye of Passengers, how is it vexed with the scorching beams, and wrings up and down in an helpless perplexity, not finding where to shroud itself? how obnoxious is it to the fowls of the air, to the feet of men and beasts?  
He that made this creature such, and calls his Church so, well knew the answerableness of their condition. How doth the world overlook and contemn that little flock whose best guard hath ever been secrecy? And if ever that despicable number have dared to show itself, how hath it been scorched, and trampled upon, and entertained with all variety of Persecution?  
O Saviour, thy Spouse fares no otherwise then thyself: to match her fully, thou hast said of thyself, I am a Worm, and no man. Such thou wert in thine humbled estate here on earth; such thou wouldst be. But as it is a true word, that he who made the Angels in Heaven made also the worms on earth; so it is no less true, that he who made himself and his Church Worms upon Earth, hath raised our Nature in his Person above the Angels, and our Person in his Church to little less than Angels. It matters not how we fare in this valley of tears, whiles we are sure of that infinite amends of Glory above.   

LXX. Upon the putting on of his clothes.  
WHat a poor thing were Man if he were not beholden to other creatures? The Earth affords him flax for his linen, bread for his belly, the Beasts his ordinary clothes, the Silkworm his bravery, the back and bowels of the earth his metals and fuel, the Fishes, Fowls, Beasts his nourishment. His wit indeed works upon all these, to improve them to his own advantage; but they must yield him materials, else he subsists not. And yet we fools are proud of ourselves, yea proud of the cast suits of the very basest Creatures. There is not one of them that have so much need of us. They would enjoy themselves the more, if Man were not.  
O God, the more we are sensible of our own indigence, the more let us wonder at thine All-sufficiency in thyself; and long for that happy condition wherein thou (which art all perfection) shalt be all in all to us.   

LXXI. Upon the sight of a great Library.  
WHat a world of Wit is here packed up together? I know not whether this sight doth more dismay or comfort me. It dismays me, to think that here is so much that I cannot know; it comforts me, to think that this variety yields so good helps to know what I should. There is no truer word then that of Solomon, There is no end of making many Books: this sight verifies it; there is no end; indeed, it were pity there should. God hath given to man a busy Soul; the agitation whereof cannot but through time and experience work out many hidden Truths: to suppress these would be no other than injurious to Mankind, whose Minds, like unto so many Candles, should be kindled by each other. The thoughts of our deliberation are most accurate, these we vent into our Papers. What an happiness is it that, without all offence of Necromancy, I may here call up any of the ancient Worthies of Learning, whether humane or divine, and confer with them of all my doubts▪ that I can at pleasure summon whole Synods of Reverend Fathers and acute Doctors from all the Coasts of the Earth, to give their well-studied judgements in all points of question which I propose? Neither can I cast my eye casually upon any of these silent Masters, but I must learn somewhat. It is a wantonness to complain of choice.  
No Law binds us to read all; but the more we can take in and digest, the better-liking must the Minds needs be.  
Blessed be God that hath set up so many clear Lamps in his Church: now none but the wilfully blind can plead darkness. And blessed be the memory of those his faithful Servants that have left their blood, their spirits, their lives in these precious papers; and have willingly wasted themselves into these during Monuments, to give light unto others.   

LXXII. Upon the red Cross on a Door.  
OH sign fearfully significant! This sickness is a Cross indeed, and that a bloody one; both the form and colour import Death. The Israelites doors whose lintels were besprinkled with blood were passed over by the destroying Angel; here the destroying Angel hath smitten, and hath left this mark of his deadly blow. We are wont to fight cheerfully under this Ensign abroad, and be victorious; why should we tremble at it at home?  
O God, there thou fightest for us, here against us; under that we have fought for thee, but under this (because our sins have fought against thee) we are fought against by thy Judgements. Yet, Lord, it is thy Cross, though an heavy one: It is ours by merit, thine by imposition. O Lord, sanctify thine Affliction, and remove thy Vengeance.   

LXXIII. Upon the change of Wether.  
I Know not whether it be worse that the Heavens look upon us always with one face, or ever varying: For as continual change of Wether causes uncertainty of Health, so a permanent setledness of one Season causeth a certainty of distemper; perpetual Moisture dissolves us, perpetual Heat evaporates or inflames us, Cold stupifies us, Drought obstructs and withers us.  
Neither is it otherwise in the state of the Mind: If our thoughts should be always volatile, changing, inconstant, we should never attain to any good habit of the Soul, whether in matter of Judgement or Disposition; but if they should be always fixed, we should run into the danger of some desperate extremity. To be ever thinking, would make us mad; to be ever thinking of our Crosses or Sins, would make us heartlesly dejected; to be ever thinking of Pleasures and Contentments, would melt us into a loose wantonness; to be ever doubting and fearing, were an Hellish servitude; to be ever bold and confident, were a dangerous presumption: but the interchanges of these in a due moderation, keep the Soul in health.  
O God, howsoever these Variations be necessary for my Spiritual condition, let me have no weather but Sunshine from thee. Do thou lift up the light of thy countenance upon me, and establish me ever with thy free spirit.   

LXXIV. Upon the sight of a Marriage.  
WHat a comfortable and feeling resemblance is here of Christ and his Church? I regard not the Persons, I regard the Institution. Neither the Husband nor the Wife are now any more their own; they have either of them given over themselves to other: not only the Wife, which is the weaker vessel, hath yielded over herself to the stronger protection and participation of an abler head; but the Husband hath resigned his right in himself over to his feebler consort; so as now her weakness is his, his strength is hers. Yea their very flesh hath altered property; hers is his, his is hers. Yea their very Soul and spirit may no more be severed in respect of mutual affection, then from their own several bodies.  
It is thus, O Saviour, with thee and thy Church: We are not our own, but thine, who hast married us to thyself in truth and righteousness. What powers, what endowments have we but from and in thee? And as our holy boldness dares interest ourselves in thy Graces, so thy wonderfully-compassionate mercy vouchsafes to interest thyself in our Infirmities: thy poor Church suffers on Earth, thou feelest in Heaven; and, as complaining of our stripes, canst say, Why persecutest thou me? Thou again art not so thine own, as that thou art not also ours; thy Sufferings, thy Merits, thy Obedience, thy Life, Death, Resurrection, Ascension, Intercession, Glory, yea thy blessed Humanity, yea thy glorious Deity, by virtue of our right, of our Union, are so ours, as that we would not give our part in thee for ten thousand Worlds.  
O gracious Saviour, as thou canst not but love and cherish this poor and unworthy Soul of mine which thou hast mercifully espoused to thyself; so give me Grace to honour and obey thee, and forsaking all the base and sinful rivalty of the World, to hold me only unto thee whiles I live here, that I may perfectly enjoy thee hereafter.   

LXXV. Upon the sight of a Snake.  
I Know not what horror we find in ourselves at the fight of a Serpent. Other creatures are more loathsome, and some no less deadly than it; yet there is none at which our blood riseth so much as at this. Whence should this be, but out of an instinct of our old enmity? We were stung in Paradise, and cannot but feel it. But here is our weakness; it was not the body of the Serpent that could have hurt us without the suggestion of sin, and yet we love the sin whiles we hate the Serpent. Every day are we wounded with the sting of that old Serpent, and complain not; and so much more deadly is that sting, by how much it is less felt. There is a sting of Gild, and there is a sting of Remorse: there is mortal venom in the first, whereof we are the least sensible; there is less danger in the second. The Israelites found themselves stung by those fiery Serpents in the Desert; and the sense of their pain sent them to seek for Cure. The World is our Desert; and as the sting of Death is Sin, so the sting of Sin is Death. I do not more wish to find ease then pain; if I complain enough, I cannot fail of cure.  
O thou which art the true brazen Serpent, lifted up in this wilderness, raise up mine eyes to thee, and fasten them upon thee; thy Mercy shall make my Soul whole, my wound sovereign.   

LXXVI. Upon the Ruins of an Abbey.  
IT is not so easy to say what it was that built up these walls, as what it was that pulled them down; even the wickedness of the Possessors. Every stone hath a tongue to accuse the Superstition, Hypocrisy, Idleness, Luxury of the late owners. Methinks I see it written all along in Capital letters upon these heaps, A fruitful Land maketh he barren for the iniquity of them that dwell therein. Perhaps there wanted not some Sacrilege in the Demolishers. In all the carriage of these businesses, there was a just hand, that knew how to make an wholesome and profitable use of mutual sins. Full little did the Builders or the in-dwellers think that this costly and warm fabric should so soon end violently in a desolate rubbish.  
It is not for us to be highminded, but to fear. No Roof is so high, no Wall so strong, as that Sin cannot levelly it with the Dust. Were any pile so close that it could keep out air, yet it could not keep out Judgement where Sin hath been fore-admitted. In vain shall we promise stability to those Houses which we have made witnesses of and accessaries to our shameful uncleannesses. The firmness of any Building is not so much in the matter, as in the owner. Happy is that Cottage that hath an honest Master; and woe be to that Palace that is viciously inhabited.   

LXXVII. Upon the discharging of a Piece.  
GOod Lord, how witty men are to kill one another? What fine devices they have found out to murder afar off, to slay many at once, and so to fetch off lives, that whiles a whole Lane is made of Carcases with one blow, no body knows who hurt him? And what honour do we place in slaughter? Those arms wherein we pride ourselves are such, as which we or our Ancestors have purchased with blood: the monuments of our Glory are the spoils of a subdued and slain enemy. Where contrarily all the titles of God sound of Mercy and gracious respects to Man: God the Father is the Maker and Preserver of men; God the Son is the Saviour of Mankind; God the Holy Ghost styles himself the Comforter. Alas, whose image do we bear in this disposition, but his whose true title is the Destroyer? It is easy to take away the life, it is not easy to give it. Give me the man that can devise how to save Troops of men from killing; his name shall have room in my Calendar. There is more true Honour in a Civic Garland, for the preserving of one Subject, then in a Laurel, for the victory of many Enemies.  
O God, there are enough that bend their thoughts to undo what thou hast made; enable thou me to bestow my endeavours in reprieving or rescuing that which might otherwise perish. O thou who art our common Saviour, make thou me both ambitious and able to help to save some other besides myself.   

LXXVIII. Upon the tolling of a passing-Bell.  
HOw doleful and heavy is this summons of Death? This sound is not for our ears, but for our hearts; it calls us not only to our Prayers, but to our preparation: to our prayers for the departing Soul; to our preparation for our own departing. We have never so much need of Prayers as in our last Combat; then is our great Adversary most eager, then are we the weakest, than Nature is so over-laboured that it gives us not leisure to make use of gracious motions. There is no preparation so necessary ●s for this Conflict: all our Life is little enough to make ready for our last hour. What am I better than my Neighbours? How oft hath this Bell reported to me the farewell of many more strong and vigorous bodies than my own, of many more cheerful and lively spirits? And now what doth it but call me to the thought of my parting? Here is no abiding for me: I must away too.  
O thou that art the God of comfort, help thy poor Servant that is now struggling with his last enemy. His sad Friends stand gazing upon him, and weeping over him, but they cannot succour him; needs must they leave him to do this great work alone: none but thou, to whom belong the issues of death, canst relieve his distressed and over-matched Soul. And for me, let no man die without me; as I die daily, so teach me to die once; acquaint me beforehand with that Messenger which I must trust to. Oh teach me so to number my days, that I may apply my heart to true wisdom.   

LXXIX. Upon a Defamation dispersed.  
WEre I the first or the best that ever was slandered, perhaps it would be somewhat difficult to command myself patience. Grief is wont to be abated either by partners or precedents; the want whereof dejects us beyond measure, as men singled out for patterns of misery. Now whiles I find this the common condition of all that ever have been reputed virtuous, why am I troubled with the whisper of false tongues? O God, 
* Si Christus Judam passus est, cur non ego patior Birrhichioncm? Dial. de S. Martino, Sever. Sulp●  the Devil slandered thee in Paradise; O Saviour, men slandered thee on earth more than men or Devils can reproach me. Thou art the best, as thou art the best that ever was smitten by a lying and venomous tongue. It is too much favour that is done me by malicious lips, that they conform me to thy Sufferings. I could not be so happy, if they were not so spiteful.  
O thou glorious pattern of reproached Innocence, if I may not die for thee, yet let me thus bleed with thee.   

LXXX. Upon a ring of Bels.  
WHiles every Bell keeps due time and order, what a sweet and harmonious sound they make? all the neighbour Villages are cheered with that common Music. But when once they jar and check each other, either jangling together, or striking preposterously, how harsh and unpleasing is that noise? So that as we testify our public rejoicing by an orderly and wel-tuned peal; so when we would signify that the town is on fire we ring confusedly.  
It is thus in Church and Commonwealth: when every one knows and keeps their due ranks, there is a melodious consort of Peace and contentment; but when distances and proportions of respects are not mutually observed, when either States or persons will be clashing with each other, the discord is grievous and extremely prejudicial: such confusion either notifieth a fire already kindled, or portendeth it. Popular States may ring the changes with safety; but the Monarchical Government requires a constant and regular course of the set degrees of rule and inferiority, which cannot be violated without a sensible discontentment and danger.  
For me, I do so love the Peace of the Church and State, that I cannot but with the charitable Apostle say, Would to God they were cut off that trouble them; and shall ever wish either no jars, or no clappers.   

LXXXI. Upon the sight of a full Table at a Feast.  
WHat great Variety is here of Flesh, of Fish, of both, of either; as if both Nature and Art did strive to pamper us? Yet methinks enough is better than all this: Excess is but a burden, as to the Provider, so to the Guest. It pities and grieves me to think what toil, what charge hath gone to the gathering of all these Dainties together; what pain so many poor creatures have been put to in dying for a needless Sacrifice to the Belly; what a Penance must be done by every Accumbent, in sitting out the passage through all these dishes; what a task the Stomach must be put to in the concoction of so many mixtures. I am not so austerely scrupulous as to deny the lawfulness of these abundant provisions upon just occasions: I find my Saviour himself more than once at a Feast; this is recorded as well as his one long Fast. Doubtless our bountiful God hath given us his creatures not for necessity only, but for pleasure: but these Exceed would be both rare and moderate; and when they must be, require no less Patience than Temperance.  
Might I have my option, O God, give me rather a little with peace and love. He whose provision for every day was thirty measures of fine Flower and threescore measures of Meal, thirty Oxen, an hundred Sheep, besides Venison and Fowl, yet can pray, Give me the Bread of sufficiency. Let me have no perpetual Feast but a good Conscience; and from these great preparations (for the health both of Soul and Body) let me rise rather hungry then surcharged.   

LXXXII. Upon the hearing of a Lute well played on.  
THere may be (for aught we know) infinite inventions of Art, the possibility whereof we should hardly ever believe, if they were fore-reported to us. Had we lived in some rude and remote part of the World, and should have been told that it is possible only by an hollow piece of Wood, and the guts of Beasts stirred by the fingers of men, to make so sweet and melodious a noise, we should have thought it utterly incredible: yet now that we see and hear it ordinarily done, we make it no wonder.  
It is no marvel if we cannot fore-imagine what kind and means of Harmony God will have used by his Saints and Angels in Heaven, when these poor matters seem so strange to our conceits, which yet our very Senses are convinced of.  
O God, thou knowest infinite ways to glorify thyself by thy Creatures, which do far transcend our weak and finite capacities. Let me wonder at thy Wisdom and Power, and be more awful in my Adorations then curious in my Inquiries.   

LXXXIII. Upon the sight and noise of a Peacock.  
I See there are many kinds of Hypocrites: of all Birds this makes the fairest show, and the worst noise; so as this is an Hypocrite to the Eye. There are others, as the Blackbird, that looks foul and sooty, but sings well: this is an Hypocrite to the Eare. There are others that please us well both in their show and voice, but are cross in their carriage and condition, as the Popingay, whose colours are beautiful, and noise delightful; yet is it apt to do mischief in scratching and biting any hand that comes near it: these are Hypocrites both to the Eye and Eare. Yet there is a degree further (beyond the example of all brute Creatures) of them whose show, whose words, whose actions are fair, but their hearts are foul and abominable.  
No outward Beauty can make the Hypocrite other then odious.  
For me, let my Profession agree with my words, my words with my actions, my actions with my heart; and let all of them be approved of the God of Truth.   

LXXXIIII. Upon a penitent Malefactor.  
I Know not whether I should more admire the Wisdom or the Mercy of God in his proceedings with Men. Had not this man sinned thus notoriously, he h●d never been thus happy: whiles his courses were fair and civil, yet he was graceless; now his miscarriage hath drawn him into a just Affliction, his Affliction hath humbled him. God hath taken this advantage of his Humiliation for his Conversion. Had not one foot slipped into the mouth of Hell, he had never been in this forwardness to Heaven.  
There is no man so weak or foolish, as that he hath not strength or wit enough to sin, or to make ill use of his sin: It is only the goodness of an infinite God that can make our sin good to us, though evil in itself.  
O God, it is no thank to ourselves or to our sins that we are bettered with evil; the Work is thine, let thine be the Glory.   

LXXXV. Upon the sight of a Lilly.  
THis must needs be a goodly Flower that our Saviour hath singled out to compare with Solomon; and that not in his ordinary dress, but in all his Royalty. Surely the earth had never so glorious a King as he, Nature yielded nothing that might set forth Royal magnificence that he wanted; yet he that made both Solomon and this Flower says, that Solomon in all his Royalty was not clad like it.  
What a poor thing is this earthly Bravery that is so easily overmatched? How ill judges are we of outward Beauties, that contemn these goodly Plants which their Creator thus magnifies, and admire those base Metals which he (in comparison hereof) contemns? If it be their transitoriness that embaseth them, what are we? All flesh is Grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of Grass. As we cannot be so brave, so we cannot be more permanent.  
O God, let it be my ambition to walk with thee hereafter in white. Could I put on a robe of Stars here, with proud Herod, that glittering garment could not keep me from Lice or Worms. Might I sit on a Throne of Gold within an house of Ivory, I see I should not compare with this Flower; I might be as transitory, I should not be so beautiful. What matters it whether I go for a Flower or a Weed here? whethersoever, I must wither. Oh thou which art greater than Solomon, do thou clothe me with thy perfect Righteousness, so shall I flourish for ever in the Courts of the House of my God.   

LXXXVI. Upon the sight of a Coffin stuck with Flowers.  
TOO fair appearance is never free from just suspicion. Whiles here was nothing but mere Wood, no Flower was to be seen here; now that this Wood is lined with an unsavoury Corpse, it is adorned with this sweet variety. The Fir whereof that Coffin is made, yields a natural redolence alone; now that it is stuffed thus noisomely, all helps are too little to countervail that sent of corruption. Neither is it otherwise in the Living. Perpetual use of strong perfumes argues a guiltiness of some unpleasing savour.  
The case is the same Spiritually; an over-glorious outside of Profession implies some inward filthiness that would fain escape notice. Our uncomely parts have more comeliness put on. Too much Ornament imports extreme deformity.  
For me, let my show be moderate, so shall I neither deceive applause, nor merit too deep censure.   

LXXXVII. Upon the view of the World.  
IT is a good thing to see this material World; but it is a better thing to think of the intelligible World. This thought is the sight of the Soul, whereby it discerneth things like itself, Spiritual and Immortal; which are so much beyond the worth of these sensible Objects, as a Spirit is beyond a Body, a pure substance beyond a corruptible, an infinite God above a finite Creature.  
O God, how great a word is that which the Psalmist says of thee, that thou abasest thy self to behold the things both in Heaven and Earth? It is our glory to look up even to the meanest piece of Heaven; it is an abasement to thine incomprehensible Majesty to look down upon the best of Heaven. Oh what a transcendent Glory must that needs be, that is abased to behold the things of Heaven! What an happiness shall it be to me, that mine eyes shall be exalted to see thee, who art humbled to see the place and state of my blessedness? Yea those very Angels that see thy face are so resplendently glorious, that we could not overlive the sight of one of their faces, who are fain to hide their faces from the sight of thine. How many millions attend thy Throne above, and thy Footstool below, in the ministration to thy Saints? It is that thine invisible world, the Communion wherewith can make me truly blessed. O God, if my body have fellowship here amongst Beasts, of whose earthly substance it participates, let my Soul be united to thee the God of Spirits, and be raised up to enjoy the insensible society of thy blessed Angels. Acquaint me beforehand with those Citizens and affairs of thine Heaven; and make me no stranger to my future Glory.   

LXXXVIII. Upon the stinging of a Wasp.  
HOW small things may annoy the greatest? Even a Mouse troubles an Elephant, a Gnat a Lion, a very Flea may disquiet a Giant. What weapon can be nearer to nothing then the sting of this Wasp? Yet what a painful wound hath it given me? that scarce-visible point how it envenomes, and rankles, and swells up the flesh? The tenderness of the part adds much to the grief.  
And if I be thus vexed with the touch of an angry File, Lord, how shall I be able to endure the sting of a tormenting Conscience? As that part is both most active and most sensible; so that wound which it receives from itself is most intolerably grievous: there were more ease in a nest of Hornets, then under this one Torture. O God, howsoever I speed abroad, give me Peace at home; and whatever my Flesh suffer, keep my Soul free.  
Thus pained, wherein do I find ease but in laying honey to the part infected? That Medicine only abates the anguish. How near hath Nature placed the remedy to the offence?  
Whensoever my Heart is stung with the remorse for sin, only thy sweet and precious Merits, O blessed Saviour, can mitigate and heal the wound: they have virtue to cure me, give me Grace to apply them; that sovereign receipt shall make my pain happy. I shall thus applaud my grief; It is good for me that I was thus afflicted.   

LXXXIX. Upon the Arraignment of a Felon.  
WIth what terror doth this Malefactor stand at that Bar? his Hand trembles, whiles it is lift up for his trial; his very Lips quake, whiles he saith, Not guilty; his Countenance condemns him before the Judge; and his fear is ready to execute him before his Hangman. Yet this Judge is but a weak man, that must soon after die himself; that Sentence of Death which he can pronounce is already passed by Nature upon the most innocent; that act of Death which the Law inflicteth by him is but momentany; who knows whether himself shall not die more painfully?  
O God, with what horror shall the guilty Soul stand before thy dreadful Tribunal in the day of the great Assizes of the World? whiles there is the presence of an Infinite Majesty to daunt him, a fierce and clamorous Conscience to give in evidence against him, Legions of ugly and terrible Devils waiting to seize upon him, a gulf of unquenchable Fire ready to receive him; whiles the Glory of the Judge is no less confounding then the Cruelty of the Torments; where the Sentence is unavoidable, and the Execution everlasting. Why do not these terrors of thee, my God, make me wise to hold a privy Sessions upon my Soul & actions, that being acquitted by my own heart, I may not be condemned by thee; and being judged by myself, I may not be condemned with the World?   

XC. Upon the Crowing of a Cock.  
How harshly did this note sound in the ear of Peter, yea pierced his very heart? Many a time had he heard this Bird, and was no whit moved with the noise; now there was a Bird in his bosom that crowed louder than this, whose shrill accent conjoined with this astonished the guilty Disciple. The weary Labourer when he is awakened from his sweet sleep by this natural Clock of the Household, is not so angry at this troublesome Bird, nor so vexed at the hearing of that unseasonable sound, as Peter was when this Fowl awakened his sleeping Conscience, and called him to a timely repentance. This Cock did but crow like others, neither made or knew any difference of this tone and the rest; there was a Divine hand that ordered this Morning's note to be a Summons of Penitence. He that foretell it had fore-appointed it: that Bird could not but crow then, and all the noise in the High Priests Hall could not keep that sound from Peter's ear.  
But, O Saviour, couldst thou find leisure, when thou stoodst at the Bar of that unjust and cruel Judgement, amidst all that bloody rabble of Enemies, in the sense of all their fury, and the expectation of thine own Death, to listen unto this Monitor of Peter's Repentance; and upon the hearing of it, to cast back thine eyes upon thy Denying, Cursing, Abjuring Disciple? O Mercy without measure, and beyond all the possibility of our admiration, to neglect thyself for a Sinner, to attend the Repentance of one, when thou wert about to lay down thy life for all!  
O God, thou art still equally merciful. Every Elect Soul is no less dear unto thee. Let the sound of thy faithful Monitors smite my ears, and let the beams of thy merciful eyes wound my heart, so as I may go forth and weep bitterly.   

XCI. Upon the variety of Thoughts.  
WHen I bethink myself how Eternity depends upon this moment of life, I wonder how I can think of any thing but Heaven: but when I see the distractions of my Thoughts and the aberrations of my life, I wonder how I can be so bewitched as (whiles I believe an Heaven) so to forget it. All that I can do, is to be angry at mine own vanity. My Thoughts would not be so many if they were all right; there are ten thousand byways for one direct. As there is but one Heaven, so there is but one way to it; that living way wherein I walk by Faith, by Obedience. All things the more perfect they are, the more do they reduce themselves towards that Unity which is the Centre of all Perfection.  
O thou who art one and infinite, draw in my heart from all these straggling and unprofitable Cogitations, and confine it to thine Heaven and to thyself, who art the Heaven of that Heaven. Let me have no life but in thee, no care but to enjoy thee, no ambition but thy Glory. Oh make me thus imperfectly happy before my time; that when my time shall be no more, I may be perfectly happy with thee in all Eternity.   

XCII. Upon the sight of an Harlot carted.  
WIth what noise and tumult and zeal of solemn Justice is this sin punished? The Streets are not more full of beholders than clamours: Every one strives to express his detestation of the fact by some token of revenge; one casts Mire, another Water, another rotten Eggs upon the miserable offender; neither indeed is she worthy of less: but in the mean time no man looks home to himself. It is no uncharity to say, that too many insult in this just Punishment who have deserved more.  
Alas, we men value sins by the outward Scandal, but the Wise and Holy God (against whom only our sins are done) esteems them according to the intrinsical Iniquity of them, and according to the secret violation of his Will and Justice: thus those Sins which are slight to us, are to him heinous. We ignorants would have rung David's Adultery with Basins, but as for his numbering of the people we should have passed it over as venial; the wise Justice of the Almighty found more wickedness in this which we should scarce have accused. Doubtless there is more mischief in a secret Infidelity, which the World either cannot know or cares not to censure, then in the foulest Adultery. Public sins have more Shame, private may have more Gild.  
If the world cannot charge me of those, it is enough that I can charge my Soul of worse. Let others rejoice in these public Executions; let me pity the sins of others, and be humbled under the sense of my own.   

XCIII. Upon the smell of a Rose.  
SMelling is one of the meanest and least useful of the Senses; yet there is none of the Five that receives or gives so exquisite a contentment as it. Methinks there is no earthly thing that yields so perfect a pleasure to any Sense, as the odour of the first Rose doth to the Sent.  
It is the Wisdom and Bounty of the Creator so to order it, that those Senses which have more affinity with the body, and with that earth whereof it is made, should receive their delight and contentation by those things which are bred of the earth; but those which are more sprightful, and have more affinity with the Soul, should be reserved for the perfection of their pleasure to another world. There and then only shall my Sight make my Soul eternally blessed.   

XCIV. Upon a canceled Bond.  
WHiles this Obligation was in force, I was in servitude to my parchment; my Bond was double, to a Payment, to a Penalty: now that is discharged, what is it better than a waste scroll; regarded for nothing but the witness of its own avoidance and nullity?  
No otherwise is it with the severe Law of my Creator: Out of Christ it stands in full force, and binds me over either to perfect Obedience, which I cannot possibly perform, or to exquisite torment and eternal Death, which I am never able to endure; but now that my Saviour hath fastened it canceled to his Cross (in respect of the rigour and malediction of it) I look upon it as the monument of my past danger and bondage; I know by it how much was owed by me, how much was paid for me. The direction of it is everlasting, the obligation by it unto death is frustrate. I am free from Curse, who never can be free from Obedience.  
O Saviour, take thou Glory, and give me Peace.   

XCV. Upon the report of a great loss by Sea.  
THe Earth and the Water are both of them great givers, and both great takers: As they give matter and sustentation to all Sublunary creatures, so they take all back again, insatiably devouring at last the fruits of their own wombs. Yet of the two the Earth is both more beneficial and less cruel: for as that yields us the most general maintenance and wealth and supportation; so it doth not lightly take aught from us but that which we resign over to it, and which naturally falls back unto it. Whereas the Water, as it affords but a small part of our livelihood, and some few knacks of ornament, so it is apt violently to snatch away both us and ours, and to bereave that which it never gave: it yields us no precious Metals, and yet in an instant fetches away millions. And yet, notwithstanding all the hard measure we receive from it, how many do we daily see that might have firm ground under them, who yet will be trusting to the mercy of the Sea? Yea how many that have hardly crawled out from a desperate shipwreck, will yet be trying the fidelity of that unsure and untrusty Element?  
O God, how venturous we are where we have reason to distrust, how incredulously fearful where we have cause to be confident? Who ever relied upon thy gracious Providence and sure Promises, O Lord, and hath miscarried? Yet here we pull in our Faith, and make excuses for our Diffidence. And if Peter have tried those waves to be no other than solid pavement under his feet, whiles his Soul trod confidently; yet when a billow and a wind agree to threaten him, his Faith flags, and he begins to sink.  
O Lord, teach me to doubt, where I am sure to find nothing but uncertainty; and to be assuredly confident, where there can be no possibility of any cause of doubting.   

XCVI. Upon sight of a bright Sky full of Stars.  
I Cannot blame Empedocles if he professed a desire to live upon earth only that he might behold the face of the Heavens; surely (if there were no other) this were a sufficient errand for a man's being here below, to see and observe these goodly Spangles of Light above our heads, their places, their quantities, their motions.  
But the employment of a Christian is far more noble and excellent; Heaven is open to him, and he can look beyond the veil, and see further above those Stars than it is thither, and there discern those Glories that may answer so rich a pavement. Upon the clear sight whereof, I cannot but wonder if the chosen Vessel desired to leave the earth in so happy an exchange.  
O God, I bless thine Infiniteness for what I see with these bodily eyes: but if thou shalt but draw the curtain, and let me by the eye of Faith see the inside of that thy Glorious frame, I shall need no other Happiness here. My Soul cannot be capable of more favour than Sight here, and Fruition hereafter.   

XCVII. Upon the rumours of Wars.  
GOod Lord, what a shambles is Christendom become of late? How are men killed like flies, and blood poured out like water? Surely the cruelty and ambition of the Great have an heavy reckoning to make for so many thousand Souls. I condemn not just Arms; those are as necessary as the unjust are hateful; even Michael and his Angels fight, and the style of God is the Lord of Hosts. But woe be to the man by whom the offence cometh. Usurpation of others Rights, violation of Oaths and Contracts, and lastly erroneous Zeal, are guilty of all these public Murders. Private men's injuries are washed off with tears, but wrongs done to Princes and public States are hardly wiped off but with blood. Doubtless that fearful Comet did not more certainly portend these Wars, than these Wars presage the approach of the end of the World. The earth was never without some broils since it was peopled but with three men; but so universal a combustion was never in the Christian world since it was.  
O Saviour, what can I think of this, but that as thou wouldst have a general Peace upon thy first coming into the World, so upon thy second coming thou meanest there shall be a no less general War upon earth? That Peace made way for thy meek appearance; this War for thy dreadful and terrible.   

XCVIII. Upon a Child crying.  
IT was upon great reason that the Apostle charges us not to be children in Understanding. What fools we all once are? Even at first we cry and smile we know not wherefore; we have not wit enough to make signs what hurts us, or where we complain; we can wry the mouth, but not seek the breast; and if we want help, we can only lament, and sprawl, and die. After, when some months have taught us to distinguish a little betwixt things and persons, we cry for every toy, even that which may most hurt us; and when there is no other cause, we cry only to hear our own noise, and are strait stilled with a greater; and if it be but upon the breeding of a tooth, we are so wayward that nothing will please us; and if some formerly-liked knack be given to quiet us, we cast away that which we have, if we have not what we would seem to like. We fear neither fire nor water; nothing scares us but either a rod or a feigned bugbear: we mis-know our Parents; not acknowledging any friend but the Tailor that brings us a fine Coat, or the Nurse that dresses us gay. The more that our riper years resemble these dispositions, the more childish we are, and more worthy both of our own and others censure.  
But again, it was upon no less reason that the Apostle charges us to be children in Maliciousness. Those little Innocents' bear no grudge, they are sooner pleased then angry; and if any man have wronged them, let them but have given a stroke unto the Nurse to beat the offender, it is enough; at the same instant they put forth their hand for reconcilement, and offer themselves unto those arms that trespassed. And when they are most froward, they are stilled with a pleasant Song. The old word is, that An old man is twice a child: but I say, happy is he that is thus a child always. It is a great imperfection to want Knowledge; but, of the two, it is better to be a child in Understanding then a man in Maliciousness.   

XCIX. Upon the beginning of a Sickness.  
IT was my own fault, if I looked not for this: All things must undergo their changes. I have enjoyed many fair days; there was no reason I should not at last make account of clouds and storms. Could I have done well, without any mixtures of sin, I might have hoped for entire Health: But since I have interspersed my Obedience with many sinful failings and enormities, why do I think much to interchange Health with Sickness? What I now feel I know; I am not worthy to know what I must feel. As my times, so my measures are in the hands of a wise and good God. My comfort is, he that sends these evils, proportions them. If they be sharp, I am sure they are just; the most that I am capable to endure, is the least part of what I have deserved to suffer. Nature would fain be at ease: but, Lord, whatever become of this carcase, thou hast reason to have respect to thine own Glory. I have sinned, and must smart: It is the glory of thy Mercy to beat my Body for the safety of my Soul. The worst of Sickness is Pain, and the worst of pain is but Death. As for Pain, if it be extreme, it cannot be long; and if it be long, (such is the difference of earthly and Hellish torments) it cannot be extreme: As for Death, it is both unavoidable and beneficial; there ends my Misery, and begins my Glory: a few groans are well bestowed for a preface to an immortal joy.  
Howsoever, O God, thy messenger is worthy to be welcome. It is the Lord, let him do whatsoever he will.   

C. Upon the challenge of a Promise.  
IT is true, an Honest man's word must be his master; when I have promised, I am indebted, and debts may be claimed, must be paid: but yet there is a great deal of difference in our engagements; some things we promise because they are due, some things are only due because they are promised. These latter, which are but the mere engagements of Courtesy, cannot so absolutely bind us, that notwithstanding any intervention of unworthiness or misbehaviour in the person exspectant, we are tied to make our word good, though to the cutting of our own throats. All favourable promises presuppose a capacity in the receiver; where that palpably faileth, common Equity sets us free. I promised to send a fair Sword to my friend; he is since that time turned frantic: must I send it, or be charged with unfaithfulness if I send it not?  
O God, thy Title is the God of Truth, thou canst no more cease to be faithful then to be. How oft hast thou promised, that no good thing shall be wanting to thine? and yet we know thy dearest children have complained of want. Is thy word therefore challengeable? Far, far be this wicked presumption from our thoughts. No: These thy promises of outward Favours are never but with a subintelligence of a condition of our capableness, of our expedience. Thou seest that Plenty or Ease would be our bane; thy Love forbears to satisfy us with an harmful Blessing. We are worthy to be plagued with prejudicial kindnesses, if we do not acknowledge thy Wisdom and care in our want. It is enough for us that thy best Mercies are our deuce, because thy Promises: we cannot too much claim that which thou hast absolutely engaged thyself to give, and in giving shalt make us eternally happy.   

CI. Upon the sight of Flies.  
WHen I look upon these Flies and gnats and worms, I have reason to think, What am I to my infinite Creator more than these? And if these had my Reason, why might they not expostulate with their Maker, why they are but such, why they live to so little purpose, and die without either notice or use? And if I had no more Reason than they, I should be (as they) content with any condition. That Reason which I have is not of my own giving; he that hath given me Reason might as well have given it to them, or have made me as reasonless as they: there is no cause why his greater gift should make me mutinous and malcontent.  
I will thank my God for what I am, for what I have; and never quarrel with him for what I want.   

CII. Upon the sight of a fantastical Zealot.  
IT is not the intent of Grace to mould our Bodies anew, but to make use of them as it finds us. The Disposition of men much follows the temper of their bodily Humours. This mixture of Humours wrought upon by Grace, causeth that strange variety which we see in professions pretendedly Religious. When Grace lights upon a sad Melancholic Spirit, nothing is affected but Sullenness and extreme Mortification, and dislike even of lawful Freedom; nothing but Positions and Practices of severe Austerity: when contrarily upon the Cheerful and lively, all draws towards Liberty and Joy; those thoughts do now please best which enlarge the heart to Mirth and contentation.  
It is the greatest improvement of Christian wisdom to distinguish (in all professions) betwixt Grace and Humour; to give God his own Glory, and men their own Infirmities.   

CIII. Upon the sight of a Scavenger working in the Canell.  
THE wise Providence of God hath fitted men with spirits answerable to their condition. If mean men should bear the minds of great Lords, no servile works would be done; all would be Commanders, and none could live: If contrarily Great persons had the low spirits of drudges, there could be no order, no obedience; because there should be none to command. Now out of this discord of dispositions God hath contrived an excellent harmony of Government and Peace: since the use which each sort must needs have of other binds them to maintain the quality of their own ranks, and to do those offices which are requisite for the preservation of themselves and the public.  
As Inferiors then must bless God for the Graces and Authority of their betters; so must Superiors no less bless him for the Humility and serviceableness of the meaner; and those which are of the mid rank must bless him for both.   

CIV. Upon a pair of Spectacles.  
I Look upon these, not as Objects, but as Helps; as not meaning that my Sight should rest in them, but pass through them, and by their aid discern some other things which I desire to see.  
Many such glasses my Soul hath and useth. I look through the glass of the Creatures at the power and wisdom of their Maker: I look through the glass of the Scriptures at the great Mystery of Redemption, and the glory of an Heavenly inheritance: I look through God's Favours at his infinite Mercy, through his Judgements at his incomprehensible Justice.  
But as these Spectacles of mine presuppose a faculty in the Eye, and cannot give me Sight when I want it, but only clear that sight which I have; no more can these glasses of the Creatures, of Scriptures, of Favours and Judgements enable me to apprehend those blessed Objects, except I have an eye of Faith whereto they may be presented. These helps to an unbelieving man are but as Spectacles to the blind. As the Natural Eyes, so the Spiritual, have their degrees of dimness. But I have ill improved my Age, if as my Natural eyes decay, my Spiritual eye be not cleared and confirmed: but at my best I shall never but need Spectacles, till I come to see as I am seen.   

CV. Upon Moats in the Sun.  
HOW these little Moats move up and down in the Sun, and never rest; whereas the great Mountains stand ever still, and move not, but with an Earthquake?  
Even so light and busy spirits are in continual agitation to little purpose, whiles great deep wits sit still, and stir not but upon extreme occasions.  
Were the motion of these little Atoms as useful as it is restless, I had rather be a Moat then a Mountain.   

CVI Upon the sight of a Bladder.  
EVery thing must be taken in his meet time: let this Bladder alone till it be dry, and all the wind in the world cannot raise it up; whereas now it is new and moist the least breath fills and enlarges it.  
It is no otherwise in Ages and Dispositions: inform the Child in Precepts of Learning and Virtue whiles years make him capable, how pliably he yieldeth, how happily is he replenished with Knowledge and Goodness? let him alone till time and ill example have hardened him, till he be settled in an Habit of Evil, and contracted and clung together with Sensual delights, now he becomes utterly indocible. Sooner may that Bladder be broken then distended.   

CVII. Upon a man Sleeping.  
I Do not more wonder at any man's Art then at his who professes to think of nothing, to do nothing. And I do not a little marvel at that man who says he can sleep without a Dream: for the Mind of man is a restless thing: and though it give the Body leave to repose itself, as knowing it is a mortal and earthly piece; yet itself being a Spirit, and therefore active and indefatigable, is ever in motion. Give me a Sea that moves not, a Sun that shines not, an open Eye that sees not; and I shall yield there may be a Reasonable Soul that works not. It is possible that through a natural or accidental stupidity a man may not perceive his own Thoughts; (as sometimes the Eye or Ear may be distracted not to discern his own Objects) but in the mean time he thinks that whereof he cannot give an account, like as we many times dream when we cannot report our fancy. I should more easily put myself to school unto that man who undertakes the profession of thinking many things at once. Instantany motions are more proper for a Spirit then a dull rest.  
Since my Mind will needs be ever working, it shall be my care that it may always be well employed.   

CVIII. Upon the sight of a Deaths-head.  
I Wonder at the practice of the ancient both Greeks and Romans, whose use was to bring up a Deaths-head in the mids of their Feasts, on purpose to stir up their Guests to drink harder and to frolic more: the sight whereof, one would think, should have rather abated their courage, and have tempered their jollity.  
But however it was with them who believed there was nothing after death, that the consideration of the short time of their pleasures and being spurred them on to a free and full fruition of that mirth and excess which they should not long live to enjoy; yet to us that are Christians, and therefore know that this short life doth but make way for an eternity of Joy or Torment afterwards, and that after the Feast we must account of a Reckoning, there cannot be a greater cooler for the heat of our intemperate desires and rage of our Appetites, than the meditation of the Shortness of Life and the Certainty of Death. Who would over-pamper a body for the worms? Who would be so mad as to let himself loose to that momentany pleasure of Sin, which ere long must cost him everlasting pain and misery?  
For me, methinks this Head speaks no other language than this, Lose no time; thou art dying: Do thy best; thou mayest do good but a while, and shalt far well for ever.   

CIX. Upon the sight of a Lefthanded man.  
IT is both an old and easy observation, that however the Senses are alike strong and active on the right side and on the left, yet that the limbs on the right side are stronger than those of the left, because they are more exercised than the other: upon which selfsame reason it must follow, that a Lefthanded man hath more strength in his left Arm then in his right.  
Neither is it otherwise in the Soul: our Intellectual parts grow vigorous with employment, and languish with disuse. I have known excellent Preachers and pregnant Disputants that have lost these Faculties with lack of action; and others but meanly qualified with Natural gifts, that have attained to a laudable measure of abilities by improvement of their little.  
I had rather lack good Parts, than that good Parts should lack me. Not to have great Gifts is no fault of mine; it is my fault not to use them.   

CX. Upon the sight of an old unthatched Cottage.  
THere cannot be a truer Emblem of crazy Old age: Moldred and clay Walls, a thin, uncovered Roof, bending Studds, dark and broken Windows; in short, an House ready to fall on the head of the indweller.  
The best Body is but a Cottage: if newer and better timbered, yet such as Age will equally impair and make thus ragged and ruinous; or, before that, perhaps casualty of Fire or Tempest, or violence of an Enemy.  
One of the chief cares of men is to dwell well. Some build for themselves, fair, but not strong; others build for Posterity, strong, but not fair, not high: but happy is that man that builds for Eternity, as strong, as fair, as high as the glorious contignations of Heaven.   

CXI. Upon the sight of a fair Pearl.  
WHat a pure and precious creature is this, which yet is taken out of the med of the sea? Who can complain of a base Original, when he sees such Excellencies so descended? These Shel-fishes that have no Sexes, and therefore are made out of corruption, what glorious things they yield to adorn and make proud the greatest Princesses?  
God's great works go not by likelihoods: how easily can he fetch glory out of obscurity, who brought all out of nothing?   

CXII. Upon a Screen.  
MEthinks this Screen that stands betwixt me & the fire is like some good Friend at the Court, which keeps from me the heat of the unjust Displeasure of the Great, wherewith I might perhaps otherwise be causelessly scorched.  
But how happy am I, if the interposition of my Saviour, my best Friend in Heaven, may screen me from the deserved Wrath of that great God who is a consuming fire?   

CXIII. Upon a Burre-leaf.  
NEither the Vine, nor the Oak, nor the Cedar, nor any Tree that I know within our Climate, yields so great a leaf as this Weed; which yet, after all expectation, brings forth nothing but a Burr, unprofitable, troublesome.  
So have I seen none make greater Profession of Religion than an Ignorant man; whose indiscreet forwardness yields no fruit, but a factious disturbance to the Church wherein he lives. Too much Show is not so much better than none at all, as an ill Fruit is worse than none at all.   

CXIV. Upon the Singing of a Bird.  
IT is probable that none of those creatures that want Reason delight so much in pleasant Sounds as a Bird; whence it is that both it spends so much time in singing, and is more apt to imitate those modulations which it hears from men.  
Frequent practice (if it be voluntary) argues a delight in that which we do; and delight makes us more apt to practise, and more capable of perfection in that we practise.  
O God, if I take pleasure in thy Law, I shall meditate of it with comfort, speak of it with boldness, and practise it with cheerfulness.   

CXV. Upon the sight of a man Yawning.  
IT is a marvellous thing to see the real effects and strong operation of Consent or Sympathy even where there is no bodily touch: so one sad man puts the whole company into dumps; so one man's Yawning affects and stretches the jaws of many beholders; so the looking upon blear eyes taints the eye with blearenesse.  
From hence it is easy to see the ground of our Saviour's expostulation with his persecutor, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? The Church is persecuted below, he feels it above and complains. So much as the person is more apprehensive, must he needs be more affected.  
O Saviour, thou canst not but be deeply sensible of all our miseries and necessities. If we do not feel thy wrongs and the wants of our Brethren, we have no part in thee.   

CXVI. Upon the sight of a Tree lopped.  
IN the lopping of these Trees, Experience and good Husbandry hath taught men to leave one bough still growing in the top, the better to draw up the sap from the root.  
The like wisdom is fit to be observed in Censures; which are intended altogether for reformation, not for destruction. So must they be inflicted, that the Patient be not utterly discouraged, and stripped of hope and comfort; but that, whiles he suffereth, he may feel his good tendered, and his amendment both aimed at and expected.  
O God, if thou shouldest deal with me as I deserve, thou shouldest not only shred my boughs, but cut down my stock, and stock up my root; and yet thou dost but prune my superfluous branches, and cherishest the rest. How unworthy am I of this mercy, if whiles thou art thus indulgent unto me, I be severe and cruel to others, perhaps less ill-deserving than myself?   

CXVII. Upon a Scholar that offered Violence to himself.  
HAD this man lain long under some eminent discontentment, it had been easy to find out the motive of his miscarriage. Weak Nature is easily over-laid with Impatience; it must be only the power of Grace that can grapple with vehement evils, and master them. But here the world cannot say what could be guilty of occasioning this Violence: this man's hand was full, his Fame untainted, his body no burden, his disposition (for aught we saw) fair, his Life guiltless; yet something did the Tempter find to aggravate unto his feeble thoughts, and to represent worthy of a dispatch.  
What a poor thing is Life, whereof so slight occasions can make us weary? What impotent wretches are we when we are not sustained? One would think this the most impossible of all motions: naturally every man loves himself; and Life is sweet, Death abhorred. What is it that Satan can despair to persuade men unto, if he can draw them to an unnatural abandoning of life, and pursuit of death?  
Why should I doubt of prevailing with my own heart, by the powerful overruling of God's Spirit, to contemn life and to affect death for the sake of my Saviour (in exchange of a few miserable moments for eternity of joy) when I see men, upon an unreasonable suggestion of that evil Spirit, cast away their lives for nothing, and so hastening their temporal death that they hazard an eternal?   

CXVIII. Upon the coming in of the Judge.  
THE construction of men and their actions is altogether according to the disposition of the lookers on. The same face of the Judge without any inward alteration is seen with terror by the guilty, with joy and confidence by the oppressed innocent: like as the same lips of the Bridegroom drop both myrrh and honey at once; honey to the well-disposed heart, myrrh to the rebellious: and the same Cup relishes well to the healthful, and distastes the feverous: the same word is, though a sweet, yet a contrary, favour to the different receivers; and the same Sun comforts the strong sight, dazzles the weak.  
For a man to affect either to do or speak that which may be pleasing to all men, is but a weak and idle ambition, when we see him that is infinitely Good, appear terrible to more than he appears lovely. Goodness is itself with whatever eyes it is looked upon. There can be no safety for that man that regards more the censure of men, than the truth of being. He that seeks to win all hearts, hath lost his own.   

CXIX. Upon the sight of an Heap of stones.  
UNder such a pile it was that the first Martyr was buried: none of all the ancient Kings had so glorious a Tomb; here were many stones, and every one precious. Jacob leaned his head upon a stone, and saw that Heavenly vision of Angels ascending and descending: Many stones light upon Steven's head in the instant of his seeing the Heavens opened, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. Lo, Jacob resting upon that one stone, saw but the Angels: Steven being to rest for once under those many stones, saw the Lord of the Angels. Jacob saw the Angels moving; Steven saw Jesus standing. As Jacob therefore afterwards, according to his Vow, made there an altar to God; so Steven now in the present gathers these stones together, of which he erected an holy altar, whereon he offered up himself a blessed Sacrifice unto God. And if there be a time of gathering stones, and a time of casting them away; this was the time wherein the Jews cast, and Steven gathered up these stones for a monument of eternal Glory.  
O blessed Saint, thou didst not so clearly see Heaven opened, as Heaven saw thee covered; thou didst not so perfectly see thy Jesus standing, as he saw thee lying patiently, courageously under that fatal heap. Do I mistake it, or are those stones, not Flints and Pebbles, but Diamonds & Rubies and Carbuncles to set upon thy Crown of Glory?   

CXX. Upon sight of a Bat and Owl.  
THese Night-birds are glad to hide their heads all; and if by some violence they be unseasonably forced our of their secrecy, how are they followed and beaten by the birds of the day?  
With us men it is contrary, the Sons of Darkness do with all eagerness of ma●ice pursue the children of the Light, and drive them into corners, and make a prey of them: the opposition is alike, but the advantage lies on the worse side. Is it for that the Spiritual Light is no less hateful to those Children of Darkness, than the natural night is to those cheerful Birds of the day? Or is it for that the Sons of Darkness, challenging no less propriety in the world than the Foul do in the lightsome air, abhor and wonder at the conscionanable as strange and uncouth? Howsoever, as these Bats and Owls were made for the night, being accordingly shaped, foul and ill-favoured; so we know these vicious men (however they may please themselves) have in them a true deformity, fit to be shrouded in Darkness; and as they delight in the works of Darkness, so they are justly reserved to a state of Darkness.   

CXXI. Upon the sight of a Well-fleeced Sheep.  
WHat a warm Winter-coat hath God provided for this quiet innocent creature? as, indeed, how wonderful is his Wisdom and Goodness in all his purveiances? Those creatures which are apt for motion, and withal most fearful by nature, hath he clad somewhat thinner, and hath allotted them safe and warm boroughs within the earth; those that are fit for labour and use hath he furnished with a strong hide: and for Man, whom he hath thought good to bring forth naked, tender, helpless, he hath endued his Parents and himself with that noble faculty of Reason, whereby he may provide all manner of helps for himself. Yet again so bountiful is God in his provisions, that he is not lavish; so distributing his gifts, that there is no more superfluity than want. Those creatures that have beaks, have no teeth; and those that have shells without, have no bones within. All have enough, nothing hath all.  
Neither is it otherwise in that one kind of Man, whom he meant for the Lord of all: Variety of gifts is here mixed with a frugal dispensation: None hath cause to boast, none to complain: Every man is as free from an absolute defect, as from perfection.  
I desire not to comprehend; O Lord, teach me to do nothing but wonder.   

CXXII. Upon the hearing of Thunder.  
THere is no Grace whereof I find so general a want in myself and others as an awful fear of the infinite Majesty of God. Men are ready to affect and profess a kind of Familiarity with God, out of a pretence of love; whereas if they knew him aright, they could not think of him without dread, nor name him without trembling: their narrow hearts strive to conceive of him according to the scantling of their own straight and ignorant apprehension; whereas they should only desire to have their thoughts swallowed up with an adoring wonder of his Divine incomprehensibleness. Though he thunder not always, he is always equally dreadful; there is none of his works which doth not bewray Omnipotency.  
I blush at the sauciness of vain men, that will be circumscribing the powerful acts of the Almighty within the compass of Natural Causes; forbearing to wonder at what they profess to know. Nothing but Ignorance can be guilty of this Boldness. There is no Divinity but in an humble fear, no Philosophy but a silent admiration.   

CXXIII. Upon the sight of an Hedgehog.  
I Marvelled at the first reading, what the Greeks meant by that Proverb of theirs, The Fox knows many pretty wiles, but the Hedgehog knows one great one. But when I considered the Nature and practice of this creature, I easily found the reason of that speech, grounded upon the care and shift that it makes for its own preservation. Whiles it is under covert, it knows how to bar the foredoor against the cold Northern and Eastern blasts, and to open the backdoor for quieter and calmer air: When it is pursued, it knows how to roll up itself round within those thorns with which Nature hath environed it, so as the Dog, in stead of a beast, finds now nothing but a ball of pricks to wound his jaws; and goes away crying from so untoothsome a prey.  
He that sent the Sluggard to school to the Pismire, sends also in effect the Careless and imprudent man to the Hedgehog, whiles he saith, If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself. The main care of any creature is self-preservation; whatsoever doth that best, is the wisest. These creatures that are all body, have well improved the instincts of Nature, if they can provide for their bodily safety; Man, that is a reasonable Soul, shall have done nothing, if he make not sure work for the better part.  
O God, make me Soule-wise; I shall never envy their craft that pity my simplicity.   

CXXIV. Upon the sight of a Goat.  
THis creature is in an ill name: it is not for any good qualities, that God hath made choice of the Goat to resemble the wicked and reprobate Soul. It is unruly, and salacious, and noisome.  
I cannot see one of them, but I presently recall to my thoughts the woeful condition of those on the left hand, whom God hath set aside to so fearful a Damnation. They are here mixed with the Flock, their colour differs nothing from the Sheep; or if we do discern them by their rougher coat and odious sent, we sever ourselves from them: but the time shall come when he shall sever them from us, who hath appointed our innocency to the fold, and their harmfulnesse to an everlasting slaughter. Onwards, if they climb higher than we, and feed upon those craggy cliffs which we dare scarce reach to with our eyes; their boldness is not greater than their danger, neither is their ascent more perilous than their ruin deadly.   

CXXV. Upon the sight of the Blind and the Lame.  
HEre is a true natural commerce of Senses. The Blind man hath Legs, the Lame man hath Eyes: the Lame man lends his Eyes to the Blind, the Blind man lends his Legs to the Lame; and now both of them move, where otherwise both must sit still and perish. It is hard to say whether is more beholden to other; the one gives Strength, the other Direction; both of them equally necessary to motion.  
Though it be not in other cases so sensible, yet surely this very traffic of Faculties is that whereby we live, neither could the world subsist without it: one man lends a Brain, another an Arm; one a Tongue, another an Hand. He that knows wherefore he made all, hath taken order to improve every part to the benefit of the whole.  
What do I wish aught that is not useful? And if there be any thing in me that may serve to the good of others, it is not mine, but the Churches. I cannot live but by others: it were injurious if others should not likewise share with me.   

CXXVI. Upon the sight of a Map of the World.  
WHat a poor little spot is a Country? A man may hide with his thumb the great Territories of those that would be accounted Monarches. In vain should the great Cham or the great Mogul or Prester John seek here for his Court; it is well if he can find his Kingdom amongst these parcels. And if we take all together, these shreds of Islands and these patches of Continent, what a mere indivisible point they are in comparison of that vast circle of Heaven wherewith they are encompassed?  
It is not easy for a man to be known to that whole Land wherein he lives: but if he could be so famous, the next Country perhaps never hears of his Name: and if he can attain to be talked of there, yet the remoter parts cannot take notice that there is such a thing: and if they did, all speak of nothing else, what were he the better?  
Oh the narrow bounds of earthly Glory! Oh the vain affectation of humane applause! Only that man is happily famous, who is known and recorded in Heaven.   

CXXVII. Upon the sight of Hemlock.  
THere is no creature of itself evil; misapplication may make the best so: and there is a good use to be made of the worst. This Weed which is too well proved to be poisonous, yet to the Goat is medicinal, as serving by the coldness of it to temper the feverous heat of that beast: So we see the Marmoset eating of Spiders, both for pleasure and cure.  
Our ignorance may not bring a scandal upon God's workmanship; or if it do, his Wisdom knows how to make a good use even of our injury. I cannot say but the very venom of the creatures is to excellent purpose; how much more their beneficial qualities? If ought hurt us, the fault is ours, in mistaking the evil for good: in the mean time we owe praise to the Maker, and to the creature a just and thankful allowance.   

CXXVIII. Upon a Flower-de-luce.  
THis Flower is but unpleasingly fulsome for scent, but the root of it is so fragrant, that the delicatest Ladies are glad to put it into their sweet bags: contrarily, the Rosetree hath a sweet flower, but a savourlesse root; and the Saffron yields an odoriferous and cordial spire, whiles both the flower and the root are unpleasing. It is with Vegetables as with Metals.  
God never meant to have his best always in view; neither meant he to have all eminences concealed. He would have us to know him to be both secretly rich, and openly bountiful. If we do not use every Grace in its own kind, God loses the thanks, and we the benefit.   

CXXIX. Upon the sight of two Trees, one high, the other broad.  
THose Trees that shoot up in height are seldom broad; as contrarily, those Trees that are spreading are seldom tall: it were too much ambition in that Plant which would be both ways eminent.  
Thus it is with men. The Covetous man, that effects to spread in Wealth, seldom cares to aspire unto height of Honour; the Proud man, whose heart is set upon Preferment, regards not (in comparison thereof) the growth of his Wealth: there is a poor shrub in a valley, that is neither tall nor broad, nor cares to be either, which speeds better than they both. The tall tree is cut down for Timber, the broad tree is lopped for Firewood; besides that the Tempest hath power on them both: whereas the low shrub is neither envied by the wind, nor threatened by the axe, but fostered rather, for that little shelter which it affords the Shepherd. If there be glory in Greatness, Meanness hath security.  
Let me never envy their diet that had rather be unsafe then inglorious.   

CXXX. Upon the sight of a Drunken man.  
REason is an excellent Faculty, and indeed that which alone differenceth us from brute creatures; without which what is Man but a two-legged Beast? And as all precious things are tender and subject to miscarriage, so is this above others; the want of some little Sleep, the violence of a Fever or one Cup too much puts it into utter distemper. What can we make of this thing? (Man I cannot call him) He hath Shape; so hath a dead Corpse as well as he: he hath Life, so hath a Beast as well as he. Reason either for the time he hath not, or if he have it, he hath it so depraved and marred for the exercise of it, that Brutishness is much less ill-beseeming.  
Surely, the Natural Bestiality is so much less odious than the Moral, as there is difference in the causes of both: that is of Gods making, this of our own. It is no shame to the Beast that God hath made him so; it is a just shame to a Man that he hath made himself a Beast.   

CXXXI. Upon the whetting of a scythe.  
REcreation is intended to the Mind as whetting is to the scythe, to sharpen the edge of it, which otherwise would grow dull and blunt. He therefore that spends his whole time in Recreation, is ever whetting, never mowing; his grass may grow, and his Steed starve: as contrarily, he that always toils and never recreates, is ever mowing, never whetting; labouring much to little purpose. As good no scythe, as no Edge. Then only doth the work go forward, when the scythe is so seasonably and moderately whetted, that it may cut, and so cuts, that it may have the help of sharpening.  
I would so interchange, that I neither be dull with Work, nor idle and wanton with Recreation.   

CXXXII. Upon the sight of a Looking-glass.  
WHen I look in another man's face, I see that man▪ and that man sees me as I do him: but when I look in my Glass, I do not see myself; I see only an Image or Representation of myself: howsoever it is like me, yet it is not I. It is for an ignorant Child to look behind the Glass, to find out the Babe that he seeth: I know it is not there; and that the resemblance varies according to the dimness or different fashion of the Glass.  
At our best, we do but thus see God here below: One sees him more clearly, another more obscurely; but all in a Glass. Hereafter we shall see him, not as he appears, but as he is: so shall we see him in the face, as he sees us: the face of our glorified Spirits shall see the glorious face of him who is the God of Spirits. In the mean time, the proudest Dame shall not more ply her Glass, to look upon that face of hers which she thinks beautiful, than I shall gaze upon the clearest glass of my Thoughts, to see that face of God which I know to be infinitely fair and glorious.   

CXXXIII. Upon the shining of a piece of Rotten wood.  
How bright doth this Wood shine? When it is in the fire it will not so beam forth as it doth in this cold darkness. What an Emblem is here of our future estate? This piece, whiles it grew in the tree, shone not at all; now that it is putrified, it casts forth this pleasing lustre.  
Thus it is with us: whiles we live here, we neither are nor seem other then miserable; when we are dead once, then begins our Glory, then doth the Soul shine in the brightness of Heavenly glory; then doth our good Name shine upon earth in those beams which before Envy had either held in or overcast.  
Why are we so over-desirous of our growth, when we may be thus advantaged by our rottenness?   

CXXXIV. Upon an Ivie-tree.  
BEhold a true Emblem of false Love: here are kind embracements, but deadly: how close doth this Weed cling unto that Oak, and seems to hug and shade it? but in the mean time draws away the sap, and at last kills it.  
Such is an Harlot's love, such is a Parasites. Give me that love and friendship which is between the Vine and the Elm, whereby the Elm is no whit worse, and the Vine much the better. That wholesome and noble Plant doth not so close wind itself about the tree that upholds it, as to gall the bark, or to suck away the moisture: and again the Elm yields a beneficial supportation to that weak (though generous) Plant.  
As God, so wise men, know to measure love, not by profession and compliment, (which is commonly most high and vehement in the falsest) but by reality of performance. He is no Enemy that hurts me not: I am not his Friend whom I desire not to benefit.   

CXXXV. Upon a Quartan ague.  
I Have known when those things which have made an healthful man sick, have been the means of making a sick man whole. The Quartan hath of old been justly styled the shame of Physicians; yet I have more than once observed it to be cured by a Surfeit: One Devil is sometime used for the ejection of another.  
Thus have I also seen it in the sickness of the Soul: the same God whose Justice is wont to punish sin with sin, even his Mercy doth so use the matter, that he cures one sin by another. So have we known a Proud man healed by the shame of his uncleanness; a Furious man healed by a rash bloodshed. It matters not greatly what the medicine be, whiles the Physician is infinitely powerful, infinitely skilful.  
What danger can there be of my safety, when God shall heal me as well by evil as by good?   

CXXXVI. Upon the sight of a loaded Cart.  
IT is a passionate expression wherein God bemoans himself of the sins of Israel, Ye have pressed me as a cart is pressed with sheaves. An empty Cart runs lightly away; but if it be sound loaden, it goes sadly, sets hard, groans under the weight, and makes deep impressions, the wheels creak and the axletree bends, and all the frame of it is put unto the utmost stress.  
He that is Omnipotent can bear any thing but too much Sin; his Justice will not let his Mercy be overstrained. No marvel if a guilty Soul say, Mine iniquity is greater than I can bear; when the Infinite God complains of the weight of men's sins. But let not vain men think that God complains out of the want of Power, but out of the abundance of Mercy: He cannot be the worse for our sins, we are. It grieves him to be over-provoked to our Punishment. Then doth he account the Cart to crack, yea to break, when he is urged to break forth into just Vengeance.  
O Saviour, the sins of the whole World lay upon thee, thou sweatedst blood under the load: what would become of me if I should bear but one sheaf of that load, every ear▪ whereof, yea every grain of that ear, were enough to press down my Soul to the nethermost hell?   

CXXXVII. Upon the sight of a Dwarf.  
AMongst all the bounteous gifts of God, what is it that he hath equally bestowed upon all? except it be our very Being, whiles we are. He hath not given to all men the same stature of body, not the same strength of Wit, not the same capacity of Memory, not the same Beauty of parts, not the same measure of Wealth or Honour.  
Thus hath he done also in matter of Grace: there are spiritual Dwarves, there are Giants; there are perfect men, children, babes, embryos. This inequality doth so much more praise the mercy and wisdom of the giver, and exercise the charity and thankfulness of the receiver. The essence of our Humanity doth not consist in Stature; he that is little of growth, is as much man as he that is taller. Even so also Spiritually, the quantity of Grace doth not make the Christian, but the truth of it.  
I shall be glad and ambitious to add cubits to my height; but withal it shall comfort me to know, that I cannot be so low of stature as not to reach unto Heaven.   

CXXXVIII. Upon an importunate Beggar.  
IT was a good rule of him that bade us learn to pray of Beggars: with what zeal doth this man sue, with what feeling expressions, with how forceable importunity? When I meant to pass by him with silence, yet his clamour draws words from me; when I speak to him, though with excuses, rebukes, denials, repulses, his obsecrations, his adjurations draw from me that Alms which I meant not to give. How he uncovers his Sores▪ and shows his impotence, that my eyes may help his tongue to plead? With what oratory doth he force my compassion? so as it is scarce any thank to me that he prevails.  
Why do I not thus to my God? I am sure I want no less than the neediest; the danger of my want is greater; the alms that I crave is better, the store and mercy of the Giver infinitely more. Why shouldst thou give me, O God, that which I care not to ask? Oh give me a true sense of my wants; and then I cannot be cool in ask, thou canst not be difficult in condescending.   

CXXXIX. Upon a Medicinal potion.  
HOW loathsome a draught is this? how offensive, both to the eye, and to the scent, and to the taste? yea the very thought of it is a kind of sickness: and when it is once down, my very disease is not so painful for the time as my remedy. How doth it turn the stomach, and wring the entrails, and works a worse distemper than that whereof I formerly complained? And yet it must be taken for health: neither could it be so wholesome if it were less unpleasing; neither could it make me whole if it did not first make me sick.  
Such are the chastisements of God and the reproofs of a Friend; harsh, troublesome, grievous: but in the end they yield the peaceable fruit of Righteousness.  
Why do I turn away my head, and make faces, and shut mine eyes, and stop my nostrils, and nauseate and abhor to take this harmless potion for Health, when we have seen Mountebanks to swallow dismembered toads, and drink the poisonous broth after them, only for a little ostentation and gain? It is only weakness, and want of resolution that is guilty of this queasiness. Why do not I cheerfully take and quaff up that bitter cup of Affliction, which my wife and good God hath mixed for the health of my Soul?   

CXL. Upon the sight of a Wheel.  
THE Prophet meant it for no other than a fearful imprecation against God's enemies, O my God, make them like unto a wheel; whereby what could he intend to signify, but instability of condition and sudden violence of Judgement? Those spoaks of the wheel that are now up, are sooner than sight or thought whirled down, and are strait raised up again on purpose to be depressed: Neither can there be any motion so rapid and swift as the Circular.  
It is a great favour of God that he takes leisure in his affliction, so punishing us that we have respites of Repentance. There is life and hope in these degrees of suffering; but those hurrying and whirling Judgements of God have nothing in them but wrath and confusion.  
O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger. I cannot deprecate thy rebuke; my sins call for correction: but I deprecate thine anger; thou rebukest even where thou lovest. So rebuke me, that whiles I smart with thy Rod, I may rejoice in thy Mercy.    

CERTAIN CATHOLIC PROPOSITIONS Which A Devout Son of the CHURCH Humbly offers to the serious consideration of all ingenuous Christians wheresoever dispersed all the world over.  

To all them who through the whole Israel of God follow Absolom with a simple heart.  
BE not deceived any longer, dear Christian Souls: be ye free, that ye may be safe. There is a certain Sacred Tyranny that miserably abuses you, and so cunningly beguiles you, that you choose rather to err and perish. God hath given you Reason, and above that Faith; do not so far wrong yourselves as to be made the mere slaves of another's will, and to think it the safest way to be willingly blind. Lay aside for a while all prejudice and superstitious side-taking; and consider seriously these few words, which my sincere love to your Souls and hearty ambition of your Salvation hath commanded me (as before the awful Tribunal of Almighty God) to tender unto you. If what I say be not so clear and manifest to every ingenuous judgement that it shall not need to borrow further light from abroad, condemn this worthless scroll, and in your severe doom punish the Author with the loss of an hours labour. But if it shall carry sufficient evidence in itself, and shall be found so reasonable, as that to any free mind it shall not persuade but command assent; give way (for God's sake, and for your Soul's sake) to that powerful Truth of God which breaks forth from Heaven upon you; and at last acknowledge (besides a world of foul Errors) the miserable insolence and cruelty of that once-Famous and renowned Church, which (to use Gerson's word) will needs make Faith of Opinion, and too impotently favouring her own passions, hath not ceased to persecute with fire and sword the dear and holy servants of God; and at last (notwithstanding all the vain thunderbolts of a proud and lawless fury) make much of those your truly-Christian and religious brethren, who according to the just liberty of Faithful men, refuse and detest those false and upstart Points of a new-devised Faith.  
But if any of you (which God forbid) had still rather to be deceived, and dote upon his received Errors, and (as angry Curs are wont) shall bark and bay at so clear a light of Truth; my Soul shall in silence and sorrow pity that man in vain. I wis, we have had disputing enough, if not too much. Away from henceforth with all these Paper-brablings: God from Heaven shall stint these strifes. Wonder, O Catholics; and ye whom it concerns, repent.   

Certain Catholic PROPOSITIONS which a devout Son of the Church humbly offers to the serious consideration of all ingenuous Christians wheresoever dispersed all the World over.  
I. EVery true Christian is in that very regard properly capable of Salvation, and (for matter of Faith) goes on in the ready way to Heaven.  
II. Whosoever being duly admitted into the Church of God by lawful Baptism, believeth and maintaineth all the main and essential Points of Christian Faith, is for matter of belief a true Christian.  
III. The Sum of the Christian Faith are those Principles of Christian Religion and Fundamental Grounds and Points of Faith, which are undoubtedly contained and laid down in the Canonical Scriptures, whether in express terms or by necessary consequence, and in the Ancient Creeds universally received, and allowed by the whole Church of God.  
IV. There cannot be nowadays any new Rule of Faith.  
V. As there cannot be any new Rule of Faith, so there cannot now be any new Faith. It is not therefore in the power of any creature under Heaven to make any Point to be of Faith which before was not so, or to cause any Point not to be of Faith which formerly was so.  
VI He cannot be an Heretic who doth not obstinately deny something which is truly a Point of Faith; or hold some Point contrary to the foresaid Articles of Christian Faith.  
VII. There are and may be many Theological Points, which are wont to be believed and maintained, and so many lawfully be, of this or that particular Church, or the Doctors thereof, or their Followers, as godly Doctrines and Probable Truths; besides those other Essential and main matters of Faith, without any prejudice at all of the common Peace of the Church.  
VIII. Howsoever it may be lawful for Learned men & particular Churches to believe and maintain those Probable, or (as they may think) Certain Points of Theological Verities; yet it is not lawful for them to impose and obtrude the said Doctrines upon any Church or Person, to be believed and held as upon the necessity of Salvation, or to anathematise or eject out of the Church any Person or company of men that thinks otherwise.  
IX. Notwithstanding any such unjust Anathema denounced against any such Person or Church, whosoever holds those Principles and Essential Points of Christian Faith, however he be in place far remote from all the Visible Churches of Christ, and neither know not or receive not those other Positions of Theological determination, is throughly capable (in such condition) of Christian Communion; and if many such be met together under a lawful Pastor, there cannot be denied unto them both the truth and title of a true Visible Church of Christ.  
X. The Church of Rome is only, and at the best, a Particular Church.  
XI. All Christian Churches are no other than Sisters, and Daughters of that great and Universal Mother, which furnisheth both Heaven and earth; of equal privilege in respect of God and his Faith, save only that each one is so much more honourable as it is more pure and holy. It is not therefore lawful for any one of them, in regard of the businesses of Faith, to take upon herself the power and command over any other; or to prescribe unto any of them what they must necessarily believe upon pain of damnation.  
XII. Those issues of Controversy in regard whereof the Reformed Catholics are wont to be condemned and anathematised by the Roman Church, 
I perceive some Readers have unheedily & unjustly stumbled at this Proposition, as if I had herein slighted the Differences betwixt us and the Roman Church; from which I am so far, as that I have ever professed to hold them to be, on their parts, no less than damnable Errors, and such as by consequence do raze the Foundation. If these words have seemed to sound otherwise, it is nothing but the Readers inconsiderate mistaking; who, if he please to bend his second and more serious thoughts upon the place, will easily see that my intention is herein only to show how unjustly the Church of Rome doth charge us with Heresy in denying their Doctrine, forasmuch as those Positions of theirs which we are condemned for refusing, are far from being Principles of Faith, but are things of their own devising & imposing. For example, they condemn us for rejecting the doctrine of Transubstantiation, and refusing to hold that the substance of the Bread is (by the force of the words) truly and really turned into the very Flesh, Blood and Bone of Christ. Now, I say, this their doctrine of Transubstantiation is far from being any Principle of Faith, but only a point of their own Divinity, devised and maintained by themselves. They condemn us for refusing to pray to Saints, or to worship Images: I say, that this Doctrine, that Saints ought to be invoked or Images worshipped, is far from being a Principle of Faith; but only one of their own Theological Positions, devised and imposed by themselves. The like may be and must be said of all their other Points obtruded on the Church; wherein I hope no wise Reformed Catholic will think he hath reason to descent from me, or to misdoubt my Proposition.  are far from Principles of Christian Faith; neither are any other than their own Theological Positions, and the institutions and devises of that particular Church.  
XIII. The Reformed Catholics have not offered to bring in any new Opinion or Doctrine into the Church, but only labour and endeavour to procure some late & superfluous additions to the Faith to be cashiered & rejected.  
XIV. Vainly therefore and unjustly is it required of them, that they should show the succession of their Religion and Church (as raised upon a quite other foundation) to be derived from the Apostolic times to the present; since all that they profess is a desire to purge the very same Church of God from certain new Errors and Superstitious rites wherewith it is miserably defiled.  
XV. Out of all which Premises it necessarily followeth, that the Roman Church, which upon these grounds sticketh not to exclude true Christians (differing from them in matter of such Doctrines) from the Church of God and eternal Salvation, is justly guilty of great insolency, and horrible breach both of Charity and Peace; and that the Reformed, notwithstanding this rash and unjust censure of theirs, (forasmuch as they do inviolably hold all the Points of the truly ancient and Christian Faith,) do justly claim unto themselves a most true and perfect interest in the communion of all Christian Churches, and eternal Salvation.  
XVI. There is no less danger in adding to the Articles of Christian Faith, then in diminishing them or detracting from them.  
XVII. Those Points which the Roman Church is wont to add, and forcibly to put upon all Catholics (as well the Reformed as those whom they term their own) are such as are grounded on her own mere authority.  
XVIII. The Reformed Catholics do justly complain, and prove that those Points which the Roman Church imposeth and urgeth as the meet additions both of Faith and Divine worship, are neither safe, nor agreeable to the holy Word of God; and plead it to be utterly unjust, that those accessary Points, of their devising or determining, wherein every Church should be left free and at her due liberty, should be imperiously thrust upon them, notwithstanding their vehement and just resistance.  
XIX. It argues a palpable self-love in the Roman Church, and must needs at the last draw down a grievous Judgement from God upon her, that this Particular Church will needs make herself uncapable of any better condition; in that she vainly brags that she cannot err, and fearfully accurseth and sends down to hell all those that proffer her the least endeavour of the means of her remedy and redress.  
XX. Upon all these grounds, it is plain that the Reformed Catholics are in a safe estate, and that contrarily the Roman are in a miserable error and fearful danger; and lastly, that it is only through their default, that the Church of God is not reduced to an happy Purity and Peace.  2 Tim. 2. 7. Consider what I say, and the Lord give you understanding in all things.   



AN ANSWER TO POPE URBAN'S INURBANITIE: Expressed in a BREEVE sent to LEWIS the French King, exasperating him against the Protestants in France.  
Written in Latin by the Right Reverend Father in God, JOSEPH Lord Bishop of Excester.  
Translated into English by his Son, ROBERT HALL., Master of Arts in Excester College in Oxford.  
LONDON, Printed by JAMES FLESHER, 1661.   

A BREEVE of Pope Urban the Eighth, sent to Lewis the French King, upon the taking of ROCHEL.  
OUR most dear Son in Christ, we send you greeting and Apostolical Benediction. The voice of rejoicing and Salvation is in the tabernacles of the righteous; let the wicked see this and fret, and let the Synagogue of Satan consume away. The most Christian King fighteth for Religion, the Lord of hosts fighteth for the King. We verily in this Mother-City of the world triumph with holy joy, we congratulate this your Majesty's Victory, the trophies whereof are erected in Heaven, the glory whereof the generation that is to come shall never cease to speak of. Now at the length this Age hath seen the Tower of ROCHEL, no less impregnable by the obstinacy of treachery than strength of nature, surrendered to the King and Saint Peter. Neither is any so foolish as to ascribe this glorious Victory rather to happiness then to virtue. By your long siege of many months you have taught us, that Europe oweth your French Legions no less commendation for their constancy, then for their expedition; your Army going clear away with the Victory over your enemies, by slighting all dangers and enduring all hardness, devoteth their life unto You, and promiseth You an absolute trimph of conquered Heresy. The waters of the Ocean made a noise and were troubled, fight for the besieged Rebels; they made choice of death rather than a surrender, undermining treachery approaching even to Your Majesty's tents; Hell all opened her mouth, vomiting out troops of mischiess and dangers, to the end so rich a Fort might not be taken away from their Impiety. The Lord stood on thy right hand; thou hast not only overcome the forces of thine enemies, but thou wert able also to put a bridle upon the Ocean aiding them. Let us all give thanks to Almighty God, who hath delivered thee from the contradictions of the unbelieving people. Howbeit sith You are not ignorant with what care the fruits of victories ought to be preserved, lest they perish, there is no doubt but that in a short time all the remainder of the Heretics that have got stable-room in the French Vineyard shall by You be utterly discomfited. The Church desireth that this Diadem of perfect renown be put upon that helmet of Salvation, wherewith the Lord mighty in battle seemeth to cover the head of Your Majesty: for we believe shortly that all tumults being appeased in France, the glistering Ensign of Lewis the Conqueror shall shine to the captive Daughter of Zion, rehearsing the French Trophies, and beholding the brightness of your lightning lance. God, who performeth the desire of them that fear him, prosper our desires, and the prayers of the Catholic Church. Our Nuntio, who was an eye-witness of Your Princely glory in your tents, will be a faithful Interpreter of our Pontifical gratulation to your Majesty, on whom we most lovingly bestow our Apostolical Benediction.  
Given at Rome, at S. Marry the greater, under the Seal of the Fisher, the eight and twentieth day of November, in the year of our Lord 1628. and the sixth year of our Pontificate.   

TO My much respected Friend Mr Doctor Primrose, Pastor of the French Church in London, and Chaplain to his most Excellent Majesty.  
SIR,  
OUR Friend Mr. Tourvall, a Frenchman, showed me erewhile a Latin printed Epistle of Pope Urbane, written (as their manner is) in a swelling and bloody style, and lately sent to Lewis the French King: wherein after the good Pope had loudly chanted forth a song of Triumph for his Majesty's Victory over Rochel, abundantly congratulating both the King and Nation; he thence proceeds in most barbarous manner to that bloody word, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Smite, Cast down, earnestly urging and enforcing the utter extirpation of all the Heretics (as he calls them) stabling in France. When I had read it, I could not contain myself, but must suddenly vent mine indignation in these few lines. I take up pen in hand therefore, and do not meditate, but pour forth this Answer. Such as it is, receive it, Reverend Sir, and peruse it, and at your discretion give it either Light or Fire. Farewell.  
From your Friend JOS. EXON.   

TO POPE URBAN THE EIGHTH, JOSEPH Bishop of EXCESTER wisheth Right Wits and Charity.  
WHY may not the meanest Bishop be bold to expostulate with a Pope? I crave no leave, neither need I; I take our ancient liberty. I wis, there was no such distance of old betwixt Rome and Eugubium, or between my Ex and the channel of Tiber. Hear now therefore (Pope Urbane) that which ere long thou shalt hear with horror and confusion of face before that dreadful Tribunal of Christ. These bloody blots of thine little beseem the Shepherd of a Christian Flock. What, is it for thee like a grim Herald to give the Summons to War? Is it for thee to excite Christian Princes (already too much gorged with blood) to the profligation and fearful slaughter of their own Subjects? Were the Keys for this cause committed to thy charge, that thou shouldest open the Iron gates of War, and the Pale gates of Death? Tell me, thou shadow of S. Peter, didst thou take these French Protestants for Malchus, whose ears while thou wouldst have cut off, thy sword by a light mistake glanced upon their throats? Or was it lately voiced to thee from heaven concerning these wretched Animals stabling in France, Arise, Pope Urbane, Kill and eat? Art thou the Pilot of the Church's peace, and talkest of nothing but glittering helmets, swords and spears, instruments of war & bloodshed? What noise could the howling of the She-Wolf of thy Romulus have made, if this direful note of thine become the Bell-wether of S. Peter's fold? Well, since thou wilt bespaul, bedribble the ashes of unhappy Rochel, and scatter with thy disdainful breath the despised dust of that forlorn City; yet withal call to mind a little, how not many Ages are passed since the time was, that the hereditary Sceptre of this thy now Lewis broke open the gates of Rome, demolished the walls, dispersed and slew the inhabitants, and shut up thy great Predecessor laden with bitter scoffs and execrations in his blind dungeon. Neither shall many years run on again, (unless my presaging thoughts too much deceive me,) before the Angel shall shout forth, and the amazed world shall congratulate the fall of thy Rochel's case shall ere long be thine own, (O thou most accursed City.) Blessed shall he be that rewardeth thee as thou hast rewarded us; yea happy he that shall take thy little ones, and dash out their brains against the stones. In the mean time, sport thyself at our miseries, laugh at our tears, make merry at our sighs, sing at our groans, and applaud our torments: But know for all this, there is a just avenger that looks down from his Heaven upon us, whose rod we at once kiss, and expect his vengeance. Plead thou our cause (O God) yea thine own, only thine: why should not our confident Innocence appeal to thy Judgement? If there be any thing in the whole composure of our most Sacred Religion hitherto professed by us that hath issued out of the impure fountain of man's brain, let it even perish with the authors, yea let it utterly perish (O Lord) and be banished into that Hell whence it came: But if we never dared to obtrude any Doctrine upon the Christian world but that alone wherewith thou didst of old inspire thy Prophets and Apostles, and by those thine infallible penmen didst faithfully deliver over to thine own people; surely then, either it must be our happiness to err with thee (the God of Truth) or thou dost and wilt still ever maintain with us this thine only True and Evangelicall Religion.  
But alas, poor souls! we are mistaken all this while: it is nothing else but pure Piety (forsooth) which we ignorantly condemn for Cruelty; 'tis the zeal of God's house wherewith (Good Prelate) thou art so inflamed, that thou hast hereupon both wished and importuned the utter extirpation of all those Heretics stabling in the French Territories. O forehead! O bowels! For us, we call God, Angels, Saints to witness of this foul calumniation. I wis, those whom thou falsely brandest for Heretics, thou shalt one day hear when the Church shall embrace them for her children, Christ for the spiritual Members of his mystical body. For what (I beseech you) do we hold which the Scriptures, Councils, Fathers, Churches and Christian Professors have not in all Ages taught and published? To say the truth, All that which we profess, your own most approved Authors have still maintained: whence then is this quarrel? Shall I tell you? There are indeed certain new Patches of Opinion which you would needs add to the ancient Faith: these we most justly reject, and do still constantly refuse. They are humane, they are your own; briefly, they are either doubtful, or impious. And must we now be cast out of the bosom of the Church, and be presently delivered up to fire and sword? Must we for this be thunder-stricken to Hell by your Anathemas, there to fry in perpetual Torments? Is it for this, that a stall and shambles are thought good enough for such brutish animals? Good God See the justice and charity of these Popelings! This is nothing but a mere injury of the Times; it was not wont to be Heresy heretofore that is so nowadays. If it had been our Happiness to have lived in the Primitive times of the Church's Simplicity, before ever that Romish Transcendency, Image-worship, Transubstantiation, Sacrifice of the Mass, Purgatory, single or half-Communion, Nundination of Pardons, and the rest of this rabble were known to the Christian world; surely, Heaven had been as open to us as to other Devout Souls of that purer Age, that took their happy flight from hence in the Orthodox Faith of Christ Jesus. But now that we are reserved to that dotage of the world, wherein a certain new brood of Articles are sprung up, it is death to us (forsooth) and to be expiated by no less punishment than the perpetual torments of Hell-fire. Consider this, O ye Christians wheresoever dispersed upon the face of the whole earth; consider, I say, how far it is from all Justice and Charity, that a new Faith should come dropping forth at men's pleasure, which must adjudge Posterity to eternal death for Misbelievers, whom the ancient Truth had willingly admitted into Heaven. These new Points of a politic Religion are they indeed that have so much disturbed the peace of Christendom; these are they that set at variance the mighty Potentates of the earth, who otherwise perhaps would sit down in an happy Peace; these are they that rend whole Kingdoms, distract people, dissolve Societies, nourish Faction and Sedition, lay waste the most flourishing Kingdoms, and turn the richest Cities to dust and rubbish. But should these things be so? Do we think this will one day be allowed for a just warrant of so much war and bloodshed, before the Tribunal of that supreme Judge of Heaven and earth?  
Awake therefore now, O ye Christian Princes, and You especially (King Lewis) in whose ears these wicked counsels are so spitefully and bloodily whispered; rouse up yourself and see how cruel Tyranny seeks to impose upon your Majesty in a most mischievous manner, under a fair pretence of Piety and Devotion. They are your own native Subjects whom these malicious foreigners require to the slaughter; yea they are Christ's: and will you imbrue your hand and sword in the blood of those for whom Christ hath shed his; yea who have willingly lavished their own in the behalf of You and your great Father? Hear I beseech thee, (O King) who art wont (amongst thine own) to be instiled Lewis the Just; If we did adore any other God, any other Christ but thine, if we aspired to any other Heaven, embraced any other Creed, any other Baptism, lastly, if we made profession of a new Church built upon other foundations, there were some cause indeed why thou shouldest condemn such Heretics stabling in France to the revenging sury of thy flames. If this thy people have wilfully violated any thing established by our common God, or lawfully commanded by thee, we crave no pardon for them, let them smart that have deserved; it is but just they should. But do not in the mean time fall fiercely upon the fellow-servants of thy God, upon thine own best Subjects, whose very Religion must make them loyal; suffer not those poor wretches to perish for some late upstart superfluous additions of humane invention, and mere will-worship, who were always most forward to redeem Thine & thy Great Father's Safety and Honour, with the continual hazard of their own most precious lives. Let them but live then by thy gracious sufferance, by whose Valour and Fidelity thou now reignest. But suppose they were not yours, yet remember that they are christian's (a title wherewith your style is wont most to be honoured) washed in the same Laver of Baptism, bought with the same price, renewed by the same Spirit, and (whatsoever impotent malice bawl to the contrary) the beloved Sons of the Celestial Spouse, yea the Brethren of that Spiritual Bridegroom Christ Jesus. But they err (you will say) from the Faith. From what faith? (I beseech you.) Not the Christian surely, but the Romish. What a strange thing is this? Christ doth not condemn them, the Pope doth. If that great Chancellor of Paris were now alive, he would freely teach his Sorbon, (as he once did) that it is not in the Pope's power (that I may use his own word) to hereticate any Proposition. Yea, but an Ecumenical Council besides hath done it. What Council? That of Trent. I am deceived if that were hitherto received in the Churches of France, or deserved to be so hereafter. Consult with your own late Authors of most undoubted credit; they will tell you plainly how unjust that Council was, yea how no Council at all: It was only the Pope's act, whatsoever was decreed or established by that packed Conclave, envassalled to the Seven hills. Consider lastly, (I beseech you) how the Reformed Christians stand in no other terms to the Papists, than the Papists do to the Reformed; Heresy is with equal vehemency upbraided on both sides. But do we deal thus roughly with the followers of the Roman Religion? Did we ever rage against the Popish Faith with fire and sword? Was ever the crime of a poor misled conscience capital to any soul? You may find perhaps (but very seldom) some audacious Mass-priest, some firebrand of Sedition and contemner of our public Laws to have suffered condign punishment: But no Papist (I dare boldly say) ever suffered loss either of life or limb merely for his Religion. Why dost not thou then (the Son of that gracious and merciful Henry) carry thyself alike toward thy faithful Subjects, who most innocently profess the Reformed Religion? Why should it prejudice any of them with thee to have served their God according to the holy Scriptures, and the practice of the Ancient Church? To conclude then, Let it be but lawful for thy people to be truly Religious. And thou, Pope Urban, return at last to thyself, and consider how well this bloody advice of thine suits with those thy Purple robes. A Sword rather than a Sheephook would become that hand that should write thus. Neither is this a Net for the holy Fisherman of Rome, but rather for the bloody prizes of the Theatre. Beautiful are the feet of them that preach peace, (saith the Prophet:) But we may say far otherwise of thee, Cursed are the hands of them that denounce war. The least noise of an hammer must not be heard in God's Temple: But you (Good man) would fill the holy Church of God with loud alarms, clashing of bloody weapons and fearful groans of dying men. Give ear therefore now at last, thou who proudly scornest the sentence of any mortal Judge. That which once our famous Robert, the holy and learned Bishop of Lincoln, is said to have done to thy Predecessor, the same do I now unto thee. Let me summon thee to that dreadful Tribunal of Almighty God, before which thy wretched Soul shall one day appear, to give an account of this thy bloody advice. In the mean time, if thou hadst rather to flee from the Wrath to come, and to far well hereafter, Repent.    


VRBANI VIII. Pontificis Romani BREVE, Ad LUDOVICUM XIII. Galliarum Regem, super RUPELLA capta.  
CHarissime in Christo Fili noster, Salutem & Apostolicam Benedictionem. Vox exultationis & salutis in tabernaculis justorum: videat peccator & irascatur, & Synagoga Satanae contabescat. Militat Rex Christianissimus pro Religione, militat Deus exercituum pro Rege. Nos certè in hac Orbis patria sacro gaudio triumphamus, gratulamur Majestati tuae victoriam, cujus trophaea constituuntur in Coelo, cujus gloriam generatio ventura nunquam conticescet. Rupellam Arcem non minus obstinatione perfidiae quam naturae munimentis inexpugnabilem, vidit tandem haec aetas Regi & B. Petro subditam. Neque sanè quisquam adeò desipit, ut tàm gloriosam palmam acceptam referat felicitati potius quam virtuti. Diuturna tot mensium obsidione docuisti Europam Gallicis Legionibus te regnante debere non minorem constantiae laudem quam celeritatis. Tibi autem periculorum contemptu & incommodorum patientia clare Victor exercitus vitam devovet, & perfectum profligatae Haeresis triumphum auguratur. Sonuerunt & turbatae sunt aquae Oceani militantis obsessis perduellibus; mors deditione potior videbatur, ad ipsa Majestat is tuae castra cuniculos egit perfidia. Omnino dilatavit os suum Infernus, evomens scelerum & periculorum turmas, ne tam opulentum propugnaculum impietati eriperetur. Stetit Dominus à dextris tuis; non modo devicisti hostium copias, sed ipsi etiam auxiliari Oceano potuisti fraenum injicere. Gratias agamus omnes Omnipotenti, qui eripuit Te de contradictionibus populi non credentis. Caeterum cum scias qua cura custodiendi sint victoriarum fructus ne marcescant, nemo est qui ambigat à te reliquias omnes Haereticorum in Gallica vinea stabulantium propediem profligatum iri. Diadema hoc perfecti decoris imponi cupit Ecclesia illi galeae salut is, qua armatum Majestatis tuae caput ipse protegere videtur Dominus potens in praelio. Speramus enim fore ut Gallia omni pacata, illucescant coruscationes Ludovici Triumphatoris captivae Filiae Zion Francica trophaea commemoranti, & intuenti splendorem fulgurantis hastae tuae. Vota nostra atque Catholicae Ecclesiae secundet Deus, qui voluntatem timentium se faciet. Interea Nuncius noster, qui Regalis gloriae spectator in castris adfuit, luculentus erit Pontificiae gratulationis Interpres Majestati tuae, cui Apostolicam Benedictionem amantissime impertimur.  
Datum Romae apud S. Mariam majorem, sub annulo Piscatoris, die vigesimo octavo Novembris, anno 1628., Pontificatus sexto.   

INURBANITATI PONTIFICIAE RESPONSIO JOS. EXONIENSIS.   

Amico mihi plurimum colendo, Domo. GILBERTO PRIMEROSIO, S. Theol. Professori, Ecclesiae Gallicae Londinensis Pastori, Regiae Majestati à Sacris.  
MOnstrabat mihi modo Tourvalus noster, gente Gallus, Epistolam, Latino idiomate typis editam, Urbani Papae, pro more, tumidam & sanguinolentam, Ludovico Galliarum Regi pridem datam; in qua, ubi bonus Pontifex Io Paean canorè cecinisset Rupellensi victoriae, Regi simul ac Genti abunde gratulatus, descendit illico, satis inclementer, ad saevum illud 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, & Haereticorum in Gallia stabulantium profligationem acriter urget & impellit. Continere manum non potui, quin me subito in chartas darem; arripio calamum; responsionem non meditor, sed effundo. Quicquid est, habe, Vir venerande, & lege; & vel igni trade, vel luci. Vale.  
A tuo JOS. EXON.   

URBANO VIII. Pontifici ROMANO, JOSEPHUS EXONIENSIS Sanam mentem & Charitatem.  
QUIDni verò pontificem maximum compellare ausit minimus Episcoporum? Non peto veniam, nec opus est; prisâ utor licentiâ. Non ità nimium distabat olim ab Eugubio Roma, aut Isca meus à Tiberi. Audi modo, Pontifex Urbane, quod brevi pro tremendo Christi Tribunali pallidus exaudies. Pastorem Christiani gregis parùm decent hae sanguinea liturae. Tune ut ad arma, tristis Praco, conclames? Tune ut Christianos Principes, nimio quam plenos cruoris, ad profligationem suorum cladémque horrendam acriter instiges? Ideone tibi creditae Claves, ut ferratas belli portas eburneásque Ditis inferni aperires? Euge, Petri umbra, numquid hi tibi Malchi videntur, quibus dum aures praecidere voluisti, levi errore in guttura incidisti? Aut nunquid de quadrupedibus hisce in Gallia stabulantibus dictum tibi pridem coelitus, Occide & Manduca? Tune pacifice Rector Ecclesiae, ut coruscantes galeas, hastas, gladios loquaris? Qualem verò sonum edere potuisset Lupa tui Romuli, si ista Petri caulam non dedeceat truculenta vox? Conspue quantum lubet, & comminge cineres infelicis Rupellae, & diffla superbo spiritu conculcatissimum miserrimae Urbis pulverem: recognosce interim paululùm, quam non multa transierunt secula ex quo heareditarium Ludovici, jam tui, sceptrum Romae portas confregerit, comminuerit moenia, cives dissiparit, Praecessorémque tuum, sannis dirisque onustum, caeco carcere mulctârit. Sed neque tot deinceps excurrent anni (nisi me praesaga futuri mens nimiùm fefellerit) antequam cecidisse Babylonem, & clamabit Angelus, & gratulabundus Orbis obstupescet. Tuae erunt aliquando hae vices, Urbium perditissima. Felicem sane illum, qui paria tibi quaeque retulerit, quique parvulorum tuorum capita saxis identidem illiserit. Fruere tu interea miseriis hisce nostris, arride lacrymis, exhilarare suspiri is, ejulatibus accine, applaude cruciatibus: est qui de coelo suo prospicit justus ultor, cujus nos unà & exosculamur virgam, & inhiamus vindictae. Causam tu nostram age, ô Deus, imò tuam, tuam solius: Quidni te provocet arbitrum audax innocentia? Si quid uspiam est in toto hoc sacrosanctae quam profitemur hactenus Religionis negotio quod ex humani cerebri impurissimo fonte prodierit, pereat sane nobiscum, pereat penitissimè, & ad inferos suos merito relegetur: Quod si nos nihil unquam Christiano orbi propinari ausi, nisi quod tu Prophet is tuis Apostolisque inspiraveris, perque illos (fallere nescios) amanuenses populo tuo fidelissimè traditum volueris; scilicet quin aut nos tecum felicissimè erramus, ô Deus veritatis, aut tu nobiscum aeternam hanc & unice Evangelicam religionem tueris?  
Fallimur verò miselli, Pietas est, ilicet, quam nos Crudelitatis insimulamus; Zelus est domus Dei quo, bonus Pontifex, ità totus accenderis, ut Haereticorum ad unum omnium in Gallia stabulantium extirpationem & optaveris & suaseris importunius. O frontem! O viscera! Deum, Angelos, Sanctos, testes appellamus hujus tam atrocis contumeliae. Nempc, quos tu Haereseos stigmate falsò inuris, audies demum ubi Ecclesia filios, Christus membra salutaverit. Ecquid enim (per Deum immortalem) docemus nos, quod non Scriptura, non Concilia, non Patres, non Ecclesiae Catbedraeque Christianoe unanimiter semper tenuerunt? Nimirum, quae nos profitemur, vestri ipsorum probatissimi Authores tenent universa. Quid ergorei est? Sunt revera quaedam nupera Opinionum assumenta, quae vos avitae fidei superadjecta voluistis: ista nos piissime rejicimus, & constanter usque recusamus: Humana sunt, vestra sunt; denique aut dubia sunt, aut iniqua. Ideone verò ut Christianae animae ex Ecclesiae gremio ejiceremur? ut ferro flammisque absumendi traderemur illico? ut in barathrum Diaboli fulmine anathematis devoluti, arderemus aeternum? Ideone belluis & stabulum paratur & laniena? Justitiam, Deus bone, & misericordiam Pontificiam! Mera haec temporis injuria est: Non fuit ea olim Haeresis quae nunc est. Si priscis Ecclesiae temporibus nasci nobis contigisset, antcquam Primatus iste Romanus, Iconolatria, Transubstantiatio, Sacrificium Missaticum, Purgatorium, Communio sive singularis, sive dimidiata, Indulgentiarum nundinatio, & hujus farinae reliqua orbi Christiano innotuissent, patuisset profectò nobis coelum, non minus quam cateris piis simplicioris illius aevi animabus, quoe in vera Christi fide feliciter evolârunt. Jam verò in eam nos servatos fuisse mundi senectam, in qua nova quaedam suboriretur Articulorum soboles, laetale nobis erit, neque minore poenâ quam perpetuis Gehenna cruciatibus luendum. Cogitate hoc, quotquot uspiam terrarum agitis Christiani, quam sit ab omni justitia & charitate alienum, ut nova subinde humano arbitrio creetur Fides priscis seculis inaudita, quae morti aeternae devoveat incredulos nepotes, quos antiqua Veritas coelo adscivisset. Recentes hi scilicet politicae Religionis apices illi sunt qui Orbem universum (quaqua patet Christi nomen) immane quantum conturbârunt: hi sunt qui committunt inter se pacatissimos (absque hoc foret) terrae Dominos, scindunt regna, populos distrahunt, dirimunt societates, seditiones fovent, florentissimas regiones vastant, urbes denique opulentissimas in cineres redigunt. Siccine verò fieri oportuit? Putamusne hanc justam funestissimi belli internecionisque causam, pro summi Judicis Tribunali aliquando probatam iri?  
Evigilate, Christiani Principes, Tuque in primis, Ludovice Rex, cui ista tam inurbanè crudeliterque insusurrata sunt; evigila demum, & vide quam tibi, sub praetextu Pietatis, dira feritas pessimis modis imponere studuerit. Tui sunt isti quos ad caedem deposcunt alienigenae; Christi sunt. Tune vero ut manum gladiumve imbueres illorum sanguine pro quibus Christus profudit suum? qui suum pro te ac magno Parente tuo lubentissime prodegerunt? Auditu, quaeso, qui justus audire soles apud tuos Monarcha: Sinos alium à tuo Deum, Christum alium coleremus, si aliud ambiremus coelum, si Symbolum aliud, aliud Baptisma, si novam denique aliis innixam fundamentis Ecclesiam profiteremur, esset profectò cur Haereticos in Gallia stabulantes flammis ultricibus destinares: si quid populus tuus vel à communi Deo sancitum, vel à te legitime institutum violarit, non deprecamur herclè vindictam; vapulent qui meruerunt, aequum est. Noli interim saevire in Dei tui servos, in cives tuos, quos ipsa Religio praestat fideles: noli sinere ut propter hesterna quaedam planeque superflna humani ingenii adjectamenta, meramque 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, pereant two qui tuam Patrisque tui salutem ac gloriam summo vitae suae discrimine redimere voluerunt: sine per te vivant illi, per quos tu modò regnas. Quod si tui non essent, memento tamen (quo te titulo maximè insignire solent tui) Christianos esse, eodem & Fonte lotos, & emptos Sanguine, & Spiritu renatos, coelestis denique (quicquid vanus intonct furor) Sponsae filios, sponsi fratres. At errant hi scilicet à Fide. Quâ tandem? Non Christianâ certè, sed Pontificiâ. Quid vero hoc monstri est? Non damnat hos Christus, damnat Pontifex. Sisuperesset modò magnus ille tuus Cancellarius Parisiensis, doceret is liberè Sorbonam (quod olim fecit) suam, quam non sit penes Pontificem, Propositionem aliquam (verbo utar suo) heereticare. Atqui Concilium fecit insuper hoc Oecumenicum. Quodnam vero? Tridentinum. Fallor si hoc in Galliis obtinere potuerit hactenus, meruitve. Consule tuos integerrimae pridem fidei authores, dicent illi tibi. quam iniquum, quam nullum fuerit: unius erat Pontificis quicquid à coetu illo (multicipiti Romae mancipio) factum sancitumve. Cogita denique, obsecro, quam non alio in loco ●●nt Reformati Pontificiis, quam Pontificii Reformat●: atque acriter exprobrari solet Haresis utrinque. Siccine verò agitur apud nos Romanae Religionis asseclis? Unquamve gladio aut incendio saevitum istic in Fidem Pontificiam? Eccui unquam capitale fuit hoc miserè hallucinantis conscientiae crimen? Est ubi comperies (rarò tamen admodum) audacem forte aliquem Sacrificum, Legum publicarum contemptorem, Seditionis flabellum, poenam luisse meritissimam: sed meroe Religionis causam (fidenter dico) nemo unquam Pontificiorum aut capite luit aut membro. Quin tu, Clementissimi HENRICI fili, pariter te geris ergatuos, qui Reformatam Religionem innocentissimè profitentur. Quin faxis, nemini ut fraudi siet secundum Scripturam sacram, veterisque Ecclesiae 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Deum coluisse: liceat tuis esse verè pios. Tu verò redi ad te demum, Urbane Pontifex, & recole quam haec Purpuram tuam probè deceat atrox sententia. Non pedum profectò, sed ensem gestârit oportet, qui istud exaraverit; neque piscatorium est hoc rete, sed the atricum & myrmillonicum. Speciosi pedes Evangelizantium pacem, inquit Propheta; nos hîc de te paulò aliter, odiosae manus praeconizantium bella. Si qua tibi sors in Evangelio Jesus Christi obtigisset, fasilè sentires pacem istic sonare omnia, lenitatem, mansuetudinem, concordiam: Non nisi ex inferno missa est dira Erinnys. Ne levissimus quidem mallei sonus exauditur in Templo Dei. Tu vero, ô bone, Ecclesiam Dei sanctam impleri vis clangore tubarum, ictibus caedentium, morientium ejulatibus. Audi ergò demum, tu qui mortalium omnium judicia superbè refugis; quod olim Robertus noster sanctus pariter & doctus Lincolniensis Episcopus Praecessori tuo fecisse dicitur, id ego tibi nunc facio: Fas mihi sit indicere tibi verendum Omnipotentis Dei Tribunal, pro quo tremens horrensque tibi anima brevi sistetur, sanguinolenti istius consilii rationem redditura. Interim, si valere mavelis, Resipisce.   

Reverendissimo in Christo Patri, Viro incomparabili JOSEPHO HALL., Episcopo Exoniensi, GILBERTUS PRIMEROSIUS S. P. D.  

HEU quantum potuit terrae pelagíque parari  
Hoc quem civiles fuderunt sanguine dextrae  Gallorum? Sed paci intercedit inurbanae frontis homo URBANUS VIII. Pontifex Romanus; qui Exhalans foedos foedo de pectore ructus, bullante diro cruore BULLA, ferocibus minaciis venosâ, & saeuâ adulatione tument, optimo Regi, sed praepropero ac fervido in Martem ingenio, in fidissimos cives, qui nisi fuissent non esset ipse, funesta inflat classica; BREVI que grandiloquo & cruento sub Annulo Piscatoris asperrimam studiis belli gentem iterum in brevia & Syrteses civilis, hoc est, creperi & periculosissimi belli, cerebrosus & imperitus Nauclerus adigit & impingit: nullâ Regis, nullâ Regionum omnium facile Reginae, Quas Sol exoriens curru fugiente vaporat, nullâ Religionis majore curâ sed magis ut Regi & Regno anxias & inexplicabiles sollicitudines conficiat; ut humanissimos cives, non in piscatoria PETRI navicula — lentos incurvans gurgite remos, Evangelici hami felici piscatu ex undoso turbarum civilium salo Piscator hominum humaniter ducat ad salutem, sed in ANTICHRISTI praetoria navi gubernacula tenens, BULLARUM & BREVIUM enormi harpagone Pirata nefarius Christianos inhumaniter praedetur ad caedem. Ut solenni Pontificum Romanorum more, quod in Urbium densis vicis à grassatoribus nocturnis fieri amat, belli facem accensam in vicina Regna conjiciat, ut bonis civibus ad eum restinguendum undique discurrentibus, ille impunè trahat, rapiat, populetur, foedet, conculcet omnia; & ardente Christi Ecclesiâ, immanissimi Neronis decessoris sui instar, laetificum cum Spintriis suis Trojae pereuntis excidium canat: 
— sic sua quemque Inscribit facies.—  
Verum— Ut multos mensésque diésque,  
Non tamen aetatem tempestate hac scelerosi  
Laetabuntur.   
Nam ecce quam opportunè Tu, Praesul Amplissime, coelestis & infracti pectoris fervente robore, Romanum illum miserandae sortis onagrum in arce Tarpeiâ stabulantem, & sono intempestivo rudentem, styli tui acumine, veluti clavis & fustibus, compescis: Tu Bestiae bipedis è limo & è fimo erepentis lunata cornua elegantis libelli malleo retundis: Tu rufo Draconi Aere ciere viros, Martémque accendere cantu nimis quam bono, incestum & clamosum os suggillas: Tu Papam superbientem, & sublime caput coelo audaci nisu inferentem, cujus ad nutum Intereunt, labuntur, eunt rursum omnia vorsum, modestissimo scripto humilitatem & modestiam doces: Tu marculum, qui duri robora ferri in Orthodoxorum perniciem Multorum magnis tuditantium ignibu● tundit, Cyclopum Polyphemo extorques, & pausam tuditandi facere jubes: Tutrepidantia jampridem BALYLONIS moenia à coenosis magni illius exitialium mendaciorum architecti congesta caementariis, 
— Qui nihil amplius unquam  
quam commune lutum è paleis, coenúmque aceratum  
Rugosi passique senes eadem omnia quaerunt,  variorum librorum multis vigiliis feliciter elucubratorum, velut oscillo penduli impetus hactenus arietasti, vexasti, dissipasti: Tandem, optimae notae libello, non ad ostentationem sed ad utilitatem composito, & mitissima responsione, sulphareas omnium calamitatum fornaces, quas NEBUCHADNETSAR Romanus adversus Christi Confessores immitissimo edicto accendi jubet, pro virili tua parte à Christi Ecclesia prohibes & depellis: Tu Leonum famelicorum dentes, quos indomitae illius belluae consiliarii atque administri in Danielis nostros exacuunt, Verbi Divini forfice comprehendis, concutis, & confringis; — Quos ille indocilis pacísque boníque, omnium malorum Fecialis & Pater Patratus, Principes rerum potentes in arma feralia exequiali & tragico carmine movet & protrudit: Tu pacis aeternae praeco ab armis discordibus revocas, & ad piam Christi pacem, Christianaeque Charitatis tranquillum portum fortiter occupandum, suavissimae scriptionis dulci & docto celeusmate fidus celeustes provocas.  
Frustra omnia, illum si spectes qui, Nequam & magnus homo, laniorum immane ' canes ut, distento & fulmineo rictu Christianorum sanguini inhiat, cuique cibus cadavera, potus cruor est: quibus dum se ingurgitat, toto orbe Christiano tristibus ululante plangoribus, ille laetis ululat triumphis, Io Paean, Io Triumphe nobis obganniens, velut 
Gallinaceu ' cum victor se gallus honestè  
Sustulit in digitos, primorésque erigit ungues,  Coquelico canorâ voce in fimeto occinit. Ut illa Meretrix purpurata, Martyrum sanguine ebria, quae Reges quos philtris suis intoxicavit, BULLARUM aculeatarum majoribus stimulis in cruda adversum Christum praelia suscitat; ut ille desperatae salutis homo, peccati & per ditionis Filius, tuum illud RESIPISCE discat, spes nulla superest.  
Nam si TU hos fluctus undásque è gurgite salso  
Tollere decrêris, ventum prius haematicum TU,  
Ventum, inquam, tollas.  
Illi enim neque est cor quo paveat, neque jecur quo amet, neque fel quo sibi irascatur, neque frons quâ erubescat: Illi Ganeae, illis ingluviosis quibus cingitur raso capite ministris, — solis vivere fas est Occipite caeco,— & edictis vetare, — ne quisquam hic faxit oletum, & sacra capita reprehendat.  
Nam vos Romulidae vobis ignoscitis, & quae  
Turpia Cerdoni, Papam sacrósque decebunt  
Presbyteros.  
At Tu, Antistes Dignissime, eos liberâ ad URBANUM responsione liberas doces audire voces, & ingratiis discere, in Anglia & mutire fas esse, & sine scrobe altâ voce exclamare, Auriculas Asini Papam & Cardinales habere.  
Quantum autem ego fideli erga me amicitiae tuae debeam, Reverende Pater, quod mihi homini privato tantus Eruditione, Pietate, Dignitate Praesul, Responsionem illam inscribere voluisti, nec rudi calamo exprimere, nec linguâ inexplanatâ expromere, nec impari ment consequi possum: Scilicet, ut Episcopum decet, tui semper similis es, id est optimus; Honores novos adeptus veterem amicitiam non deponis, & magnus licet sis, omniumque bonorum votis minor, ad minima te demittis.  
Quod verò electissimum Scriptum meo arbitrio stare aut cadere, prodire aut latere, malignâ ignis flammâ extingui, aut praeclarâ doctorum luce frui, publici juris, aut in mei solius bonis esse jubes; id verò Modestiae est tuae, quae inter multas & claras Virtutes quae in te maximae sunt & clarissimae, in scriptis, in voce, in vultu, in oculis, in composito mentis habitu, in tota vita tua fulgentibus micat radiis, velut inter ignes Luna minores. Macte istâ morum suavitate, quâ operto vivens ostio, facta tua omnia ad Pietatis & rectae Rationis obrussam exigis: Macte isto viri boni charactere, qui 
Index ipse sui totum se explorat ad unguem,  
Quid proceres, vanique ferat quid opinio vulgi  
Securus.  Teque ipsum semper verens, omnium quotquot te novere, quique tuos in scriptis & nitida oratione pellucentes mores vidêre, amorem tibi conciliasti. Macte iterum atque iterum praeclarae Eruditionis gloriâ, altissimâ rerum Divinarum & Humanarum scientiâ, literatissimis variarum disciplinarum monumentis, quibus tibi jure merito jucundi & nervosi Oratoris, Christiani Senecae, clarissimi & doctissimi Theologi nomen comparasti; Quod vivet seclis innumerabilibus.  
Sed age, eat 
Qui dono meus est bonus libellus,  
Qui Auro est carior aureus libellus:  Eat pedibus celer per Alpium aeternis horrentium nivibus invias rupes, per Apennini ardua & praerupta juga viam sibi faciat, Arcem Sanctangeli velox conscendat; Angelo Satanae, Urbi 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 securè procul extra teli jactum incubanti in faciem narret, esse in Anglia Episcopos haud paucos, qui inhumanae & infestae pecori lupae, sub ovina pelle Regibus & populo Christiano Romae horrendae lac ferinum immulgenti, personam alienam detrahere, bestiam ovium sanguinis sitientem à Christi caulis arcere; Ecclesiae laeta & pura pascua à turpi spumantium Aprorum dente, & foedo lutulentarum Suum rostro pura & intemerata conservare; Aesopicam corniculam PETRI & PAULI plumis insolescentem furtivis coloribus nudare; Cuculi Romani, qui Christianos omnes pro Currucis habet, ova in ipso Dei Templo posita pertundere; Meretricem Babylonicam Christiani nominis cerussâ & minio fucatam traducere, & possint, quia Doctissimi, & velint, quia Integerrimi, & faciant, quia Vigilantissimi. Atque ut odor illa morte in mortem sit quia RESIPISCERE dedidicit, denuncietut tota men te atque omnibus artubus contremiscat, appetente jam die illo decretorio quo ardebit BABYLON, Meretricis magnae negotiatores & adulteri omnes lugebunt, Diabolus mundi seductor, Bestia & Pseudoprophe●a in stagnum ignis & sulphuris praecipites abibunt, aeternas justè irato Numini poenas daturi; Filiumque perditionis Dignus principio exitus exodiumque sequetur.  
Interea temporis, veni, Domine Jesus, veni: Antichristum se truci in unctos tuos rabie efferentem comprime: Hostibus tuis, qui asperum paternae castigationis tuae vinum nobis plenis cyathis educendum dedêre, acinosas & pannosas indignationis tuae faeces plenis doliis exhauriendas invitis & reluctantibus porrige: Captivam Sionis Filiam ferreo Aagyptiacae servitutis jugo oppressam liberali causa manu assere: LUDOVICI Regis fulgentes hastas, coruscantes enses, arma mortali fulgore crispantia, tormentorum bellicorum horrisona fulmina in ipsum Pseudoprophetam & lutosos BABYLONIS muros converte, ut fatidicum vatem veri, nescium, sua sibi mala laeuâ ment verè profatum esse pudeat & poeniteat: Ecclesiis transmarinis solidam pacem subdolis ereptamartibus restitue: Damna nos voti, & hanc quâ Major Britannia tuo solius beneficio fruitur pacem & tranquillitatem nobis fidam, posteris verò nostris perpetuam praesta: Huic autem aureo libello da ut vivat vigeatque Antichristo Principum invidiam conflaturus, Ecclesiae tuae almam pacem coagmentaturus: Ejusque autori largire beneficus, ut vitâ honestissimè & sanctissimè in terris actà, coelo potiatur, ubi tecum Immortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur.  
AMEN.    
The End.