THE BLIND OBEDIENCE OF AN HUMBLE PENITENT. THE Best Cure for Scruples.  
AN. DOM. M.DC.XCVIII.   

Imprimatur.  
D. A. 19 A. 1698.  
A. H. L. C.   

TO THE READER.  
SCrupulosity is a Disease of the Mind, which many people have more or less of; although few believe it, & fewer are willing to own it. The greatest part, & the wisest, are commonly ashamed of it. But yet there are some (the fewer, the better) who think it a fine thing to be longer than ordinary, in consulting, in preparing, & confessing. The more they outdo their neighbours in these matters, & the more they are taken notice of for being singular, so much more they admire themselves for being skilful, careful, & exact. They seem to affect these tedious & tormenting Scrupulosities, as if they thought them to be the Modish Distemper of the Saints: And, if one may judge by appearances, they are like a certain Lady, who having entertained the company with a long history of her Vapours, could not endure to hear a Gentlewoman, inferior to herself, begin to complain of the same indisposition. Marry come up, says her Ladyship, we shall have every body, one of these days, take upon them to be troubled with Vapours, if such as you pretend to it.  
'tis hard to determine which is greater, the Folly or the Mischief of Scrupulosity. Take it one way, there is no subject more serious: take it the other, there is nothing more ridiculous. My chief design is to prevent the Mischief of it, without sparing the Folly, when it happens to lie in my way. And truly, when people are so fond of their Scruples, I am apt to think, it is not amiss to let them see how silly the humour is. There is always a secret Pride lies lurking in the bottom, when they are so stiff in their opinion; and a little sense of shame is in some measure a remedy for it. If one always treat these follies with respect & gravity, it will only serve to confirm them in a vain belief, that their mistakes are wise ones: And this being wise in their own conceits is the chief part of their Disease.  
In fine, well or ill, I have now done Scribbling: And, upon second thoughts, am in some admiration how I ever prevailed with myself, to begin. But, being once entered, and having already published 
* A Contrite & Humble Heart: Three Sermons upon the Sacrament: A Letter concerning the Council of Trent: etc.  some small Pieces, I was not willing to leave off, till I had made a present of this little Treatise to my Friends; to whom if it prove acceptable & useful, I shall not think my labour lost: And, for the rest, the care is taken.  
Mean time I keep my name to myself: And my reason is, because I love a quiet life. I ever looked upon it as the greatest blessing which a bad World can afford: and am persuaded that being Private is the easiest & securest way of being Quiet. Besides, I see no good there is in being talked of; either well, or ill: The one is good for nothing but to make a man Vain; the other is as apt to make him Vexed; and All to no purpose.   

ERRATA.  
Page. 40. line. 23. deal we. page. 84. line. 20. deal the, page. 90. line. 21. read get. page 92. line 1. read harmony. page. 135. line. 15. read they. page. 167. line. 1. deal they. These, & such other oversights of the Press, the Reader (I hope) will easily pardon.   

THE CONTENTS.  

CHAP. I. THe Character of Blind Obedience, & of Scrupulosity which is humble and submissive. pag. 1.  
CHAP. II. The true Causes of proud & wilful Scrupulosity. 7  
CHAP. III. The extravagant Effects of Scrupulosity, when it is proud & wilful. 10 

§. 1. The extravagancy of their Curiosity. 12  
§. 2. The extravagancy of their Examen. 20  
§. 3. The extravagancy of their Fears. 25    
CHAP. IV. The pernicious Consequences of the same Scrupulosity. 28 

§. 1. The difference betwixt Servile Fear, & Loving Confidence. 31  
§. 2. The mischief of long Examen. 36  
§. 3. Blind Obedience the best Remedy. 44    
CHAP. V. Nothing more unreasonable than a boundless Liberty of reasoning. 47  
CHAP. VI The difference betwixt a Philosopher & a Christian, concerning the Submission of Humane Reason. 56  
CHAP. VII. The different Sentiments of a Proud & an Humble Penitent, concerning Blind Obedience. 60  
CHAP. VIII. A Scripture-Objection answered. 69  
CHAP. IX. Pretences of Reason answered. 75  
CHAP. X. Pretences of Conscience considered. 96 

§. 1. The two sorts of Practical Certainty explained. 101  
§. 2. When we rely upon our Confessor's Authority, our Certainty is Absolute. 103  
§. 3. When we depend upon the Probability of our own Reason, our Certainty is only Conditional. 118  
§. 4. Objections of pretended Conscience answered. 138    
CHAP. XI. The Security of Blind Obedience proved by Scripture. 153  
CHAP. XII. Maxims of S. BERNARD concerning Blind Obedience. 169 

MAX. I. We ought to look upon our Confessor as a Vicegerent of God, without considering his faults. 171  
MAX. II. We ought to look upon him as our Judge, without examining his reasons. 184      

APPROBATION.  
I Have read this learned Treatise, concerning Blind Obedience, which I judge very useful; & observed nothing in it, but solid & orthodox. Dat. Lovanij. 17. Aprilis. 1698.  
FRANCIS MARTIN. Doctor & Royal Professor of Divinity in the University of Louvain.   

THE BLIND OBEDIENCE OF AN HUMBLE PENITENT.  

CHAP. I. The Character of Blind Obedience, and of Scrupulosity which is humble & submissive.  
BLind Obedience is an ill name which the World has given to one of the best things in it. I do not call it so, because I think it is so; but because the custom of speaking will have it so, and many people will not understand me if I use another term for it. However I shall endeavour to do it so much justice, as to show plainly in a familiar example, that so good a thing does not deserve so bad a name.  
Let us suppose two Travellers in the same way to the same home, & that their lives & fortunes depend upon their coming timely thither. The one goes slowly on, & oftentimes stands still to satisfy his curiosity, either in looking back to take a prospect of the Country which he leaves behind him, or else in studying whether the footway on the right hand or the left be better than the way he's in: Whilst he is thus amused with idle fancies, time runs on, the day is spent, he is benighted before he is ware, & gins to repent when 'tis too late. His fellow-traveller considers that all these vain amusements are nothing to his purpose, he is full of concern for the great affair he has in hand, & therefore he marches diligently on, minds carefully the way before him, & never stops to look behind, or gaze about him. Will any body say, this man is blind, because he does not see backward? or because he does not stare about him, on the one side, or the other? All his business is to go forward, he sees the way before him as well as any man living, he sees all that he has need to see, and therefore, whosoever says this man is blind, must excuse me if I cannot believe it.  
The Case of these two Travellers is daily verified in scrupulous persons, of which there are two sorts: the one proud & wilful, the other humble & submissive. Those rely upon themselves, & these upon their Guide. Those always are disturbed with idle doubts & fears which are not worth a serious thought: These never trouble their heads with any thing but their chief business, which is to march diligently on, for fear of coming late; they never stop to look backward, for fear of having dropped something behind them; they never stand still to observe the different paths on either side of the road; they carefully observe the sure direction of their Guide, and, without disputing the matter with him, are contented to follow wheresoêre he leads. This is the true character of the Obedience I speak of: It is always ready to march at first word of command; it never pauses to gaze behind it, or on either side; it clearly sees the way which it is bid to take, & never perplexes itself with any doubts about it, because it is self-evident there can be no other way for true Obedience. What a spiteful thing it is, to say, that this Obedience is blind, when it sees its way so clearly, & is so certain of it!  
This humble & submissive Scrupulosity is rather to be envied, than be pitied. To these there is no need of preaching Blind Obedience. They are very well acquainted with it: 'tis their daily practice, & perpetual comfort: 'tis by this they overcome their doubts & fears; and though they are not quite so easy as they would be, yet they are contented & resigned. Their Scrupulosity, though sometimes painful, is always advantageous to them: the experience of their weakness humbles them, & fortifies them in the practice of Obedience, it not only puts them in the way to Heaven; but it helps to keep them in it; and therefore I have no more to say to them at present, but only to wish them a good journey. The proud & wilful Sinners are the persons, I have now to deal with: Those Sinners who are not contented to be Saints according to God's heart, but must & will be Saints according to their own.   

CHAP. II. The true Causes of proud & wilful Scrupulosity.  
OUr Doctors & Divines, who treat of Scruples, observe several causes of them: 1. Melancholy, which is sometimes cured by physic: 2. Suggestion of the Devil, against whom the best defence is prayer: 3. Conversation of Scrupulous persons, whose needless discourses of their inward troubles, aught to be shunned as infectious: 4. Reading of casuistical books, which are to be avoided as remedies unfit for the disease: 5. Excess of servile fear, which daily diminishes as the Love of God increases. These are the Causes which they commonly take notice of; but they are nothing to my present purpose: because a complication of them all together, may consist with being humble & submissive.  
The true & proper Causes of our being proud & wilful in our Scruples, are the Esteem of our Judgement, & the Love of our Liberty, which we derive originally from the Sin of our first Parents. We are curious of knowing good & evil: we are ambitious of being like the Highest: we are desirous of being absolute and independent in all our thoughts & actions: we would willingly be uncontrollable in both: we would fain do what we think, & think what we please: in a word, we would gladly choose our own way, and be our own Judges whether we have chosen right or wrong.  
'tis obvious to every body's natural reason, that Scrupulous persons would never be proud, if they had not an esteem of their judgement; neither would they be wilful in their Scruples, if they did not love the liberty of their humour. They esteem their judgement, & are therefore so proud, they cannot endure to submit it: they love their humour, & therefore are so wilful, they cannot abide to cross it. To abate this love, & to correct this vain esteem, I know nothing more proper than to expose the folly & the mifcheif which attend them: and therefore shall endeavour in the two following chapters to show the extravagant effects, & the pernicious consequences of them.   

CHAP. III. The extravagant Effects of Scrupulosity when it is proud & wilful.  
'tIs no wonder that humane Reason is extravagant, when Scrupulosity on the one side, & obstinacy on the other, conspire together to confound the notions of it▪ The one frights it out of the way; the other hinders it from coming in again: The one warps it; the other makes it stand bend: And how is't possible for any body to square their actions by such a crooked Rule. All that I wonder at, is this; that when people find, & feel by sad experience, the folly & extravagancy of their following such a Rule, they are yet so proud & wilful as not to make use of a better, which God himself has recommended to them.  
There are such a vast variety of follies & excesses which their pride & wilfulness betray them to, that I should never make an end, if I pretended to take notice of them all: & therefore, to bring my matters into as little compass as may be, & to make them as plain & self-evident as I can, I shall reduce them to three general heads, by considering the principal duties of Temperance, & by comparing that of the Body with the other of the Mind, which has most need of it, & suffers most for want of it.  

SECT. I. The extravagancy of their Curiosity.  
THe first & least degree of Temperance obliges us to abstain from all those things, which in the common opinion of the world are poison to us, & will certainly destroy us. A man must needs be very intemperate indeed, who longs for a bellyful of Arsenic, as much as a child does for a lump of sugar. Would you not think a man strangely wilful, who will not believe 'tis poison, till he has tried it? Such is the folly of many scrupulous penitents, who long to know some secret truths, which if they knew for certain, the very certainty would be enough to ruin them. They fright themselves almost out of their wits with thinking, that their Confessions never are exact, that they never love God above all things, that they never do sufficient penance for their sins, that they are not in the state of Grace, & that they are not in the number of God's Elect. How happy should they be, in case they did but know assuredly the truth of these important matters! If they knew only these two things, 1. that they are at present in God's favour, 2. that they always shall be so, How cheerfully & unconcerndly would they then march forward in the way to Heaven!  
I confess, they have all the reason in the world to wish these things were true: Their Eternal happiness or misery depend entirely upon the truth of them: But, since they may be true, without their knowledge, 'tis evidently unnecessary to know it, & unreasonable to be so eager for the assurance of it. Alas! all this is nothing but the weakness & faint-heartedness of an infirm & cowardly Spirit, which makes them over-covetous of their security: a Security which would eternally undo them, if they had it. They are terribly afraid: this Fear makes them very uneasy: & this Uneasiness creates an earnest desire of an imaginary Certainty, which may exempt them from all fear, & make them be at ease. In this proceeding there is great appearance of Humour, but not one jot of Reason: & because they are such great pretenders to reason, I shall take the pains to prove that nothing can be more unreasonable.  
I. 'tis impossible for any body to desire sincerely the Salvation of their Soul, without desiring at the same time to comply with all those duties, which are requisite to save it. One of these duties is Fear: we are commanded to 
(a) Philip. 2.12.  work our Salvation with Fear & Trembling: How then can they pretend to go to work without it?  
II. 'tis certainly a foolish thing to avoid one mischief, by incurring another equal to it. A wise man, if he were obliged to pass twixt fire & water, would be sure to mind the middle-way: he would neither burn himself for fear of drowning, nor drown himself for fear of burning. This is the present case. The way to Heaven is the middle-way betwixt Presumption & Despair: two dreadful precipices which descend as low as Hell. To save us from falling on either side, the way is fenced with Hope & Fear: Hope, that we may not despair, Fear, that we may not presume. The blood of our veins, and breath of our nostrils, are not more requisite for the life of our bodies, than Hope & Fear are necessary for the saving of our Souls: How then can they imagine that 'tis reasonable, to desire to be exempt from either?  
III. The only true Security, which can be expected in this world, is that which is grounded upon Fear. 'tis Fear that makes us humble & diligent. By making us humble, it prepares us for the grace of God; 
(b) 1. Pet. 5.5.  He gives his grace to the humble: and by making us diligent in complying with his grace, it helps us to secure our Salvation; 
(c) 2. Pet. 1.10.  Use diligence, says the Apostle, to make your calling & election sure. Besides, 'tis Fear that makes us 
(d) Math. 26.41.  watch & pray, that we enter not into temptation. By watching we put ourselves upon a close guard, and by praying we obtain the assistance of Heaven against all our enemies on earth. When 
(e) 1. Pet. 5.8.  our Enemy the Devil goes about like a roaring Lion, seeking to devour us, an unconcernd assurance is apt to lull us asleep: There's nothing like Fear, to make us watchful. 
(f) Psal. 69.1.  O God incline unto my aid; O Lord, make haste to help me. A man, who is afraid, will say this prayer hearty: but he, who thinks himself in safety, will either say it very tepidly, or not at all. To conclude in a few words; Watching & Praying are our best Security: Fear is the best thing in the world, to make us watch & pray: And therefore, they who are so fond of being Secure, How can they think of wishing to be free from Fear?  
iv The fanatics pretend to the very same assurance, which our Scrupulous people are so fond of: and Experience plainly teaches, that it only serves to make them proud and negligent. When once they are deluded with a strong persuasion that they are God's Favourites, They take no further care: The Lambs of the Lord may play what tricks they please. If this be the effect of unconcernd Security; if it poison & ruin the Soul; what reason can any body have to wish for it?  
V As long as the Devil is not dead, and as long as this sinful flesh of ours is living in a wicked world; so long it is impossible for us to be free from three implacable enemies, the World, the Flesh, & the Devil. Heaven is the only place of Peace, such as excludes all war, all danger, & all fear: 
(g) job. 7.1.  Upon Earth our life is a continual Warfare: & every body knows very well, there can be no War without danger, nor Danger without just reason to fear. A true Security of being Happy, without any fear of being otherwise, is undoubtedly a very lovely thing; and Heaven itself is lovely, for the very sake of it. I do not wonder that good people are in love with it: and that they long to be in Heaven, to enjoy it. But to wish to have it, where we know it is not to be had, is an extravagancy which I never can sufficiently admire.   

SECT. II. The extravagancy of their Examen.  
THe second degree of Temperance obliges us, not only to abstain from poison, but also from all excess in such meats and drinks as are good & necessary for us: and the reason is clear; because although they are good, if moderately taken, yet every great excess is hurtful, & next door to poison. Let a man be never so temperate in the choice of his diet: though he be never so cautious in consulting his Physician concerning the quality of it; yet, if he exceed in the quantity, if he eat all day & drink all night, he is certainly guilty of a very notorious intemperance.  
This is the case of those Scrupulous Penitents, who are too proud to submit their judgement, & too wilful to cross their humour. To examine their Conscience, is a very good thing, & necessary for the health of their Soul: but yet there's moderation in all things; and 'tis an unpardonable extravagancy to spend the greatest part of day & night, in spelling upon sins and circumstances, & putting them together. If it were only so much precious time so idly spent, they would be more excusable: but to employ their time so busily, not only to do themselves no good, but even to do themselves a great deal of harm, is a folly which I take to be matchless. They torment themselves continually: they neglect all other duties, they bring a public scandal upon the very character of devotion: and all this to no purpose, but only to try to pacify the fears of a cowardly Spirit, which has no reason in the world to be so fearful, but because it wants a little courage to be quiet.  
I must needs own, that when people are ready to sink under the weight of their uneasiness, 'tis natural to seek for comfort; but however 'tis not rational to seek it where Experience proves it is not to be found. They cannot easily submit their judgement to their Confessor; & therefore in all their doubts they labour to suppress their fears, by satisfying their own Reason about them: But the more they range in the Wood, the more they confound & lose themselves. They can neither endure the thought of danger, nor the sense of fear; & therefore, though they really believe it is to little purpose, yet they still are tempted to go on, & easily yield to the temptation. If experience did not teach them that they try in vain, they might have some plea their practice but to examine barely for examen sake, is a groundless fancy without the least colour of reason; & looks (if I may borrow the wit of a pleasant modern Poet) 
As if Confession had catcht  
The itch, on purpose to be scratched;  OR 
As if Confession were intended,  
For nothing else, but to be mended.   
They think that if they examine no longer, they shall be mightily disturbed in mind; and they always find, that the longer they examine, the more they are disturbed. They trouble themselves for fear of being troubled: and by their wilful disobedience, in this very point, they lose God's favour, for fear of losing it. An extravagancy much like that, which the Poet describes, of one Fannius, who took the pains to kill himself, for fear his Enemy should save him the labour, & do it for him▪ 
(h) Hostem dum fugeret, se Fannius ipse peremit: Dic mihi, quis furor est, ne moriare, mori?   
He fled from death, & killed himself in flying:  
What madness is't, to die for fear of dying?   

SECT. III. The extravagancy of their Fears.  
WHereas the Duties of Temperance extend themselves alike to all particular matters which regard our health, and consequently oblige us to observe a proportionable equality & regularity in all our measures: On the contrary, these proud Penitents are unequal & irregular in every thing. They are terribly fearful, where they need not fear; and where there is most danger, they are lest concerned for't. Excessively solicitous in the Examen of their Consciences; and supinely careless in the Amendment of their lives.  
They are frighted into a dread full apprehension of some trifles, which are little or nothing to their purpose; and whilst they are so steadfastly attentive to these needless points, they are insensible & stupid as to all things else. They will be their own Guides; & by God's just judgement upon them, they are blind ones. They are like the blind Guides in the Gospel, 
(i) Math. 23.24.  who strain at a gnat, & swallow a Camel. They startle at every inconsiderable difficulty invented by their own imagination; and, in things of great importance, go on as boldly & as unconcerndly as if they did not see Hell gaping under their feet. Their stomach rises at the very thought of resigning their judgement in doubtful cases; and in things which are undoubtedly hurtful, even to the degree of poisonous, they sit down to them with a very good appetite. All the Severities of exterior mortification, as watch, fastings, hair-cloths, and the like, are commonly welcome to them: because they are well enough pleased with any thing that feeds their pride, & helps them to a false persuasion of their being in the high road of the Saints. These things they'll practise, even when their Confessor forbids them. But, as for the 
(k) Ephes. 4.23.  renewing of their Spirit and their Mind, the best & most important mortification, which is that of the Soul, by crossing of their humour & submitting of their judgement, They hate the very thought of it: Not a word of that; as you love them. If all this be not extravagant, Pray tell me, What is?    

CHAP. IU. The pernicious Consequences of the same Scrupulosity.  
IF people might play the fool, as they please, in the way to Heaven, without being ever the worse for it: then indeed the Scrupulosity, I speak of, would be an innocent sort of Folly, without any Mischief in it. But surely, if what we believe of Heaven & Hell be true, there can be nothing more pernicious & more fatal to us, than that sturdy & resty Scrupulosity, which will neither lead nor drive, but will be always either standing still, or looking backwards, to observe the way behind it. At this rate of going to Heaven, How is it possible for us ever to get thither?  
S. Paul compares the way to Heaven, to the running of a race, in which we strive to win the prize of everlasting Glory. Consider only what a disadvantage it is for a man to look behind him all the way he runs. Without question he who looks before him, advances with much more ease, much greater speed, & much less danger: whereas he who looks behind him, must needs move very slowly & uneasily, besides being exposed every moment to a double danger, either of falling, or of missing his way. If these people thought the way to Heaven easy, they would not be so much afraid as they are: and, if they think it hard to find, why are they always gazing backwards? The way lies before them; and looking forward is the surest way to find it.  
Our Saviour bids us 
(l) Luke. 13.24.  strive to enter in at the straight Gate: for many will seek to enter in, & shall not be able. We must strive to enter: We must not lose time: we must make what hast we can: & how can we make haste, if we are always looking behind us? Besides, the Gate is straight: If it were wide enough, one might hit it without aiming at it: but, being so straight as it is, if we are always looking behind us, 'tis impossible to hit it. And therefore 'tis no wonder that our Saviour adds, Many will strive to enter in, & shall not be able: because many will be always puzzling their brains with making, or mending, their general confessions; & always looking whence they come, without minding whither they go.  

SECT. I. The difference betwixt Servile Fear and Loving Confidence.  
ONe of the principal causes from whence this great disorder proceeds, is 
(m) nimiustim or servilis, quem generat nimiusamor proprius, quemque diminuit perfecta charitas, ex quâ & ex timore filialirarò nascitur haec affectio. Suaraz 1.2. disp. 12. sect. ult. n. 1.  an excess of servile Fear; and 'tis a thousand pities they are so much overpowered with it. 'tis true; Fear is good; & 'tis 
(n) Psal. 110.10.  the beginning of wisdom: But what is the Beginning good for, if it never bring them to the End? 
(o) 1. Tim. 1.5.  The end of the Law is Love. When servile Fear is grown to a very great excess, 'tis like the winter-season of the Soul; 'tis a certain chilliness of Love, which makes them quake & tremble, whether they will or no. If they had but time to breathe a while; if they had any respite to consider the Divine Goodness; if their continual fears would give them leisure to 
(p) Psal 39.9.  taste & see how sweet God is; the Love of him would soon improve in their hearts; it would be like the Sun's approaching nigher their Meridian; it would warm them, quicken them, & drive away the chilly coldness of their Fear.  
True Friendship naturally inspires a loving Confidence in our Friend. The more we love him, the more we confide in him. And if we love him very much, we are apt to have so much confidence in him, as to think it almost impossible for him to find in his heart to hurt us. If this be so, even amongst us mortals, notwithstanding our ill nature & our being subject to mistake, surely the selfsame reason is of much more force, when 'tis applied to God. Our friends on earth may be misstaken, & suspect our love; or else may possibly be so illnatured as to slight it, though they know it. But our God can neither be illnatured to us, nor mistaken in us: if we love him, we may be assured, he always knows it, and he never slights it.  
'tis S. Austin's Maxim: Love, & Do what you will. Do but love God, and whatever you do, under the direction & influence of this Love, will never disturb your peace. Do but love him hearty, and then you will never purposely and deliberately design to offend him: your chief design will always be to please him: and, whatsoever frailties or surprises happen, as long as this design subsists, you need not doubt but that they always will be pardonable. Do but love him above all things, and all your imperfections, whatsoêre they are, will only serve to humble you, they never will incline you to despair.  
S. Peter tells us, that 
(p) 1. Pet. 4.8.  Love covers a multitude of faults. Consider only the imperfections of little children: how frequent, & how troublesome they are: And yet the tenderness of any loving Parent covers all. These children are dutiful in the main: they love their Parents better than any other friends: and are sorry for nothing more than for offending them. On the other side, their Parents, who see it, are satisfied in the main: They are content to bear with other daily failings: They correct & chide them for their lesser faults: But, though they are frequently displeased, there is no danger of their children being disinherited. The more we see, & the more clearly we discover, the guilt of all our daily trespasses, the more we ought to humble ourselves in presence of our God, and love him so much more for loving us in spite of all our faults, and for assuring us that if our Love persever to the end, we shall never lose our right to the inheritance of Heaven. Is not this enough to moderate & govern all our fears? What need we wish for more?   

SECT. II. The mischief of long Examen.  
IF Scrupulous people would but find a little leisure to consider seriously such comfortable truths as these, they would soon find benefit by them: but their mischief is, they have always something else to do, when they should think how good God is. Instead of calling to mind how kind & tender a Father they have in Heaven, their busy thoughts are entertained with fancies of his being a severe & cruel Tyrant upon Earth. A Tyrant that exacts more from them than their utmost diligence is able to perform: an Enemy that always watches to destroy them, & delights in laying hold of any opportunity to ruin them: a Master so intolerably rigid in exacting his accounts, that when his Slaves have done whatever they can, 'tis all in vain, there is no possibility of ever making even reckon with him. I will not say, they absolutely are of this opinion: but this I am sure of, they behave themselves as if they were. 'tis hard to determine what opinion they are of; or whether they have any opinion at all. The only conjecture which I dare rely upon, is this: that where their Fears prevail, they are little better (if not worse) than Infidels. They dare not believe the Church of God, nor even God himself: and therefore 'tis no wonder, if they dare not trust their Confessor.  
The Word of God himself assures them in general, that 
(q) 1. Jo. 5.3.  his Commands are not grievous: and yet they cannot believe it. They think the obligation of confessing is the most grievous thing imaginable; & that 'tis morally impossible to be complied with.  
The Council of Trent assures them in particular, that this Command is not grievous. It declares, that 
(r) Sess. 14. cap. 5.  it is an impious thing, either to say it is impossible, or to call it a Torture of Consciences. They do not believe this neither. They find by experience that their Spirits are upon the wrack, & that it is a Torture to them, whensoever they prepare for Confession. 'tis true; it is their own fault, who are wilful in overdoing their duty. But this is another truth, which they believe no more than the rest. They are too proud to blame themselves; and therefore lay the fault upon their obligation.  
The Council declares that 
(s) constat enim, nihil, aliud in Ecclesia à poenitentibus exigi, quàm ut postquam quisque diligentius se excusserit ea peccata confiteatur, quibus se Dominum & Deum suum mortaliter offendisse meminerit: reliqua autem peccata, quae diligenter cogitanti non occurrunt, in universum, eâdem Confessione inclusa esse intelliguntur. ibid.  NOTHING MORE is required in the Church from Penitents, than that after a DILIGENT EXAMEN every one confess those sins in which THEY REMEMBER themselves to have offended mortally the Lord their God: & that THE REST of their Sins, whatsoever they are, which after a diligent examen DO NOT occur to mind, are ALL understood to be INCLUDED in the same Confession. This Declaration would be as comfortable as their hearts can wish, if they did but believe it.  
Nothing more is required, than to confess those Sins which they remember; not which they can, but which they do remember. From when it plainly follows, that, if they do not remember, they are altogether as secure as if they could not. If we we were obliged to examine till we remember all; then indeed our proud Penitents, who wilfully torture themselves with long & tedious examen, would be very much in the right of it: But, on the contrary, 'tis evident the Council does not oblige us to remember; it only obliges us to examine. Neither is it in the power of any Council to command a man, to have a good memory: but, such as it is, a good one, or a bad one, we are commanded to be diligent in calling it to an account. This done, We neither are the better, if we remember all, nor worse, if we forget the greatest part. If we remember our sins exactly, all & everyone of them, What greater advantage can we expect, than to have them all & every one forgiven us? This is certainly All: & this advantage is the very same, to all intents & purposes of pardon, although we forget the greatest part, because the Council has declared, they are all forgiven as fully & as entirely as if we had remembered & confessed them.  
To what purpose then is all this torturing of their minds, when it manifestly does more harm than good? It disturbs their thoughts, it robs them of their peace, it dries up their devotion, it deprives them of all comfort, it renders them excessively uneasy, it tempts & leads them to impatience & despair.  
To what purpose is all this pother of examining? Is it to please God, or yourself? To please yourself, is a dangerous business: for, although your disobedience may be pleasing here, 'tis much to be feared the punishment of it will be very unpleasant hereafter. And, as for pleasing God, 'tis certain he is equally pleased, when he has equally forgiven us: and the Council assures us, He equally forgives what we forget, & as perfectly, as what we remember.  
Let us now compare the doctrine of the Council, with the practice of these people. According to their practice, there is nothing more necessary than this endless diligence: and according to the Council, there is nothing more needless. From whence I leave you to conclude, whether or no these examining creatures are those who hear the Church, or whether they are not in some danger of being, one day, reckoned amongst the Heathens & the Publicans.   

SECT. III. Blind Obedience the best Remedy.  
AN humble Penitent is free from these disorders. His scrupulosity may be fearful; 'tis the nature of it to be so: but it never is incurable: because 'tis truly humble & submissive. The remedies of it are always at hand; And, with his Confessor's advice, he is always ready to apply them. His Confessor needs only say the word; he never asks a reason why. He has a general reason for all doubtful cases whatsoever; a reason which he always carries about with him; an everlasting reason which is ever the same, & which he is infallibly assured of, that in doubtful cases nothing is so reasonable as Obedience. He never has any troublesome doubts, to vex him or molest him. He knows for certain, what he is bid do, & that he does, without ever doubting of it. He fears nothing but himself; he fears his frailty; he fears his being disobedient: These are the only things he fears: And therefore he is fearful without discouragement, careful without anxiety, & diligent without any trouble. He is as diligent in the examen of his Conscience, as men of business are in any serious affair. More than this, he is not obliged to: and so much as this, is as easy to him, as it is ordinary to every body else. He is so humble, as to inquire of his Confessor, what length of time he pleases to allow for his examen; and so obedient, that he has no inclination to exceed his allowance. He gins his work, goes on with it, & ends it, all with the same ease.  
He knows very well that the general reason of his Obedience is grounded upon as firm a foundation, as the rock itself, upon which the Church is built: and therefore he never inquires after any particular reasons, why his Confessor allows him no more time. He not only despises all these curiosities, but even hates them: because he firmly believes, they are as pernicious as they are superfluous. Nor is it any wonder he believes it, if it be true, that seeing is believing; for he plainly sees the sad experience of it, in his proud & wilful neighbours, who are never quiet, but are always restless & uneasy; never contented, but always labouring in vain to build Security upon the sandy foundation of their own weak Reason. A Foundation which is never firm; but either flies like dust before each puff of Wind, or else is washed away, & changed with every Tide.    

CHAP. V. Nothing more unreasonable than a boundless Liberty of reasoning.  
IT happens very unluckily for us, that the chief Faculty we have, which God has given us to govern all the rest, is sometimes the most ungovernable of them all: and that our Reason, which calls them all to an account, is sometimes the most unaccountable itself. Our Saviour says 
(t) Luk. 14.34.35.  Salt is good: but if the Salt have lost its savour, wherewith shall it be seasoned? It is neither fit for the Land, nor for the Dunghill, but men cast it out. In the same manner, Reason is good: 'tis good, to oversee our Appetites, our words, & Actions: 'tis good, to watch them, & to keep them within the bounds of Temperance & Moderation: 'tis good, to summon them before the Bar, examine, reprehend, & punish them for their transgressions: All this, right Reason is good for. But if our Reason itself be the greatest transgressor, the most intemperate, the most extravagant of all; What is it good for, but to be cast out of doors, and 
(u) Math. 5.13.  trodden under foot by men? This, I confess, is a hard saying; a severe Sentence: but yet, by what has been already said, it plainly appears, it is not more severe than it deserves.  
Humane Reason is the best thing in Nature, if rightly managed; & the worst, if a proud wilful creature have the keeping of it. 'tis commonly said, that Pride will have a fall: Nor is it any wonder, if it be always true; because it looks too high to see the way before it. 'tis like the Philosopher who fell into a ditch whilst he was gazing at the Stars. The Reason which God has given us, if rightly employed, would make us humble & submissive; it would open our eyes, to see how fallible we are; & open our ears to hear the advice of others, who are wiser than ourselves. But, on the contrary, when Reason is abused, & ill applied, it makes us proud & wilful: it puffs us up with a vain esteem of our own judgement; & the higher it raises us, the greater fall it gives us.  
The fall of our first Parents had an influence upon the Understanding as well as the Will of their posterity: and a great part of our original disease consists in an insatiable Curiosity, by which we aim at being like the Highest. We would know all things, and have a reason for every thing. This is the desperate condition of those scrupulous persons, to whom I here address myself. They are brainsick with too much reasoning. They thirst after reason, as dropsical people after drink: and, the more you give them, the more you increase the distemper. Reason without submission, is the very thing which makes them sick: and nothing will ever cure them, but an universal Submission, in all doubtful cases, without any particular reasons for it. Their Understanding raves continually after an infinity of idle & unnecessary notions: and, to make it sober, there is nothing like darkening the windows; for, whilst you let the light break in upon it, you will never bring it to itself.  
At this rate, you'll say, God gave us our Reason to little purpose; if, in doubtful cases, it be better to resign it, than to use it. I beg your pardon. Our Reason is given us, to as much purpose as our other Faculties are: It is given us, to make right use of it; and not to enjoy the pleasure of it at our own discretion. We are as much obliged to observe the Rules of Temperance in reasoning, as in eating & drinking: and our Curiosity of knowing too much is oftentimes as dangerous as either Gluttony or Drunkenness. There are many things which are not proper for us to eat: and there are many more, which are as improper for us to know. But a proud Mind is like a depraved Appetite, & both are most inclined to what is most pernicious to them. Such was the disease of our first Parents, which still runs in the blood of the whole Family. They had knowledge enough to serve their turn, but were not contented with it: they were curious to try the experiment of what was meant by knowing good & evil: they knew it to their sorrow, & paid dearly for it. A little Blind Obedience would have kept them in the state of Innocence: but, to obey without a particular reason why, was more than they were willing to support. They would not endure to be kept in any degree of Darkness. Their insatiable Curiosity allowed no terms of moderation to their Use of Reason. They would have their eyes opened: they would be as Gods: they would either know All or Nothing. See here an early example of the Intemperance of Humane Reason. See how speedily, & how severely it was punished. And learn from thence this useful Lesson; that we are as much obliged to observe the rules of Temperance in Using of our Reason, as we are to keep a Moderation & Decorum in the Use of meat & drink.  
All or Nothing, is the Motto of a Libertin. All that lies in his way, is lawful to him. What was it All made for? What was He himself created for, but to enjoy the faculties which Nature has bestowed upon him? He values no other use than the enjoyment of them. When he plays the Glutton, or the Drunkard, etc. he justifies himself with ask, Is it not lawful for a man to eat, & drink, etc. What were All these things made for? What were his Appetites & Reason made for, but to pick & choose, love & hate, think & do, whatêre he pleases? The thinking part of him (which is a thing he scarce knows what to think of) seems capable of knowing All things: and Why should any Laws of God or Man pretend to limit it? So unreasonable is the Use of Humane Reason, when it is a Slave to Pride & wilfulness which commonly are the keepers & disposers of it! My Reason is my own, say they; God did not give it me for nothing. What matter is't, how dark & doubtful these things are? My Reason is my Judge. My boundless Reason is capable of knowing All things: Why should any body stint it? The proud & boisterous Sea when it swells high, & with a full tide rushes in upon the shore, if it could speak, might say the same thing with as good a grace: My boundless waves are able to o'erflow the Earth: and Why should I stop here? Proud Creatures! 'tis in vain to lift up your rebellious hands against the Hand that made you; 
(w) Prov. 16.5.  Though hand join in hand, you shall not be unpunished. He who has 
(x) Job. 38.8.11.  shut up the Sea with doors, & said, Here shall thy proud waves be stayed; He, I say has shut up Humane Reason within the compass of its Duty, & said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further.   

CHAP. VI The difference betwixt a Philosopher & a Christian, concerning the Submission of Humane Reason.  
THe Liberties of natural Reason are as large as those of Nature itself: & as we know no certain bounds of natural causes & effects, so we prescribe no limits to our natural Reason in endeavouring to discover them. All this visible World, & even the Maker of it (so far as we can trace his footsteps, & understand him by the things which he has made) are the object & the subject of our speculations. 'tis like a Garden of Delight, where Humane Reason may divert itself; & ramble up and down without ever finding any end of it. 'tis a place of Pleasure, where a Philosopher daily meets with fresh discoveries of entertainment for his curiosity, which is the only greedy Appetite he has. His business does not lie in Action, but in Contemplation: and, in this respect, he may truly say, the Natural World is all his own: He may think, & judge, & reason, as he pleases, concerning all, & every part, of it.  
The Supernatural World is quite another thing. The great & glorious End, which all good Christians aim at, is Supernatural: and to make our natural reason the supreme Judge of matters relating to this End, is a thing manifestly unreasonable. For, although it be excusable in a Philosopher, to take nothing upon trust, it would be evidently unpardonable in a Christian. Of all the four last things, which Christians ought to remember that they may never sin; Death is the only thing we naturally are assured of. No body's natural reason can demonstrate what we believe concerning Judgement, Hell, or Heaven. And yet, to prepare for this Judgement, to avoid this Hell, & to enjoy this Heaven, a good Christian sacrifices all things here, his fortune, his life, his friends, & whatsoever is most dear to him. At the approach of Death, he resigns his Spirit into the hands of God: and although he does not see in what his future Happiness consists; he puts his Confidence in God, who has revealed his Mercies to us; and in the Church, who has assured us of his Promises. He joyfully relies upon these great assurances of more than he is able to conceive: and is content to take them upon trust.  
I do not wonder, that no body is worthy of Heaven, who dares not take God's word for it. But this I admire, that they who can trust God with their Souls, with their Eternity, with their unseen & unknown hopes of Happiness in Heaven; nevertheless cannot submit so far, as to trust him with their conduct upon Earth, & to rely upon the Guides which he has given them. If we can follow God so cheerfully into an unseen World: Why can we not follow him as cheerfully through an unknown Way? The Danger surely is the greatest in the End: and, if we can trust him when we part from hence, I know no reason why we may not trust him all the while we are here.   

CHAP. VII. The different Sentiments of a Proud & an Humble Penitent, concerning Blind Obedience.  
HAppy are they who are blindly Obedient, without demurring, reasoning, or disputing. They are embarked in a Vessel, where they may sleep secure: they need not take any further care, they have Jesus Christ for their Pilot. All that we receive from God, we ought to Sacrifice to him; and consequently our Understanding as well as our Will. If we fail in this one point, our being exact in all the rest will signify little or nothing. The fall of Lucifer, & his companions, is a sufficient proof. They were Angels in all other respects, and never had been Devils, if they had submitted their Understanding & their Will to him who made them. That Pride which alone was enough to cast the Angels out of Heaven, That alone, though we were Angels in all things else, is enough to hinder us from ever going thither. Our best way to secure ourselves, & to discover the artifices of an Enemy who is as cunning as he is malicious, is to look upon Obedience as the touchstone of all the virtue and perfection which we aim at. The Devil can counterfeit all other virtues, but he could never counterfeit Obedience. Had he at first submitted his Will & Understanding to his great Superior, who made him; had he but been Obedient while he was an Angel, he had never been a Devil. If Obedience be our Rule, in all our Actions, & in all the circumstances of them; if it be our daily business to improve & grow more perfect in complying with this Rule; it is impossible that we should ever err. We cannot but know what we are bid to do; and, if we know that, we know the highway to Heaven: Let us only do as we are bid, and we shall certainly go thither. As long as the Sheep follow their Shepherd, they are safe: but, if any of them go astray from the Flock, 'tis no wonder they are devoured by the Wolves.  
These are the Sentiments of an humble Penitent. But they who are proud and wilful, are not so easily satisfied concerning these matters. The very thought of Blind Obedience is like news of death, to their beloved Curiosity, & darling Humour, which they are so desperately fond of. If Death itself should come within their view, & show his Sith, and only some few Sands at the bottom of the Glass, it would not i'll their Spirits more than it does to think their Curiosity must be buried alive, & their Humour lie as low as dust, without ever rising again. If they were truly Penitent, the Spirit of Repentance would inspire a holy revenge in punishing those Faculties of the Soul, which were the instruments of Sin. They would punish their Will, by restraining it in things which are indifferent, & mortify their Understanding, by resigning it in matters which are doubtful. If they considered seriously the extravagancies which attend their Pride & Curiosity, and the pernicious consequences of their Wilful Humour, they would hate them now, as much as heretofore they loved them: they would not suffer them so much as to see the Light, which they are so unworthy of, but willingly condemn them to the Darkness of a Dungeon, during life. 'tis a severe Sentence: But what have you to say against it, that it may not pass?  
What am I the better for my Reason, if I may not act according to it?  
In doubtful cases, you never act more conformably to your own right reason, than when you renounce the probability of your Speculations, & submit them to your Judge without reasoning the matter with him.  
My Confessor may be mistaken.  
Very well: He may so. But does not God know that as well as you? And yet he has appointed him to be your Judge.  
I really believe he is mistaken.  
You may believe the contrary, if you please; as long as you are not certain of it.  
I have a great many reasons to think him in the wrong, and no particular reason to think him in the right.  
Put all your reasons in one Scale: put his Authority in the other: And, if it have as much weight with you as it ought to have, 'twill over weigh them all. His Authority is from God: Your reasons, which tempt you to despise it, are no better than Suggestions of the Devil. His Authority is absolutely certain & secure: Your reasons (if there happen to be any reason in them) are but doubtful & uncertain. Put all this together: Consider it well: And you will soon be ashamed of disputing such matters any longer with your Confessor.  
Is not This being what they call Priestridden?  
The Wits of our profane Age are pleased to call it so. But some people are too witty, to be wise. Their business is not so much to understand any thing, as to laugh at all things. Whatever comes in their way, if it furnish matter for a jest, they take no further care. They have a merry time, while it lasts. But, when their Life's in danger, there are none more tractable in the hands of a Physician: They'll be Doctor-ridden as much as you please. Nay, if it be only their Estate which is in jeopardy, They'll be Lawyer-ridden too. They pin their their faith upon their Lawyer's sleeve. They argue not the matter with him. They suffer not their Reason to come in competition with his Skill. He tell's them, This is Law. They do not conceive how it comes to be so. It seems unreasonable to them. And yet they believe him: they submit: and blindly follow his Advice. Besides, when all is done, they are Judge-ridden whether they will or no; and neither dare nor can complain of it: because they know very well, that no body is fit to live under any Form of Government, who will not submit to such Judges as are appointed by the Law. And truly, with all submission to his Majesty, I see no reason why we ought not to have some respect for God's Judges, as well as for the King's.   

CHAP. VIII. A Scripture-Objection answered.  
'tIs written in Scripture, that 
(y) Math. 15.14.  if the Blind lead the Blind, they both fall into the Ditch. But however, this Text, if rightly understood, is no good argument against Blind Obedience.  
I. If both are innocently blind, 'tis certain that neither of them will fall into the pit of Hell, which here is represented by the Ditch. Because the Divine Justice cannot punish Innocency, or condemn the Blindness of those who are not guilty of it.  
II. If a Confessor be proud & careless, so as to be guilty of his Blindness, nevertheless the Penitents who (in doubtful matters) humbly & sincerely follow his Advice, will never be punished for his fault, but be rewarded for obeying him. 'tis written in Scripture that the Soul which commits the Sin, the same shall die; and no, other shall suffer, either for it, or with it. The words are plain; 
(z) Ezek. 18.20.  The Soul that sinneth, it shall die: The Son shall not bear the iniquity of the Father, but the wickedness of the wicked Father shall be upon him only. From whence it evidently follows, that although the Ghostly Father be wilfully and wickedly Blind, yet all Sincere & Humble Penitents (in all their doubts) may innocently & securely submit to him: because, not being partners of his Gild, they cannot possibly be made partakers of his Punishment.  
III. If both are criminally blind; that is, if they love darkness, if they shut their eyes against the light, if they are blind because they have no mind to see, in a word, if they are proud & wilful, as the Pharisees & their Disciples were; Then indeed, they both deserve to fall into the Ditch.  
For example: You have no mind to obey your Confessor, & therefore you will not believe him: You have a mind to follow your own humour, & therefore you harken to those little reasons, which you seem to have for it. In this case, you you are not sincere, you are partial in your own favour: you are more willing to believe yourself than to believe your Guide, & more desirous to please yourself than to please God. This is the wilful part of your Blindness. Let us now consider the pride of it it. You are naturally curious in what belongs to you: you are wise in your own conceit, & puffed up with the thought of being so: you think it very hard for any body else to understand you better than you understand yourself, & therefore you value your own judgement too much, & your Confessor's too little. But yet your Pride and wilfulness are no excuse for your Blindness. One fault is no excuse for another. Your wilful Pride is a notorious fault: 'tis visible to every body else: and, if it did not blind you, it would be visible to yourself. 'tis in your power to be humble & submissive, if you please. 'tis a virtue, which if you seriously endeavour to practise, God will help you: and, if you hearty beg it of him, he will not fail to give it you. Mean time, as blind as you are, you are not so thoroughly confident of your own opinion, but that you would be glad to have it seconded by the Authority of your Guide. For this reason, you are so eager to discourse with him; not to know his mind, but to let him know yours: not to submit to what he says, but to make him subscribe to what you think: not to learn his opinion, but to teach him your own. If you cannot prevail; you consult another; and another: And your business is to find, either a Guide that will be guided by you (which is no Guide at all) or else a Guide as much mistaken as yourself, who is contented to lead you your own way; and then, to be sure, your Blindness will not excuse you, because 'tis your own fault from the beginning to the end. Had you humbly & sincerely relied upon the Guide which Providence appointed you, You had been certain, either to be in the right way, or to be blameless, if in the wrong. But since you proudly & wilfully left a Guide according to God's heart, to take another according to your own, You sought for darkness, & for your punishment you found it: and then indeed, you may be sure, if your Blind Guide fall in to the Ditch, you'll fall in after him.   

CHAP. IX. Pretences of Reason answered.  
ONe would think, the bare consideration of the follies & the mischiefs which attend the pride & wilfulness of weighing & comparing every trifling reason pro and con, in every doubtful matter, One would think, I say, that this alone were more than abundantly sufficient to satisfy any reasonable person, that nothing is more rational, than to silence these impertinent reasons, & to turn them out of doors. I am sure there is very good reason for it: and, if Reason does it, 'tis enough; the Enemies of Blind Obedience have no reason to complain.  
And yet 'tis commonly their custom, not only to complain but to object a great many odious things against it, which look as if they were a little spiteful in misrepresenting it. Has not God given us our Reason? Are we not accountable to him for it? And are we not bound in Duty to make the best use we can of it?  
'tis easily answered: We certainly are so: and because our blind Submission is grounded upon the best Reason we have, therefore 'tis certain that we make the best use we can of it, when we blindly submit. 'tis true; if a man pretended to banish all reason whatsoever, & to submit himself universally without any manner of reason for it; Then, I must, needs confess, our blind Submission would be the most unreasonable thing in the world. But this is never practised or advised by any that I ever heard of.  
Whensoever we submit our speculative reasons to the Authority of a Confessor, 'tis always under the conduct & influence of our chief practical Reason, which is superior to them, & has a legal jurisdiction over them. Our speculations are numberless: and, in deciding doubtful matters, if we give them audience, our labour is in vain. For, either we hear them all together, & then there is nothing but confusion: or else we hear them one by one, & then there is no end of them. Our practical notions lie within a little compass: they are given us by God himself as rules of life & action: they are few, and easily understood; they are plain, & easily applied; and, which is best of all, the operation of them is every jot as safe, as the understanding & applying of them are easy. These practical principles are the best Reason of Mankind. By these, in worldly affairs we behave ourselves like Men; and by the same, in spiritual matters, we act like Christians; And therefore, if by these very principles we suspend & silence all those needless speculations, which are only fit to trouble & molest us; if we command them to retire; and order them to give place to Authority: Where is the harm? Can you blame us for following the best Reason we have, & making the best use we can of it? When a man takes aim, & shuts one eye; you may say, he's blind, if you please: but the truth is, he only winks with the left eye, that he may see much better with the right.  
If this were well considered, it would pacify a little the minds of those people, who pursue so fiercely their pretensions to a boundless liberty of reasoning. They would soon discover, not only that the Obedience, which I plead for, is not so blind as they are willing to represent it; but also that it allows them as much liberty as any reasonable man can wish for.  
1. In things which are evident, or absolutely certain, no body questions but that our Reason has free room to exercise itself without restraint. No body ever goes to a Confessor to consult him, whether or no they ought to believe their Creed; whether the seven deadly sins be lawful or not; or whether the ten Commandments ought to be observed. They have no need of troubling their Guides about those things which every body knows that all the Catholic world agrees in.  
2. In matters which are dark and doubtful, where Authority has hitherto been silent, & where we have not the opportunity of consulting it; we enjoy the selfsame freedom, with all the rights & privileges of exercising our Reason & Judgement.  
3. In lesser doubts, which we can easily determine, we are not used to go to any man for counsel: 'tis only when we are a little puzzled, when we are uneasy & perplexed, 'tis only than we have recourse to those who are commissioned to direct us. When we begin to spell & pother upon difficulties, whether we may or may not, whether we ought or ought not; when we plainly find ourselves at a loss, & know not how to satisfy our mind about the matter before us; when we begin to want a little help, & are glad with all our hearts to call for it: Pray tell me, is there any thing more reasonable than to refer these doubtful cases to the arbitration of a Confessor, who is expressly deputed by God & his Church, to judge for those who are not capable of judging easily & clearly for themselves? Is not his advice worth our taking, when 'tis worth our ask? When we know not how to choose for ourselves, & therefore prudently resolve to let our Confessor choose for us, Why should we quarrel with the same Prudence for obliging us to approve his choice? It would be a strange unreasonable perverseness indeed, if when we could not do the work ourselves, we would not suffer any body else to do it for us.  
When both parties are weary of an expensive suit of Law, & by common consent agree to make short work of it, & refer it to the arbitration of a neighbour; If it were your own case, & the Sentence were given against you, Would you presently fly back from your bargain, & refuse to stand to his Judgement? I am sure no man of Honour would do it. In the same manner, when a case is doubtful, when your speculative reasons are not able to decide it to your satisfaction, when you grow quite weary, & despair of ending the dispute; you cannot think of any thing better, than to appeal to the Authority of your Confessor; nor can I think of any thing worse, than to refuse his Arbitration, when you had not only accepted, but desired, it. You know very well, that in any temporal matter, it would not be looked upon as fair & honest dealing. What have you to say in your defence?  
Is it fitting that I should submit without a reason?  
Pray, what reason had you to consult him? Was it not because you found yourself unsatisfied with all your own particular reasons, and therefore wisely abandoned them to appeal to his Authority? If this were a good reason, to appeal; why is it not a good one, to submit? Is it not a shame, to put such an affront upon the Common Reason of mankind, as to use it like a bauble, only fit for childrens-play? and to be always shisting backwards & forwards, first from reason to authority, & then from the the same authority to the same reason again? This is never the way to end any dispute, but always the way to make it endless.  
I do not fly back from Authority to my own reason, but only am curious to know his reasons, because I believe they may be better than mine.  
And yet, after all, if he should tell you his reasons, you would not be satisfied with them, till you had well examined them, & made them your own. His Authority would signify nothing at all; nor his Reason neither, any further than your own reason approves it. So that, from the Authority which you appealed to, you manifestly fly back to your own reason again. The proudest creature in the world, would do as much as this: nor can you show me the least appearance of Christian Humility, in this way of proceeding.  
Well; but when I am once convinced, I shall be quiet ever after.  
It seems you are vain enough to think so, in spite of all your daily experience to the contrary. You know very well, that the April-Sun-shine is not more unconstant, than the clearness of your reasons. One moment they shine bright, & the next they are under a cloud. How often have you thought yourself convinced? How oft have you rejoiced at it, & thanked your Confessor for it? and presently after, you have been much more in pain, & more tormented than before. Your speculations, which appeared to be entirely routed, rallied up again with double forces of recruits, & with a fresh assault broke in upon your mind, ruffled your thoughts, and riffled all the treasure of your peace.  
'tis very true; but I beg one answer more; only to this one question: and then I'm confident I shall be satisfied.  
'tis a thousand pities, you should not be satisfied, upon such easy terms. But pray, consider how many thousands of these one-questions you have had an answer to already; and all to no other purpose, than to render your condition daily worse & worse. Reason to Scruples, is like Oil to Fire: Water may put it out; but Oil will rather feed it, & increase the Flame.  
'tis Charity in a Confessor, to instruct me: Is he not my Teacher, as well as my Judge?  
Yes: And he is your Judge as well as your Teacher. His Charity does not oblige him, nor his Prudence permit him, to teach you any thing, but what he judges fitting for you. There are a great many truths, which are only proper to feed your Curiosity, & very unfit to nourish Piety, much less, to improve your Humility. When your Confessor has judged the case, if you ask his reasons for it, & will not submit till you are thoroughly satisfied that he is certainly in the right; it is no longer He that judges for you: he only instructs you, & helps you to judge for yourself. To what purpose are you so inquisitive? 'tis a thing not only needless, but dangerous. For, 1. If it be useful to you, he'll instruct you, of his own accord: 'tis his Duty so to do: and, if he does not, 'tis his fault, not yours. 2. Although his Conscience tells him, that it is a great deal better & safer for you, not to know his reasons: yet perhaps his complaisance, or (if you please) his good nature, may incline him to hazard the peace of your Soul, by gratifying of your Curiosity: And then you are both to blame; you, for ask; he, for condescending.  
If Reason be a good thing in itself, why may I not ask its And, if my Motive, of desiring it, be also good, why may I not have it for ask?  
You have already too much reason: you have a great deal more than you well know what to do with: and therefore, though it be good in itself 'tis far from being good for you. And truly, if it be not good for you, if you know not what to do with it, if you have already too much of it, I do not easily conceive what sort of good motive you can have, to wish for more.  
I am very uneasy with fears & apprehensions of doing amiss: this uneasiness is a great hindrance to me, in my duties & devotions; and therefore I am always busy, either studying or enquiring, to find out a clear & certain reason, to secure me from all fear.  
I understand you very well. You are like a Gentleman who was very uneasy for fear of wanting money. He thought that if once he could yet the Philosopher's Stone, it would change all things into Gold, and therefore was always busy in studying how to find it out: but 'twas his misfortune, that the thing he sought for, was not to be found. A speculative certainty of the goodness & lawfulness of every particular action, & every circumstance of it, would be a fine thing indeed, if it were to be had. But before you inquire any further after it, I beg you to consider how manifestly impossible it is to dissect one single action into all its parts, and to read particular lectures of morality upon them, with as many demonstrations to confirm the truth & the exactness of them all. 1. In one single action, besides the substance of it, our Divines observe no less than six or seven general circumstances, as Person, Time, Place, Motive, Means, & Manner of doing. The harmomy & due proportion of all these must first be well observed & clearly proved, before 'tis possible to form a speculative Judgement of the Whole, especially a certain one, which may exclude all fear. 2. These general circumstances are like spawners, and often have a great many little particular ones within them. 3. Even these little ones, which hardly are discernible by common eyes, may be dissected too, & still afford new matter for a Scene of fresh discoveries. 4. Some of these circumstances, even those of the greatest importance, are such thin vanishing things, that 'tis impossible for any body's thoughts to lay fast hold of them. The Purity of our Intention, the Sincerity of our Endeavours, the Exact proportion of our Diligence, &c, are things which all the natural Reason in the world is never able to demonstrate. 5. Although the general Maxims of Morality are clear & evident, yet nevertheless the use & application of them oftentimes are hid & wrapped up in obscurity & darkness. They are like those subterraneous secrets which lie too deep for humane industry to reach them. The Art of Man can neither fetch them out, & place them in the open light: nor can it contrive a way to go & see them where they are; because, in such a deep descent, the Lamp burns blue immediately, & soon goes out. Did you ever hear of a man so foolish, as to attempt the digging of a staircase to the Centre of the earth? 'tis every jot as impossible to make a clear discovery of Secrets which lie hidden in the centre of our Hearts.  
Is not this enough to drive a fearful Soul into Despair?  
'tis very well, if it does so. 'tis the very thing I would be at. Despair is not always bad; but sometimes absolutely necessary. Many a man has ruined a good estate, for want of a little despair. The Gentleman, I spoke of last, who was so fond of trying costly experiments, to find out the Philopher's Stone, if in good time he had despaired of finding it, he might have saved his labour, & his estate too. The sooner you despair, the better, provided you despair in the right place. There are many Souls in Heaven, who would never have been there, if they had not despaired here. They would never have been so much in love with the next world, if they had not despaired of being happy in this. They would never have prayed so hearty & so devoutly for the assistance of God's grace, if they had not despaired of being able to work their Salvation without it. And I verily believe that You yourself will never submit so humbly, readily, & cheerfully, as you ought, to the Authority of your Confessor, till you despair entirely of ever finding any comfort in your own fantastical speculations.   

CHAP. X. Pretences of Conscience considered.  
'tIs impossible for a Timorous Conscience to be quiet without being certain. 'tis also impossible, in the darkness of moral doubts, to find out any speculative certainty. And consequently it highly concerns us to consider what practical certainty may be had, and to make the best markets we can of it.  
I have, in the beginning of the last chapter, already observed; that in the decision of moral doubts our speculative reasons are always subordinate to the practical principles of our Prudence. Our speculations have no right to any share in the Government of our lives, any further than our Prudential Reason, which always ought to have an inspection over them, approves them as rules to walk by. They have only a consulting voice in all deliberations, when and where they are summoned to appear: Our Sovereign Reason still presides in the Assembly: It determines all things, at its own discretion, not theirs: And, if they happen to grow tedious & impertinent, as oftentimes they are, it has the power to prorogue them, or dissolve them, as it pleases; & decide the matter without them.  
So that here are two paths before us, & only two, which lead us to a practical certainty: the one, by way of speculative reasoning; the other, by way of Authority: and the main question is; which of these two is best?  
When we ground our practical certainty upon the probability of speculative reason, we commonly meet with some difficulty & danger by the way, before we come at it. A long examen oftentimes is necessary, to weigh each grain of probability; whether it be more than it need be, or less than it should be, or just goldweight. 'tis true; a man of sense & sound judgement, may make a very good shift to overcome the difficulty & the danger too: But how these troublesome circumstances will agree with the temper & constitution of a timorous Conscience, I do not so easily conceive.  
On the other hand, when all our doubtful & uncertain speculations are laid aside, and our practical certainty is grounded wholly & entirely upon the Authority of a Confessor; the case is quite altered: 'tis no longer, either difficult or dangerous. There's no examen requisite: no weighing of Authority by grains: the least commission from God, & patent from his Church, is equally easy to be known, & equally secure to be relied upon. 'tis a rule which never varies: 'tis applied the same way, to all doubts whatsoever: & the very A, B, C, of practical Reason, is enough to teach us the application of it. 1. In all doubtful cases I may securely rely upon my Confessor's Authority, without examining his reasons. 2. My present difficulty is a doubtful case: 3. And therefore, in my present difficulty, I may securely rely upon his Authority, without examining his reasons. This is the whole lesson: there is no need of any more: and 'tis a lesson so short & so plain that a body must be very dull indeed, who can be long in learning it. It includes only three points: 1. the universal principle; 2. the application; and 3. the conclusion. The last follows evidently from its premises: the second cannot fail: the first is absolutely certain: And what can any reasonable person wish for more?  
In the next chapter, I shall make it my business to prove by Scripture, the absolute certainty of it. Mean time I shall apply myself to consider the two sorts of practical certainty: 1. in what they agree; 2. in what they differ; 3. which of the two is better, & more favourably calculated for the ease & comfort of a timorous Conscience.  

SECT. I. The two sorts of Practical Certainty explained.  
THey both agree in being equally obscure, & leaving us in the dark, without satisfying us whether or no the Action or Omission be lawful in itself. They only undertake to assure us that whether it be lawful in itself or not, 'tis certainly lawful to us: and truly this is as much as a wise man would wish for, or a good man needs to care for. Whether or no it be lawful in itself, is only a speculative doubt; and the decision of it, is not necessary for our practice. 'tis enough that we have done our duty in enquiring after it: and that we have either well considered the sufficient probability of our speculations, or more wisely consulted the sure Authority of our Confessor. This done; we are as secure, as we are sincere.  
Although we are not speculatively certain of its being lawful in itself; we are practically certain of its being lawful to us. We hope the thing is lawful in itself. If we knew for certain that it is not so, we would not do it. We have done what's fitting for a good Christian to do in doubtful cases▪ More than this we are not obliged to: And therefore we securely lay aside all further care. We are practically certain that, if we are mistaken, we are not guilty of it. Our God, who sees our hearts, is as well pleased with us, as if we had not been deceived: He will not fail to reward the Sincerity of our good intentions: And when the Humility of blind Obedience goes along with them, they will be acceptable to him upon more accounts than one, and receive a double recompense.   

SECT. II. When we rely upon our Confessor's Authority, our Certainty is Absolute.  
ALthough both sorts of practical certainty agree in being equally obscure, on the one side; they do not so well agree in being equally clear & comfortable, on the other: and the difference is the greater, because it lies in the very foundation of them. The one is grounded upon the Probability of speculative reason: the other upon the Authority of a Confessor: and betwixt these two the difference is greater than many people imagine.  
When a Penitent judges for himself according to the Probability of his own speculative reason, he must take great care to proceed prudently in his determinations. For,  
1. If he be rash or negligent, if he use not the caution & circumspection which is requisite, if he do not well consider the sufficient probability of his reasons, He is sure to be guilty, whether the thing be lawful in itself or not. For, if it happen to be lawful, 'tis better fortune than his Rashness deserves: And, if it be unlawful in itself, 'tis certainly so to him, because his Negligence, which he must one day answer for, can never justify him in it. He may thank himself for being mistaken: 'tis his own fault, that he is so: and 'tis impossible for one fault to be a just excuse for another.  
2. If he be partial in examining the probability of his opinion, if any criminal inclination make him more attentive to the one side than the other, if he have not patience to consider the full strength of the reasons against him, but chief apply the whole force of his wit, to magnify the reasons which are favourable to his Passion, Interest, or Humour; his Blindness is wilful: and all the world agrees, that wilful Ignorance is no excuse. 'tis a common case, which daily happens. We frequently take notice of it, & clearly see it, in our neighbours, though we are not willing to observe it in ourselves. But the more common it is, the greater is our obligation to consider the difficulty & the danger to which a Penitent is always exposed, when he pretends to judge for himself, & to build his practical certainty upon the sandy ground of his own probable reasons, without removing the rubbish, & examining well the foundation, before he ventures to raise his edifice upon it.  
He who builds upon a rock, is free from all this trouble. He needs not dig deep to search a foundation, which (without examining) he knows to be as firm as he can wish it. Such is the advantage of that practical certainty which is grounded upon the Authority of a Confessor. And to confirm this truth, which is of such importance: to all Penitents, I have amongst our Doctors & Divines made choice of one beyond exception, who not only teaches it himself, but says it is the common doctrine of the rest. He proposes, & proves, three duties of Blind Obedience, from whence I have drawn three general rules, which are undoubtedly as lawful & as commendable in secular Penitents, as in religious Persons; whosoever is the Superior of the one, or Confessor of the other.  
I. Although 
(a) Etiamsi absolutè falli possit Superior, id tamen non est unquam in particulari praesumendum, nisi de eo constet. Lessius de Just. & Jure. lib. 2. cap. 46. dub. 5.  in general we know our Confessor may be mistaken; yet, in particular, we never are to suppose He is so, unless we are CERTAIN of it. If therefore we are not certain of his being in the wrong, we may lawfully suppose, he is in the right: and by consequence,  
II. We need not 
(b) Debet esse coeca ad rationes praecepti scrutandas; nempe ut non velit scire causas cur quid praecipiatur; sed satis ei sit, praecipi vel imponi ab eo qui locum Dei tenet, nec consset per se esse illicitum. ibid.  search into his reasons, nor know the causes, why he bids us follow his advice. Because, if we may lawfully suppose him in the right, 'tis evident we need not be inquisitive about the matter, for fear of his being in the wrong. And hence it follows also, that  
III. We need not 
(c) Caeca ad imperfectiones & vitia Superioris, ut haec non consideret, nec ob haec minus ad obediendum parata sit; sed solum consideret eum cujus locum tenet, ibidem.  consider his imperfections & his faults; nor be therefore less ready to obey him. Because although his Ignorance or Negligence may possibly misled him, yet, since 'tis none of our business to inquire about it, we are every jot as safe, as if an Angel came from Heaven to assure us of his being in the right.  
If you ask me, Why then does S. F. Sales advise us 
(d) Introduct. part. 1. ch. 4. n. 5.  to choose one amongst ten thousand? Why does he tell us, he must be replenished with Charity, Knowledge, & Prudence: & that if one of these three parts be wanting in him, there is danger? How shall we choose a Confessor, without considering his imperfections & his faults? The Answer to all this, is easily found in the same chapter.  
1. When B. Sales speaks of choosing one in ten thousand, he no more intends that we should enter into a strict examen of our Confessor's capacity, than he means that we should abstain from Confession, till we have ten thousand Confessors at our service. The number and the choice are neither of them to be understood in the rigour of the expression: because it would then follow, that none but some few Sovereign Princes could ever be able to go to Confession, for want of number enough to choose in. But nevertheless, this way of expressing is very proper to undeceive some people, who are not at all solicitous what Confessor they have; provided he be a man for their purpose, a man of their own humour, or a man who is easily prevailed with, to let them do as they please. As for his Charity, they do not desire it; his Knowledge, they do not want it; & his Prudence also may be spared, because they have enough of their own. To oppose this pernicious maxim, our Saint assures us, there are fewer to be found than men imagine, who are fit & capable of such an Office; & that there is danger, if by our fault these parts are wanting in him; that is, if we purposely make choice of a man, for this very reason, because we believe him deficient in these excellent Qualities, & because we are so proud & wilful that we cannot endure to deal with a man whose Knowledge and Prudence may enable him to direct us, or a man whose Charity may easily inspire him with sufficient courage, when he is obliged, to contradict us. They who know their Passions are strong, & think their Reason is so too, are little desirous of being directed, & less of being contradicted. And therefore B. Sales takes notice that 
(e) ibid. n. 1.  one of the last advices of the great S. Lewis to his Son, was in this kind: Confess often, & choose a Confessor of learning & discretion, that can & dares advertise thee, to do such things as are necessary for thy Salvation. If all the world would follow this advice, there would not be so many as there are, who purposely avoid those Confessors who can & dare advertise them. Their ignorance, when they mistake, is wilful & cannot excuse them: but on the contrary, they deserve to be abandoned in their darkness, because they purposely took care to avoid the light.  
2. B. Sales says not one syllable of a Penitent's being obliged to make a strict enquiry into the Knowledge Charity & Prudence of a Confessor. He knew very well that such a method would expose them to an infinity of rash judgements, & that God would never give a blessing to such a way of proceeding. 'tis true; we cannot help seeing & hearing: neither can we avoid thinking of what we see & hear: and, if the appearances are very great, we may make a reasonable use of them, by way of a prudent caution: we may wisely & safely choose the man who seems the better qualified & fit for the Office: but all this while, we need not form a peremptory judgement in the case; and after all, we may perhaps be grievously mistaken in the matter. For which reason B. Sales is so far from advising us to consider well the faults & imperfections of a Confessor, before we choose him, that he only sends us to our prayers, to 
(f) ib. n. 5.  demand him instantly at the hands of Almighty God; and, having once obtained him, he bids us bless his Divine Majesty for so great a benefit. He tells us, that the way to find a good Confessor, is to 
(g) ib. n. 3.  fear God, & with an humble mind affectuously desire our advancement in Piety. He tells us, that we ought to pray to God with very great instance, to furnish us with one according to his heart. He tells us moreover, for our comfort, that, although it were needful to send an Angel from Heaven, as he did to young Tobias, he will not fail to supply our want, but that he will undoubtedly give us a good & faithful Guide.  
3. He expressly teaches, that we 
(h) ib. n. 4.  ought to hearken to our Confessor, as to an Angel descended from Heaven, to conduct us thither: And any man who has his thoughts about him, must needs perceive that, if this be true, the rules of Lessius cannot possibly be false. For, if we were once assured of an Angel being sent from Heaven to direct us,  
I. We never could suppose that God, who sent him, had permitted him to mistake his message, unless we were CERTAIN of it.  
II. The respect we own to an Ambassador from Heaven, would not suffer us to question any of his orders, by searching into the reasons & endeavouring to know the causes of them.  
III. Though nothing be good & perfect but God, yet nevertheless it would be a very absurd thing, if we were therefore less ready to obey him, because, with curious observation, we may possibly discover imperfections, even in an Angel.  
My veneration for S. F. Sales has led me a great deal further than I first intended: but however it has not led me out of my way; because I was going to prove, that the practical certainty which is grounded upon the sure Authority of a Confessor, is absolute; without requiring any terms on our side to support it: whereas the other, which is grounded upon the Probability of speculative reason, is only conditional, and always supposes some certain articles to be observed exactly on our part; so that if we fail in the performance of these conditions, all our appearances of practical certainty will never be sufficient to excuse us.   

SECT. III. When we depend upon the Probability of our own Reason, our Certainty is only Conditional.  
IN the last Section I compared that practical certainty, which is grounded upon a Confessor's Authority, to a building which is raised upon a rock: But as for the other, which is grounded upon Probability, I cannot compare it better than to a building erected upon a floating island. Such an edifice, may be made as strong as one pleases, & as well compacted in itself: but the foundation is naturally a little suspicious; it may break; it may sink; and either the one, or the other, is enough to ruin the inhabitants. If the Foundation never fall to pieces, if it never be swallowed up; All's well. But how shall a body do to be thoroughly satisfied concerning these matters? Such if's as these are a little troublesome to a man's thoughts; and very well deserve to be considered, before one ventures to dwell in such a wand'ring & uncertain habitation.  
For the better understanding of the whole matter, I shall endeavour to give a short and familiar account of the common notions of Probability. There are two sorts of it: the one, ; the other, :  Probability is when we consider the real merits of the cause, the principles & consequences of it, the arguments & reasons which have a particular relation to it, or a natural connexion with it.  Probability is when we have no regard to any of these things, but only consider the personal merits of the author who has credit with us. We have some particular reasons, best known to ourselves, which make us think him wise & good, and the greater the appearances are of his being wise enough to know the truth, & good enough to tell it us sincerely, the greater is the probability of his doctrine being true, & the more we are contented to rely upon it, without enquiring into the reasons of it. We suppose his reasons are good, because they are his, And because his personal merits are altogether foreign to the merits of the cause, therefore this sort of probability is called .  
When I speak of authors, I mean books as well as men, For we converse with both, and value them more or less, according as we fancy they deserve it. Some there are, who are much inclined to prefer the dead authors before the living ones: But I am much afraid, they have no great reason for it. A book, say they, is free from passion interest & humour. Very true, it is so: and so is the man himself, when he is dead: But he was alive, when he was writing; and, for aught we know, his passion interest & humour might be then alive, as well as he. Be it how it will, I am sure the living authors have some very considerable advantages over the dead ones. 1. The living can speak for themselves; and, if they are not rightly understood, they can explain the difficulty more clearly. The dead can speak no more; and, if we do not understand the text, they are not now in a capacity of putting a comment in the margin. 2. We may acquaint a living author with the particular circumstances of our case; but a dead one has no ears to hear us. We may read his writings, and observe what general doctrines he lays down before us: But, as there are few rules without some exceptions, we may still be in a doubt; and, if we are, he is not able to resolve us. So that upon the whole matter, there appears to be as much difference, as betwixt a Doctor & a Dispensatory. And I am very confident, that several people have lost their lives by tampering with Dispensatories, who otherwise might have enjoyed both life & health, if they had but, in time, consulted their Doctor. In fine, whether the Author be living or dead, 'tis certain that we either consider the merit of his reasons, or the merit of his person. If we rely upon the merit of his arguments, having examined them, possessed them, & made them our own, our probability is what they call intrinsecal. But if we wave his reasons, & rely entirely upon the merit his person, because we are persuaded that a wise man is not easily mistaken, nor a good man easily prevailed upon to tell a lie, our probability is merely .  
Let us now apply these notions to our present purpose. 'tis certainly lawful to follow a probable opinion: and, whether the probability be intrinsecal or , 'tis no great matter, provided it be sufficient. We are are only obliged to look before we leap, and to consider well the ground before we offer to go upon it. I have already explained the difficulty of examining, & the danger of choosing our opinion: I have also intimated, that any judicious person may easily make a very good shift to overcome the difficulty & the danger too; in confirmation of which, I shall only add one plain reflection. We are not obliged to use any extraordinary care & diligence in considering & searching the probability of our opinion: 'tis enough that we proceed with the same seriousness & industry of endeavour, which we commonly use in worldly affairs, such as are of some importance to us. For example: If we seek truth with the same ardour & vigour, as we seek a temporal advantage; if we go to look for it, with as good a will as men go usually to their markets or their fairs; if we are in as good earnest, and as careful about it, as we are in driving a bargain; if we reject the plausible suggestions of our passion, interest, or humour, as we do the flattering words & kind insinuations of a person whom we verily believe to have a design of overreaching us: If we do but this (and all this is no more than what we daily do) We need not fear: We are Secure.  
Whensoever a man has done as much as I have here described, the lawfulness of following his opinion is very certain, although the truth of it be only probable. He has a practical certainty that the thing is lawful to him, although he only has a speculative probability of its being lawful in itself. And this alone is enough to pacify the minds of all considerate persons: for they will easily assure themselves of having done as much as I have here explained; and then, although their certainty be only conditional, yet being well assured of having performed the conditions, they are as safe & as much at ease, as if their certainty were absolute.  
But it is not so with scrupulous people who are always more or less confounded & amazed with too much fear. Nothing but an absolute certainty will do their work, a conditional one will never serve their turn. Neither is it any wonder, that Scrupulosity and Probability can never agree; because Probability is naturally more or less defective, & Scrupulosity is always so uneasy, so exceptious, so unreasonable in its expectations, that it is impossible to please it. 'tis a peevish sort of Humour, which is always finding fault, & always suspecting the worst; and when things are as well as they need be, it quarrels with them because they are not better than they can be. In these occasions, Probability is blamed, without deserving it. For, in moral doubts where speculative certainty is not to be found, a reasonable probability is as much as the matter will bear, 'tis as much as all our speculations can discover, and therefore is a very good thing in itself. But, as good as it is, it is not so good as Scrupulosity would have it be. Scrupulosity would fain be speculatively certain; & Probability can never be so: and therefore they can never agree upon the point. Now, for my part, I cannot but look upon this, as a very extravagant humour: For, although a man may possibly be so covetous, as to wish he could make a groat of twopences; yet however, 'tis evidently an unreasonable thing, to refuse a good twopences, because it is not worth a groat.  
If scrupulous people could possibly content themselves with a reasonable proportion of Probability, there might be some hopes of their finding comfort in it. But they are so excessively fond of certainty, that they can never rest without it; and would be almost ready to die with despair, if they did not live in hopes of it. For this reason, they are so very busy in searching for the greatest probability, as being the nearest to it: and indeed they are not to be blamed for thinking that the greatest is the best: but, on the contrary, they very much deserve to be commended for being most pleased with it, and for making it part of their chief business to find it. But the truth is, all excess is , even in things the most excellent: and the justest cause in the world can never justify the intemperance of any passion in the prosecution of it. Their fault lies in their being overmuch concerned, & being blinded with too much fear; which undoubtedly displeases God, as much as a loving confidence would please him. They are like a man, whose master sends him to the wood; Go, fetch me, says he, the best stick you can find. If he had said, a good one, the work had been easily done: but because he said, the best, therefore the poor man is so terribly afraid, he scarce knows where to turn himself: first, one stick pleases him: and then another; and another: the more variety he meets with, the more he is confounded with it; and, the more he is solicitous to choose the best, the less he is able to do it. Thus he wanders up & down, joses his labour, loses his patience, loses himself; and, by the time that he has found himself again, he has lost his Master's favour, by staying so very long, & choosing the worst stick at last.  
This immoderate solicitude were yet more pardonable, if when they find the probability they seek for, they would persuade themselves to be contented with it. But the same cowardly Spirit which puzzles them in the pursuit of it, does as much discourage them even when they think they have found it. When they have overtaken it, & see it fall quite short of their beloved certainty, they reckon all their labour lost, & are as much unsatisfied as ever. They are utterly disappointed in their expectation. They thought to arrive at speculative certainty by the way of probability: But they only wearied themselves with trying the experiment, & found themselves as much mistaken, as little children are, who looking upwards from the bottom of a great mountain, are apt to imagine 'tis as high as Heaven; & that, if they were once at the top of it, they could touch the Sky with their hands: Pleased with the fancy, they resolve to try: but the higher they climb, the less hopes they have, & when they come there, they find the Sky as much above their heads as ever.  
'tis in vain to tell such scrupulous persons that, although Innocent XI. has condemned the 
(i) Generatim dum probabilitate, sive intrinsecâ, sive extrinsecâ, quantumvis tenui, modò à probabilitatis finibus non exeatur, confisi aliquid agimus, semper prudenter agimus. Prop. 3. inter 65.  least probability, yet Alexander VIII. has approved the 
(k) Non licet sequi opinionem, vel inter probabiles probabilissimam. Prop. 3. inter 31.  greatest. Nor is it to any purpose to talk to them of a middle way, & to let them know there are degrees of greater & lesser betwixt the two extremes of least and greatest. If you tell them that, although the lesser be warmly disputed, yet both parties are agreed that the greater is sufficient. All this will never pacify their minds: because the greatest probability is always mixed with some little degree of uncertainty; and this uncertainty though never so little, is a breach which they find wide enough for thousands of fears to enter, & rush in upon them. Their fears are as unaccountable as those of little children, who are terrified with wonderful stories of Apparitions & Spirits: though you shut the door as close as ever you can, yet if once they get a fancy in their head, that the bugbears can creep in at the keyhole, they'll quake and tremble as much, as if the door were wide open.  
'tis no less in vain to assure them that, although the case in question may be sinful & unlawful in itself, yet having taken such pains to find the truth, it is impossible that this may-be should ever do them the least harm: because, although their probability falls short of speculative certainty, yet shey be practically certain that the case is innocent & lawful to them, if they have not been negligent in examining it, or if they have not been partial in approving it. A Security upon doubtful conditions, is no security at all; and the conditions here specified, are always doubtful to them. Alas! They never think themselves sufficiently Sincere & Diligent: and therefore these if's can never comfort them, because these if's are the very things they are so much afraid of. Their first apprehensions are, that the thing perhaps may be unlawful in itself. Afterwards, when they begin to aim at a conditional certainty, & to consider well the aforesaid ifs; their fears are now doubled, instead of their being double-guarded from them. They are now alarmed with fresh recruits of new-raised reasons, which assault them in two several places at once, and with greater numbers than before. And now their thoughts are busy & uneasy with endless doubts & suspicious, that maybe they have been negligent, & may-be they have been partial. So that all the comfort, which their conditional certainty affords them, serves only to furnish them with two may-be's instead of one: which is just a downright Tinkering of the matter, by mending one hole, & making two in the place of it. And therefore I need not add a word more, to prove that the absolute practical certainty, which is grounded upon the sure Authority of a Confessor, is the better certainty of the two, and much more favourably calculated for the ease & comfort of a Timorous Conscience.   

SECT. IV. Objections of pretended Conscience answered.  
'tIs high time now to answer the objections of pretended Conscience. I call it it pretended, because it goes by a name which it does not really deserve, a name is none of its own. 'tis a pretence which people make use of, when they have a mind to think what they will, and do what they please. A pretence, by which they cheat themselves, as well as their neighbours; and endeavour to avoid private remorses, as well as public censures, by calling upon the sacred name of Conscience.  
The main Objection, which gives ground to all the rest, is this. Although the practice be lawful in itself, yet, if I think really it is a Sin, my thinking so is it not enough to make it a Sin?  
In answer to this, I frankly own, that Conscience, rightly understood, is the true Judge of our Actions: but scrupulous persons are grievously mistaken in it. All their speculations pass for Conscientious: all their upstart fancies usurp the title of Conscience: Humility, Obedience, & all the train of Virtues which attend them, must now & then be turned out of doors, to make room for a Sin-making thought, which they are pleased to dignify with the venerable Character of Conscience. The Government of Reason would be a pretty sort of a thing indeed, if every thought, which occurs to our mind, were the right rule of our morality. It would be just like a nonsensical Monarchy, where every body is King de jure. 'tis true; our Conscience is always our immediate Judge: but then there is scarce one thought in a hundred, which is really our Conscience: and, if they are not our Conscience, 'tis no matter what they are, or how many. There may arise in our minds a thousand of them (if you please) one after another; and every one of these thoughts may really think it is a Sin; and yet, if it is not a Sin in itself, these thoughts will never be able to make it a Sin.  
Well. But how shall I discern that thought, which is my Conscience, from all those which are not?  
How do you know the difference betwixt the Judge who sits upon the Bench, & the Lawyers who plead at the Bar, We have every one of us a Court of Judicature within us, where all our doubtful cases are tried & judged. All our thoughts which are concerned in any thing belonging to the Trial, are summoned to appear in Court. Our speculative Thoughts are the Lawyers, which open the Case, explain the circumstances of it, & propose the reasons which are either for it or against it. Whilst the matter is thus under debate our Thoughts are divided upon the point: One way, they plead it is a Sin; the other way, they plead it is not. Mean time, these thoughts are merely speculative; because they are not rules to walk by, but are only the opinion of the Lawyers, whose business is to dispute the question, & not to decide it. Amongst all the Thoughts which are employed in the whole Trial, there is only One, which finally determines & judges the Case. This Thought is practical, because it is the Opinion of the Judge, the Sentence of the Court, & the Rule of our Practice. And This is the only Thought which deserves the name of Conscience.  
I purposely make use of this Allusion, to avoid School-terms; because I writ for those who commonly are not well acquainted with them. And, for the better understanding of the main point, I shall endeavour to give a familiar account of three general cases which usually occur in the aforesaid Trial.  
I. It happens sometimes, that the Lawyers, who plead it is a Sin, are able to prove it so plausibly, and with such strong appearance of Reason, that the adverse party is quite confounded and silenced. And then indeed, the Court being free from noise, the Judge's voice may easily be heard: and we may be assured it is our Conscience which tells us, it is certainly a Sin.  
II. Sometimes it happens that the Lawyers, who plead it lawful, have the greater probability on their side: But yet the others are obstinate in maintaining the probability of its being a Sin. In this occasion, there is a great noise in Court: The Judge pronounces sentence, that the thing is lawful: The Lawyers are impertinent, & the same time cry, it is a Sin: And in this confusion we may easily mistake a Lawyer's voice, & think it is the Judge's. Our Conscience thinks it lawful: and at the same time these unmannerly Thoughts continue clamorous, & still think really it is a Sin. But let them still think on; as long, & as really, as they please; 'tis certain they are never able to make it really be one.  
III. At other times it commonly happens, that the Lawyers, who plead it lawful, although they have great Probability on their side, yet they do not insist upon it: they wave all probable reasons, as being more or less defective: & only ground their defence upon a practical principle, which is an undoubted maxim of the Law, that in all doubtful cases one may securely rely upon a Confessor's Authority, without examining the reasons. In this case, the Lawyers, who plead it is a Sin, are baffled & quite put out of countenance. As for speculative certainty, which now is necessary to gain their point, they frankly own they have it not about them; And, as for probability, although they have abundance of it, yet the best being manifestly uncertain, the others despise it, & will not take the pains to answer it, but only oppose the certain rule of a Confessor's Authority against it. When things are in this posture, the Trial is soon ended. Our Conscience immediately pronounces Sentence, that the thing is certainly lawful: and the Equity of this Sentence is so visible, that 'tis impossible to be mistaken in it.  
According to these three cases, 'tis easy to give a short & plain Answer to the Question here proposed: If I think really it is a Sin, is not my thinking so enough to make it a Sin?  
1. In the first case, you think 'tis certainly a Sin; you do not doubt the least but that it is so: And then indeed, although it be not a Sin in itself, This thought, as long as it continues thus certain, is enough to make it one.  
2. In the second case, you have two thoughts in your mind at once: one way, you think it lawful; the other way, you think it a Sin: And, if the first Thought be your Conscience, the second cannot make it a Sin. But if you are not able to discern, which of the two thoughts is the dictate of your Conscience, you must be content to suffer the mortification of being in a doubt, whether it be enough to make it a Sin, or not. But you have still this comfort left, that  
3. In the third case, when you lay aside all these uncertain probabilities, and ground yourself entirely upon the sure Authority of your Confessor, This mortifying doubt is easily and clearly resolved. For, whilst your Conscience relies upon the certainty of his Authority who tells you it is lawful, 'tis manifest that all your other thoughts can never be enough to make it a Sin. They may be clamorous, they may be troublesome, they may affright you with more or less probability of its being unlawful: But as long as you rely upon a certain rule, which always is a just excuse, & always makes your practice certainly lawful to you; What signify the vain appearances of probability, which always is uncertain, and never can amount to more than this, that perhaps 'tis really unlawful in itself? Will any body in their right senses, quit a certain hold, to fasten upon a mere perhaps?  
But may I then safely follow my Confessor's Advice, when my own opinion seems to me more probable?  
Who doubts it? His Advice is a certain rule: your opinion contrary to it, though never so probable, is still uncertain: And therefore 'tis an undoubted Truth, that you may 
(l) Parum refert quod opposita sententia ipsi operanti videatur probabilior speculatiuè: Speculativum enim illud judicium, eo ipso quod fortè incertum & falsum sit, non debet esse regula operationis; cum operans aliam regulam, eamque certam habeat, quam sequatur, Busenbaum. l. 1. tr. 1. c. 2. dub. 2. Quando Religiosus dubitat utrum sua infirmitas sufficiat ad non jejunandum, vel ad non legendum horas; non solum ad mandatum, sed etiam consilium sui Praelati securè potest abstinere a jejunio, vel ab horis. Silvius. in 1.2. q. 19.25. d. 8. c. 1. Praelato praecipienti Religiosus tenetur obedire contra suam propriam opinionem, etiamsi probabiliorem. ibid. d. 9 c. 4.  safely follow his advice.  
But what if I am still uneasy in myself, & terribly afraid it is a Sin? May I securely follow his Advice; in spite of all my fears?  
Undoubtedly you may. Is it not evident, that we may always follow a certain rule, in spite of all the uncertainties in the world? And have not we just reason to 
(m) Potest firmiter operari contempto scrupulo, etiamsi perseveret. Suarez. in 1.2. disp. 12. sect. 4. n. 5.  contemn our fears, when we are sure of being more afraid than hurt?  
My fears, you'll say, are grounded upon a great many particular reasons: And is it not an unreasonable thing to turn these reasons out of doors, without first confuting them?  
Pray, is it not an unreasonable thing to undertake the needless labour of an endless work? Are they not abundantly confuted by their own confession? They only boast their probability; they do not so much as pretend to a speculative certainty: And nothing less than that can ever be allowed to take place of a certain practical direction.  
The whole truth of the business is this. Our speculative thoughts are proud and impertinent. They would fain usurp the whole conduct of our life & actions: and This is what they were never made for. They are like a factious House of Commons, who are always quarrelling with the King's Prerogatives, under the odious name of Arbitrary Power: and if care be not taken to keep them within their due limits, they'll soon subvert the Government: they'll convene without being called, and continue sitting even when they are prorogued. From whence it plainly follows, that our Practical Reason is never more Prudent, and more like itself, in the lawful exercise of its Sovereign Power, than when it silences and dismisses these pragmatical Scruples & rebellious Speculations, which cannot endure to have Authority reign over them. Then it is that our Practical Reason is like an Absolute Monarch, who governs as he pleases, without consulting his Parliament. And here, I hope you will not say, that Reason is Tyrannical, unless you have a mind to have it said, that Tyranny is reasonable.    

CHAP. XI. The Security of Blind Obedience proved by Scripture.  
A Pretended Conscience which claims a liberty of thinking what it pleases, & pleads a necessity of doing what it thinks, is as mischievous a Tool as the Devil himself would wish to go to work with. All the Laws of God & his Church would signify just nothing, if every body might pretend to say, My Conscience tells me another thing, and Who shall control or judge my Conscience? 'tis evident that whensoever the Law says one thing, & our pretended Conscience takes upon it to say another, or whensoever there arises any dispute, which of the two is in the right, We do not live in conformity to the Law, if we despise such Judges of the Law, as the Law itself has appointed.  
My business therefore at present is to prove by Scripture, that our Confessors are appointed by God, to be the Judges of the Law. From whence 'twill clearly follow, that in all doubtful cases we may securely rely upon our Confessors Authority, without examining their reasons. For surely nothing can be more self-evident than this, that the Law of God can never punish us, for submitting humbly & sincerely to those Judges, which God himself has appointed.  
There are several Texts of Scripture which plainly represent unto us, how unfitting & how unsafe a thing it is, to take upon us to be our own judges in all things. 
(n) Prov. 3.5.7.  Rely not upon your own Understanding: Be not wise in your own eyes. And again 
(o) Prov. 26.12. . There is more hope of a fool, than of one that is wise in his own conceit. Such expressions as these are very proper to awaken some people, who are so strangely fond of their own fancies, that they cannot endure to submit them to any Confessor whatsoever. They love dearly to rely upon their own understanding in every thing, although the Word of God expressly advises the contrary. They are so Wise in their own eyes, that they never think their Confessor wise enough to direct them. And, let them say what they will, 'tis manifest they are not guilty of too much Humility. For, if they thought their conceits were silly, they would easily submit. But the true reason why they are so stiff in their opinions, is because they always are inclined to believe that their conceits are wise ones. And how does this agree with the Word of God, which in 
(p) Prov. 26.12. Rom. 12.16.  both Testaments admonishes them not to be wise in their own conceits? But a word is enough to the wise; and therefore I shall say no more upon this subject, but shall chiefly insist upon those Texts, which tell us plainly who they are, whom God has appointed to be our Guides & Judges: our Guides, to choose our way, & our Judges to determine all our doubts concerning it.  
I. The 
(q) Malach. 2.7.  lips of the Priest shall keep Knowledge, and they shall seek the Law at his mouth: for he is the Angel of the Lord of Hosts. And the reason holds good, although his wickedness (which God forbidden) should 
(r) ib. v. 9  make him contemptible before the people. His personal failings do not lessen the Authority of his Character. He may know the Law as well as those who observe it. And although his actions discover the corruption of his Heart which contradicts his Judgement, yet perhaps he may not labour under any temptation of belying the Law with his lips, or contradicting it with his mouth. In the old Testament we read that 
(s) 1. Kings. 8.1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.  when Samuel was old & made his Sons Judges over Israel, they walked not in his ways; for which reason the Elders of Israel, being offended at the wickedness of his Sons, gathered themselves together, and came to Samuel, & said, Now make us a King to judge us, like all the Nations. Whereupon Samuel, being displeased with their petition, prayed to God to direct him, & God himself expressed his displeasure in these terms, They have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me, that I should not reign over them. And in the New Testament we read, that Jesus said to the multitude 
(t) Math. 23.1.2.3.  The Scribes & Pharisees have sitten in Moses seat; All therefore whatsoever they say to ye, that observe ye, & do ye; but do not square your actions according to their works; for they say, & do not. And indeed our Natural Reason is enough to teach us the Equity of this Truth. For, when once a Judge is appointed by the Law, although a private person at the Bar may justly hope himself to the better man of the two; yet, if he should therefore offer to justle him off the Bench, & disown the Authority of his Commission, such an insolence would never be endured in any Form of Government.  
II. He 
(u) Luk. 10.16.  that hears you, says Christ to his Disciples, hears me: and he that despises you, despises me. This Text shows plainly that 
(w) Heb. 1.1.  God who spoke, in time past, to the Fathers by the Prophets, and in these last days spoke unto us by his Son, now still continues speaking to us by our Confessors, who though they 
(x) 2. Cor. 3.5.6.  are not sufficient of themselves, yet God has made them able Ministers of the New Testament; 
(y) 2. Cor. 5.9.20.  and has committed to them the word of Reconciliation, So that we ought to look upon them as Ambassadors for Christ, as if God himself did exhort us by them. If we had been present at the Transfiguration of our Saviour, & had heard that 
(z) Luk. 9.35.  voice which came out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son, Hear him: What a mighty influence would it have had upon our Minds & Hearts? And ought not we as much to reverence the voice of Christ, as if we heard a voice from Heaven? When our Saviour tells us, He that hears my Ministers, hears me; although our fears may raise a mist, & quite surround us with a cloud, yet still these words of his are like a Voice out of the cloud, and a Voice as easy to be understood, as if he had said, Those are my beloved Ministers, Hear them.  
I shall only take notice of one particular circumstance, which I hope will help to make some people sensible of the importance of this Text. I mean those who are so strangely terrified with thinking, that their Confessions never are exact, that they never love God above all things, that they never do sufficient penance for their Sins, that they are not in the State of Grace, and that they are not in the number of God's Elect. If they are so terribly afraid of being 
(a) 1. Pet. 2.25.  like Sheep which are going astray; if they are sincerely desirous to return unto the Shepherd of their Souls; Let them hearken seriously to the voice of 
(b) Heb. 13.20.  that great Shepherd of the Sheep who says, 
(c) Jo. 10.14.  I am the good Pastor. 
(d) ib. v. 27.  My Sheep, says he, hear my voice, and they follow me. We cannot follow Christ unless we hear his voice: But, if we hear his voice, & follow it, This is the certain mark, that we are in the number of his Sheep. My Sheep hear my voice, & they follow me; 
(e) ib. v. 28.29.  and I give unto them Eternal Life; & they shall not perish for ever; neither shall any one pull them out of my Father's hand. My Father, that which he hath given me, is greater than all: and no one is able to pull them out of my Father's hand. What a comfort is it, to be thus assured, that if we hear his voice, and follow it, he will not fail to give us Eternal Life! What a joy, to think that we shall never perish! And how does it transport & ravish us, when we consider that although the World, the Flesh, & all the Devils in Hell conspire against us, yet our Father in Heaven is greater than all; &, if we hear the voice of his Son, No one will ever be able to pull us out of our Father's hand? What would we give, what would we do, what would we suffer, to be sure that we are in the happy number of those who hear the voice of Christ! Remember therefore, and consider what he says; If you hear his Ministers, you hear him; and if you despise them, you despise him.  
III. When our Saviour ascended 
(f) Ephes. 4.8, 11, 12, 14.  he gave Pastors and Teachers, not only for the work of the Ministry, and for the edifying the body Christ, but also that we henceforth be no more children, tossed to & fro, & carried about with every wind of doctrine. And certainly, unless they were appointed by Christ to be our Guides & Judges, 'tis very hard to understand, how they should hinder us from being tossed to & fro, & carried about with what wind of doctrine we please. But the thing which here is most remarkable, is this: Before he went 
(g) Jo. 16.5, 7.  his way to him that sent him, He said, I tell you the truth, It is expedient for you that I go away. Which words being extended to the generality of the Faithful, to whom the Comforter was sent as well as to the Disciples, 'tis hard to forbear the starting of a very material question: How? Is it expedient for us to exchange an infallible Guide, for a company of Confessors, who are every one of them fallible? Yes. It certainly is so. For, 1. Our Submission is equally secure, and that's as good: 2. Our Obedience is more humble, and that's a great deal better.  
If you ask me, By what Authority we can be so secure under the direction of a fallible Guide? Pray, is not his Authority sufficient who will, one day, come to judge the quick & the dead? Can you imagine, he is so unjust, as to condemn us for submitting humbly & sincerely to his own Authority? And, if he cannot possibly condemn us for it, are we not secure? 'tis he himself (who knows a great deal better than we do, how fallible they are) 'tis He, I say, who has appointed them to be our Judges; and therefore 'tis by his appointment, that in doubtful matters we submit our judgement to them. Hear what he says himself: 
(h) Jo. 20.21, 23.  As my Father hath sent me even so I send them. Whose soever they Sins they remit, they are remitted unto them; and whose soever sins they retain, they are retained.  
I shall add no gloss to this Text. The Church of God is the best interpreter of his Word. She is 
(i) 1. Tim. 3.15.  the pillar & the ground of Truth. If we believe our Creed; if we believe the Holy Catholic Church; If we believe the solemn declaration of a General Council approved & universally received, There is nothing more certain than that our Confessors are by Christ appointed Judges to discern & to determine all matters belonging to Confession. The words of the Council of Trent are these. 
(k) Dominus noster Jesus Christus, à terris ascensurus ad coelos, Sacerdotes sui ipsius Vicarios reliquit, tanquam praesides & judices, ad quos omnia mortalia crimina deferantur; quo, pro potestate Clavium remissionis aut retentionis peccatorum, sententiam pronuncient, Sess. 14. cap. 5.  Our Lord JESUS CHRIST before he ascended from Earth to Heaven, left Priests his Vicegerents, as Precedents & Judges, to whom all mortal Sins are to be declared, that they may accordingly pronounce Sentence. So plain it is, that our Ghostly Fathers have their Commission from God, & Patent from his Church, to be our Judges in matters of Conscience; and consequently to pronounce a final Sentence upon all our doubtful cases.   

CHAP. XII. Maxims of S. Bernard, concerning Blind Obedience.  
I Have now done with Scripture: and, to give an account of the Fathers, I have made choice of S. Bernard, whom I look upon as the last Father of the Church, & the best able to express the sentiments of all the rest who went before him. His eminent Learning & Virtue were the Oracle as well as Miracle of the twelfth Age. His Doctrine & Example were the greast Instruction & the Admiration of all: when in the darkness & the coldness of those times, which were the winter-season of Devotion, he unexpectedly appeared, like fire expressly sent from Heaven to enlighten & inflame the minds & hearts of ignorant & tepid Christians.  
He has written a whole book particularly upon this subject: and, the whole care of his life being chief employed in cultivating & improving the Virtue of Blind Obedience, we may very well allow him to have rightly understood it. He discourses, for the most part, concerning the blind obedience which is due to a Prelate or Superior, addressing himself particularly to Religious persons, who by vow are bound to observe it. But nevertheless the Submission, which is due from all Penitents to their Confessors, is a Case exactly parallel to it, & is directly comprehended under the general notion of it. And besides, 'tis obvious to every body's common sense, that those practices which are universally reputed virtuous in a Cloister, can never be justly censured as unlawful in the World: but whatsoever the Religious must do, the Seculars may lawfully do it, if they please.  

MAX. I. We ought to look upon our Confessor as a Vicegerent of God, without considering his faults.  
WHether 
(l) Sive Deus, sive homo Vicarius Dei, mandatum quodcunque tradiderit; pari profecto obsequendum est curâ, pari reverentiâ deferendum. S. Bern. lib. de precept. & dispen. cap. 9  it be God, or Man his Vicegerent, who imposes an obligation upon us, we are to obey with the same care, and submit with the same respect. 
(m) Quid enim interest, utrum per se an per suos ministros, sive homines sive Angelos, hominibus innotescat suum placitum Deus? Quamobrem quicquid vice Dei praecipit homo, quod non sit certum displicere Deo; haud secus omnino accipiendum quam si praecipiat Deus. Praesertim cum teneas de Scriptures, quia Labia Sacerdotis custodiunt scientiam, & legem de ore ejus requirunt; quia Angelus Domini exercituum est. Requirunt, dixerim, Legem; non quam ratio manifesta probaverit, sed quod ita latere aut obscurum esse cognoscitur, ut in dubium venire possit, utrumne Deus sic an aliter fortè velit, si non de labiis custodientibus scientiam, & ex ore Angeli Domini exercituum certum reddatur, ibid.  What matter is it, whether God impart his will & pleasure to us, by himself, or by the Ministry of Men, or Angels? Whatsoever it is that Man prescribes, as Vicegerent of God, unless it be CERTAINLY displeasing to him, we ought to accept it in the same manner, as if God himself had ordained it. Especially since we read in Scripture, that the lips of the Priest keep knowledge, & they require the Law at his mouth, because he is the Angel of the Lord of Hosts. They seek the Law, says he, not in things which our Reason proves MANIFESTLY to us, but in matters which are so hidden & obscure, that we might possibly DOUBT, whether God would have it so, or not; unless it were MADE CERTAIN, by those lips which are the Keepers of Knowledge, & by the mouth of the Angel of the Lord of Hosts.  
Can any man speak more plainly than S. Bernard does, upon this occasion?  
And now, perhaps, some body may be apt to say; If I had but such a man as S. Bernard, for my Confessor, I could rely upon his word as confidently as if God himself had said it: but when I consider the weakness & the indiscretion of my Ghostly Father, I dare not venture to trust him.  
To this Objection a learned Divine returns this Answer, that Penitents do not rely upon their Confessor 
(n) Dicet fortasse quispiam, si talis mihi esset Praelatus, qualis erat S. Bernardus, facilè acquiescerem: nunc verò dum Superioris mei parvam sapientiam aspicio, non audeo ei acquiescere. R. Inferiores non obediunt Praelato, quia sit doctus, quia prudens, quia Sanctus, sed quia vicem Dei gerit, hoc ipso quo est legitimus superior Silvius. in 1.2. q. 19 a. 5. d. 12. c. 8.  because he is LEARNED, PRUDENT, or VIRTUOUS, but barely because he supplies the place of God, who has appointed him to be their Judge in all doubtful matters relating to Confession. But since you own so frankly, that if you had S. Bornard for your Confessor, you could easily rely upon him: Hear what S. Bernard says himself. 
(o) Non te moveat Magister imperitus, indiscreta potestas; sed memento quia non est potestas nisi à Deo, & qui resistit potestati, resistit Dei ordinationi. S. Bern. Serm. 41. de diversis.  Be not affrighted at the unskillfullness of his Teashing, or the indiscretion of his Authority; but remember that there is no power but of God; and that they who resist Authority, resist the ordinance of God.  
'tis true, This Maxim of S. Bernard allows of one exception from the general rule, which is, that when we are absolutely certain of our Confessor's being mistaken, we may lawfully refuse to submit to him. 
(p) De hujusmodi nec praeceptor expectandus, nec prohibitor auscultandus est. S. Bern. lib. de praecep. & dispen. cap. 9  In these things, says he, we neither expect any body's Teaching, nor mind any body's Forbidding. But here it is that all Timorous Consciences must have a great care, of not being mistaken themselves, when they think their Confessor is so. The Exception is very true, but they must be careful not to destroy the Rule with it. They are apt to fear on the wrong side; and Fear is a strange Passion, which commonly misrepresents whatever comes in its way. They look at every thing with a pair of spectacles made of false glasses, the one magnifying the Sin, the other multiplying the circumstances, & both conspiring to deceive them. In this condition they consult their Confessor, and tell him a terrible Story, which, by their good will, they would never make an end of. Their Confessor, who is generally well acquainted with these humours, & soon sees what they would be at, gins to cut them short: And 'tis no wonder he does so, because he sees things plainly, with his own natural eyes, & will not be prevailed upon to use their spectacles, because he knows what glass they are made of. Now, this offends them strangely; and without any more ado, they think they have all the reason in the world to conclude. He's certainly mistaken. He allows them, may be, only half a quarter to examine; and they are certain that three or four hours are too little, for the purpose. They are certain they ought to confess some things, which he forbids them to speak of. They are certain they are obliged in Conscience, to make a general Confession; although he tells them, they need it no more than they do the headache.  
Poor Creatures! In these perplexities they mean very well; but they do very ill. For, even in things which seem evident to them, they ought to beware of being mistaken, & of making things matter of Conscience which are far from being so. They ought to beware the setting up of a false God to themselves, & sacrificing all the Duties of Obedience to an Idol of their own invention. Their pretended Conscience is neither better nor truer for the heat & zeal with which they maintain it. Even Heathens themselves are oftentimes more zealous than Christians: And (the Devil helping his servants) it is commonly observed, that men are fiercer in the wrong than in the right. Who would set up a fallible Guide against an infallible one? This Conscience of theirs is fallible, not only in itself, but also to them, because when, by their fault, it is erroneous, is does not excuse them. But their Confessor is always infallible to them, although he never is so in himself; because it is infallibly true, that they are always excused, when in any doubt they humbly & sincerely follow his advice.  
When nothing else will do, They chief insist upon this; that they are very certain their Confessor does not rightly understand them, because they are sure that, if he did, he would certainly be of their opinion. But surely such a pleasant argument as this, is little better than that of Poet Bayes. When I have a mind, says he, to know whether a man be a man of parts, or not; What do me I, but give him one of my Plays to read? He reads it. If he likes it; Well. If not; I know what to think of him. Much at this rate, these people go to their Confessor, with one of their huge & mighty Scruples. He hears it. If he approves their opinion; All's well. If not; They know for certain he must needs be grievoussly mistaken.  
'tis very hard, you'll say, for people to think otherwise: Especially when they can almost swear, they are in the right.  
The prouder they are, the harder it is: but if they were sufficiently humble, it would be a very easy matter. Especially, when they cannot quite swear. For if their heart goes pit a pat with fear of being perjured, when they think of laying hand upon the Book & making a solemn Oath; Then they may very well assure themselves, that there is still some little doubt lies lurking in their Minds, and that therefore they may boldly reckon it amongst the doubtful cases, in which their Confessor has full Commission to direct them.  
S. Teresa was certainly so fully persuaded of her Visions being true & real, that she could almost have sworn, they were so: And yet she would not therefore venture to disobey her Confessor. Hear how F. Crasset describes her behaviour in this case. 
(q) Consid. surles' F●stes. Octob. 15.  JESUS appeared to S. Teresa two several ways; in his own person, & in the person of her Confessor. Jesus himself teaches her infallible truths: Her Confessor, who represents him, tells her, they are so many lies. What shall Teresa do? Whom shall she believe? She never deliberates upon the matter: She chooses rather to obey Jesus in the person of her Confessor, than in his own person. I may be mistaken, says she, in believing these Visions; but I shall never be mistaken in obeying my Director. I am not absolutely certain that it is the Son of God who appears to me; but I am certain that it is he who speaks to me by my Superiors. If they tell me otherwise than he does, I'll believe them sooner than him, because he commands me so to do.   

MAX. II. We ought to look upon him as our Judge, without examining his reasons.  'tIs 
(r) Imperfecti cordis est, & infirmae prorsus voluntatis, haerere ad singula quae injunguntur; exigere de quibusque rationem; & malè suspicari de omni praecepto cujus causa latuerit; nec unquam libenter obedire, nisi cum audire contigerit quod fortè libuerit, aut quod non aliter licere seu expedire monstraverit vel aperta ratio, vel indubitata authoritas. Non planè haec est illa quae ex Regulâ traditur, Obedientia sine mora. S. Bern. lib. de praecep. & dispen. c. 10.  a Sign of an imperfect Heart, and of a very weak Will, to demur upon every thing that is enjoined; to exact a reason for every thing; to think ill of every precept which we do not know the cause of; and never to obey willingly, unless we bear what pleases us, or unless the necessity or convenience of it, be proved by manifest reason or by some unquestionable Authority. This is far from the Obedience which the Rule requires: OBEDIENCE WITHOUT DELAY. 
(s) Subditi & obedientes esse debem us ad nutum Praepositorum, nihil interrogantes propter conscientiam. S. Bern. Serm. 41. de diversis.  We ought to be Submissive & Obedient, without ask any question for Conscience sake. 
These words of S. Bernard are too plain to need any Comment, and therefore I shall only endeavour to show the evils which infallibly attend those people, who will never submit to their Confessor in any particular difficulty, unless he first give a satisfactory reason for it, and convince them by mere dint of argument.  
1. To avoid the fear of an imaginary Sin on the one side, they put themselves evidently into a real danger of Sinning on the other.  
2. They affront Christ himself, by rebelling against his Government.  
3. They wilfully oppose the kind designs of God's great Mercy to them, in allowing them a Guide.  
I. To avoid an imaginary Sin, they put themselves evidently in a real danger of Sinning. My Confessor, you'll say, is fallible: How dare I rely upon him? Pray, are not you fallible too? How dare you rely upon yourself? If he mistake, 'tis his fault: but if you mistake, 'tis yours. If you depend upon him without examining his reasons, the danger is only his; But if you are inquisitive & will depend upon yourself, you bring the danger to your own door; and, if there be any mistake, you are justly accountable for it. You may even thank yourself; You sought for danger, & you found it; You loved it, & who can help your perishing in it?  
But am not I to take care, that my Confessor be not mistaken?  
Are not you ashamed to ask such a question? God and his Church have both appointed him to be your Guide: And must you therefore take upon you to be his?  
But whilst my Confessor directs me, it were to be wished that some body would direct him.  
That's God's care. He himself takes that upon him, & excuses you from troubling your head about it. If you cannot help suspecting that your Confessor is a bad man, and that therefore God will not direct him: You may make amends for it, by taking what care you can, to be as good, as you should be, yourself: And then (if you humbly desire it, & hearty pray for it) God will be sure to direct him for your sake, although he would not do so much for his. B. Sales advises you 
(t) Introd. p. 1. ch. 4. n. 3.  to pray to God with very great instance, and afterwards 
(u) ibid. n. 4.  not to regard him simply as a man, nor to trust in him, nor in his human prudence, but in the Providence of Almighty God, who will undoubtedly favour your endeavours, and speak to you by the interposition of this man; putting into his mind, & into his mouth, those things which shall be most expedient for your spiritual advancement. In short, there is nothing more certain, than that God will either direct him or excuse you. Be it which way it will, your Soul can never be in danger, upon this account. For, as long as you cannot swear, your Confessor is mistaken; so long you may lawfully swear, you are Secure. S. Bernard proposes the same Objection: 
(w) Sed homines, inquies, facilè falli in Dei voluntate de rebus dubiis percipiendâ, & in praecipiendâ fallere possunt. Sed enim, Quid hoc refert tuâ, cui conscius non es? S. Bern. lib. de praecep. & dispen. c. 9  When matters are doubtful, Men may easily deceive themselves in discerning the will of God, & deceive others in prescribing it. To which he roundly answers, What's that to you, as long as you are not certain of it?  
II. They affront Christ himself, by rebelling against his Government. He gives their Confessor a full Commission, to be their Judge in all doubtful cases. They will not acknowledge him, under that character. They'll hearken to him, as to a Lawyer at the Bar, if he pleases: But, as for the Bench, they question very much whether he be either good enough, or wise enough, to deserve that place, so well as they do. They'll hear his reasons, & consider them: but, when all is done, they are freeborn Subjects of the Almighty, and are always resolved to judge for themselves. S. Bernard speaking of this 
(x) Elatio contemnentis, atque impoenitentis obstinatio, in minimis quoque mandatis culpam facit non minimam, & convertit in crimen gravis rebellionis culpam satis levem simplicis transgressionis. S. Bern. ibid. c. 11.  proud Contempt, & Obstinate continuance in it, says that even in little precepts it amounts to more than a little fault, and changes a small transgression into a grievous Crime of Rebellion.  
III. They wilfully oppose the kind designs of God's great Mercy to them, in allowing them a Guide. By giving us a Guide, he puts into our hands the best means of saving our Souls; he supplies us with perpetual opportunities of practising the best of moral virtues, Humility & Obedience; he leads us into the best & readiest way of following Jesus Christ the Captain of our Salvation, who humbled himself & became obedient; for which reason God exalted him, & will exalt us too, provided we follow his example.  
These were the virtues He required from our first Parents: and to make the practice more easy, He was pleased to be their Guide himself. He was every way Infallible: his infinite Wisdom on the one side, & his no less infinite Goodness on the other, were Vouchers for his Infallibility: And yet their Pride and Disobedience found a way to rob them of their Innocence.  
To repair this fault of theirs the Eternal Truth becomes Incarnate, the Word is made Flesh, and dwells amongst us: He comes to enlighten all the World, and to take care that those, who follow him, may never walk in darkness. And here indeed the terms of our Obedience and Humility seem something harder than before; because we cannot now be saved, without submission of our Understanding & our Will to Man as well as God. 'tis true; This Man is God, He is infinitely Wise & Good, He is therefore every way Infallible. But all these great & glorious advantages are Objects far too bright for our weak eyes, we cannot see these dazzling & amazing truths, but are forced to believe without seeing. Here it is, we humble our proud thoughts, & captivate them to the obedience of Christ: And 'tis the first Cross we take up, when we begin to follow him.  
But yet this is not all: Neither is it just that this should be enough. If we intent to be exalted, we must humble ourselves, & be obedient one step further. Our Parents would not submit to God himself; and we, who have the same blood in our veins, must now submit not only to Man who is God, but to Men who are no more Gods than we are; to Men who are as fallible as ourselves. This is the Cross which we must of necessity take up, if we intent to follow him. We must be thus far humble & obedient, if we design to be exalted with him. To follow him, we must 
(y) Jo. 10.27.  hear his voice: And, being gone himself so far before us, What could he contrive better for us, than to leave his Ministers behind him, and to give us all the encouragement that can be, to rely upon their word; by assuring us, that if we hear them, we hear him? 'tis evidently just that this same proud & stubborn Nature of ours, which once aspired so high as to defy the Highest, should now bow down its head, not only lower than its Maker, but even lower than the dust of which he made it. 'tis just, I say, in things indifferent, to resign our Wills, and in doubtful matters, to submit our Understandings, even to our fallible fellow-creatures who are made of the same dust with us.  
'tis hard indeed, at first, for so much Pride and Stubbornness to yield without some little resistance. But however, we are in the hands of a God & a Judge from whom we cannot make our escape, and therefore we have reason to be glad to kiss the Rod, although we are not fond of it. Nay, we have reason to be fond of it, if we rightly consider our interest. Our Saviour himself was pleased to tell us, before he went, it was expedient for us he should go away. For although there may be more Difficulty in submitting to his Ministers, yet the Benefit of it is incomparably greater. The self-denyals of our Understanding & our Will are more acceptable to God, when they are offered to him in the person of a Minister who represents him. They are more humble, & therefore more acceptable. And here I know not which to admire most; the Equity of his Justice, in making this the punishment of our Sin; or the Kindness of his Mercy, in making it the best, the easiest, & the most effectual means of purchasing our Everlasting Happiness: Our Cross indeed, is heavier; but the Reward is greater. The occasions of taking it up, are more frequent; but they only serve to multiply the glories of our Crown, when we shall, one day, be exalted for it.  
This is One kind design, which God has laid in order to our future Happiness: And this we wilfully oppose as often as we refuse to submit, without a particular & a convincing reason for it. There is certainly no Humility in never submitting, but when our natural Reason is convinced; nor is there any Obedience in never complying, but when we naturally have a mind to it. The very worst of Atheists & Libertins are every jot as humble and obedient as this: They never make any difficulty, of Believing what they see, or Doing what they please.  
A Second design of the Divine Providence in allowing us a Guide, is to make us truly Happy, not only hereafter, but even here. Now this is a double Kindness, & the greatest that can be imagined; that God is not contented to crown our Happiness at our journey's end, but desires to give us a taste of it before hand, and offers us as much of it as we are able to carry with us thither. By leading us into the way of Blind Obedience, He removes the causes of our inward trouble and disquiet, & lays a sure foundation of interior comfort & tranquillity of mind. And this I shall endeavour to give a particular account of, out of pity & compassion to those Timorous Consciences, who make it their great design to please themselves, but know not how to go about it.  
One would admire to see the strange perverseness and frowardness of people, when they are possessed with panic fear. Every thing lies cross in their way. The very shadow of an obligation is enough to put them in a fright▪ What ever it is, they think it morally impossible to be complied with; and therefore hate the very thought of it. God gives them a Guide: and because this looks as if they were obliged in Conscience to follow his direction, therefore they start back, & cry, What is our Reason good for, if in doubts we must submit it to our Guide? And yet, if God had bid them rely entirely upon their Reason, they would perhaps have thought it the harder measure of the two, and would have argued the contrary way, What is our Guide good for, if we may not safely rely upon him? They would fain be doing their duty; and for fear of doing it the wrong way, they never do it right. They are too wise to trust their Confessor; and yet they are not wise enough to trust themselves. They are desperately fond of speculative certainty: but the mischief is, it is not to be found. Probability sometimes flatters them with hopes of absolute certainty; but always deceives them, & puts them off with doubtful ifs & and's, which are never able to give them any satisfaction. This is the reason why they are always fearful, & always inquisitive to find out reasons to appease their fears. But after all their vain endeavours to confirm & settle their opinion, they can never attain to a steady & unshaken persuasion of it. Their Conscience ever & anon recoils upon them; and all their plausible reasoning is still born down & confuted by a strong suspicion which they can never get out of their minds, that perhaps they are still mistaken.  
But that which I most admire, is the strange obstinacy of their humour, who after long experience having felt the smart of their miserable condition, are still resolved to continue in it. They daily find themselves at a loss: They have all the reason in the world to conclude they are in the wrong way: And yet they still go on. A Traveller is wiser than so. As soon as he finds himself out of the way, he presently stops his course, he turns towards the right way with all the speed he can, and has not the least inclination to go wrong any further. But the minds of these people are so hurried away, by their unreasonable prejudices, that though they find themselves in the wrong, they cannot endure to return to the right. They expect to see an end of all their fears, & then they intent to be as obedient as you please. Mean time, they beg pardon, if they defer their Obedience till the practice of it be a little more easy to them. Now this is a fancy which is every jot as extravagant as that of the Idiot, who being come to the river side, & being obliged to pass over, durst not venture in a boat, but resolved to expect till the water was all gone, & left the channel dry. He observed the swiftness of the stream, and fancied it would soon run quite away, & leave him a free & easy passage. But the river runs, & still runs on, and though he should expect a thousand years, 'twould never leave off running. And so 'tis in our present case. Their doubts & jealousies, their reasonings & dispute, will still run on, & never have an end. 'tis impossible they should ever have any tolerable enjoyment of themselves, or ever be able to shake off these tormenting fears, but by submitting to the easy yoke of Jesus Christ, & by securing themselves under his protection, whom hitherto they have affronted, by despising of his Ministers. Nothing but Blind Obedience can free them from all this misery, by removing the causes of their inward trouble & disquiet, & by laying a sure foundation of interior comfort & tranquillity of mind.  
The principal cause of their inward trouble, is this. They rely entirely upon their own judgement: and therefore have just reason to conclude, that they are unavoidably accountable for every mistake they commit. And this is abundantly enough to make them always jealous, that, for aught they know, God's Justice may be making towards them, and his Anger levelled against them. But this cause ceases immediately, as soon as they entertain the principles of Blind Obedience: Because 'tis evident, when God has given them a Confessor to direct them, it cannot be his will & pleasure that this Guide should be directed & guided by them. 'tis true; He may be mistaken: But let him look to that. 'tis none of their business to examine him: On the contrary 'tis commendable in them to submit 
(z) S. Bernard. sup.  without ask any question for Conscience sake. And therefore, although his mistakes may perhaps be fatal to himself, 'tis as clear as the Meridian Sun, that they can never be fatal to them, nor can they ever be accountable for any thing which he advises.  
Another more secret cause of their inward disquiet, is well expressed by S. Austin, who says, Thou hast made us, O Lord, for thyself; & our hearts are always restless, till we rest in Thee. All creatures are uneasy when they are out of their natural Element. Nothing is at rest, but whilst it is in that state which Nature intended for it. Obedience is the natural state of the Soul: it was made to obey its Maker: and the constant practice of this Virtue, is the condition to which God designed it. He gave us our Reason; not to make us Rebels, but to make us reasonable Subjects: and therefore all our acts of Submission to the Authority of his Government, are rational & suitable to the first institution of our Nature. Our Reason is a Ray of the Divivinity; it imprints the image of our Maker on our Souls; and writes the fundamental laws of our Submission, in so plain a character, that though our Passions now and then obscure it, yet they never can efface it. As long as 
(a) Rom. 13.1.  our Souls are subject to the higher powers ordained by God; 
(b) Hebr. 13.17.  obeying them that rule over us, & submitting ourselves to those who watch for our Souls; so long our Souls are in their natural temper, and are in very good health, because they are in that State in which they ought to be, according to the primitive intention of their Being. But when we resist the power of Authority; when we 
(c) Rom. 13.2.  resist the ordinance of God; when we revolt against the Government of Jesus-Christ, by despising the Commission he has given to our Confessor, and by refusing in doubtful cases to acknowledge the sufficiency and safety of his Direction; than it is that we act contrary to the inward light of our minds, our Conscience checks us, and makes us uneasy. And how can we hope to be at ease, as long as we have poison within us, which puts us in a sickly & diseased condition? Our Pride and wilfulness put all our spirits in a continual fermentation. Our minds can never be serene, as long as they are clouded with the fumes of our distemper. All the common arts of diversion will never avail us: we may change our place, our posture, our physic, & our Physician too; but we shall still be restless, till the cause be removed, which creates our disturbance. 
(d) Isai. 57.21.  There is no peace, says my God, to the wicked. But, as in our body we find an unexpressible ease & pleasure, when it is in perfect state of health; So when Obedience corrects the proud and wilful humours of our Soul, restores the even temper of our Mind, & smooths the way before us; Then it is that All is easy to us. We easily know what we are bid to do: And, being humble, we as easily do it.  
The Obedience, which I speak of, not only removes the causes of our inward trouble & disquiet; but lays a sure foundation of interior comfort & tranquillity of mind, by affording us the best Security, that we can wish for, during Life; and the greatest Joy, that we can think of, at the hour of Death. What greater Security can our hearts desire, than to be under the protection of God himself, the Shepherd of our Souls, who knows a great deal better, than we do, what is good for us, and will not suffer us to go astray, because he loves us better than we love ourselves? He was our Enemy before; whilst we rebelled against his Government: But, by detesting our past pride & folly, & submitting to his Ministers, he now becomes our Friend. All Friendship is comfortable: but this is the best of Friendships, and therefore is the greatest & divinest comfort. 'tis a great satisfaction, to feel that we ourselves love God: and a double satisfaction, to hope that He himself loves us. Then it is, that we may say to our Soul, as David did, 
(e) Psal. 114.7.  Return unto thy rest, O my Soul; 
(f) Psal. 26.1.  My God is my Light, & my Salvation; Whom shall I fear? My God is the Protector of my Life; of whom shall I be afraid?  
As 'tis our best Security; during life; so 'tis our greatest Joy at the approach of Death, and yields most comfort then when we stand most in need of it. 'tis a terrible thing to a departing Soul, when it looks back upon a proud & wilful course of life, which instead of being spent in the service of God, has been perpetually employed in idle reasoning & disputing, how to serve him, when to serve him, & whether to serve him or no. What can such people plead in their behalf? 'tis certainly no good excuse, to say, Lord, we have always been rebellious against thy Government; but the reason was, because we were afraid to rely upon it; and indeed, we durst not take thy word for it, because we thought it fit for us, in all our doubts, to govern ourselves according to our own fancy. 'tis true, we have seldom, or never, done our Duty; but we hope thou wilt please to pardon our wilful omissions of it, because we were always so mighty busy in thinking & considering of it, that we could never find time to do it. Here it is, their guilty Conscience lies in wait to accuse them, & never is more fierce than in the day of adversity. When Eternity, that terrifying object, at the hour of death, presents itself before their thoughts; when they feel themselves beginning to sink into the regions of darkness; when they are ready to die at the amazing apprehension of their final Sentence; How will the Gild of all their Disobedience then stare them in the face! With what regret & terror will they then behold it, in its own true shape! What tumults and convulsions will it raise within their breasts, when they observe a long black train of proud & wilful practices, which very well deserve to be attended with a longer & a blacker train of everlasting miseries!  
But it is not so with those who have in time repent of of their folly, and have proved sincerely humble & obedient. In their greatest temptations, all is calm & serene within, when there is nothing but darkness & clouds about them. All their their acts of Submission are so many seeds of peace & comfort sown in their Consciences▪ which never fail to spring up, & flourish most, when the day of distress approaches. When the pangs of Death are ready to lay hold of them, and they are just going to step into the other world, What a seasonable refreshment is it to their thoughts, too look back upon an humble & obedient course of life? Then it is that the pleasure of it overflows their minds, the joys of Heaven begin to spring up in their hearts, & are a true & solid comfort which will stick close to them & stand faithfully by them in the day of Trial, when they have most need of it. O what a Joy it is, to consider that their greatest Friend, who has been heretofore the Shepherd of their Souls, is now the Judge of their Actions! to reflect that their Humility in hearing his Voice, & their Obedience in following it, are the certain marks by which he knows the happy number of his Sheep! and to remember that he will not fail to set them on his right hand, when He comes in glory to pronounce the Sentence of their Everlasting Happiness! To hear his Voice was once the Security of their life: And to hear the same, is now the Joy of their death. My Sheep, says he, hear my Voice, & they follow me: and I give unto them Eternal Life: and they shall not perish for ever. Come ye Blessed of my Father; Come & inherit the Kingdom, which was prepared for you, from the foundation of the World. Amen.    
FINIS.