Christian Conferences: DEMONSTRATING The TRUTH OF THE Christian Religion AND MORALITY.  
By F. MALEBRANCHE.  
To which is Added His MEDITATIONS ON HUMILITY and REPENTANCE.  
LONDON, Printed and are to be Sold by J. Whitlock near Stationers-Hall, MDCXCV.   

TO THE READER.  
THE many pious Reflections which the Author of The Search after Truth makes in that admirable Book, justly induced him to believe that they might be of use to demonstrate the Truth of Christian Religion by evident Reasons. Those who follow Des Cartes will doubtless allow this to be true; for nothing is set down there but what is plainly proved, or what is an axiom universally granted. Now as it is of great importance to convince all sorts of Persons of the Conformity of the Christian Religion with Reason, This Author judged that the following Dialogues might be useful to that end; Since these Philosophers ought not to be neglected. But 'tis also hoped that many others, not satisfied with the Proofs deduced from old Philosophy, will be convinced by those that are given here; provided these Dialogues be read with all the attention that is requisite to understand a work of this Nature. This is all that is desired of them, for a serious Application of the mind undoubtedly produces Light.  
It may not be improper to answer a Thing which some Persons might think amiss in the management of this Work; they might say that our young Erastus is too learned and answers Theodorus with two much strength and Judgement, considering his unripe Years which are represented to be between Fifteen and Twenty. But these Gentlemen may observe that our Author supposes Erastus to be altogether free from Prejudice; and this aught to be supposed, since Theodorus and Aristarchus choose him Judge of their differences: They may also consider that when Erastus speaks afterwards above his Years, 'tis only some things which he had read in The Search after Truth. And after all, the Design of Christian Dialogues is not that of certain writings made only to indulge the Imagination, but rather to instrust the Mind; and 'tis much better that Erastus should be admired for saying Things seldom spoken by those of his Years, as they are now Educated, than that he should give us occasion to laugh at his Childishness, or at that Simplicity that so well expresses the Character of a young, raw Student.  
There are some few Passages in these Dialogues where the Author, who is known to be a Roman Catholic, has made his Interlocutors to speak like Men of that Persuasion; But I did not think fit either to alter or omit any Thing; this being a bare Translation which ought consequently to represent the Original as much as Possible. Neither did did I think it necessary to confute those Passages: For, the Arguments used by the Roman Catholics in behalf of their particalar Doctrines are so inconsiderable, if compared with those which this Author has offered to prove the Truth of the Christian Religion, that at this Day, they do not deserve that Protestants should lose Time in confuting them.  
As for the Translators Part, if you can pardon some few Faults of Print and Gallicisms, of which such Works are seldom wholly Free, he dares assure you that he has taken all imaginable Care to give here his Author's Sense just in its full Extent, and as close and clear as it was possible in such abstracted Notions.   

The CONTENTS.  

Dialogue I. THat their is a God, and that none but he really act in us, and can make us Happy or Miserable Page 1.  
Dialogue II. Objections and Answers. p. 24.  
Dialogue III. Of the Order of Nature in the Creation of Man. p. 44.  
Dialogue iv Of the Disorder of Nature caused by Original Sin. p. 61.  
Dialogue V Of the Reparation of Nature by Jesus Christ. p. 83.  
Dialogue VI The Truth of the Christian Religion proved by other Reasons. p. 104.  
Dialogue VII. That Christian Morality is very useful to the Perfection of the Understanding. p. 123.  
Dialogue VIII. That Christian Morality is absolutely necessary for the Conversion of the Heart. p. 140.  
Dialogue IX. The same Subject continued. p. 159.  
Dialogue X. Reflections on the whole. p. 178.   

Meditations concerning Humility and Repentance with Elevations of the Soul to God. 

Of Man considered as a Creature.  
Of Man considered as the Son of a sinful Father.  
Of Man considered as a Sinner.      
CHRISTIAN DIALOGVES.  

DIALOGUE I. That there is a God, and that none but him acts really in us, and can make us happy or miserable.  Aristarchus. 
I Must let you know, my dear Theodorus, how little satisfaction our late Conferences have yielded me: I have discoursed with you of my Travels, and several adventures of my last Campaigns; you know them all, do not ask me any more of them. You told me a word yesterday, which made such an impression on me, that I am become insensible to all the things that have hitherto extremely moved me: I find their Emptiness and their Vanity, and will have solid Enjoyments and certain Truths.  Theodorus. 
Give thanks, Aristarchus, to your deliverer, to him that breaks your bonds, and changes your heart. I have spoke a long time to your ears, but at last he that put words into my mouth, hath made you understand their meaning. You have seen Truth, and you love it; you desire to see it more plainly, that you may love it more fervently.  
Think not, Aristarchus, that what enlightens, you and creates in you the desire you feel now, is a word spoke in the air, which only affects the body, or the sensible man, uncapable of understanding. How many times have I told you the same things, without convincing you of them? I spoke then to your ears, but the light of truth did not shine in your mind: or rather, since that Light is always within us, it did shine in your mind, but it did not enlighten it. Being out of yourself, you harkened to a man who only spoke to the Body. You were in Darkness, and would not turn yourself towards him who alone can disperse it.  
Learn then, my dear Aristarchus, to retire within yourself, to be attentive to Inward Truth; to ask, and receive the answers of our common Master; for without it I assure you all my words will be barren, fruitless, and like all those I have told you already, which you hardly can remember.  Aristarchus. 
I am willing to do my endeavour to follow you, but I fear I shall not be able to do it; for I have much ado to understand well the things you have told me now.  Theod. 
In the Passion that moves you now, you will not fail to give attention to all the things I'll tell you, but you shall not always understand them, your attention will hardly be pure enough, and your intention sufficiently free from Interest, to be always rewarded with the clear and distinct sight of Truth.  
The attention of the mind is the natural Prayer we make to Inward Truth, that it may discover itself to us; but this Sovereign Truth doth not always answer our expectation, for we do not know how to make our addresses: We often ask it questions without knowing what we ask; as when we go about to resolve questions, whose terms we do not understand.  
We ask it questions, and then leave it, not waiting for its answers; as when Impatience seizes us, and our Imagination is displeased that we think on things, that have no relation to the good of the body.  
We ask it questions, and strive to corrupt it, as when our Passions move us, and we will have its answers to agree with our opinions.  
In short, we ask it questions, we hear its answers, and do not understand them; as when our prejudices prepossess our mind, and it is filled with false Ideas, and our Imagination is utterly spoiled by an infinite number of dark and confused notions, that continually represent all things to us with respect to ourselves. Then God speaks and the body also, reason and imagination, the mind and the senses; there arises a confused noise, and nothing can be heard. Darkness mixes itself with Light, and nothing can be seen. For we cannot always discern what God tells us Immediately, and through himself to unite us to truth, from what he tells us through our body to unite us to sensible things.  
The various Employments of your Life have filled your mind with a great number of prejudices, that have imprinted on it a certain Character much esteemed in the world, which is but as a Seal that fastens those prejudices on our minds. You have read much the Books of certain Sceptics, who are proud of doubting of all things, and yet speak of them peremptorily; and I fear that, like them, you will have me hereafter prove you common notions, and receive as principles, opinions altogether unknown to the greatest part of mankind.  
It is also much to be feared, that your travels have too much dispersed your thoughts, and given your mind too much of the Court-air, to let you hear with attention some things altogether unknown amongst Travellers and Military men.  
You do not believe at present that your Studies and Travels have corrupted your reason, and prepossessed you with many unreasonable opinions. You have some cause not to believe it, and I will not undertake to convince you of it yet: But that hereafter we may reconcile our differences, let us take for a third a young man, whom the conversation of the World hath not yet spoiled, that Nature alone may speak in him, and we may find who of us two is prepossessed. Methinks Erastes who heard us t'other day, would be very fit for this: I observed by his countenance that he often consulted within himself to examine our sentiments with those of his Conscience, and always approved of the most reasonable; though he used to stand as it were amazed and surprised, without judging of any thing, when ever he heard you relate certain things which you have read in Books.  Arist. 
You do him a great deal of honour at my cost, but I can find no fault with it; that young man is so lovely, that besides the tye of blood, I have all the reason in the world to be glad of the esteem you have of his Wit. I freely consent: But here he comes in very good time.  Erastes. 
Gentlemen, will you be pleased to do me the same favour you did me lately? Will you give me leave to stay here?  Arist. 
With all our hearts, Erastus; we were thinking to send for you.  
I have just now told you my resolution, Theodorus, and you approve of it: Let us Philosophise, I pray you, but let it be after a Christian and solid manner. Instruct me of the Truths, that are essential and most capable of rendering us happy.  
How would you prove that there is a God, for I believe that 'tis by this we ought to begin.  Theod. 
The Existence of God may be proved a thousand ways, for there is nothing but may serve to demonstrate it; and I wonder how a person of your parts, so well read in Antiquity, and so accomplished every way, seems not to be convinced of it.  Arist. 
I am convinced of it by Faith, but I must confess I am not fully convinced of it by Reason.  Theod. 
If you speak as you think, you are convinced of it neither by reason, nor by Faith. For do you not know that the assurance of Faith comes from the authority of a God that speaks, and who can never deceive us. If then you are not convinced by reason that there is a God, how will you be convinced that he hath spoke? Can you know that he hath spoke, without knowing that he is? And can you know that the things which he hath revealed us are true, without knowing that he is Infallible, and never deceives us.  Arist. 
I do not examine things so narrowly; and the reason why I believe it, is because I will believe it, and that I have been told so all my life. But let us see your proofs.  Theod. 
Your Faith hath much of the man in it, and your answers show much Indifference. I designed to give you the most simple and natural proofs of the Existence of God, but I find by the disposition of your mind, they would not be the most convincing: You must have sensible proofs. Here are many things about us; which of them shall I make use of to prove you that there is a God? Shall it be this Fire that delights us? this Light that illuminates us? the nature of Words, by whose means we discourse together? for, as I told you just now, there is nothing but may serve to show the existence of its Author, provided we consider it with all possible attention.  
God acts incessantly in and by all his works: 'Tis he that illuminates us by this outward light, that delights us by the warmth of this fire, and discourses with us when we think we converse together. God neither produces nor preserves any creature, but which may cause those to know him who make good use of their reason. I will convince you of it presently: In the mean time, Erastus, take heed that neither of us prepossess you.  
Answer me, Aristarchus, What doth Fire do in you?  Arist. 
It warms me.  Theod. 
Then Fire causes a pleasure in you?  Arist. 
I own it.  Theod. 
What causes in us some pleasure, makes us in some measure happy.  Arist. 
It is true.  Theod. 
Then what makes us in some manner happy, is in some manner our good; and in some manner above us; and deserves in some manner love and veneration. What think you of it, Erastus, is Fire in some manner above you? Can Fire act in you? Can it cause in you a pleasure it hath not, it feels not, it knows not, and cause it in you, that is to say, in a Spirit, in a being infinitely above it?  Erast. 
I do not think so.  Theod. 
See then, Aristarchus, what you have to answer.  Arist. 
You conclude too fast: And I see what you drive at. I distinguish, Fire causes heat, but it doth not cause pleasure. Pleasure is a sentiment of the Soul, which the Soul causes in itself: When its body is well disposed, the Soul rejoices at it, and its joy is its pleasure; but Fire causes the heat we feel; for as it contains it in itself, it can disperse it without.  Theod. 
Can you conceive, Erastus, that your Soul causes in itself its pleasure, and causes it when it knows its body is well disposed? Can you know what changes happen now to your body? Doth the pleasure you receive when you warm yourself, delay its coming, till you find out what passes in your hands? Doth it stay also for the orders of your Soul? and do you feel that this depends from you as an effect depends from its cause? Do you also apprehend well that Fire really contains this heat you feel? This heat you only feel when your hands are out of the Fire; for whilst your hands are in the Fire, which according to Aristarchus, contains heat, you do not feel it, but a very great pain, which perhaps is not in the Fire.  
When you retire within yourself, to consult your Reason, do you well conceive that Matter is capable of any modifications differing from Motion and Figure? Do you believe that it is by heat that Fire separates the particles of Wood when it burns it? That by heat it agitates the particles of Water when it makes it boil? That by heat it purifies Metals when it melts them? Extracts Water out of Mud when it dries it? Drives with violence Cannon-balls, and overthrows by Mines the Walls of Cities, and the highest Towers? In short, have you ever found in Fire some effect that may prove it is possessed of heat?  Erast. 
I confess I cannot easily understand how this heat I feel is capable of producing any of the effects you have now mentioned: And I cannot even see any relation between this heat, and any of the effects of Fire. I have sufficiently experienced by its effects that Fire hath motion, but I have not found yet that it hath heat.  Theod. 
You will do well, Aristarchus, to consider on what Erastus said now: In the mean time hear the answers he will make me. If I held this Thorn hard upon your hand, Erastus, what should I do to it?  Erast. 
As it is sharp, I imagine you would make a hole in it.  Theod. 
What else should I do to it?  Erast. 
If I ought to speak but what I know, you would do nothing else to it.  Theod. 
But what should you feel?  Erast. 
Perhaps I should feel some pain.  Theod. 
This Perhaps is very Judicious. But if I drew this Feather over your Lips, what should I do to them?  Erast. 
You should move their fibres.  Theod. 
What else should I do to them?  Erast. 
Nothing else.  Theod. 
But what should you feel?  Erast. 
I don't know.  Theod. 
Try.  Erast. 
I feel a kind of a troublesome pleasure, which may be called Titillation.  Theod. 
What think you, Aristarchus, of the answers of Erastus? Are they true? Can any false consequence be directly deduced from them? He speaks but what he understands from that Inward Master whom he faithfully consults. Mark how he applies himself.  
Let us go on, Erastus; What doth this fire produce in your hand?  Erast. 
Hold, Sir, I have seen them lay much Wood in the Chimney, this Wood is no more there; Then 'tis gone.  Arist. 
'Tis burnt, 'tis annihilated.  Erast. 
That's a story, annihilated— I did not see it go out; it must then have gone in invisible particles. It could not go from thence without changing its place, that is to say without motion. The Wood than is continually divided, and its particles move themselves from the Chimney towards my hands. Those particles are bodies; they strike against my hands. I have it, Theodorus. Fire without doubt moves the fibres of my hands.  Theod. 
Is that all Erastus?  Erast. 
'Tis all I know. I say nothing but what I see. Am I to blame?  Theod. 
But, pray, do you feel nothing?  Erast. 
I feel some heat.  Theod. 
Come nearer the fire, yet nearer, a little more; what do you feel?  Erast. 
Some pain.  Theod. 
'Tis enough. Whence proceeds this heat that pleases you, and this pain that scorches you? This heat that makes you more pleased and more happy, this pain that disturbs you, and makes you in some manner unhappy?  Erast. 
I do not know it.  Theod. 
Do you believe that fire is above you, and can make you happy or miserable?  Erast. 
No certainly. I only believe here what I see. I see that Fire can move variously the Fibres of my hand; for bodies may (methinks) act on bodies, but they cannot communicate sensations which they have not. Can a Thorn infuse pain by the little hole it makes in the flesh? Can a Feather spread titillation on my Lips when it goes over them. No, Theodorus, I do not believe that any one of all the bodies about me, is able to make me more happy or unhappy.  Theod. 
Well said, Erastus, I am sure you will never worship the Fire, nor even the Sun, You are already wiser than those famous Chaldeans, illustrious Brachmanes and ancient Druids who worshipped the Sun.  Erast. 
How! Were there ever men mad enough to esteem the Fire or the Sun as Deities?  Theod. 
Yes, Erastus. Not some Men or some Nations, but almost all Nations, and the most famous too, as the Greeks, the Persians, the Romans, and several others. You may be informed by Aristarchus, who hath read learned Books, he will talk with you whole days together of the different manners in which several Nations have worshipped Fire and the Sun.  Erast. 
I do not much care to know the follies of others. Be pleased to go on with your Questions.  Theod. 
I will presently, Erastus. But by the way, Aristarchus, have you compared your answers with those of Erastus? Have you observed how he applies himself, how he consults the Master that teaches him in the deepest recess of his reason, he never answers but after him, he warrants nothing but what he sees; and for that reason I defy you to draw directly any false consequences from his answers. But if you mind it, those that you made me before to the same questions, may in a manner justify the Religion of those who place Fire, or the Sun among the Gods. For if Fire or the Sun can reward and punish you, make you happy or unhappy, they must be above you, they must have power over you, and you ought to pay submission to them; for it is an inviolable Law that inferior things shall be subservient to superior. I need tell you no more of it: I only assure you, that the Pagans never reasoned like Erastus, and that in all likelihood they argued like you, since we see by their Religion, that they have followed the same thread of consequences I have drawn now from your Answers.  
Observe it, Aristarchus, when God speaks, when inward Truth answers, there is no creature but guides us to the Creator. You'll understand this well hereafter. But when we judge rashly of things, without consulting any other master than our imagination, or the doctrine of certain false-learned, 'tis impossible for us to come near God.  Arist. 
I can't express to you the pleasure I find in this new way of Philosophising. I rejoice to see that Children and ignorant men are the most capable of true wisdom; and I am charmed to learn from Erastus' things on which I had not so much as thought before. His answers instruct me more than the high reasonings of our Philosophers; and methinks every word he speaks spreads in my mind a pure Light that doth not dazzle by its lustre, and yet disperses all my Darkness.  Theod. 
I will go on then with my questions to Erastus, since you are so well pleased with hearing him. Hear me my dear Erastus, you told me just now, that Fire can move variously the particles of your hand, because bodies can act on bodies. You believe then that bodies have a power to move those they meet.  Erast. 
My Eyes tell me so, but my mind doth not tell me so yet, for I have not yet examined that question.  Theod. 
Well then, answer me; Hath a body power to move itself?  Erast. 
I do not believe it.  Theod. 
Is then the power that moves bodies distinguished from these bodies?  Erast. 
I don't know.  Theod. 
Take notice, Erastus, that I do not speak of motion. The local motion of a body is a kind of being of that body, with respect to those that are about it: I do not speak of that, but of the power which causes it. I ask you if this power is something that is corporeal, and if it is in the power of bodies to communicate it?  Erast. 
I do not believe it, for if it were any thing corporeal, it would not be able to move itself. No, Theodorus, I do not believe that bodies can communicate to those they meet, a power which they have not themselves; a power they could not communicate though they had it: In short, a power whose diffusion and communication they could not be able to direct in a manner as regular as is that which we see; since bodies do not even know either the bigness or motion of those they meet. It seems to me, that an intelligent being, and one and the same intelligent being, must produce and regulate all the motions of matter, since the communication of the motion is always the same in the same accidents. For all bodies or many intelligent beings, would not easily agree together to act always after the same manner in the communication of motions.  Arist. 
Methinks Erastus runs too fast and loses himself. For it seems to me, that those things which are always done the same way, are not done by an intelligent being, but by a blind action, caeco impetu naturae.  Theod. 
You mistake yourself, Erastus is not out; and you ought not to attribute to a blind impetuosity, that which comes from the immutability of the author of nature. I see you do not know that 'tis the mark of an excellent workman to produce admirable effects, by acting always after the same manner, and by the most simple means. I will not undertake to lead you to God that way; it is too difficult, and does not afford us a notion of God so useful to morality. I would discover him to you as the Sole Author of the felicity of the Just, and of the misery of the Wicked, and in a word as being alone able to act in us. For I ought not only to demonstrate to you that he is, (which certainly is but seldom doubted of) but I ought also to demonstrate to you that he is our good in all respects, for that's a thing which is not sufficiently known.  
I return to Erastus. You are persuaded, my dear Erastus, that neither Fire, nor the Sun, nor any one of those bodies that surround you, are the true causes of what you feel at their presence; and in this you are wiser than all those who have worshipped Fire or the Sun. You do not even believe that bodies have any natural power to move those they meet; and in that too you see more clearly than those who worship the Heavens, the Elements, and all those bodies which Aristotle called divine, because he believed they had in them a power to move themselves, and to produce by this motion all the good or evils whereof men are capable. But it is not sufficient to know that bodies do not act on you, you must also discover the true cause of all that is produced in you. You feel warmth and pain at the presence of Fire. Now Fire doth not produce this warmth and this pain in you. What must it be then Erastus?  Erast. 
I must confess to you that I know nothing of it.  Theod. 
Is it not your soul who acts on herself; who afflicts herself, when Fire separates the particles of the body she loves? or who rejoices when the same fire produces in her body a motion proper to keep you alive, and help the circulation of the blood?  Erast. 
I do not believe it.  Theod. 
Why, Pray?  Erast. 
Because the soul doth not know that the fire moves or separates the fibres of the body. I felt heat and pain before I had learned by the reflections I made what fire is able to produce on my body: And do not believe that Clowns, who know nothing of what fire doth operate in them, are free from pain when they are burnt. Besides, I do not know what is the motion that is proper to keep me alive, and help the circulation of the blood. And if I were to feel no heat till I knew it, perhaps I should never feel any. In short, when I happen to burn myself by inadvertency, I feel pain before all things. I might perhaps conclude, by the pain I feel, that there is in my body some motion at work which offends it; but ' its evident that the knowledge of those motions neither precede nor cause any pain.  Theod. 
Your Reasons, Erastus, are altogether sound. But what think you of them Aristarchus?  Arist. 
They seem to me probable enough. However, Erastus, how can you tell but that your soul hath a certain knowledge of instinct, which discovers to her in a moment all that happens in her body? Answer me, Erastus— Answer me quickly then. 'Tis a strange thing you never answer me readily.  Erast. 
I do not understand your meaning; but all that I can say to you is, that when I know actually something, I am sure that I do know it, for I am not distinguished from myself. If my soul had actually some knowledge of instinct, or whatsoever other you please (for I don't understand that word very well) I should know it. Yet now that I come near the fire, I do not know that I have the knowledge of the motions that are actually produced in my hand, though I feel in it sometimes a pain, and sometimes a kind of pleasure or titillation. There is not then actually in my soul a knowledge of instinct, nor any other. I cannot tell if you are satisfied.  Arist. 
But little truly.  Theod. 
Shall I tell you why you are not well satisfied. 'Tis because Erastus hath made a clear and evident answer to an Objection that was not so. If you clearly understood what you object, Erastus would answer you both clearly and quickly. If hereafter you desire to receive from him more satisfaction than you have had hitherto, consider well what you intent to ask him. He cannot answer you speedily and clearly when he doth not understand you, and you do not even understand yourself. He uses all his endeavours, not to answer but when he hath consulted inward truth, and had its answer, but it never answers him when he doth not know what he asks. Yet you would have him give you an answer, and that speedy too. If he made you any he would deceive you; for it would be his answer, and not Truths you should receive.  
I will still put some questions to him, that you may observe the method I think is proper to go about it, and that his answers may instruct you of the Truth we seek.  
I have obliged myself, Erastus, to prove the existence of God by the effects which fire seems to produce in us; but to do it, 'tis of the greatest consequence to know that 'tis not the soul that causes in herself her own sensations. See if you have not still some other proof, I do not say more solid, but more able to convince Aristarchus. Think on it— Why do you sometimes suffer a pain? Do you delight in it?  Erast. 
I understand you, Theodorus, I am not to myself the cause of my happiness nor of my misery. If I was the cause of the pleasure I feel, seeing I love it, I should always produce some in me. And on the contrary, if I was the cause of the pain I suffer, seeing I hate it, I would never produce it in myself. I perceive that there is a superior cause that acts on me, and may make me happy or unhappy: Since I cannot act on myself, and that bodies produce not in me the sensations which I feel, as we said just now.  Arist. 
You have it not right, Erastus, you love your Body; you either know or feel that there happens some good or ill to it; you either rejoice or are afflicted at it: The one is your pleasure, and the other your pain.  Erast. 
What ever Aristarchus says to me, puzzles me, and throws me into darkness. I beg of you, Theodorus, to disperse it.  Theod. 
I do not wonder at it, Erastus. Whatever he tells you is false or full of obscurity, yet seems probable enough.  
Will you never retire within yourself, Aristarchus? How can you conceive, I pray you, that Erastus loves his body? Whatever is within Erastus that is able to love, is better than the body of Erastus; Erastus knows it. His Body cannot act on his Soul, he knows it; his Body cannot be his Good, he knows that too: it cannot be properly said then that he loves it. But here lies the riddle, Erastus loves pleasure more than his body; and he resents pleasure when his body is well disposed: 'Tis that obliges him to mind his body, and to defend it when any thing offends it. Do you think the Drunkards love their body, when they gorge it with Wine? Do you think the Libertines love their body, when they ruin their health? Is it not rather because they love the present pleasure? Do those who mortify their body, love it when they tear it, or do you believe they hate it? What is it then they love, but the pleasures they hope one day to enjoy? What do they hate on the contrary, but the everlasting torments they fear to suffer?  
Thus you may see, that Erastus doth not cause in himself his pleasure, because he finds, or is sensible that the body he loves, is well disposed. For he doth not even know that his body is in a good state, by any other thing than by the pleasure he hath by it. It is true, that when we feel by pleasure or by pain that our body is well or ill disposed, we are affected with joy or grief; but if you think on it seriously, you will easily perceive that this grief and joy that are the effects of our knowledge, differ mightily from those antecedent pains and pleasures of which we speak. Therefore they must have some other cause than ourselves. Do you grant it?  Arist. 
I am now convinced of it.  Theod. 
Now this cause must be superior and always present to us, since it acts within us. This cause can punish or reward us, make us happy or unhappy; since pleasure delights us, and pain displeases and makes us uneasy. If then this Cause were God, we should know that God doth not only rule the motions of the heavens: But that he hath a hand in our concerns; rules whatsoever passes in us; and that in order to our happiness, we ought to fear him, love him, and follow his orders. For since he makes continual applications to us, he requires something from us; and if we do not perform what he requires from us, 'tis not likely that he should reward us, and make us happy.  Arist. 
I own it. But how would you prove that it is not some Angel or Demon that hath the Government of us, and acts on us? How would you prove that there is a Being infinitely powerful, and who includes in his being all the perfections imaginable? This seems to me very difficult.  Theod. 
It is difficult, by the method I have taken; but when we acknowledge a superior power that acts in us, we have not much difficulty to consider him as Sovereign, and to allow him all the perfections of which we have some idea. Nevertheless I must endeavour to convince you fully. Mind me also Enastus.  
As soon as we are pricked with a Thorn we feel pain. This pain doth not proceed from the Thorn nor from the Soul; you grant all this: it proceeds then from a superior power. This power ought to know the moment when the Thorn pricks our body, that he may in the same moment produce the pain in our soul. But how shall he know it? Think on it— He cannot know it from us; for we know nothing of it yet. Nor from the Thorn; for the Thorn cannot act on the spirit of that power, nor represent itself to him; for the Thorn is neither visible nor intelligible by itself, there being no relation between bodies and intelligent beings. Whence then shall this superior power learn the moment when the Thorn pricks us? If you tell me that he shall know it from some other intelligent being, I will ask you the same questions of the second intelligent being, and if you fly to a third, you will get no more by it. Yet in the very instant when we are pricked we feel pain. The superior cause must then have learned that the Thorn pricks us without the help of other intelligent beings ad infinitum. For as you see he would not have so soon an answer, seeing 'tis no easy matter to find an ultimate in an infinite. There must be then an intelligent being that learns in himself and by its self in what moment the thorn pricks us: And this intelligent being can be no other than God, that is to say, a being whose power is infinite, and whose will alone is the cause of things. For after all, there is none but him whose will is efficacious, that can see in himself and by himself the existence and the motion of Bodies. For it being impossible he should be ignorant of his own will, he only can discover within himself the number, figure and situation of bodies, and generally whatever happens to them. It follows then that all other intelligent beings are enlightened by the Creator. And as you see, or as you will clearly see if you think on it seriously; you should not know that you have a body, and that there are others about you, if you had not learned it of him who knows it by himself. Do you understand these things, Erastus?  Erast. 
I do plainly, Theodorus. This is your argument. What causes pain is neither the Soul that feels, nor the Thorn that pricks; but a superior power. This power ought at least to know the moment when the thorn pricks; he cannot know it from the thorn, seeing bodies cannot give any light to spirits, they being neither visible nor intelligible by themselves, and no relation being to be found between a body and a spirit. He can know it then but by himself, that is to say, by the knowledge of his own will, which creates and moves the thorn, and whose power is infinite, since it is able to create. There is then a God; and if there was no God, I should not be pricked, I should feel nothing, see nothing, and know nothing.  Theod. 
Very well. But what think you of these reasons, Aristarchus?  Arist. 
Think, I think that both you, and your echo Erastus, talk in the clouds: The ground of your proof, is that that there is no relation between bodies and spirits. From whence you conclude, that an Angel cannot see a body immediately, and by himself. To which I answer, that that spirits may know bodies, it is sufficient that they penetrate them.  Theod. 
What do you mean, by penetrating them? Certainly Erastus doth not understand you. But without ask you explications, that perhaps would puzzle and displease you; doth your soul penetrate your body, your heart, or your brain the principal part where she resides?  Arist. 
I believe it doth.  Theod. 
Pray tell me then how your brain is composed, or that principal part wherein your soul resides?  Arist. 
I do not understand Anatomy.  Theod. 
How! You don't understand Anatomy: Must you search in Books, or in the head of other men which you do not penetrate, to know how the brain which your soul penetrates is composed? What signifies it then to a spirit to penetrate a body?  Arist. 
I must confess I have nothing to answer. Yet methinks if a spirit penetrates a body, he ought to know that body. But perhaps there is something that hinders it, which I do not understand.  Theod. 
If it were so, Aristarchus, this something would be the God whom we seek. I will lose no time to prove it to you: For I will not prove the existence of God by imaginary effects. You may think on it at your leisure. But I rather advise you to make a serious reflection on the things I have told you now, and then I hope you will visibly find that there is a God, I mean a Being whose Will is Power, and Power Infinite, since it is able to create. You will find that this God doth not walk about the Heavens as the Libertines will have it, but that his providence extends itself to all things, and that he acts incessantly in us. That it is he that gives us the pleasing and painful sentiments we have of sensible objects; and that consequently he may make us happy or miserable. In short, you will know God in the most useful manner for morality. You will even confess that God hath made nothing but may serve to demonstrate his existence, though 'tis more conducing to morality, to demonstrate it by something that passes within us.  
One of the reasons why you are not easily brought to be of my mind, is that you have perhaps never seriously thought on the things of which we have been speaking: For I do not perceive that my proofs are remote, or hard to be understood; I will be judged of it by Erastus. And I believe we ought to agree on that point, that hereafter you may be prepared on the subjects on which we shall treat.  Arist. 
It belongs to you, Theodorus, to set rules for every thing. For you know that my resolution is to seek none but such truths as are essential, and may make us wiser, and more happy. I need say no more to you.  Theod. 
To this effect, Aristarchus, I will tell you the course I intent to keep in our Conferences: Observe it well, that you may think on it at leisure; and prepare yourself to make me all the Objections you can.  
I believe I have sufficiently demonstrated that there is a God who acts incessantly in us, and who may make us happy or unhappy by pleasure and by pain, of which he alone is the true cause; and therefore I will bring no other proofs of it, and will content myself with resolving your difficulties. But I will prove to you that the design of God in creating man, hath been that man might know and love him; that God hath preserved man but to that end: In short, that that design is so unalterable, that sinners and the damned themselves execute it in one sense, and that they shall sooner cease to be, than they shall wholly cease to know and to love God.  
When I have established as a principle, that since God acts always for himself, we cannot be happy if we resist his will, nor unhappy if we obey it. I will demonstrate how God will be known and be loved; how we can resist his orders; and what is yet more strange, how we are capable to offend him.  
I will show that our nature is corrupted, that sin dwells in us, that the spirit is a slave to the flesh. In short, I will explain the cause and the effects of the corruption of nature; how our disorders strange us from God and make us his enemies, as also our want of a Mediator and Redeemer.  
I will explain the qualities our Redeemer and Mediator ought to have to reconcile us to God, and to  his justice; that Jesus Christ possesses them all, and none but him. What may cure the blindness of the mind, and the malice of our heart: That those remedies are to be found in the precepts of the Gospel, and the grace of Jesus Christ. In fine I will show that none but a God made man can restore, reconcile and save us: That nothing but the blood of Christ can cleanse us; that nothing but his grace can strengthen us; that only his precepts can conduct us to that wisdom and to that felicity you wish for; and that all we have to do in this life is to study the moral of the Gospel, to hear Jesus Christ, to love Jesus Christ, to follow and to imitate Jesus Christ; who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption; that according as it is written, he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord, 1 Cor. 1.30,31.   

DIALOGUE II. Objections and Answers.  Aristarchus. 
WE longed with impatience to see you again, Theodorus, for we wanted you almost as soon as we had left you. Erastus and I could not agree about the things you told us yesterday; for there come into my mind some difficulties which seem to me not to be overcome, and so we have done nothing but disputed all the while; but at last Erastus saith he doth not understand me, and that he hath nothing else to answer me.  Theod. 
Nothing but truth can reconcile minds, and if you disagree, it is because one of you doth not consult it. I am very much afraid that you have consulted your imagination more than your reason, and that you have launched into the deepest recess of your memory for some justificative evidence of your prejudices. Tell me; is it not true, Aristarchus, that you have but little meditated on the things I told you yesterday; and that whereas you should have examined them by the light of truth, you have compared them with those things of which the perusual of the Ancients hath left you a tincture? Will you never be brought to, and will you never understand that you have in yourself a faithful master ready to give you an answer at all times, if you ask it with decency and submission; that is to say, in the calm of your senses and passions?  
You tell me that you wanted me; but pray are you not ashamed to have recourse to a man to be enlightened, and ought you not to know that if I am capable of giving you some instruction, 'tis not by diffusing light into your mind, but making you retire within yourself, and turning you towards the light that enlightens me? Why are we sometimes of the same mind, but because we both retire within ourselves, and hearken to him of whom all mankind receives the like answers? And why have you so much disputed with Erastus, but because you told him things which the truth he consults did not tell him, nor had ever told you? I beg of you then, Aristarchus, that we may have no more disputes; but let truth be the supreme Judge amongst us, and use all your endeavours to make me no objections but such as you understand clearly, and may also be understood by Erastus.  Arist. 
Perhaps all the difficulty in the objections I made Erastus proceeded from our ignorance of a great many things; and it may be, that not being much used to meditate, I have proposed to him my ancient prejudices as so many new truths, which presented themselves to me by the strength of meditation. But really I have started to him some difficulties which seem to me grounded upon evident Principles, and are received by all men: Here they are.  
You have told us that none but God can act in our soul, and that all the bodies which are about us are uncapable of causing in us the sentiments we have of them. But pray is not the Sun bright enough to be visible? Do you think I can suffer myself to be imposed upon, by Philosophical Reasons to believe, that 'tis not the Sun that gives me light after all the experiments I have of it? And supposing you could persuade me that Fire doth not cause the heat or pain I feel when 'tis near me; Do you think you may conclude, that the Sun doth notdiffuse light, and say in general as you do now, that all the bodies that surround us, are uncapable of producing in us the sentiments we have of them.  Theod. 
Forbear to consult your senses, Aristarchus, if you desire to hear the answers of Truth. It dwells in the deepest recess of Reason. Peruse at your leisure the first Book of The inquiry after Truth, if you have a mind to be fully instructed of the errors of our senses with respect to sensible qualities; for I do not intent to make it my business to explain to you all the difficulties of Philosophy which may puzzle you. The only thing that's necessary at present is that you know there is a God, and he alone can cause in you the pleasure and pain you feel by the intervention of Bodies. You believed it yesterday, or I am mistaken; Do you believe it now?  Arist. 
I doubt of it for this Reason, that if God did cause in me the pleasure I feel in the use of sensible things. It seems he would dispose me to love them and to cleave to them as to my good: For pleasure is the character of good, 'tis an instinct of nature which disposes us to love what produces or seems to produce it. Yet faith teaches me that God will not have me to love bodies. Can God draw me by pleasure to cleave to sensible things, and forbidden me at the same time to love them? This is my difficulty, judge of it now.  Theod. 
It is a solid one, and 'tis absolutely necessary to solve it; for from its solution most of the true principles of morality may be deduced. This is my system.  

* It is taken out of the fifth Chapter of the first Book of the Inquiry after Truth. I have taken several things from that Book, and desire the Reader to take notice of it once for all.  Being made up of spirit and body, we have two sorts of good to seek, spiritual and corporal. We have likewise two ways to know if a thing is good or bad, viz. the use of the mind alone, and the use of the mind jointly with the body. We can know the good of the mind by an evident and clear knowledge of the mind alone; and we can also discover the good of the body by a confused sentiment. By the mind I know justice is to be beloved: and by the taste I assure myself such a fruit is good. The beauty of justice cannot fall under our senses, for 'tis unnecessary to the perfection of the body; and the goodness of the fruit doth not fall under our understanding, for a fruit cannot be useful to the perfection of the mind.  
The good of the body not deserving the application of the mind which God made but for himself; and God not being willing that we should be taken up with it, it is necessary that the mind do know it without examination, and by the short and incontestable proof of sentiment. Bread is fit to nourish us, and Stones are not: The proof of it is convincing, and taste alone hath made all mankind agree in that.  
If the mind saw in bodies but what is in them, without having a sentiment of what is not in them, their use would be very painful and inconvenient to us; for who would take the pains to examine with care the nature of all things that are about us, to cleave to, or leave them? What should tell us when we ought to sit down to dinner, and when rise from it? What should place us at a reasonable distance from the fire? And should we not often doubt whether we burned or warmed ourselves? In short, would it not happen sometimes that we should be the cause of our own death by Inadvertency, by Grief; or even out of desire of making near discoveries in Anatomies.  
Therefore it is most reasonable that God incline us to seek the good of the body, and shun its contrary by the foregoing sensations of Pleasure, and Pain. For after all, if men were obliged to examine the Configuration of a Fruit, those of all the parts of their bodies, and the different relations which result from the one to the other, to be able to judge if in the present heat of their blood, and a thousand other dispositions of their body, this Fruit were good to nourish them: 'tis obvious that such things as are altogether unworthy of the application of their minds, would wholly fill its capacity; and that also unprofitably enough, since they would not be able to preserve themselves any considerable time by that only way.  Arist. 
I must confess, this conduct is very wise, and most worthy its Author: But yet we feel some pleasure in the use of sensible things, why then must we not love them?  Theod. 
Because they are not lovely, you are a rational creature, and your reason doth not represent to you bodies as your good. If sensible objects did contain in themselves what you feel, when you use them, if they were the true cause of your Pleasure and Grief; you might love and fear them; but your reason doth not tell you so, as I yesterday proved it to you. You may use them, but not love them; you may eat of a fruit, but not settle your Love upon it: Likewise you ought to avoid Fire or a Sword, but ought not to fear them.  

* See the 8th. Chapter of the 6th. Book of the Inquiry after Truth.  We must love and fear what is able to cause pleasure and pain, that's a common notion which I do not contradict: But we must take heed not to confound the true efficient cause with the occasional. I say it once more, we must love and fear the efficient cause of pleasure and of pain, and we may seek or avoid their occasional causes, provided we do not do it against the positive orders of that efficient cause, and do not force it in consequence of its natural Laws, to work in us what is against its precepts: And we must not imitate the voluptuous, who make God an instument of their sensuality, and oblige him, in consequence of his first will, to reward them with a sentiment of pleasure in the very moment when they offend him; for that's the greatest Injustice can be committed.  
Believe me, Aristarchus, the good of the body cannot be beloved but by Instinct; but the good of the mind can, and aught to be beloved by reason: The good of the body can be beloved but by Instinct, and with a blind Love; because the mind cannot even perceive so clearly, that the good of the body is a real good; for the mind cannot see what is not: It cannot clearly perceive that Bodies are above the Spirit, that they can act in it, punish, or reward it, and render it more happy, and more perfect; but the good of the mind ought to be loved by reason; God will be loved with a Love of choice, with a reasonable Love, a meritorious Love, a Love worthy of him, and worthy of us; we see clearly that God is our good, that he is above us, that he can act in us, that he can reward us, and render us not only more happy, but also more perfect than we are; is it not this sufficient to make a Spirit love God?  
And thus we see, that God was not to make man love him, by the instinct of Pleasure when he created him; he was not to make use of this kind of art, nor implore any force against the Liberty of a reasonable creature, to lessen the merit of his Love: For the first man ought to have adhered to God, and could do it without the help of a preingaging pleasure, though now Pleasure is commonly necessary to remedy the blindness which sin has brought upon us, and to withstand the continual attacks of Concupiscence against our Reason.  
I'll say it again, Aristarchus, that you may remember it. It was necessary that the antecedent pleasure and not the light of reason, should incline us to the good of the body; since reason cannot even represent to its self the bodies that are about us, as a good. But there was no need that God should make use of preingaging pleasure, as of a kind of art to cause himself to be beloved by the first man; since it was sufficient that he should enlighten his reason, he being the sole and only good of Spirits.  Arist. 
I grant all these things are very well imagined, but there is still in your System a difficulty that puzzles me: For methinks you confound Concupiscence with the institution of Nature, and making God the Author of the pleasure we feel in the use of sensible things, you also make him Author of Concupiscence, since it is nothing else but that pleasure, considered as striving against our reason.  Theod. 
This institution of Nature is thus, Aristarchus.  
God hath made the Soul and the Body of man, and 'twas his pleasure, for the preservation of his work, that as often as there should be in the body some certain motions, there should result in the Soul some certain sentiments; provided those motions did communicate themselves as far as a certain part of the Brain, which I shall not specify, but because the will of God is efficacious, there never happened any motions in that part of the Brain, but there followed some sensations, and because the will of God is unchangeable, this was not changed by the sin of the first man: Yet as before man had sinned, and whilst all things were in perfect good order, it was not just that the body should hinder the Spirit from thinking on what is desired; It follows that man had necessarily such a power over his body that he did, as it were, separate the principal part of his brain from the rest of his body, and did hinder its usual communication with the sensitive Nerves, as often as he desired to apply himself to truth, or to some other thing than the good of the body. And by those means it was in Adam's power first to make use of his taste to discern the things that were useful to the preservation of the body, and then to eat on without taste and pleasure; because the pleasure be felt in the use of sensible things never overruled his desires; it only modestly warned of what he was to do for the good of his body: Adam therefore could think on what he would; and one may say, that even when he slept his Spirit was awake: For after all it cannot be believed that in the state of Original Righteousness, there should be such a great disorder in the most admirable work of God, that the spirit should be as slave to the body. This is the institution of Nature: Now you shall hear its Corruption.  
The first man, by degrees stranging himself from from the presence of God, by suffering the capacity of his Spirit to be filled with sensible pleasures, or the sentiments of his own excellency, or with some other Ideas which, by reason of the narrowness of his Spirit, did blot out the remembrance of his Duty and Dependence; fell at last into a disobedience to God's command, and then lost the power he had over his body. For it is not just that a Sinner should reign over any thing, and that God should suspend the Laws of the Communication of motions in favour of a wicked and rebellious man. 
* I do not speak here of the Concupiscence which consists in the difficulty we find to put ourselves in the presence of God, and in the unvoluntary inclination we have to think always upon ourselves.  For the motions of sensible Objects communicating themselves as far as the brain, and also leaving there some deep Impressions, it is necessary according to the first will of the Author of Nature that there should result in the Soul some sentiments and motions which carry her even in spite of herself to sensible things.  Arist. 
All this is very well; but why doth God continue to be willing that the impressions of the brain, and the agitations of the animal spirits should be followed by sentiments and sensible motions; since that hinders us now from loving him, and applying ourselves to the Truth for which we are made.  Theod. 
But why, Aristarchus, will you have the will of God to depend from that of the first man? You have seen that the institution of Nature is admirably well ordered; and would you have this Institution altered, on the account of the mutability of Adam's will? Do you not know that the inconstancy of the will is a mark of a narrow Understanding, and that God is too just to repent. All what God has willed, he wills it still; and because his will is efficacious he doth it. God had rather for some time be subservient to the injustice of men, and even in one sense to reward them, by the pleasure they feel in their Debaucheries, than to alter the order of things which he hath most wisely established. And men are so unworthy of God, after the rebellion of their first Father, that 'tis just in one sense, that God remove them from him continually, and in a manner reward them when they go from him; but it is a transitory reward, a deceitful reward, the price of sin, that fattens the Victim for the Sacrifice, and prepares sinners for the day of the Lord; for that day when the Judge and Saviour of the world will hurry the impious in the fire everlasting to satisfy the divine justice; as he will raise with him the elect to an Eternal Glory, to exalt the Goodness and Mercy of his Father.  
Therefore, Aristarchus, the Will of God which forms and rules so wisely all things, was not to depend from that of the first man. It was necessary that this will should subsist, and that he whose wisdom has no bounds should re-establish, in a manner worthy of himself, the order of things which  had overthrown. He hath done it, Aristarchus, by his 〈◊〉 Will, which makes the order of Grace; by the 〈◊〉 design of his Son's Incarnation, by that great work of Mercy which surpasses all his other works, and 〈◊〉 him infinitely more honour, than all that 〈◊〉 of Nature which is admired with so much 〈◊〉 and represents in so lively a manner the infinite wisdom of its Author.  Erast. 
Give me leave, Theodorus, to offer to you the greatest difficulty I find in all the things you have told us now. God is infinitely wise, he hath foreseen from all Eternity whatever was to fall out in the order of things he was to establish; he hath foreseen the sin of the first man, before he was formed; why then did he make him? Or why did he make him free, or why did he not bind and fasten him to his duty by preingaging Pleasures? In short, why did he establish an order that was to be overthrown, and a Nature that was to grow corrupt? I grant that he hath repaired the corruption of Nature by the wisest method imaginable, but would it not have been wiser to have made one uncapable of Corruption? I beg of you to tell me if these things may not justly make us doubt, whither an infinite intelligent being rules all.  Theod. 
But supposing I did not give you an answer Erastus, what could you directly infer from my silence, but that I do not know the designs of God? I have evidently demonstrated to you, by arguing only upon clear Ideas, that there is a God, and that none but him acts really in us. Believe what you have seen, and do not wilfully blind yourself by opposing to the light of truth, some objections which can rise but from the darkness of our minds: When we see evidently a thing we must not cease to believe it, as soon as some difficulty we cannot solve is offered to us.  
Nevertheless, Erastus, though I do not flatter myself to know God's designs, I'll endeavour to satisfy you in few words, for I will not engage myself to say to you, whatever may be thought upon that subject.  
God made man because it was his will, and it was his will because man is better than nothing, and that he is more capable of honouring him than nothing.  
God made man free, because the will of man is made to love good; but man being able to love but what he sees, if God had not made him free, or if God did infallibly and necessarily carry him towards all that hath the appearance of a good, or towards all that man being apt to err, may consider as a good; it might be said that God is the cause of sin, and of the disorderly motions of the will.  
God made man free, and left him to himself without determining him by preingaging pleasure, because God will be loved by reason, since we are rational Creatures: He will be loved with an Understanding Love, with a Love worthy of him, and worthy of us; a meritorious Love, and which he may remunerate, for other reasons which I have already told you. He foresaw that man would cease to love him, I grant it, but he draws his glory from thence. The shame of  adds to God's honour every way, and man being not able to trust to his own strength, finds himself obliged by Justice, to give to God all the Glory of his actions.  
But how do you know after all, but that the first and the chief design of God in the Creation of man, was the Incarnation of his Son; it may be, Erastus, that the order of Nature is only the occasional cause of that of Grace, and that God would not have made man, if the fall of man had not given lieu to his reparation. I grant that if man had not sinned the Word had not been made flesh: But is it not certain that the Obedience and Sacrifice of the incarnate Word, hath pleased him more who order all things according to his own pleasure, than the rebellion of man hath displeased him? Is it not reasonable to believe that God hath done all for his Son, since he hath made all by his Son, and that his chief intent in the disposition of his work, hath been to establish his Son Chief of his Church, and Sovereign Lord over all his creatures. O certè necessarium Adae peccatum— O felix culpa quae talem ac tantum meruit habere Redemptorem.  
Take notice of this, Erastus, God acts for his glory; and the chief of his designs is that by which he gets most of it: But doth he not receive more glory from his Son than from all the rest of his works? He hath in his Son an Adorer, a Sacrificator, and a Victim of an infinite dignity, for his Son is a God that worships him, a God that obey's him, a God that dies to honour his Holiness and Justice. But supposing even no bounds to the world, what honour would accrue by it to its Author? Supposing all creatures were incessantly employed to praise him who gave them being; what proportion is there between the creature and the Creator, between the praises of the blessed Spirits and the infinite greatness of God; except it be that the praises of the Saints receive a kind of an infinite greatness and dignity in Jesus Christ, through whom, as the Church sings, Angels praise the Divine Majesty, Powers adore him, etc. For the Church knows very well that 'tis only through Jesus Christ we can render to God an honour worthy of him.  
I will explain to you those things more at large at some other time. What I have said now is sufficient, to let you judge that though God did foresee the fall of man, he was not to change his design; since that fall hath been the occasion of that great work so worthy the greatness, and mercy of God, and so admirable all manner of ways.  
Yet though what I have told you were not certain, you ought not to believe easily that God ought to have altered his design because he foresaw the sin of the first man, and the disorder of Nature. Can you think, Erastus, that if god only designed to make a man he would make a Monster? I mean that he would make him with two heads, one of which would be useless, and only troublesome to him, or make him with an useless Arm sprouting our of his forehead, and dangling continually over his face? Can you imagine that such a Creature would be a work worthy of an Intelligence infinitely wise and powerful? Yet there are Monsters, and I do not believe that those small disorders of Nature ought to lessen the esteem you have of its Author; not only because those Monsters, however imperfect in themselves, do not make the world imperfect: But chief because those monsters are the consequences of the communication which is between the imagination of the Mother, and the fruit she bears in her Womb, and that this communication is very wisely established for the formation or increasing of the Child.  
God did well foresee that this communication would sometimes cause some disorder, but seeing it would be of an infinitely greater use towards the, accomplishment of his work, than this small disorder, he ought not to have altered his desing. 'Tis true that God could have remedied it, by establishing for these particular cases some new Laws of motion: But God doth not multiply his will thus, it is a point of his greatness and his wisdom to act always by the most simple ways, and to make use of a very small number of Natural Laws to produce a very great number of admirable works.  
Neither do I believe, that we ought always to imagine that God hath other ways to produce his work, as simple and perfect as those of whom he hath made use, whereby he could make it more perfect than it is, and such as we would have it to be; for this perhaps may not be. 'Tis likely that God acts in the manner the most worthy of him that may be, I mean that his work is as perfect as it can be by relation to the methods which he uses to produce it: and if we imagine that we discover some faults in it, besides our natural disposition to be frequently mistaken, it may proceed from the simplicity of the means of which he hath made use to form this work, and from the union which all bodies have with one another. Can you imagine Erastus that God, though all wise and all mighty, cannot fill entirely with small round balls the least space that we can determine? Yet if you think on it seriously you will easily find that this cannot be done; and that the balls touching one another, and leavinga triangular space, there must be something besides balls to fill it. But from whence proceeds this impossibility? 'tis not from any want of wisdom, nor power in the cause; but from the relation which bodies have with one another. There is such a Concatenation in all the parts which make up the world, that we have some reason to believe that perhaps it impylteh contradiction that man should be more perfect than he is, by relation to the bodies that surround him, and that perhaps it is not possible for him to have wings, and be at the same time as well composed as he is by relation to the wants of this present Life.  
And thus, Erastus, as you must not think that God ought to have abandoned his design of forming men by the usual way of generation, because men seem to be imperfect, and monsters are sometimes generated that way: So you ought not to imagine that God foreseeing the sin of man, aught to have taken another design; though he had not even repaired the disorder of nature, by a way as worthy of his wisdom as is the incarnation of his Son.  Erast. 
I confess, Theodorus, that what you say is very reasonable, and that those want both strength and firmness of judgement who abandon evident truths, when some difficulties which they cannot solve are offered to them, tho' those difficulties have no other ground than the ignorance and weakness of humane mind. And this persuades me that most of those whom the world call men of great sense, such as are some that were here some days ago, have not so much strength of understanding as Aristarchus imagines.  Theod. 
You are not mistaken, Erastus; those men of mighty sense are commonly diminutive Wits, who have more pride than knowledge; their understanding being but small, they neither embrace nor retain easily the proofs of even the most common truths, and yet their pride makes them decide some questions which 'tis absolutely impossible to solve. Take heed that you never be frighted as they are by the little difficulties which they raise to themselves against the existence of God and the immortality of the Soul, and that you never suffer yourself to be stunned by the outward method of their rash decisions. Harken to Reason, and follow its light, but never yield to the sensible attempt which the imagination of others makes upon your mind. Do you understand me well Erastus?  Erast. 
Very well: You would not have me think, or live by opinion, but think and live by reason; and eat carefully the contagion of minds, which communicates itself by the ways and manners of those who speak to us. I endeavour it as much as I can, and am not afraid that any of our pretended men of mighty sense, will shake me by whatever they can say against the proofs of the existence of God, which you have explained to us.  Theod. 
And you, Aristarchus, are you fully convinced that there is a cause superior to you, infinitely wise and powerful? have you any more reasonable doubts to propose to me? I am sensible that you are not yet freed from the Panic fear, which your Heroes have inspired in you, and that you are always moved by some Ideas, and confused sentiments that will disturb your imagination a long time, to justify the reasonings of your pretended men of sense: But is your reason enlightened? Is the light that spreads itself in it, according as you give attention to my words, a pure light that persuades by evidence? Hath it not some dazzling and glittering lustre which convinces you by impression? For as I am thoroughly persuaded of what I tell you, I am afraid lest the air and manner of my speaking to you, do some violence on your mind, and instead of consulting inward truth, you come out of yourself to hearken to me, and so you may happen to be persuaded when I speak to you, and to doubt as soon as I shall have done speaking.  Arist. 
You have told me several things that have seemed solid to me; but I do not allow them to be such, because I have not thought enough on them, I will do it and—  Theod. 
Very well, Aristarchus, but observe that there is no necessity that all the things I have told you be incon●…table, that my demonstration of the existence of God may subsist. I have too slightly explained them to pretend that you may not find some difficulty in them: And I was not to enlarge any more upon them, for only speaking them in answer to your objections, I was not obliged to establish their certitude, but only to show their possibility. It may be I will convince you of them hereafter. Nevertheless if you are well persuaded of their possibility, you ought to believe that your objection doth not destroy the proofs I have brought for the existence of a being infinitely wise and powerful, and who acts incessantly in us.  Arist. 
When I think on all the things you told us yesterday, I cannot doubt of the existence of God. But when I consider that some ingenious men doubt of it, and that Mr.—, and several other learned and very witty persons have assured me, they have need of faith to believe it, I still abour under some apprehension lest your proofs be not certain; I will consult Mr.— to know his mind on it.  Theod. 
You will consult the God of Accaron, instead of consulting the God of Israel; are you not satisfied with the clear and visible proofs which inward truth gives you? Why will you again consult this unhappy friend? He hath already darkened your reason, he will do it again, his air is infectious, his imagination prevalent, and imposing, and if you do not take great care—  Arist. 
I will stand upon my guard, and methinks I shall convert him.  Theod. 
You convert him, Aristarchus! I wish it. But do you think that God speaks to him as he doth to you? Or rather do you think he retires like you within himself to hear him? He hath stopped his Ears so long that he is become Deaf. You will speak to his Ears, but you will not speak to his mind. Do you not know that he is held by too many things, and that his passions whose motions he blindly follows, have made him slave to whatever is about him? Doth not his Court air, his desire of being esteemed a wit his insolent and slighting way of discoursing about Religious matters, sufficiently show you that he incessantly receives the secret inspirations of the Spirit of Pride? While you will be speaking to him, he will laugh at your simplicity, he will dazzle you by a language of imagination, and you will see yourself shamefully thrown at his feet; and truth unworthily used by that small society of his admirers who applaud him in whatever he saith.  
If you are resolved to attempt his Conversion, I advise you to take him by himself, to speak to him without being daunted, to put questions to him continually as having need of his light, and to make him retire within himself by insensible degrees, that he may hearken to truth without being interrupted by his passions. When we design to convince men, we must always see their Self-love, and instruct them by such a method as may make them imagine that they school us. We must take the air of Disciples, and ask them questions with art and an ingenious plainness, that taking a pleasure to instruct us they may retire within themselves to receive the answers that we ask them; but when we have received from them the answers they have striven to find out for us, we must lay them before them every moment; for having only sought those answers for us, they think no more on them, as soon as they have eased themselves of them.  
Truth is a very unnecessary lumber to most men; it is only cumbersome to them. But when 'tis of their own finding out, and that by this title it belongs to them, self-love suffers it willingly; and they find in it I know not what charm, that wins them in spite of the inconveniency they receive by it. So when you shall have received a good answer to some one of the several questions you had asked your friend, you may make use of it to convince him, he will not disown it, except you vex him; and it may be that his self-love happily betraying his sleeping passions, he will rejoice at the sight of a truth he could not bear a little while before.  Arist. 
I give you thanks for this advice, Theodorus, and will certainly make good use of it; the Impatience which is excited within me, by the hopes of being serviceable to my friend, obliges me to break off our Conversation: I must satisfy myself.  Theod. 
I commend your zeal, and the sincerity of your friendship; be of good heart, Aristarchus; I wish you may return satisfied— and you Erastus be careful to have in your mind the things that we have said, and to discourse about them with Aristarchus, as soon as he comes back.   

DIALOGUE III. Of the Order of Nature in the Creation of Man.  Theod. 
WEll Aristarchus, you have converted your man; Erastus told me just now all that past between you and him. I even know that he desires to be your Disciple, and to have an account of our following conferences. Be pleased then for his sake to apply yourself so that you may demonstrate all things to him with some exactness.  Arist. 
You take the right way to engage me, for I am extremely sensible to friendship; and methinks my desire to know truth, is doubled by the design I have to impart it to my friend. Let us go on then I beseech you. I am persuaded that there is a God, that is to say, a Being infinitely perfect, whose wisdom and power have no bounds, and whose providence extends itself not only to us, but even to the atoms of matter. I remember your proofs, and am convinced of them.  Theod. 
I can demonstrate nothing of true Religion, nor of true Morality, till I know what God designs in the creation and preservation of our being.  Arist. 
You must seek some other principle, Theodorus: My friend is a Cartesian, his Philosophy doth not admit final causes; and though he is now convinced that there is a God, he will not fail to tell me that we ought not to presume so much of ourselves, as to believe that God hath been pleased to make us privy to his counsels.  Theod. 
Your friend will never say this to you, if he be a good Cartesian. The knowledge of final Causes is of little or no use in Natural Philosophy, as Descartes pretends: But it is absolutely necessry in Religion. Can you obey God, if you do not know his will? and can you hope to please him, and that he will make you happy, except you be obedient to him? ●… may be you imagine that we can know nothing of God's design on men, by Reason, but you are mistaken. Do not think too much on your friend. Pray think on what I am going to tell you.  
You are persuaded that God is wise, and ascribe to him all the perfections whereof you have some Idea. God therefore, loves most what is most lovely; and so must love himself more than all things: and be to himself the end of all his actions. And by consequence the end of the Creation, and preservation of our being. It follows then that the faculty by which we know, that is to say, our Mind, and that whereby we love, which is our will, 〈◊〉 made and pre●…ved to know and to love God; supposing (as you do not doubt it) they have been made to know and to love. Do you find any darkness in what I have told you? Pray think on it, 'tis the ground of all we shall ●ay hereafter.  Arist. 
All this seems to me as evident as the most certain principles of Natural Philosophy.  Theod. 
It hath even more certainty: the communication of motion is certain, as experience teaches us; nevertheless this communication might not be, and it will in all likelihood cease after the resurrection, that our bodies may be incorruptible; but it shall never cease to be the will of God that we know and love him. Since then this seems to be plain to you, how can it happen that there be men that neither know nor love God, since God preserves them but to know and love him? Do you think it possible to resist God, and that God hath any love for Spirits who have no knowledge of him nor any love for him? Do you think God preserves them; and do you not know that if God should cease to love them, they should be no more?  Arist. 
I begin to doubt of your principle, for you draw some very sad consequences from it.  Theod. 
'Tis very strange, Aristarchus, you should doubt of things of which you have an evidence. Will you always forget that light ought to be preferred to darkness, and that clear truths are not to be forsaken, because we find some difficulty in clearing some dark objections. Learn to distinguish truth from what seems to be so; and observe that what I objected to you just now, is true in one sense and false in another. For there is no man but knows and loves God in one sense, as you will see it hereafter.  
Therefore stick firmly to this truth; that God hath made and preserves spirits, but to know and love him: And this truth being granted, since it is evident, endeavour to discover how it may be conceived that all spirits know and love God, for that is of the greatest consequence, I will put some questions to Erastus that I may insensibly lead you to that truth.  
Do you think, Erastus, that Spirits can see Bodies? Or rather do you think that this material and sensible world can be the immediate object of the mind? Do you think that bodies can act in the mind, make themselves visible to the mind, or enlighten it?  Erast. 
I do not think it.  Theod. 
What then do you see immediately when you see the material and visible world?  Erast. 
I see, If I may say so, the Intelligible World.  Theod. 
How! when you look upon the Stars, do you not see the Stars?  Erast. 
When I look upon the Stars I see the Stars; when I look upon the Stars of the material world, I see the Stars of the intelligible world, and judge that those material Stars are like those of the intelligible world I see. For the Sun that I see, is sometimes bigger and sometimes less, and is never bigger than an intelligible Circle of two or three foot diameter; but the material Sun is always the same; and according to the sentiment of some Astronomers about thirty thousand times bigger than the Earth: 'tis not then this Sun I see, when I am looking upon it.  Theod. 
But, Erastus, where is this intelligible world which you see? Do you think to include it within yourself? Do you think your soul comprehends in an intelligible manner all the beings that God can make, and you can see? Can your Soul, whose bounds are too narrow, whose perfections are finite, and who certainly doth not include all things, see all things by reflecting on herself?  Erast. 
I do not think it; but I dare not tell you my opinion. I imagine that there is none but God that includes the intelligible world, and that we see in God whatever we see.  Theod. 
But why are you afraid to tell freely what you think of it, Erastus? Is there any danger or folly in saying that God alone is our light? That he alone is the perfection and nourishment of the mind, and that we depend from him all manner of ways, not only that we may become more happy, but also more understanding and perfect.  Erast. 
I am afraid that Aristarchus will say I am full of fantastic notions if I say that I see all things in God, as if I affirmed that one may see God even in this life, because whatever is in God is God.  Theod. 
There is a difference between seeing the essence of God, and seeing the essence of things in God. For though we see nothing but God when we see the essence of things in God, we see God but by relation to Creatures, we see the perfections of God but as they represent another thing than God. So that though we see God, and can see nothing but him, since he preserves spirits for himself only, it may in one sense be said that we see nothing but the Creatures. For though God sees nothing but himself, 'tis certain that he sees the Creatures when he sees what is in himself that represents them: Thus though we see God but by an immediate and direct sight we see in God that which represents them, for the Creatures are invisible in themselves.  
There is no corpore●… nor spiritual Creature can act immediately in the soul, and cause itself to be seen by it. God shows us whatever we see, but 'tis in his substance that he shows it us; for the Divine Substance alone can give us life, enlighten and make us happy. We are made to be nourished with that substance and to live by it; and if the spirit hath some life, I mean if it hath some knowledge (for the knowledge of truth is the life of the soul, it receives it from, and in that substance.  
Whatever God hath done, Erastus, he hath done it after his Image, or according to his Image; he hath made the Animals, Plants, and even the Infects according to the Image, or living Idea he hath of them. For he hath made all things by his Son, by his Word, according to the uncreated Wisdom, in which all things live. But he hath not only made man according to his Image or Wisdom; but also for his Wisdom, and to contemplate the Eternal Wisdom that includes the Ideas of all things.  
An Impertinent Philosopher, 
Averrois.  found this fault in the Religion of Christians, that they Eat him whom they adore, condemning our Communion with the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, whom we receive after we have Worshipped him. 
* Pontificius Loquitur.  He did not know that the Wisdom of the Father, the Word that enlightens and nourishes our Spirit, desired to teach us in a sensible manner, and by the real Manducation of his Body, that he is really our Life and Nourishment, and that he hath made our Spirit to know and to love him: For our Spirit ought to love, but what gives it Life, nourishes, makes it more perfect, and is above it, since only this can be his true good.  
If it is certain that our thinking faculty comes from God, 'tis certain that it is made for God, since God Acts only for himself, as Aristarchus owns. But if we do not see things in God, how can it be said that God hath only made, and doth only preserve us for himself; for after all, if Bodies are the immediate object of our Knowledge, our Spirit is partly made to see them: In what sense can it also be said that God preserves the spirits of Devils and the Damned but for himself, if the spirit of those wretches doth not see God in some manner? You will tell me they are Dead; and that is true in some sense, but they perhaps know some truth, and if the knowledge of truth is the life of the Soul, they are not entirely dead, nor annihilated, they have yet some union with the eternal Wisdom, whose light penetrates into the very abyss. They nourish themselves with the word if they have some life left, because he alone is life; but they are not the happier for it, for they wish themselves dead. They nourish themselves with a truth they do not relish; they seek darkness, and annihilation; and wish that this remainder of union with God that enlightens and preserves them, maybreak and dissolve itself for ever.  Arist. 
What do you tell us here; Theodore: Doth the spirit see nothing but God? What! Do we see Error in God? Do the Philosophers see all their Chimaeras in God? And doth the Father of lies receive from God—.  Theod. 
Error cannot be seen Aristarchus, 'Tis neither visible nor intelligible. Truth, is a relation that is; And what is, may be seen. There is a relation of equality between two times two and four, and this relation may be seen because it is. There is a relation of inequality between two times two and five, and this relation of inequality may be seen because it is. So truth is visible or intelligible; but error is not. One cannot see that two times two is five, or a relation of equality between two times two and five, for there is no such relation of equality. One cannot see that two times two is not four, nor a relation of inequality between two times two and four, for there is no such relation of inequality. And thus when men mistake themselves, they do not see the relations which they suppose they see. When a man mistakes himself, he may well see things in God, though after an imperfect manner, but he doth not see the relations that are between things; for those things are, and those relations are not. I will not here explain the cause of our error, and our different ways of falling into it. It hath been done already.  Erast. 
I own, Theodorus, that we see in God the eternal truths and immutable laws of Morality. A finite and changeable spirit cannot see in himself the eternity of those truths, nor the immutability of those laws, 'tis in God, he sees them. But he cannot see in God transitory truths and corruptible things, since there is nothing in God but what is Immutable and Incorruptible.  Theod. 
Yet, Erastus, God sees all the changes that happen in the world, and 'tis in himself only he sees them: It follows then that he sees in himself whatever is subject to change or corruption, though there is nothing in him but is perfectly Immutable and Incorruptible. But all this may be explained thus.  
God hath in himself the Idea (for example) of Extent, since he sees it, and hath made it; and this Idea in Incorruptible. 'Twas his will there should be extended beings, and those beings were produced. 'Twas also his will that those extended parts should be incessantly moved, and communicate naturally their motions to one another. Now this communication of motions which cannot be unknown to God, it being impossible he should not know his will that causes it, is the principle of the mutability, corruption, and generation of all different bodies. Thus God sees in himself the corruption of all things, though he is incorruptible, for whilst he sees in his wisdom the incorruptible Ideas, he sees in his will all corruptible things; since nothing happens but is done by him.  
Now I will tell you how we see all those things in God. All ideas and immutable truths we see in him. As for transitory truths, we do not know them in the will of God, as God himself doth, for his will is unknown to us: But we know them by the sentiment God causes in us at their presence. Thus when I see the Sun I see the Idea of a circle in God, and have in myself the sentiment of light which denotes to me that this Idea represents something that is created, and actually extent: But I have this sentiment from none but God who certainly can cause it in me, since he is Almighty, and sees in the Idea he hath of my Soul, that I am capable of sentiment.  
Thus in all our sensible knowledge of corruptible things, there is pure Idea, and sentiment; the Idea is in God, the Sentiment in us, but God alone is the true Cause of both. The Idea represents the Essence of the thing, and the sentiment only makes us believe that it exists, since it disposes us to believe that the thing causes it in us, because it is then present to our mind, and not the will of God, which alone causes that sentiment in us.  Arist. 
I own that God can enlighten us, and show us in himself all the Ideas we have of things. But why should you have your recourse to this last refuge? At least explode the sentiments of Philosophers upon that subject, that I may the better convince my friend; for without doubt I shall find him prepossessed with some opinion or other differing from yours.  Theod. 
It hath been done already by the Author of the Inquiry after Truth. 
* Lib. 3.  But if your friend finds fault with me for having a recourse to God and the first cause, to explain some certain things, you may tell him that there are two kinds of natural effects: The Particular, and the General: it is ridiculous to have recourse to the general cause to explain particular effects; but 'tis as much amiss to seek some particular cause to explain the general.  
For example, if I am asked why Linen becomes dry when 'tis exposed to fire: I will not answer like a Philosopher, if I say that God will have it so; for 'tis sufficiently known that whatever happens, is by his will. 'Tis not the general cause is demanded, but the particular cause of a particular effect. I ought then to say that the small particles of the fire, or the agitated wood striking against the linen impart their motion to the particles of water that are in it, and loosen them from the linen; and I shall have given the particular cause of the particular effect. But if one asked me, why the particles of the would agitate those of the water, or why bodies communicate their motion to those they meet: I should not be a Philosopher, did I seek some particular cause of that general effect; I ought to have recourse to the general cause, that is to the Will of God, and not to some particular faculties or qualities.  
Now 'tis acknowledged that the effect is general, and that consequently we must have recourse to the general cause, when thesame effect hath no necessary connexion with what seems to be its cause, as it happens in the communication of motion; for the mind sees no necessity why a body, that presses upon another, should push it forwards rather than recoil itself: If then your friend pretends to explain to you the nature and original of Ideas by the scientific terms of innate or visible species of external or internal senses, of the common apprehensions of the active or passable intellect, you may let him know that when a body changes its situation or figure, there is no necessity that there be a new thought in a spirit; And that therefore we must go to the general cause which alone can reconcile things that have no necessary relation with one another. I will lose no time in solving all the difficulties you or your friend may find concerning what I have told you now. You will perhaps find them solved in the third book of the Inquiry after Truth. Let us come to the will of man. I will explain it to you.  
God only making and preserving us for himself, incessantly moves us towards him, that is to say towards good in general, or towards what we conceive to include all good. He even moves us towards particular good without removing us from himself; because he includes that good in the infinity of his being: For as spirits see none but him, in the sense that I have explained, he may incline us towards whatever we see, though he hath made us for himself alone. But we ought to observe that he inclines us invincibly and necessarily towards good in general, because as the love of good in general can never be bad, it was not to be free: But as the love of particular good, though good in itself, may be bad, it was to be in our power to consent to or withstand its motion.  Arist. 
But how can the love of particular good be bad, Theodorus? We only love what we see, we see nothing but God, therefore we love nothing but God when it seems we love the Creatures; how then can our love be bad?  Theod. 
We love nothing but God, Aristarchus, for God preserves us only to love him: But our love is bad when it is not regulated: Or rather our love is always good absolutely and in itself, but it is not relatively good. Our love is always good in itself, for we can never love what seems bad to us: We can love but what we believe to be good and lovely, since 'tis God that makes us love, and that we love none but him, because we love nothing but what we see in him. But our love is bad relatively, because we love too much those things that are least lovely; in short, because instead of loving God in himself, we love him with relation to his Works, for loving only what we see, we love God, but only as he represents a vile creature, and not according to what he is in himself.  
God allows us to love what is in him that represents a creature, for that is good; but he will not have us to fix there the motion of our love: He would have us to love whatever he includes. He would be beloved according to the Idea of Being in general, of Being infinitely perfect, and sovereignly lovely; which Idea hath no relation but to himself, and represents nothing that is out of him. Nothing but the Idea of the infinite good aught to stop the motion of our love; and we are so free in the love of finite good that we even feel the secret reproaches of our reason, when we fix ourselves on it: Because he that made us for himself speaks to us, that we may turn to him, and give no bounds to the motion of love which he incessantly produces in us. All the motion that the soul hath towards good, comes from God, and God only acting for himself, all the motion of the soul hath no other end nor bound than God in the Institution of Nature. God presenting to spirits no other Idea but himself, since he hath made spirits for himself; All the motion of our wills is towards him, since wills move themselves towards those things only which the spirit perceives. But men thinking that they see creatures in themselves, the consent they give to the motion that God imprints in them, ends in the creatures; and it may be said with a great deal of truth that the free will of men, or their consent to the motion they receive from God, tends to the creatures, though the natural motion of their love can tend only to God.  
By this you see Aristarchus, that God preserves spirits for himself only; that the faculties they enjoy, to know and love, know and love none but him; that sinners do not overturn the laws of nature; that they are inviolable; and that this general principle of Religion and Morality, viz. That God hath made us for himself, is undeniable.  Arist. 
But if the order of nature is that we know and love God; and if we cannot resist that order, since the motion of our love for the creatures tends of necessity towards the Creator; how can it be said that we really offend God?  Theod. 
It may be said for many reasons.  
God incessantly moves spirits towards good either general or particular; for all good is to be beloved. He invincibly moves them towards general good, but 'tis otherwise with the impression he gives them towards particular good. God doth not limit towards that good the act which he produces in them: For if we observe it duly, we sufficiently perceive that in the very time when we fix on some finite good, we have some motion to go further if we will. So we offend God by stopping his act, and not letting him act in us according to the full extent of his act.  
The reason why God moves us towards good is because it moves us towards him; and he moves us towards himself because he loves himself. 'Tis then the love of God to himself that produces our love in us, Therefore our love ought to be like to that which God bears to himself: But it is not like it when it concenters in a particular good; it is then unworthy of the cause that hath produced it, and it may be said to be displeasing to him.  
Order is certainly the essential and necessary Will of God, according to which, and by which he wills whatever he wills, for God loves order, he wills nothing but order, his will always follows order: But a creature who loves more those things that are less lovely, thwarts order, withdraws himself from it, and even overthrows it as much as he is capable of it. He resists then to the will of God, and so deserves to come into the order of his justice, since he leaves that of his goodness which is the first and most natural.  
God alone can act in the soul and cause in her some pleasure: And by his decree or general will that makes the order of nature, 'twas his desire that pleasure should attend certain motions in the body. So those that produce in their body these motions without reason & even against the secret reproaches of their reason, oblige God in consequence of his general will to remunerate them by pleasing sentiments, even in the very time when they ought to be punished. They therefore use violence against his justice, and offend him. But they only use this violence, by the love they have for particular good: So this love offends God. For all those who love their pleasure, without minding the true cause that produces it, offend that cause: since God never causes pleasure with an intent that we should fix on it; but rather that we may love the cause that produces the pleasure, and that we may unite with the thing that determines that cause to produce it.  
You see therefore, Aristarchus, that God is offended when we fix the motion of love he causes in us, on particular good. But though you might not see it, you cannot doubt but it is so; for when we confine our love to some particular good, we feel an inward check in the secret of our reason, and a just check is a mark of infidelity against him that causes it, those checks or reproaches can proceed but from a general cause, since they are generally to be found in all mankind, and must therefore be just, since they are caused by a just God; and this just God is offended when we confine our love to particular good. This single Argument is sufficient, for 'tis unnecessary to seek metaphysical proofs of a thing whereof we are convined by inward sentiments, that is, by a light which strikes through the blindest, and by a punishment that stings the most hardened sinners.  Arist. 
I believe all this, and I pray you to go on.  Theod. 
If you believe all this, Aristarchus, you may see your friend, ask him at first if he desires to be happy. Show him that none but God can act, and cause in him that pleasure he loves so much, and that renders him the more happy the greater it is: Let him know that God is just, that he will be obeyed, that it cannot be conceived he should make truly happy those who do not follow his orders, nor unhappy those that follow them; that so we ought to use all our endeavours to know the Will of God, and aught to obey it with all the fidelity imaginable. You are sensible that men must be either stupid or out of their senses, not to see those things, and that those that see them and are not affected with them must either be mad or desperate; but do not tell him so; take heed above all things you do not awaken his passions, and principally his pride; for he would conceive nothing of what you might tell him; make him understand as much as you can, that God acts only for himself; That he hath made our spirit only for himself; That he hath given some motion to our heart, only to incline it towards him; That therefore we ought not to make an ill use of the motion of love which God causes in us, by loving any thing besides him, or without relation to him.  
Make him understand that God is his true good, not only by being alone capable to make him happy, but also because none but God can make him more perfect; not only as he is the cause of pleasure, but also as he is the original of light.  
Endeavour to persuade him that God alone is the life and nourishment of the soul; That all bodies are invisible by themselves, and altogether uncapable of producing any sentiment in our souls; That all good is included in God in an intelligible manner, in a manner fit to act into the mind, to show itself, and cause itself to be felt by it; In short, that God alone is the true good of the mind all manner of ways, and that we ought to love and adore none but him.  
Raise in him a desire to hear you, by things on which perhaps he never thought, and such as may by their novelty stir up in him a salutary curiosity. But above all things, endeavour to make him very sensible of his unjustice towards God, whilst he follows his passions: And that being a sinner, and consequently unworthy of being rewarded by the delightful sentiments of pleasure, he obliges God in consequence of his immutable orders to affect him with delight in the very moment he offends him: Death shall corrupt his body, and then God remaining unchangeable in his decrees, will avenge during a whole eternity the wrongs he shall have done him, by compelling him, in a manner not only to be subservient to his disorders, but even to reward him for his disobedience.  
In short, make him sensible of the necessity there is to repent, and strive to inspire in him a saultary horror of all those criminal pleasures that bewitch the senses, and corrupt the heart and reason: That retiring within himself, the confused noise of his passions may not hinder him from harkening to the secret checks of inward truth, and thus he may understand what you shall tell him afterwards.   

DIALOGUE iv Of the Disorder of Nature caused by Original Sin.  Theod. 
WELL what satisfaction have you had of your last visit to your Friend?  Arist. 
None at all. My Friend becomes ill-humoured when ever I speak to him: nay, sometimes he grows angry, and flies out in a passion. This troubles me very much.  Theod. 
But doth he laugh no more at what you say?  Arist. 
No.  Theod. 
Be of good heart then; your Friend mends, and, I hope, will recover. He gins now to feel his wounds, since he laughs no more when they are dressed.  
Should you wonder to see a man grow ill-humoured and angry if another filled him with wounds, confusion and shame: why then would you have your Friend insensible? You have told him perhaps some truths that oblige him to leave his pleasure, to shake off the Old Man, to be in a disposition to repent, and appear full of confusion and shame in the sense of his unfortunate Friends, who will laugh at his change. He hath had a prospect of all those things within himself, and they have scared him. If he be vexed, 'tis because you have wounded him; and I believe that you have offended him, by Convincing him. Can any thing grieve and mortify a worldly man more, than the thoughts of being obliged to change altogether his way of living, and approve by his own example a manner of life which his Friends ridicule, and he himself hath laughed at with them all his life-time? Perhaps your Friend finds himself obliged to this. He is willing to breakhis bonds, but he tears himself to pieces: his heartis divided, and you wonder at his pain and impatience.  
Know, my dear Aristarchus, that if your Friend heard you without being moved, it would show that he is not affected with your words; that they do not reach his heart; that he is not convinced by that conviction which stirs us to action, gins our conversion, and makes us suffer, because it strips us of the Old Man. So, I would have you be joyful, not because you have filled your Friend with sadness, but because his sadness is in all likelihood the sadness that inclines us to repentance.  Arist. 
You revive me extremely. Let us go on I pray you in our conferences, that I may strengthen myself in the knowledge of the proofs of Religion and Morality to convince my Friend fully.  
You proved me t'other day that God hath made us to know and love him. Pray what consequence do you draw from that principle? For I grant that God will not have us to fix on particular good the motion of Love that he incessantly causes in us, that we may love him incessantly, not with respect to his works, which being below us, are unworthy of our Love, but in himself, and according to the idea we have of him, as a Being infinitely perfect.  Theod. 
All the Precepts of Christian Morals depend upon that Principle. You believe it already, but you shall see it clearly, when I shall make use of it to justify the counsels which the Eternal Wisdom hath given us in the Gospel.  
I will show you now that this principle is the ground of the Christian Religion, that owns the need of a Restorer, and Lawgiver, able to illuminate the Spirit, and give a new strength to the Soul; of a Mediator between God and Men, who may offer a Sacrifice, and establish a Worship worthy of God, and able to satisfy his justice.  
You own that God will be loved with all our strength, that is to say, that all the motion of love he creates in us, end towards him, and that we love creatures only for him, and not him with respect to creatures. But do you love him always after that manner? do you find no difficulty in the practice of his Love? do you feel no pain to follow this motion to its utmost, or no pleasure to stop it. In short, do you not find often that the ways of virtue are hard and painful, and those of vice smooth and pleasing?  Arist. 
I am not more perfect than St. Paul. I sometimes delight in the love of God according to the inward man, but I feel in my body another law that fights against the law of my spirit. I suffer when I practise virtue: I receive some pleasure in the enjoyment of sensible things in spite of all my opposition; and am so much a slave to my body, that I cannot even apply myself without pain and reluctancy to things that have no relation to the body.  Theod. 
But whence proceeds this pain you resent in doing well, and this pleasure you have in doing ill? You are not the cause of your own pleasure nor pain, for if you were, seeing you love yourself, you would never produce pain in yourself, and would still be enjoying some pleasure. Neither is it your body, not those that are about you; for all bodies are below you, and it cannot be conceived that they may act in you, or make you happy or unhappy. None but God can act in the Soul. But do you think that God afflicts you when you do well, or that he rewards you when you do ill? Do you think that God who desireth that you may love him with all your strength, throws you back when you run after him? But when you cease to follow him, and stop at some particular good, do you think that he fixes you on it by the pleasure you find in it.  Erast. 
What are you afraid of, Aristarchus? Is it not plain that God alone can act in us? hath not Theodorus demonstrated it to you? why do you hesitate? will you already leave Principles plainly demonstrated for an objection you cannot solve? will you prefer darkness to light? Yes 'tis God—  Theod. 
Softly, Erastus, I esteem the firmness of your mind, but I like the disposition wherein I find Aristarchus better in this case: he fears to fail in point of respect towards God, and that there may be something hard and violent in the consequence I would draw.  Erast. 
I have thought on your System, Theodore, and can explain all this without saying any thing hard or displeasing. What you just now did object to Aristarchus plainly evinces original sin, the disorder of nature, the enmity that is between God and man, the necessity of a Mediator, Lawgiver and Restorer; in short, it seems to me that I have a glimpse of the Christian Religion in that Principle.  Arist. 
You go very fast, Erastus. I pray you, Theodore, demonstrate that the proof of original sin is to be found (as Erastus pretends) in those things you told me just now.  Theod. 
How, Aristarchus, do you not see it? Do you not remember the system which I explained to you two days ago? But 'tis no matter. I ask you; Is it not a disorder, that a spirit who is made for none but God, should suffer when he loves God?  Arist. 
But you say, that it is God that makes him suffer.  Theod. 
I own it; But is it not a disorder, that God who hath made spirits for none but himself, and gives them no motion but towards himself should repel them from him, push them back, and use them ill when they come near him, and cause in them sentiments of pleasure when they turn from him, and fix on some particular good?  Arist. 
This is not only a disorder, but a contradiction. This cannot be. God doth not contradict, nor oppose himself.  Theod. 
But, Aristarchus, Is it not certain that God makes, and preserves us for none but himself? Is it not also most certain that God alone acts in the Soul, and gives her sensations of pleasure or pain, when she cleaves to bodies, or when she deprives herself of them. Is it not God that moves us to love him? and also to love bodies, if the pleasure we feel at their appearance may be reckoned a sufficient reason for a rensonable spirit to love then.  Arist. 
It is true. But how?  Theod. 
I have already explained it to you. But yet can this disorder, this fight of God against himself (give me leave to use these expressions for a while) this want of uniformity we imagine to be in God's Actions, proceed from God? God made man for himself, and even preserves him for himself only; but when a man quits the body to unite himself to God by the force of meditation, when a man walks in the ways of virtue to come near God he feels pain, and this pain proceeds from none but God? Doth not this show that God is angry with us, and that we have displeased him? If God will have us to run after him and to follow and seek him, is it possible he can reject and push us back, and make us resent pain when we really follow him, unless at the same time there be some Enmity between us and him? Why doth he repel us when we follow him, but because we are unworthy to come near him? And how are we unworthy to come near him, since he is the end of our Creation, unless it be because we are no more such as God had made us, and he doth not care for us as we are now, and we want a Restorer and a Mediator.  Arist. 
I doubt you have not well demonstrated yet the Enmity which you believe to be between God and men. You say that God repels us when we would come near him, because he makes us have a sense of pain in the practice of virtue and the inquiry after truth.  
But I have two things to object to you; First that if it seems that God repess and molests us by Sentiments of pain, on the other side he comforts us in the deepest recess of our reason; for we feel an inward joy in the practice of virtue which makes us know sufficiently that God is our good; and if God did not desire we should love him, he would not reward us with this inward comfort; nor create in us those bitter checks and reproaches that make us uneasy in the enjoyment of sensible good.  Secondly, 
God doth not repel and thrust us from him when we run after him; he only gives us notice by sentiments of pain to seek somewhere else than in him the good of the body. And as meditation is not conducible to our health, we ought to feel some pain in its practice, that we may leave it off; for all sensible pleasures or pains, are only warn to the body: and you ought not to think that God will have us love or hate any thing for the sake of the pleasures or pains we receive in the use of them; God will have us to seek or avoid them, for the preservation of the Body, as you said two days ago, but he will not have us love or fear them.  Theod. 
Whatever you have said now is true, Aristarchus, but it doth not overthrow what I had established before. I own that God comforts us by an inward joy when we love him, and that he torments us by knawing checks when we love the good of the body. After all, what doth this prove? nothing else but that God will have us to love him, and that he hath made us for himself. It is a certain mark that the enmity between God and men is not full and general; but it is not a sure sign of a perfect friendship.  
Sinners have offended God, there is enmity between them and God, you do not doubt it; and yet God recalls them to him by checks and reproaches: Yet this doth not show that he loves them perfectly, but only that the enmity is not entire and absolute, for it cannot be such, without causing their destruction. And do not imagine that these checks alone, such as the Heathens felt them, could make them come back, reconcile and rejoin themselves to their principle. This call was only to justify God's conduct, and condemn that of Sinners. For in all likelihood it is to be found even amongst the Damned, who will be eternally recalled, and eternally repelled and condemned; those checks being a condemnation of their malice. None return but such as are called back in Jesus Christ; for nothing but his grace can make this Call efficacious: without the grace of Christ, sensible attractions have a greater power than this inward call. God bushes us back more than he draws us to him, and if he will have us because he made us, he will not have us such as we have made ourselves; far from this, as such he cannot suffer us near him, and always removes us from him.  
Yet, Aristarchus, it is true that God is too just, and loves himself too much not to desire to be beloved, and to remove positively from him creatures whom he only made for himself; for sensible pleasure or pain removes from God but indirectly and by our own fault: First, because being able to find out by reason that bodies are incapable of creating in us either pleasure or pain, we ought neither to fear nor love them, but God alone who hath power to cause these sensations in us.  
When something wounds us we ought to fear God; and when our senses are any ways pleased we ought to think on him, and fear and love him in all things: For it is a common notion, that the true cause of pleasure and of pain ought to be loved and feared. But our ignorance of the actual presence and continual operation of this true cause of our sensations makes us love and fear bodies, imagining them to be capable to act in us.  
Now this ignorance is not something positive, caused in us by God: it is nothing. It is true that not to love or fear bodies, it is absolutely necessary we should have a very clear and lively knowledge of the presence and continual operation of God upon us; for the knowledge which Philosophy gives us of him doth not strongly enough dispose us to cleave incessantly to him.  
But what can be concluded from God's not causing himself to be known enough without his grace, to be Loved and feared in all things, but that men have offended and displeased him.  
God doth not therefore remove us positively from him, when he causes some pleasure or pain in us by the means of bodies, since we ought and may then think on him rather than on those bodies. Now I come to the second reason.  
Seeing we have a body, it is necessary we should have notice of what passes in it. It is necessary that at the appearance of objects we have sentiments moving us to cleave to, or shun them. It is also necessary that these sentiments be preingaging for some reasons that I have mentioned elsewhere.  
So God doth not positively remove us from him, when he causes in us our sentiments, since on the contrary it is the shortest means to warn us of the things that are necessary for the preservation of life without turning us away from him.  
But those preingaging Sentiments ought not to disturb us, nor oppose our Reason; and seeing they do, it is evident, as I have already said it, 
2d. Dial.  That Man doth not deserve God should interrupt the Law of the communication of motions for his sake: but this doth not imply, that God really bushes us back from him.  
In short, men see all things in God; their immediate object is the intelligible world, and the very substance of God; but they not thinking on him at the appearance of sensible objects, imagine that some outward being altogether like the Idea they have of it, acts in them: Thus God moves them only towards himself, since he only moves them towards what they see, and not towards those things which they imagine to be external, and it is only indirectly and through a mistake that they love the creatures which are neither so lovely, nor such as they imagine them to be.  Erast. 
You are much in the right Theodorus, when you believe that the first cause of our disorders, is our not having God always present to our minds; and not seeing or rather not feeling him in all things. For did we plainly and sensibly see, that none but God really acts in us when bodies are present to our senses; methinks we would fear and love none but him, since we love or fear nothing but what acts in us.  
How then could Adam estrange himself from God? for he could see God in all things, and had all the knowledge, that was necessary to remain united to him. If you do not explain how he could fall into sin; perhaps Aristarchus will believe that the first man was made such as we are, and that concupiscence is not so much a punishment for sin, as the first institution of Nature.  Theod. 
You need not fear it, Erastus, he knows now that we ought not to leave a demonstrated Truth, because we cannot solve some difficult Points; he now sticks to what he sees. But I understand what you mean, and answer you thus.  
The first man did clearly see God in all things; he evidently knew that bodies could not be his true good, nor properly make him in the least happy or unhappy, he was fully convinced of God's continual operation on him; but his was no sensible conviction, he knew this but did not feel it: on the contrary he could feel that bodies acted on him, though he could not know that they did it. It is true that being endowed with reason, he ought to have followed his light and not his sentiment; and that he could easily have done it, seeing he could stop his sentiments when he pleased, being free from concupiscence. However deferring too much to his senses, and suffering himself by degrees to hearken to them more willingly than to God himself, by reason that the senses always move pleasingly, and God did not move him to hear him by preingaging pleasures, which must have lessened his Freedom; you easily conceive how he came to remove himself so far from God, as to lose sight of him, to adjoin in will to a creature by whose means he received some satisfaction: and which he might then confusedly imagine to be capable of making him as happy, as the Serpent assured Eve, it would. For though Adam was not attacked, nor seduced by the Serpent, as Eve was. And Adam was not deceived, 1 Tim. 2.14. Yet what God said after Adam's fall, Behold the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil, Gen. 3.22. Sufficiently shows that he had some hopes of becoming happy by the means of the forbidden Fruit. Now to determine us to do a thing, there is no absolute necessity that we be fully persuaded that our Motive is just and reasonable. The hopes of a great benefit, though never so small, are capable of making us do much. So we may suppose that Adam was so strongly applied to sensible Objects, and, consequently, so far removed out of God's presence, that the least hope, the slightest doubt, and the most confused sentiment of so great an advantage as that of being like God, hath been capable of moving him to do a thing, which he did not, perhaps, think very sinful at the time of his Fall.  
All finite Spirits must be subject to Error and Sin, principally if they resent preingaging pleasures, which incline them to seek things that they ought not to love, and to shun what they ought not to fear. For no finite Spirit can actually resent pleasure, without actually dividing the capacity he hath to think, and lessening the knowledge of his duty, without being removed by it out of God's presence, in short, without weakening by little and little his love and his fear, insomuch that actual pleasure seems a Reason, or sufficient Motive to love what is not worthy of our love.  
Adam ought to have remained fixed and unmoveable in the presence of God, and not have suffered the capacity of his spirit to be divided by all those pleasures that were in perfect subjection to his Will, and used only to warn him of what he was to do for the preservation of his life; and as he should, so he could have done it. And had he made a good use of his , during the time prescribed for a Reward, he should have been confirmed in his Righteousness, not only by a more clear knowledge of God's continual operation on him, but by a sensible knowledge which invincibly fixes on God, all Spirits naturally desiring to be happy. For the Saints do not only see by a Far-fetched, and Metaphysical Sight, that God alone is capable of acting in them, and making them happy: But they also feel it by an ●nspeakable comfort which God diffuses in them, which ●enetrates them, and unites them with him so strongly, ●hat they cannot forsake him to love any thing else.  
I speak of those things according to the present knowledge of human understanding; and do not pre●end always to certify the truth or existence of things, when I answer to what may be objected to me; my utmost Design is to prove their Possibility.  Arist. 
This is sufficient Theodore; But how would ●ou explain the Transmission of Original Sin, and the ●eneral Disorder of human Nature? For it is our Soul ●hat hath sinned, and is corrupt. How comes it to ●e possible, that coming from the hands of God, they ●row corrupt as soon as they are united to Bodies?  Theod. 
Our Soul is made to love God. She keeps ●n the Order of her Creation when she loves him; that ●s to say, when the motion which God gives her, carries ●er towards him in the Sense that I explained it to you yesterday. On the contrary, she strays from the Order, when having a motion sufficient to reach to God, she stops at some particular good, and thus hinders God's Act in her. I do not believe it can be conceived, that she can be orderly or disorderly another way. If then I demonstrate, that by reason of the Union which Children have with their Mother, the Soul of Children is by necessity turned towards Bodies, that their Soul loves only Bodies, and all her motion confines itself to some sensible thing from the moment she is formed; I shall have demonstrated the cause of the general disorder of Nature, and how we are all born in Sin.  
I prove it thus. There is no Woman but hath in her Brain some Impression that represents to her sensible things; either because she actually sees Bodies, or receives her nourishment from them. You do not doubt of this; for, after all, we must at least eat to live; and we cannot eat, but our Brain receives some Impression of it, since we remember it. There happens also no Impression in the Brain, without being followed by some Emotion in the Spirits, which doth incline the Soul to the love of the thing that is present to the mind at the time of that Impression; that is to say, to the love of this or that Body: for Bodies only can act on the Brain. 
See the 7th Chapter of the 2d Book of the Inquiry after Truth.  In short, there is no Woman but hath in her Brain some steps and vestiges or some motion of Spirits which makes her think, and carries her to sensible things. Now when the Child is in his Mother's Womb, he feels the same Impression and Emotion of Spirits with his Mother; therefore in that state he knows and loves Bodies. The daily Instances we have of Children that fear or abhor those things that frighted their Mother whilst they were with Child, sufficiently shows, that they have had the same Impression, and consequently the same Ideas and Passions as their Mothers; since they sometimes never saw since they were born those things which they so much abhor. And those Instances even show us, that the Impressions and Agitations are greater, and consequently the Ideas and Passions more lively in Children, than in their Mothers, since they remain affected with them, and oftentimes their Mothers no more remember it.  
I perceive, Erastus, that you wonder to hear me say that Children see, imagine, and desire the same things with their Mothers.  Erast. 
I must own, that this amazes me, but it seems to me demonstrated, however there being holy Women, and full of the love of God, how come their Children to be Sinners?  Theod. 
It is because the love of God doth not communicate itself like the love of Bodies; the reason whereof is, that God is not sensible; and that there are no steps in the Brain, that by the institution of Nature do represent God, nor any of those things that are purely intelligible.  
A Woman may well represent to herself God in the Form of a Reverend old Man: but whilst she thinks on God, her Child shall think on an old Man; when she loves God, her Child will love old Men; and this love of old Men doth not a justify. All the Vestiges in the Brains of Mothers communicate themselves to Children: But the Ideas that are joined to those Vestiges, by the Will of Man, or by the Identity of Time, and not by Nature, do not communicate themselves to them; for Children in the Womb are not as knowing and holy as their Mothers.  Erast. 
But, Theodore, Children are not free: I own, they love Bodies; but they cannot hinder themselves from loving them. How then are they Sinners? How are they corrupt?  Theod. 
Their Sin is not of their own choosing, nor free and voluntary; yet they are corrupt. For all Spirits that are averse from God, and inclined towards corporeal Being's, do not follow God's Orders, if it be true that God will be loved more than Bodies.  
Concupiscence is not a Sin in virtuous persons, because there is in them a love of choice that opposes it. Concupiscence doth not reign in them, but it reigns in Children; their natural love is bad, and they have no other.  
When two sorts of loves are to be found in a heart, God regards only that love which is free; so Dreams are not sinful in pious Men, because the love of choice that went before, leaves in the Soul a disposition that carries and turns her towards God. But in a Child, who was never turned towards God, nothing but his Nature, and what God has fixed in him by the Decree of his first Will can be good; he is a Child of wrath, and must of necessity be damned: For it cannot be conceived that God will ever reward the disposition of his heart, except you also conceive that God rewards disorder.  Era. 
But, Theodore, Was not what you call Disorder put into the Child by God himself? Since it is by the Decree of his Will, that upon certain motions of the Brain, certain thoughts should result in the Soul, and the communication that is between the Brain of the Mother, and that of the Child, was established by God.  The. 
I own it, Erastus, however it is not amiss: It was requisite that the Vestiges in the Brain, and the motions of the Spirits, should be attended with the thoughts and agitations of the Soul, for the Reasons I have already told you, the chief whereof is, That Bodies do not deserve the application of a Spirit that is made for none but God. It was necessary that Adam should be told by preingaging Sentiments, by short and unquestionable Proofs, that such and such things were good for his Body. It was fit also, that the impressions on the Mother's Brain should communicate themselves to that of the Child, for the full conformation of his Body. Those things are most wisely established; Disorder is only found in Desire.  
It is good that there result in the Soul certain thoughts, when certain impressions form themselves in the Brain; but it is not good that those impressions prompt us to the love of sensible things, and do not vanish when we desire it, or that our Body be not submitted to us. Now the Sin of the first Man hath caused this; for he became unworthy by his Sin, that God should suspend the communication of motions for his sake: so not being able to hinder the impression of the Bodies that act on us, from reaching as far as the chief part of the Brain, which is the seat of the Soul, we have of necessity the sentiments and motions of Concupiscence, though God doth nothing else in us but deprive us of the power to hinder the natural communications of motions, that is to say, without acting in us. For Concupiscence precisely as such is nothing; it is in us only a want of power over our Body, which want proceeds from our Sin only, since it would be just without it that our Body were submitted to us.  Erast. 
I perceive plainly, Theodorus, that the union of our Spirit with our Body proceeds from God, and that our being Slaves to our Body, proceeds from Sin. All that is plain. But you, Aristarchus, are you persuaded of the Sentiments and Proofs of Theodorus?  Arist. 
I dare not assent to them, for I fear to be mistaken.  Erast. 
Perhaps it is because Theodorus speaks of the transmission of original Sin, as of a thing not impossible to be explained, and you have hitherto believed it to be unexplainable; this may have prepossessed you: Or it may be your Sceptical Friends have so often laughed at the simplicity of those that believe what the Church teaches, that your imagination hath been formerly somewhat spoiled by it. For my part I remember that some time ago I was half stunned by the reflection of the amazement that appeared in the looks of one of those false learned, at the appearance of an imaginary difficulty. But remembering what Theodorus tells me continually, not to suffer myself to be imposed upon by the Air and sensible impression of Men, I retired within myself, and could not help laughing at my panic fear.  Arist. 
Do you think, Erastus, that I am so much a Fool as to let myself be imposed on.  Erast. 
You are too wise to do so, Aristarchus; but you are not yet wise enough not to receive some impression by the bold way and commanding Air of so many People that come to see you. It is impossible to be always upon our guard, and compare incessantly men's words with the answers of inward truth; and you shall give me leave to tell you, that I even observed but two days ago by your countenance, that you are a Man born for company; that you are very full of complaisance, and very easily embrace the Sentiments of others: yet the business was of moment.  Arist. 
I remember it, it is true I was moved, that person spoke to me in a very strong and lively manner, but I soon came to myself.  Theod. 
Perhaps it is because the thing nearly concerned you, and you were not then about a Philosophical Question, or certain Points of Religion that have nothing common with the Senses.  Arist. 
It is true, but really I will no longer believe Men upon their word.  Theod. 
No, you do not believe them upon their word, for words being arbitrary, persuade only as far as they enlighten the mind; but the Air persuades naturally, and by impression: It persuades insensibly, and without letting us even know what it is that we are persuaded of; for all it can do by itself is to agitate and trouble. I say it to you, Aristarchus, you confusedly believe above a million of things which you do not know, and which the Commerce you have with the World hath heaped on your memory. But be not vexed at it, there is no man but hath a very great number of those confused Notions, for we are all sensible. There is no man made for Society, but is fastened to other men, and receives in his brain the same impressions as those who speak to him with some emotion and force; and those impressions are attended by those confused judgements whereof I am speaking.  
Do not imagine that none but Children see and desire what their Mother sees and desires, as I told you just now, when I explained to you the propagation of original Sin. All men live by opinion, they commonly see and desire things, as those they converse with, proportionately to the need they have of their help. Children are so strongly united with their Mothers, that they see nothing but what she sees. But men are capable to see and think of themselves, they are not so narrowly united to other men, seeing they can live alone, they can think alone; but seeing they cannot live conveniently out of Society, they never think easily, and without pain, but when they suffer themselves to be persuaded by the air and way of those who speak to them.  
Is it not true, Aristarchus, that there are some Persons who have prepossessed you against what I have said to you now of original Sin; not as Erastus thinks, by laughing at those things, for you are too well converted to have still any deference for the silly banters of the false learned; but rather gravely and piously inspiring you with a secret aversion for some Sentiments that seem new, and are too clear for such as are not used to see the light.  
I know it, Aristarchus, and plainly perceive, that nothing but the disorder which they have caused in your mind by the darkness of their terms, and the decisive and scientific air of their quality, hinders you from assenting to what I have told you now. But let not this make you uneasy, there is a great number of others distinguished by the same outward marks of Piety and Learning, that approve what your Friends condemn. If I thought it fit to convince you by Authority than by Reason, I would let you see them; but you ought to convince yourself by such Proofs as may be acceptable to the Person whom you design to convert. The most honest men are not infallible, even all those who seem so, are not such. But however it be, it is better to be sensible to light, than to the most pious and most sanctified Air; because God always enlightens, and oftentimes the Way and Air imposes and seduces.  Arist. 
This is true, Theodorus, but I fear that your Sentiment is not conformable to that of the holy Fathers.  Theod. 
But what occasion have you to fear it? Have you ever read any thing contrary to it in the Fathers? I see you have been told so gravely, and you have believed it in the simplicity of your heart.  
Hath not St. Austin, who best understood the corruption of Nature, explained the propagation of Original Sin, by the example of hereditary Diseases? By that of gouty Parents, who beget Children subject to the Gout. And of the sick Trees, which yield a corrupted Seed, that produces nothing but bad Trees? For he knew that Original Sin can only communicate itself by the body, because its principle is in the body, and that in some sense it dwells in the body, as St. Paul saith.  
As for the other Fathers that lived before St. Austin, they never undertook to make a particular discussion of the manner in which the transmission of that Sin could be explained. Their Age was neither so incredulous nor malicious as ours; and it was not then necessary to give probable explications of our mysteries, to make those who called themselves Christians believe them.  
No, Aristarchus, I could never find that the Fathers were against what I have told you now: But I wonder to see that you who formerly used to treat the Church's Authority with so much indifference, are now so full of Veneration for the Fathers, as to be afraid without cause of dissenting from them, by admitting some explications wherein we are not always obliged to follow them, provided we keep with them to the Faith and Doctrine of the Church.  
You are too credulous, and your apprehensions are not just; you do not meditate enough; you are like those Children who walk by night without a light, that are afraid of all things, because they see nothing.  
Whilst you did lead a careless sort of life, the air of the Libertines used to persuade you; and now you suffer yourself to be convinced by the air of piety and gravity of certain persons, who have not always as much light and charity, as opinion and false zeal. You are less in danger of being mistaken, but yet you are not in the way of truth. You ought to believe what must be believed, but you ought to see what may, and consequently what must, be seen. I hope that if you make serious Reflections on the things, I have told you, without troubling yourself with what your Friends think of it, your Uncertainties will be cleared, and you will no more suffer yourself to be scared by a sort of Men who assume an unjust power over the mind of others, instead of bringing them to Reason by light and evidence.  
I leave you, with Erastus, to confer together upon those things I have said to you, meditate with him, and endeavour either to convince yourself, or to offer to me (that is) in a clear and evident manner, the Reasons that hinder you from doing it.   

DIALOGUE V Of the Reparation of Nature by Jesus Christ.  Arist. 
WE have made many Reflections, Erastus, and I, upon Original Sin, and the Contagion that spreads itself in Spirits: And have even found that Original Sin is transmitted into Children in some manner, as the Sentiments and Passions of passionate men communicate themselves to those that are in their presence. For as the union that is between men for the benefit of Society, is the cause why a man by the air of his Face stamps on the brain of such as are touched by it, the same impressions which the Passion that moves him forms within him; 
See the 7th Chapter of the 2d Book of the Inquiry after Truth.  so the union of the Mother with her Child being very strict, and the Child's wants very great, the Child's imagination must needs be sullied by all the impressions and emotions of mind that incline the Mother to sensible things.  Theod. 
Thus, Aristarchus, those that live in the hurry of the world, that are held by too many things, that never consult their reason, but suffer themselves to be convinced, moved and run down by every one that hath some strength of imagination, and whose air being lively, is consequently insectious, those civil men of the Town, born for Company, who are always so ready to receive their Friends Sentiments; in a word, Aristarchus, those Persons that are such as you have been till now, for you are the civilest and most complaisant Gentleman I ever knew, those Persons, I say, that are like you, have a double portion of Original Sin, that which they received from their Mother when they were in her womb, and that which they have sucked in by the commerce of the world.  
You are happy, Aristarchus, in being able to withstand the impression of those two Sins. How indebted are you not to inward truth for calling you back so loudly as to be heard by you in spite of the confused noise of your senses and passions! You retire, sometimes within yourself, as if your Reason was not corrupted, and the concupiscence of original Sin had not been strengthened, nor increased by a concupiscence of thirty years standing. You are so much altered to day from what you were yesterday, that I believe you will no longer find any considerable difficulty in our following Conferences. For all that hindered you from apprehending my sentiments, proceeded from the obscurity and disorder wherein the converse of the world had thrown you: so that being delivered from that disorder, and resolved to retire incessantly within yourself, you will hearken to the decisions of that truth that presides to all spirits.  Arist. 
Yes, Theodorus, I renounce all the impressions that used to prejudice me. I plainly see that all manner of union to sensible things, estrangeth and removeth us from truth: that the union which I had in my Mother's womb, made me a Sinner: that the union which I have had with my Relations, hath only given me a knowledge of the world, useful indeed to unite me with it, and make myself considerable in it, but altogether unprofitable to the inquiry after truth. In short, that the union which I have had with my Friends and other Men, hath filled me with a very great number of most dangerous prejudices, which you know better than I. I have hitherto lived by Opinion, I desire now to live by Reason. I will believe nothing but what Faith and Charity oblige me to believe; in all other things I will consult inward truth, and believe only what it shall tell me. I mistrust all Men, and even you Theodorus: you may speak as much as you please, I will not believe you the sooner for it, if truth doth not speak as well as you. Your way of speaking is able to impose upon Men, your Air is that of a Man persuaded of what he saith, and that Air is persuasive; you ought to be feared as well as others. I honour and love you, but I honour and love truth more than you; and only love you so much the more, as I find you more united to that truth I love, than a world of others.  Theod. 
You are now in the best disposition of a true Philosopher, and a true Friend; for there is nothing but truth that enlightens true Philosophers, and unites true Friends. I desire you to observe and love in me nothing but truth. I speak to you, but I do not enlighten you. I am not your light, nor your good, therefore do not believe me. If my Air and way of expression make an impression on your imagination, I would have you to know that it is not with a design to impose upon you. I have no design in it, I speak naturally; and if I have some design, it is only that of awakening your attention, by something that may penetrate you.  Arist. 
I believe it, Theodorus; and as you would be sorry to deceive me, you will not take it ill if I am ware of you, and do not believe you upon your word. But go on, I pray you. I am inwardly convinced of the matters which you proved to me yesterday, and even of your way of explaining the transmission of Original Sin.  Theod. 
I told you yesterday some things that are not absolutely necessary for what will follow. There is no necessity of your being persuaded of the manner how Adam could happen to fall, nor how his Sin could transmit itself into his Offspring. It is enough that you know that Men are born in Sin and Corruption; that there is an enmity between God and them; that their body is not under their subjection; and that consequently their mind is in darkness, and their heart in sin and disorder.  
You cannot doubt of these things, if you are persuaded of what I told you yesterday, or make some reflections on the struggling that you feel within you of yourself against yourself, of the law of your mind against that of your body, of yourself after the inward man, against yourself after the outward and sensible man.  
You believe, Aristarchus, that the order of things is reversed, it must therefore be re-establisht. But how shall that be done? Shall it be by the Heathens Philosophy? They are ignorant of our Ills, and cannot cure them. Shall it be by the Religion of the Deists? They will not admit of a Mediator. Shall it be by the Law of Mahomet? it increaseth Concupiscence. Shall it be then by the Law of Moses? it is just and holy, I own it; but who shall keep it? It shows us Sin, it makes us sensible of the decease, it makes us know the want of the Physician, and the need of Grace, that there must be a Mediator to reconcile Mankind to God; but it doth not give us that Mediator: it promises, represents and gives us an image of him, but it doth not possess him. Moses himself hath need of an Intercessor to God; and if he was a Mediator and Intercessor between God and his People, it was only as a Type of the true Mediator between God and men. His Mediation was only to obtain for them a long life upon earth, and temporal enjoyments, for he doth not promise them Heaven: he doth not reunite them to God: he doth not merit them Charity. In fine, he doth not send them the Holy Ghost, that alone removes the fear of Slaves, and alone gives right to the inheritance of Children.  
None but Christ is capable to make peace between God and men: for none but him can atone the justice of God, by the excellency of his Sacrifice; intercede to God, by the dignity of his Priesthood; obtain all things, and send us the Holy Ghost, by the quality of his Person. None but him that came down from Heaven, can take us thither with him; and none but him that is united to God by an union of substance, can reunite us to God by a supernatural union; none but the true Son of God can entitle us to his Adoption.  
God having made all things by his Son, and for him, it was just he should repair all things by him, and establish him Head of his Church, Judge over his People, and Sovereign Lord of all the Creation.  
Who but God-man could retribute to God an honour worthy of him, have a fellow-suffering of our miseries, and sanctify them in his Person? Who but him could be predestinated before the beginning of time, as a work worthy of God, represented in all Ages as the end of the Law, and wished for by all Nations, as the only Person able to deliver them from their misery?  
Man being become sensible and carnal, it was necessary that the Word should be made Man, that the intelligible Light should make himself sensible, and that he who enlightens all Men in the deepest recess of their reason, should instruct them likewise by their Senses, by Miracles, Parables, and familiar Comparisons.  
United as we are to all corporeal Being's, and having a dependence upon whatsoever we are united to, it was necessary that we should be taught Self-denial, Privation and Repentance, and strengthened by the cherishing delights of Grace, as also comforted by the sweetness of Hope.  
The Christian Religion doth whatever ought to be done: and Christian Morality teaches whatsoever ought to be known. But I must prove to you more at large, and by a method that may convince your Friend, that none but the Christian Religion can re-establish the Order that Sin hath reversed.  
I begin with those things that concern Religion, and then will come to Morality.  
I pray you therefore to be attentive, Aristarchus. Do you believe that God is merciful?  Arist. 
Can I not believe it?  Theod. 
And do you believe that he is just?  Arist. 
Yes certainly.  Theod. 

* This Work being chief against such as have but little deference to the Authority of the Fathers, I do not quote them to prove my Assertions, tho' I give their Arguments, when I judge them proper for my design. When I quoted The Inquiry after Truth, the Reason was, that the Reader may see in that Book the things that I have not sufficiently explained in this. However, it is easy to perceive, that I do not pretend to convince any one by the Authority of that Book, I quote it as Geometricians do Euclid and Apollonius.  You must believe then that it is impossible that Sin can remain unpunished, and that God must needs revenge himself on such as offend him, and that it is necessary that he satisfy himself, by atoning his Justice.  Arist. 
I don't know that Theodorus, for being merciful, he can pardon when he pleaseth.  Theod. 
But can he be willing to do it?  Arist. 
What a Question that is! Men themselves can do that.  Theod. 
Men can forgive when they are offended: they ought not to revenge themselves, nor have they power to do it. As they love themselves to excess, they would be sure to exceed; being Sinners, they would condemn themselves; and whatsoever offends them being ordained by God, they would be guilty of Rebellion. For the only thing wherein God hath no hand, to wit, the inward malice of their Enemies, doth them no harm: they have no right to oblige others to love them, neither can they take any revenge for want of that love that doth not belong to them.  
But if Men had received the sovereign wisdom and power to judge and punish, if their essential Will was the Order, if they could not act against that Order, might they not punish such Crimes as would be committed against God, or pardon Sin and Disorder, and yet not offend the Law and Order?  
But supposing they could, do you think they might also secure to Sinners the means of attaining Felicity?  
They would certainly make an ill use of their power, and by overthrowing the order of Justice, prove themselves Sinners, and thereby be altogether destitute of either love to God, or zeal for his glory.  
Do you think God can reverse the essential order of things, or fight against himself? Do you imagine it is possible he should not love himself, or forbear his own satisfaction, by neglecting his Justice, and that mercy which you conceive to be a virtue in us; to be a perfection in God?  
No, Aristarchus, God is not merciful in the same manner as we are; that Clemency would be contrary to his Justice. That Sinners be happy, implies contradiction, if not on the part of Sinners, at least on that of him that is omnipotent, and cannot act against the essential order of things, on the part, I say, of him that is essentially just. God must punish Sin, and if he hath a mind to spare those that commit it, for the end that he proposed to himself in the construction of his work, it is necessary that a Sacrifice more worthy of his greatness and justice than they are, should receive the blow that was to make them eternally miserable. Thus God may be merciful.  
Things being thus, you easily see what need we stand in of Christ's satisfaction. That the Mediator of the Arians and Socinians, is a Mediator who can never atone for them, nor reconcile them to God: And that none but those who believe that Jesus Christ is really God, because none but a God can justify and save us, in a word that none but those who call upon Christ by that name which the Scripture gives him, that expresses so well his qualities, Jehovah Justitia nostra, God our Righteousness, can have a full assurance in his Sacrifice.  
Observe, Aristarchus, that God doth whatever he ought to do.  Arist. 
But God lieth under no obligation to any one.  Theod. 
I own it. But God doth whatever he is obliged to for his own sake. Men offend and oppose him, and overturn the order of things: ought not he then to revenge himself, satisfy his Justice, and punish those that offend him? For I grant that, as for our sakes, God is obliged to do no more than he pleaseth: But he is obliged to do something for himself, and that being granted, it is just to believe that he will not omit to do it; for he loveth himself, and is willing to do whatever he ought to do for himself. I own that there is no Law that constrains him, but that he is to himself his own Law. However he is to himself inviolably a Law, and must of necessity love himself, tho' nothing forces him to love himself, but himself.  Arist. 
But, Theodorus, will you dive into God's Counsels, and give Bounds to his Wisdom and Power? Do you think that God could not satisfy his Justice otherwise, than by the death of his Son? If it be so—  Theod. 
I understand you, Aristarchus, God's Justice could have been satisfied by a thousand other means. The least Suffering; the least Action of God-Man could fully satisfy God's Justice for all our Crimes; for the merit of it is infinite, by the dignity of the Person. But God could not be fully satisfied by any other Satisfaction, than that of a Divine Person. Nothing is worthy of God, but God himself. All manner of offence against God is infinitely criminal, and there is nothing Infinite but God. He cannot therefore be satisfied without having a hand in it: such is the Immensity of his greatness.  
Tho' God had sacrificed all the Creation to his wrath, and annihilated all his Works, that Sacrifice would still have been unworthy of him. But God had not made the world to annihilate it, he had made it for him that hath restored it; for his Son was predestinated before all Ages, to be the Chief of it. He is the Firstborn of all Creatures, the Beginning of the Lord's Ways, the Beginning, End and Perfection of all the Works of God; for whatever God hath made, is only perfectly worthy of God, through Christ.  
I don't know, Aristarchus, whether your thoughts follow mine, perhaps I run too fast: But, pray, what is it you would say to me?  Arist. 
I'll tell you. God being infinitely wise and powerful: why could he not form a Creature sufficiently noble, and raised above Sinners, to atone for them?  Theod. 
How! Aristarchus, Shall a Creature undertake to reconcile Sinners? Plead for them? Show any love for them? That is, for the damned. (For if we are not ranked with the damned, it is because we are made free in Christ.) But, supposing with you, that a Creature could do all this, satisfy for us, and free us by his satisfaction, it follows that we are indebted to that Creature and his Slaves: that our obligations to him aught to divide our love between God and him; and that our Restoration being perhaps a greater good to us than our Creation, we ought to love him better than God himself, if we ought to love most the things that do us most good.  
Yet God requires that we should love him in all things, and that all the motion of love which he causes in us, tend towards him: and he will not only be esteemed by us as the first Cause and Being, but also beloved in all things, as the only true cause of whatever the Creatures seem to produce in us.  
This is the order of things. Now it would be reversed, and even its overturning justified, should your Notion of God's design to give us another Restorer than himself, subsist. For that design would in some manner justify a Love not solely tending towards God; since that design proposes to us another than God for an Object of our Love, when it proposes to us a Creature endowed with an excellency sufficient to oblige us really, and by himself.  Arist. 
But are we not under some Obligation to other Men that pray for us? 
Pontificii Loquuntur.  to the Saints in Heaven that intercede for us?  Theod. 
Yes, Aristarchus, but that Obligation ought not in reason to divide our Love. All the good will that other Men have towards us is unefficacious: they cannot do us the least good through themselves.  
You do not doubt that all other Men merit but in and through Christ; for Christ himself doth only merit our Salvation, and duly satisfies his Father as he is his Son: so that there being nothing really and in itself capable to do us good without God, all our life ought to tend towards him. This is the order of things, he hath established that order at our Creation; for he hath only made us with a prospect of the beauty of that order, having only made us to love him. How can it then be imagined that he would destroy that order? But let us suppose that a Creature so excellent in his nature were made, and would satisfy for us, and sacrifice for our sakes himself, and what ever he hath; his Sacrifice would still be unworthy of God's Justice, and his Satisfaction unequal to the immensity of our offences, since any offence committed against God is infinite, by reason of his infinite dignity.  
To strike our Sovereign on the Face, is a greater Crime than to kill our Slave, the offence growing proportionably to the dignity of the offended party, above that of the offender.  
This being granted, it followeth that God would not be fully satisfied by that Creature, and therefore it cannot be supposed that he would ever make such a Creature to satisfy his Justice, if he would be fully satisfied. But do you not think, Aristarchus, that God, who loves himself perfectly, is obliged to do himself right, by being willing to satisfy himself fully.  
But still supposing with you, that God might have taken another Method for the restoration of his work, than his Son's Incarnation, what Religion assures us that he hath done so? Where is a Creature that introduces us to God, or a Religion that teaches this Mystery of our Reconciliation with God? If it be the Religion of the Chinese, or that of the Tartars, perhaps it may not be amiss to follow it: But there is no other Religion but the Christian, that acknowledges Original Sin, and the general depravation of Nature, much less doth any other acknowledge a Creature raised above Mankind, by the excellency of his Nature, to be their Victim.  
For, after all, if the Jews invoke Abraham, Moses, and their Prophets, still they believe them to be Men, and such whose principal greatness consists, in being the shadow and figure of their Messiah, and our Redeemer. Therefore there can be no other Religion than the Christian, nor any other Mediator than Christ; neither can there be any Religion so excellent, nor so worthy of God, as that we profess; for there is no other way so worthy of God, whereby he could have repaired his work, as is that we believe he hath taken. In fine, God's work repaired is even much more worthy of God, by the holiness of its Restorer, than it was in its natural perfection.  Erast. 
What you tell us, seems to me very true: If God had not known that the reparation of his work would yield him more glory than its first construction, it seems plain to me, that he would not have suffered it to grow corrupt. For, after all, God was not surprised at Adam's disobedience: he hath foreseen his Fall before his Creation, and also the corruption that Fall was to spread over all his work.  Theod. 
You are in the right, Erastus, God's first design hath been the Incarnation of his Son. We were made for him, tho' he took Flesh for us. We were made after his own Image, for he is Man in God's intent before Mankind was produced. God hath chosen us in him before the Creation of the World; and made all things by him, and for him. For Christ is the Man for whom God hath made all things. He was predestinated to be the chief of Angels and Saints, even of the Angels that are before the Saints. But he was before all things in God's design, for the members are made for the head, and not the head for the members.  
As I said it to you, 
Dialog. 2.  it is through the Incarnation of the Son, that the Father is worshipped as he ought to be. For what signify the veneration of Men and Angels, if not offered through Christ? But if it be certain that God will be worshipped as he ought to be, it is as certain that he will be worshipped through his Son; and therefore it is sure that God's chief end is the Incarnation of his Son, and that the Creation of Men and Angels enters into his design, only on the account of his Son; he having made them for no other end, but that he might receive their adorations through his Son, and suffered Adam's Sin, and the corruption of Nature, to make way for the Incarnation of his Son; that is, to make it necessary, or be its occasion.  
All this seems most certain to me, but pray, Aristarchus, what think you of it?  Arist. 
I don't know yet what to think on't.  Erast. 
How! Sir, can you still be in doubt about it? I'll convince you presently.  
A Workman that makes a piece of Workmanship for his own private use, and surely foresees that if he expose it in the way, some one or other will certainly break it, doth not act prudently, if he doth not lay it in a safe place.  Arist. 
I own it.  Erast. 
Very well. But if a Workman foresees, that laying his Work where he ought to lay it, and where it will be broken, he shall be paid infinitely more for it than it is worth; do you think he ought to hid it, or lay it in an improper place to preserve it, principally if he can without the least trouble to himself make such a piece of workmanship.  Arist. 
In that case, Erastus, he ought to place it in its true and right place, and not alter his design, but, on the contrary, make an end of his work; if not that it may be broken, at least that he may be paid for it more than it is worth, and lay hold on the accident that will befall his work, as on a favourable opportunity of enriching himself: for I suppose that this same workman thinks more on himself, and growing rich, than on any thing else.  Erast. 
Observe me then. God is that Workman who works for himself, and minds nothing but his own glory. All the pure Creatures cannot honour him as he deserves, neither can all his works enrich him. Do you conceive then that he will make them?  
Besides, if he makes Man, and leaves him to himself, if he doth not hinder his freedom, and will be loved by him with a love of choice, an understanding love, perfectly worthy a reasonable Creature; in a word, if he places Man at first in the state he ought to be in, yet foresees that Man shall cease to love him, and shall dishonour him, do you conceive that he will make him? Yet, Aristarchus, we are made, and God is wise. He hath made us to honour him, and the honour we can pay unto him, is not worthy of him. But besides this, in stead of honouring him as much as we can, we dishonour and disobey him, and prefer the love of the body to the love of God: he hath foreseen the corruption of our heart before its formation. Where lieth then his wisdom? How will you justify it? What think you of a Workman, who working for himself, makes a work that is of no use to him? Remember what you said of a Workman, who makes a piece of work, and exposes it, though he knows that some one or other will break it. God is wise, Aristarchus, but what hath he done? This he hath done; he hath predestinated Jesus Christ from all Eternity to be the head of his works, that Christ, and all Creatures through him, may pay to him an honour worthy of him. He hath placed Man in the state he ought to be placed in, for the Reasons that have been told you. 
Dialog. 2.  He hath foreseen his Fall, and permitted it, that it might advance his great End. Thus his Wisdom is justified; and he becomes, if I may say so, more rich and powerful than he was. He commands his Son who is his equal, and judges and punishes him for us; he fully revenges and satisfies himself for our sins. But he receives from him, and from us through him, such honours as are worthy of his greatness and majesty. Now what do you think of what Theodorus said to you?  Arist. 
Methinks he proves well enough his Assertion. However, all he hath said now, supposes in God a plurality of persons; for no one doth pay an honour or an atonement to his own self.  Theod. 
You mistake the Point utterly, Aristarchus, far from this, because no one doth pay an honour or an atonement to his own self, I prove, and do not suppose in God a plurality of persons. To convince you of it, there needs only to reassume what Erastus said.  
God acts only for his glory, but all the Creation cannot pay him an honour worthy of him; it cannot therefore be supposed that he will make any Creatures, unless it be to declare that a pure Creature can yield him some glory. It follows then, that since he hath been pleased to make us, he hath done it in order to his glory. But we cannot contribute to it, unless he join with us: Now, as you have well observed it, a person cannot honour himself; therefore there is in God a plurality of persons. It is then necessary that a Divine Person, and principally that by whom all things were made, sanctify by his dignity all other Creatures.  
The Son ought to offer to the Father a Kingdom over which the Father may reign with honour; the Son ought to erect to him a Temple, whereof he himself is the Chief Stone; establish a Priesthood, whereof he himself is the High Priest; and assemble a Church, whereof he is the Head. In a word, he ought to make his work worthy of him, for whose honour he hath made it: And if we suppose that God (who never acts but for his glory) resolved to produce something out of himself, seeing no one can honour his own self, we must admit in God plurality of persons.  
Besides, God hath from all Eternity foreseen the disorder that was to arise in his Work; he could have prevented it, yet hath not done it. Then the reparation of his Work must needs be a greater honour to him than its first Creation, since God's rule and motive in his operations is always his own glory. However, the disorder of Nature, and the shame of Sin, dishonour God much more than the punishment and satisfaction of Creatures honour him, the offence of Sinners being infinite, by the dignity of the person that is offended; and it being impossible that God can be satisfied, unless he be our own Mediator. But, as you have wisely said, none can pay an atonement to themselves, and therefore there must be a plurality of persons in God. It is necessary that a Divine person, and chief that person by whom God made all things, repair the disorder that is happened in his work, and satisfy God for that same work, if God will preserve it. For, after all, God who suffered Sin for his glory, must have designed a Sacrifice capable of yielding him more honour, than Sin can bring him dishonour. So we must conclude, that there is in God a plurality of persons, since he hath not made Creatures capable of honouring him as he deserves, and especially since he suffers such Crimes as no Creature can expiate.  Erast. 
But, pray, what do you think of the damned, they cannot satisfy God's Justice, and yet he doth not annihilate them?  Theod. 
It is true, Erastus, God did not make them to be annihilated; but he would not have made them, or would not keep them in being without Christ: for their punishment, tho' eternal, is still too slight to satisfy the Justice of a revenging God. The damned should suffer at least according to their whole capacity, yet they do not; for there are degrees of pain among them, tho' their Souls being equal, their capacity to suffer must be equal: But Christ by his quality bears what is wanting to honour perfectly the Divine Justice, and in the deformity which those miserable Wretch's cause in the beauty of the Universe, there is this order at least, that the inequality of their punishment bears a proportion with that of their offences. However, it would be better for them not to be, than to have such a miserable being; it is plain that Christ, who merits the conservation of their existence, and upholds them in the order of his justice, is rather their Judge than their Saviour. Thus, Erastus, all things subsist in Christ, he preserves his work after he hath cleansed it from the filthiness of sin, and reconciles, through his blood, all Creatures with God, as to what concerns the preservation of their being: But if he gives peace to Heaven and Earth, he no less kindles an everlasting War in Hell.  
Thus you see, Aristarchus, how all the several parts of Religion prove and maintain one another. What I have told you, is not a Circle without Principles; for my Principles are that we are made, that Nature is corrupt, and that God acts only for his glory: You do not deny them.  Arist. 
No, Theodorus, I am convinced; But I have some reluctancy to do it, for what you tell me, seems new to me.  Theod. 
Yes, Aristarchus, what I tell you is new to the generality of Mankind, and to such Christians as do not sufficiently understand the mystery of the Religion they profess.  
Christ is not known among worldly Men, they do not think on his greatness, neither do they know how he is the beginning and end of all things. Those holy persons that read the Scripture with an intention to find Christ, never fail to find him there, for he is in every place of it: But they have not the spirit of this world, but that of God, whereby they know the greatness of the Gift that God hath imparted to them. The outward and sensible Man is not capable of the things which the Divine Spirit teacheth us; for the eye hath not seen, the ear hath not heard, nor the heart of man ever understood what God hath prepared for those that love him.  
I do not only speak of those false learned who deny the corruption of Nature, the necessity of Grace, and the Divinity of Christ, yet assume the quality of Christians. I also speak of those who live in the bosom of the Church, but have little love for Religion. It is impossible they should be very well learned in the knowledge of Christ, seeing they do not love him, and do not study the Scriptures, professing the Christian Religion, perhaps only, because it is that of their Parents.  Arist. 
You have told us a great many things both to day and yesterday, since I have seen my Friend; I imagine that he wants me, as I do, to know what he will think of these things: I must leave you to go to him.  Theod. 
Do, Aristarchus, make him sensible of the general corruption of Nature, and the enmity that is between God and man; and endeavour to demonstrate plainly to him, the necessity of Christ's satisfaction.  
If you find that he receives your Sentiments as he ought, and is willing to be instructed, immediately fall on the praises of our Redeemer, and stir him up to the love of his Saviour, by the consideration of the chief obligations he hath to him.  
Tell him, That Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life: That he is our intelligible light, that enlightens us in the deepest recess of our Reason; and our sensible light, that instructs us by Miracles, by Parables, and Faith: That he alone is the food of the Soul: That his light is the sole producer of Charity, and that none but him can give us the holy Spirit, whereby we become the children of God. Tell him, that he hath been predestinated before all time to be our King and Chief, our Pastor and Lawgiver: That God receives our Prayers through him only: That we are made clean only by his blood, and enter into the Holy of Holies, only through his Sacrifice. In short, That Christ is all things to us; that in him we are new creatures, and new men, that have not been condemned in Adam; that without Christ we are nothing, have right to nothing, but are sold to Sin, Slaves to the Devils, and the eternal objects of God's wrath.  
Use all your endeavours to make him think on Christ, to unite him to, and make him esteem and love Christ; and conclude with these words of St Paul at the end of one of his Epistles, If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema, Maran-atha, 1 Cor. 16.22.   

DIALOGUE VI The Truth of the Christian Religion proved by other Reasons.  Arist. 
AH! Theodorus, how unsatisfied am I in my Friend!  Theod. 
Yes, Aristarchus, I can easily see it; the Air of your Countenance does not rejoice those that examine it, 'tis not an Air of Triumph, or of Victory, that might please those who take part of it: But how could he resist you?  Arist. 
As I was well persuaded of the truth of the Christian Religion, by the proofs of original Sin, and the necessity of a Mediator; so I imagined I could convince him, by proposing the same proofs; but I know not to what I should attribute the ill success of my words: when I spoke to him, instead of persuading him, I provoked him, and he rejected all that I proposed to him with a kind of scorn; he would not so much as agree with me in common Notions, but continually said, that my Reasons were the Reasons of Philosophy.  
Such Answers grieved me; I strove to convince him, and continued to repeat the same things, hoping that at last he would reflect, but all my Efforts were entirely lost.  
'Tis something strange, Theodorus, that a Man can't convince others of the same thing that he himself is fully convinced of; for it appears to me, that all Men ought to see the same things.  Theod. 
If all Men were equally attentive to inward truth, they would all equally see the same things; but your Friend is not like you, he is taken up with a multitude of things, and his pride has now for many years kept him unconversant even with himself: so that abstracted proofs and reasonings built upon Notions, which have no dependence of the senses, persuade him not, because these proofs don't touch him, and because he has many confused reasons which hinder his application to them.  
When a Man has discovered a Geometrical Demonstration, he can convince all Men of it, to whom he clearly proposes it, because that these things are sensible, that they freely apply themselves to them, that there's no reason why they should not believe them, that they are not prepossessed by the authority of Men that deny them, and that when they see these kinds of truth, they see them after a sensible manner: But 'tis not the same with certain truths which are contrary to our inclinations, there we think not seriously, and we have many reasons not to believe them.  
It's necessary, Aristarchus, that I demonstrate to you the truth of the Christian Religion, by more sensible proofs than those of our preceding Conferences, it may be your Friend will more willingly hearken to them.  
Do you take his place, and object whatever you can imagine against what I shall offer, I only suppose that God hath made our Souls to know and love him: 'Tis what your Friend assents to.  
You have heard, Aristarchus, of one Moses, the famous Legislator of the Jews, to whom God gave the Ten Commandments upon Mount Sinai; Do you believe what the Scripture says of him?  Arist. 
But what if he was a Cheat, an Impostor?  Theod. 
Very well, Aristarchus, you suppose yourself under your Friend's character; but you know that he must have an excessive bold spirit, I would say, the most ignorant and most transported of bold spirits, who dares say, that Moses was a Cheat; you do much honour to your Friend.  Arist. 
I know what I say.  Theod. 
Well then, if you know him so well, speak for him, I will engage him in your person. You have reason, Aristarchus, and ought not to oppose a Sentiment that is universally received by all reasonable persons, unless you have good proofs that they are deceived.  Arist. 
There is much prejudice—  Theod. 
Right, but this common Reason does not justify you, nor will it justify the most extravagant doubts that may be raised; but, I may tell you, that there was never any Man that could be more unreasonably accused of Imposture than Moses.  
'Tis one essential quality of a Cheat to avoid the Light; but the Miracles of Moses were wrought before all the people, in the sight of Six hundred thousand fight Men, there was a great number of them, and some were repeated every day for many years together: But not to stay upon these unprofitable proofs, let us reflect upon the manner how the Israelites were nourished in the Wilderness forty years, every morning the Earth was covered with Manna, except the Sabbath day; when it was kept till the next day, it was corrupted, and full of Worms, except the Sabbath day. This Manna ceased to fall, when the Israelites had once eaten of the fruits of the Land of Canaan, and from that time they never saw it ●…ll.  
Can one doubt of a Fact which was continued Forty years? Or can one attribute to a natural Cause this Rain or Dew which fell but for Forty years, which ceased to fall every Saturday, and which could not be kept without corruption but upon Saturdays? Is Saturdays Air or Sun different from that of other days? Did the first Repast which the Israelites had in the Land of Canaan, change the face of Heaven, or the situation of the Stars, which caused it to rain Manna? Is't not evident by these Circumstances, that this Rain was not Natural?  Arist. 
But what proofs have you that the Pentateuch, Joshua, and other Books from whence you borrow what is spoken of Manna, are true? If they were Fabulous—  Theod. 
If they were Fabulous, Aristarchus, the Jews were Men of a different nature from us, they were Fools, and stupid, to a very improbable degree.  
Think you, Aristarchus, that Men who have but a little of common Sense, would without Reason or Examination receive Books as authentic, and as a Rule of their Faith and Conduct. I'll explain myself.—  
Think you, that a whole Nation would submit to a Law, so very severe and painful, by the force of Arms, or some reason of Interest, without being compelled thereto, as 'twere, by Divine Authority?  
Think you, that upon a Fabulous History, derived from our Ancestors, we should be so stupid and insensible, blindly to submit ourselves to a Ceremony so shameful and incommodious as is that of Circumcision? How can it be imagined that the Jews received the Law which they observe, and the Books which they call Canonical, without consideration? These Books flatter them not, they continually menace and reproach them with the stupidity, infidelity and malice of their Ancestors.  
The Jews were not obliged by force of Arms to receive these authentic Books, wherefore do they receive them? wherefore do they preserve them so carefully? wherefore are there no Men so constant as they to the Religion of their Fathers? 'Tis, without doubt, either because the Jews are not Men as we are, or rather because their Religion and Books have all the possible characters of truth.  
But, Aristarchus, you believe that God hath made us to know and love him, and to make use of the most reasonable Religion; for there must be an outward worship for Men that make use of their senses, and who live in society. We must then, of all Books that treat of Religion, believe those that have the greatest appearance of truth; but there are none comparable to the Scripture, for the Reasons I have told you, as also for innumerable other Reasons. We ought then to look upon these Books as our Rule, and there to search the Religion which we ought to sollow. And if we deceive ourselves in the choice of these Books, our Error would only depend on this, that there would be no mark to discern sacred Books from profane; or rather from this, that there would be neither sacred Books nor Religion which were pleasing to God.  Arist. 
What you say, Theodorus, is highly reasonable; but my Friend will rashly tell me, that Mahomet was a Prophet, and that the Alcoran is a Divine Book, how would you have me to answer him?  Theod. 
Compare the Miracles of Moses, with those of that Impostor, and show him what difference there is betwixt his making a tame Pigeon whisper in his Ear before all the people, or making a famished Bull bring him a Book through the multitude, or attributing a 
* The Falling-sickness.  Disease shameful enough to the apparition and dazzling lustre of the Angel Gabriel, and the Miracles which confirm the mission of Moses, or the covering the Earth with Infects, changing Water into Blood, filling the Air with thick darkness, agitating it by Thunder, inflaming it by Lightning, making it to rain celestial Food for forty years, to be conducted by a Cloud in the daytime, and Fire by night, both of them in form of a Pillar; I pass over many other Miracles that God performed by Moses in the sight of all Egypt, and all the people of Israel.  
The Alcoran relates no such Miracles in favour of Mahomet, it does not so much as mention those which I have already spoken of, which are such gross cheats 
* Chap. of the Cow, of Women, and other things, of the version of Du Rier. ; and 'tis well known that many Men despised the false Prophet which is the Author of them, because he did no Miracle.  
But, Aristarchus, let us not insist altogether upon this; the Alcoran destroys itself by itself, as well as judaism, as you shall see presently. I'll suppose that Mahomet was a Prophet, and that his Book is as authentic as the Old Testament; grant to me that there is at least an equal Authority to two Books so different, and let us first see which is the Religion that the holy Scripture propounds to us.  Arist. 
How, Theodorus, will you be a Jew?  Theod. 
Yes certainly, Aristarchus, if Judaisme be the Law which the holy Scripture proposes to us as capable of making most perfect and happy; as for me, I look upon holy Scripture as a Divine Book, but perhaps Judaisme, as to the Letter, is not the end of the Law.  
Take heed, Aristarchus, think you that Beasts have a Soul? I mean a Substance which animates or informs their Body, and which is more noble than it.  Arist. 
To what purpose?  Theod. 
Only answer.  Arist. 
Yes, I believe that Beasts have a Soul, and that their Soul is more noble than their Body.  Theod. 
I'll prove that you are mistaken; what is the end, the good or happiness of Beasts? think you that Beasts have any other natural Felicity, than the enjoyment of their Bodies?  Arist. 
No, I believe the end of Beasts is to eat and drink.  Theod. 
Then God hath made the Soul of Beasts for the enjoyment of their Body, but the Soul of Beasts is more noble than their Body. Then God has not well ordered his work, nor proposed to Beasts an end worthy of them, if that which makes them more happy and perfect, must be more noble than that which receives its happiness and perfection. Thus you ought to observe, that God has not given to Beasts a Soul distinct from their body, or more noble than it; or else you ought to begin again, and say, that Beasts have some other Felicity than that of drinking and eating, and of enjoying their Body.  Arist. 
This Reason convinces me, but what would you conclude from thence?  Theod. 
Thus, Aristarchus, you believe that the Jews were Men as we are, and that they had a Soul, I would say a Substance which thinks, perceives, wills, and reasons, and is distinct from the Body; your Friend, whose place you take, being a Cartesian, does not doubt of this.  Arist. 
'Tis true, he proves demonstratively, that the Existence of the Soul is more certain than that of the Body.  Theod. 
This being granted, Aristarchus, I say that Judaisme, as to the Letter, is not a Religion which God has established for Men; and that it could not render the Jews either more perfect, or more happy, because Moses propounded no other Felicity to the Jews, than the enjoyment of the Body; and that this sort of happiness is only proper for Beasts, if it is true that Beasts have a Soul.  
After Moses had propounded this carnal and ceremonial Law to the Jews, which was a shadow of things to come, 
Deut. 28.  he promised that if they would observe it, their Land should be fruitful; that they should have great Families, and numerous Flocks; that they should be Masters over their Enemies; and that God would preserve them as a People which he had chosen: But if they would not observe it, he told them that they should want all the necessaries of life, and foretold those temporal Evils which are come upon them. In fine, he promised no other recompense or punishment, no other happiness or misery, than the enjoyment or privation of Bodies; it seems there was no Hell, no Paradise, no Eternity for the Jews.  Arist. 
But whence comes that? 'Tis certain the Jews were very gross and carnal.  Theod. 
'Tis not, Aristarchus, that the Jews were gross and carnal, but because Moses being only the Figure, could only promise good things in a Figure, and could not bring them into the inheritance of Children. The chief Priests, according to the Law of Moses, entered into the Sanctuary made with hands, which was only a Figure of the true one. They entered there with the blood of He-Goats and Calves, which could not purify the Conscience; therefore the Law of Moses could not justify men, it gave them no part in eternal happiness; therefore Moses was not to promise them any such thing; that was the propriety of Jesus Christ, who is entered with his own blood into Heaven, the true Sanctuary, and who hath purchased eternal Salvation, as being the only Highpriest of good things to come.  
Can you think that the Jews were more carnal than the Heathens? Can you imagine that Moses was more gross than Poets, who make mention of their gods after so unworthy a manner? But the Heathens thought of another life. The Poets speak of the Elysian Fields, and of Hell, as places destined for the recompense of Virtue, and the punishment of Vice.  
There is no Motive more strong, no Idea more terrible, no Recompense more agreeable than that of Eternity; and the most barbarous Nations are capable of being smitten, shaken, and carried on to the exercise of Virtue by this thought, that they would be eternally rewarded for it; yet Moses reckons a great number of Blessings and Curse, without mentioning Eternity.  Arist. 
'Tis because he did not believe there were Spirits; he believed not the Immortality of the Soul.  Theod. 
This Consequence is very just, and did I not know that the Law of the Jews, and their Covenant with God, was a Figure of the New Covenant, I perhaps might think myself obliged, by the deference I own to the Books of Moses, to be of the sentiment of the Sadducees; for only this Party appears reasonable, as I have already said, for I have not yet spoken any thing that overthrows it. But as your Friend is a Cartesian, he is too much convinced of the Immortality of the Soul, and that Being's which think, are distinguished from matter that cannot think, to draw the same Consequences as you do.  Arist. 
'Tis true, this must convince him.  Theod. 
Nevertheless he was not convicted of it. I could wish that the Body were our true happiness; but is this happiness capable of recempencing those who fulfil the precept of loving God with all their heart, with all their soul, and with all their might? This might, perhaps, be a sufficient reward to the Roman Virtue, for happiness must be proportionable to its Virtue. But is this worthy of God? Is this sufficient to make those truly happy, who truly love him? You see plainly, Aristarchus, that they are not. Why then did Moses enjoin us to love God with all our might? And why did he only promise us the enjoyments of our Bodies, for the recompense of this love, unless it be that the love of God is indispensibly above all things, and that Moses was not to promise the happiness he could not give?  
This seems to me sufficient, to convince you, that Judaisme was but the shadow and figure of Christianity; that the Old Covenant only represented the true reconciliation of God with Men; and that the Priests, (according to Aaron's Order) the Sacrifices, and Ceremonies of the Law, aught to be abrogated by the Sacrifice of the Lamb without spot, which takes away the sins of the world; which worthily satisfies the Justice of God, which introduces us into the Holy of Holies, and promises the true happiness to all those who are members of that Body, whereof he is the Head.  
Thus you see that I have no design to become a Jew, unless you believe me stupid enough to look upon the Body as my proper good; the Body, I say, which can't be the happiness of Brutes, if they have a Soul distinct from their Body, and more Noble than it.  
But as for you, Aristarchus, you have now a design to turn Turk, (I speak to you, as you take upon you the character of your Friend) you are for a Paradise, where you would always be indulging yourself in sensual pleasure, you would have many Women to satisfy those Passions which are even here below called brutish, and shameful 
* Chap. of Order. Chap. of Judgement. Chap. of Mercy, etc. ; the great Mahomet promises them as fair as new laid Eggs, and as beautiful as Oriental Pearls; they shall have black rolling Eyes—  Arist. 
Enough, Theodorus, the Turkish Religion is certainly unworthy of reasonable Men, it is even unworthy of Beasts, if they have a Soul more Noble than their Body: And I acknowledge that the Alcoran destroys itself by its own Principles, as well as Judaisme does in the Letter. For, in fine, 'tis certain that the enjoyments of the Body are not worthy of the Soul: That those who love them, become not thereby more perfect. That those who enjoy them, are thereby often ashamed: And that the promises of Moses (not to mention those of Mahomet) are unworthy of Mankind; for even the Heathen Philosophers themselves went thus far. Christ would have us despise these Goods, altho' the Law promises them; and he declares those to be happy who are deprived of them, and who are miserable and cursed according to the Law.  
Thus, I am satisfied, that the promises of the Law were only figures; for those amongst the Jews who had Charity, could not desire the accomplishment of these promises as their true good, but, perhaps, the Law in itself was good.  Theod. 
You perceive not that there must be a relation betwixt the good which the Law promises, and the Law itself; and that if the Law justifies really, and by itself, the recompenses of the Law must be good in themselves, and make a truly just Man happy: But Men can't be just themselves, and only desire these Rewards. The just then could not trust in the Sacrifices and Ceremonies of the Law, they were to expect the Messiah, that could promise them such a happiness as they might lawfully wish it.  
There were two sorts of Jews under the Law; Jews after the Spirit, and Jews after the Letter. Those who had the Spirit of the Law were Christians, for Christ is the end of the Law; and those were circumcised with the circumcision of the heart, and had put off the old man; explaining the whole Law, its Ceremonies and Promises, by their relation to the Messiah, and that eternal happiness which they expected from him.  
They were not scandalised when Isaiah spoke on the behalf of God to the Jews according to the flesh, Isa. 1.10,11. Hear the word of the Lord, ye Princes of Sodom; harken to the Law of our God, ye People of Gomorrah. What have I to do with this multitude of Sacrifices chat ye offer to me, saith the Lord? All this is an abomination to me, I love not the sacrifice of your Rams, nor the fat of your Flocks, nor the blood of Beefs, Lambs and He-Goats.  
They sung with joy in the same Spirit with Christians, Psal. 50. For thou desirest not Sacrifice, else would I give it, thou delightest not in burnt-offerings.— Lord, do good in thy good pleasure unto Zion, build thou the walls of Jerusalem, then shalt thou be pleased with the sacrifices of righteousness, with burnt-offerings, and whole burnt-offerings, then shall they offer bullocks upon thine Altar. In fine, they sighed incessantly towards Heaven, to draw down the true Messiah, who was to deliver them from their sins.  
But the Jews according to the flesh, gloried in the shameful signature of the circumcision of their bodies; they were uncircumcised in heart, they had a vail which hide the end of the Law from them. They placed their confidence in their Sacrifices and Ceremonies in the Ark, and in the Temple of the Lord; in Moses, Abraham, and their other Patriarches. They were full of Zeal and Fury against the true Israelites, and continually persecuted the Prophets which had the Spirit of the Law, and which reproved their Vices.  
The Jews after the Spirit were true Christians, they were always ready to acknowledge and receive Jesus Christ whenever he should come; for the Moral of the New Testament is wholly conformable to the disposition of their heart, since they acknowledge that the goods of the senses were unworthy of their love. And as they explained not holy Scripture according to the Letter, but according to the mystical Sense, and with relation to the Messiah, whom they expected; so the proofs which the Apostles took out of the Old Testament to justify the quality of Christ, were entirely conformable to their Spirit.  
Thus Christ and his Apostles were heard by those amongst the Jews who were moved by Charity, but the carnal Jews who had their heart veiled, could not, nay, even would not comprehend the proofs which the Apostles gave of the Truth they preached.  Arist. 
But must it not be confessed, that the proofs which the Apostles drew from the Old Testament to confirm the New, were very weak?  Theod. 
They were no proofs, or at best extravagant ones to the carnal Jews; and those who know not distinctly that the Old Testament is only for the use of the New; that Abraham, Joseph, Joshua, David, Solomon, are only in the Scripture because of CHRIST; and that whatever happened to the Jews, were but figures of things to come.  
Yes, Aristarchus, if the literal Sense of the Scripture is the chief end, than St Paul and the Apostles prove nothing; nay, they are mad Men, and fanatical. But he must be the most stupid and rash of all Men, who can imagine that St Paul had not common Sense; that he would render himself so very ridiculous to wrest passages of Scripture, to convince the Jews how unprofitable their Sacrifices and Ceremonies were.  
For, after all, if we can't believe that the Letter of the Law rather administers death than life, after what I have already said; I see not, but that we must believe at least that there were some Men amongst the Jews who searched into the Law for another Sense besides the literal, since St Paul does not make use of the literal Sense to convince them of the Messiahs coming. Do not you know that even the Jewish Commentators, who are the declared Enemies of CHRIST, refer most of the passages to the Messiah, which the Apostles do to CHRIST; altho' these passages might often be understood of David, Solomon, or others: for, as the truth is, we must consider these persons as figures of CHRIST.  
The Letter of the Scripture does, by Divine Providence, contain so many things which appear unworthy of God, and even contrary to Reason; that those who are not entirely stupid, find themselves obliged to abandon it. I have proved this to you, by the Rewards which Moses proposed to the Jews, which, as you yourself have freely granted, are not only unworthy of such who love God above all things, but in general of all other Being's which are more noble than Bodies.  
Thus we can't reasonably doubt, but that the Jews, who from the times of the Apostles expected the Messiah, and who believed him near at hand, were very much disposed to receive him in that capacity which the Apostles had described to them, provided the love of sensible things hindered them not from following him.  
God always disposes things after such a manner, that those who love him, do always find him; he leaves such footsteps after him, that those who feel the inward motions of Charity, do highly acknowledge him. And if false Prophets back their Lies with Miracles, 'tis because God tempts Men, to discern those who love him; for those who love him are not deceived.  
CHRIST is so concealed in the Scriptures, that those who love him not, do not find him there. He is not only come to enlighten the blind, but also to blind the wise. He is come to reprove the glory of the world, for this is an abomination before God. In fine, he is come to preach the Gospel to the poor, the simple and ignorant; and to pass by those who content themselves with their own riches and wisdom.  
There are many obscurities in the Scripture, but there are also many things that are extremely clear; good Men rest upon what is clear, and pay a deference to what is obscure, as their reason directs them. The pretended wise Men and the wicked, who are angry to see what they hate, endeavour to obscure the light by darkness; they endeavour to blind their own eyes, and are but too successful in their attempt.  
If CHRIST had come in splendour, as he will at his second appearance, if the Prophecies had been so evident that it had been impossible not to have received them. In fine, if the Christian Religion had been such, as that its truth might have been acknowledged without any application of the mind, and without any love for God, than the negligent and wicked would have received a grace which they did not deserve. God only gives himself to those who love him; the truth is only discovered to those who seek after it; for if it be just to apply one's self to a Problem to find out its resolution, 'tis necessary that the Sovereign Good, which is the greatest truth, should be such, that it may not be discovered without carefully seeking after it.  
Men little esteem that which they acquire without labour, they have but a mean love for that which they have not desired: Thus it was necessary CHRIST, whom we have so much need of, should cause himself to be desired and sought after, before he would be found; and 'tis our happiness that he is hid after such a manner that he can't be sought after without being found.  
Certainly all the obscurities which are in the Prophecies can't hinder, but that we may evidently observe that the Messiah is come. 'Tis now so many Ages since, that the time prefixed is passed over, that there is now no more need of Miracles: For if Miracles were necessary when the Apostles preached JESUS CHRIST, 'tis because the time of the Messiah's coming was not so precisely fixed, but that one might yet expect him.  
If in the Life of CHRIST are found things which appear something strange; if, for instance, his condemnation to death by the chief Priests, seems unworthy of the Messiah, even these very things should make him to be received, because they were foretold, and being strange, they can only relate to him.  
If all the Jews had received Jesus Christ when he appeared, perhaps the modern Jews, the Mahometans, and the Pagans, might have had reason to doubt whether he was the true Messiah, they might believe the Scriptures were corrupted; but the Jews being always opposed to Jesus Christ, are credible Witnesses. And we can't reasonably imagine that the Books which the Jews received were corrupted in favour of us.  
But if Holy Writ is not corrupted in Essentials, if 'tis certain that it is a Book whose authority was not established by the force of Arms, or doubtful Miracles; if we are sure that the literal Sense is not the chief point of it, than we can't doubt the truth of the Christian Religion, because CHRIST is found there all along, even when there was no Jew; I would say, when there was no love for sensible good things, and when there was no formal opposition to receive CHRIST.  
There's nothing, Aristarchus, more comfortable to a Man that desires true happiness, who meanly looks upon himself here below as in a strange Land, who continually reflects upon his inward misery, and the War that his domestic Enemies wage against him; there's nothing, I say, more comfortable, nothing more instructive altogether for a Christian, than to read the sacred Books; for all that is written, was written for our instruction, that our hope should be strengthened by the patience and comfort which the Scripture affords us.  
Men find themselves in it every where described as they are either under sin or punishment, but God, according to his pure mercy, always remembering the promise which he made to Abraham, saves his people, altho' they deserve it not; for he hath sworn it by himself: he redeems them out of the bondage of Pharaoh, and brings them into the promised Land; but does not utterly destroy the Canaanites, 'til the day that King Solomon becomes Master of all the Enemies of Israel. Who is ignorant of the signification of these things?  
I can't particularly explain to you the Prophecies and Figures of the Old Testament, for the confirmation of the New. I don't pretend to deprive you of the satisfaction of discovering them yourself; what I said is sufficient to induce you to read the Scriptures as a devout Christian, and I desire no more. 'Tis enough that if you read them, you will understand so much as will be necessary to confirm you in the truth of Religion, and to persuade your Friend, if he is willing to be instructed.  
I'm certain that Erastus will be pleased to join with you in this Study. I'm satisfied that he has a love for Religion, and 'tis high time that he wholly apply himself to things which are only capable to make him as happy as he can be in this life. There can be no true happiness but in the enjoyment of real good: But in this life we can only possess it through hope. We cannot therefore be happy in this life, but in avoiding every thing that weakens this hope, and in seeking after every thing which strengthens it.  
Thus those are miserable that are united to the Body, and by its enjoyments weaken their hope: But Erastus is happy if he contemns it; and if by the study of Religion and Christian Morality he increases his hope, so that future happiness appears to him as if it were present; and a foretaste of eternal good things is more agreeable to him, than the relish of momentary pleasures.   

DIALOGUE VII. That Christian Morality is very useful to the Perfection of the Understanding.  Arist. 
I Waited for you, Theodorus, to give you an account of my Joy; for I have, at last, found a means to make my Friend hear me. I no longer speak to his Ears, I, as it were, speak now to his Heart. I have made him understand most of the things whereof we have discoursed, and he seems to be very well satisfied about them.  
I must tell you how things passed betwixt us. I had been so offended at his Stupidity and Brutishness when I met him last, that as I went home, I often repeated to myself the words of Christ, Mat. 7.6. Do not cast your Pearls before Swine, etc. This did comfort me with a Consolation somewhat sensible, Indignation and Revenge having some share in it; for I must confess that I was somewhat angry, and already began to be concerned for having loved so much a person who seemed to be out of his senses. Having therefore very much reflected on that saying of our Saviour, I no sooner saw my Friend again, but it was present to my mind; and I do not know how I came to persuade myself that I should be guilty of want of respect towards the words of the Gospel, should I speak any more to him about the Truths of Religion, so that I stood before him without saying any thing. But if my mind did not express itself by the sound of my voice, my heart spoke sufficiently by the air of my face; and my Friend might well imagine that I was not come to see him so early, merely to bid him good morrow.  
On the other side, he being in the main a Man of a civil and mild disposition, I cannot doubt but that he repent himself of the Answers he had made me, and had pondered on those things which I had told him, with a strength and plainness sufficient, as I thought, to convince him, if he had any ways reflected. Withal seeing me so early come to see him, after the many expressions he had used, which ought to have made me decline his Society for a long time, being of the temper that I have mentioned, he could not help being moved by my zeal, and sorry for his want of attention.  
In short, whether he was shaken by my former Reasons, or touched by some sentiments of Friendship and Gratitude, he began, after he had been some moment's silent, with an acknowledgement of his fault and of his sorrow. After this, he prayed me to repeat once more the proofs that I had offered to him of the Christian Religion, assuring me that he had thought on them seriously, and that he had found much solidity and light in them, how imperfectly soever he remembered them. I at first was somewhat unwilling to comply with his desire, still remembering the words of Christ; but seeing him persist in his demand with heat and eagerness, I believed that he was disposed to hear me: Accordingly I gave him the satisfaction he desired, and he hath received, without difficulty, the same things that he had rejected with scorn.  Theod. 
You see even by this, Aristarchus, that it was convenient that Christ should cause himself to be expected during many Centuries, and hid himself in the Scriptures for those who do not care to find him.  
We easily receive what we desire, and find with pleasure what we seek with passion. Your Friend could not see two days ago that Truth which you proposed to him, because he did not seek it: but he hath discovered it, because he desired it; and hath found it with pleasure, if he hath sought it with eagerness.  
If Men do not know God, 'tis because they do not care to know him; and if they do not see the truth of the Christian Religion, 'tis because the love of sensible things prepossesses them, and makes them hate a Religion that destroys it.  
All our Passions justify themselves, and speak incessantly for their conservation; and those that harken to the dictates of their Passions, find themselves so strongly moved with compassion towards them, that for their sakes they despise the Laws which condemn those Criminals to death. For indeed nothing is more despicable than the Christian Religion, if we believe our Passions, The Gospel hath nothing that appears pleasing, it preaches nothing to us but self-denial; and Christ doth by the example of his life and death, condemn the conduct of those who fix their minds on sensible things.  
Those therefore who esteem nothing besides the objects of their Senses, who blindly follow the motions of their Passions, voluptuous Men, or, to use the words of Christ, Swine are uncapable of understanding the truth of Religion, and enjoying true happiness. The Kingdom of God is a Pearl, for which they will not sell all what they possess; they do not know the value of it.  
Therefore Christ will not have us to propose future happiness to those Wretches, nor explain sacred Mysteries to them, they being uncapable and unworthy of them. We are only to threaten them in the Name of God, and make them afraid by the Idea of Eternity, or even by the fear of temporal Ills. But when they grow penitent, deprive themselves of worldly pleasures, and cease to be Swine, it is necessary we should explain to them the Mysteries of Religion, and the Secrets of the Gospel; for being then become Sheep they hear, and can discern the voice of the true Pastor of their Souls.  
For this Reason, and several others, which you will perhaps understand by the Sequel of our Discourses, I did not much approve of the design you had to relate all things to your Friend; I was asraid for you, and had no hopes of him: But God, who disposes of our hearts, hath rewarded your Charity and Zeal, and you ought to return your thanks to him for't.  
We have hitherto discoursed of the Proofs that concern the Truth of Religion; and I believe that what I have said, is sufficient to persuade reasonable persons, that there is no other Religion in the world besides the Christian, able to re-establish the Order which Sin hath reversed; that none besides God-man could satisfy God's Justice, reconcile us, and give us an access to him, and in a word, pay to God a worship worthy of him.  
It is time to show you that Christian Morality is perfectly conformable to Reason, and that in the state to which Sin hath reduced us, nothing more useful to re-establish the order of things can be prescribed, than the precepts and counsels of Christ concerning Prayer, and the privation of sensible things; for I suppose no others.  
I entreat you to observe carefully whatever we shall speak of hereafter; for you ought rather to instruct your Friend in those things which respect the government of our manners, than in such speculative truths as are above the capacity of a carnal and sensible Man.  
I will put some Questions to Erastus, for I have not said any thing to him this good while.  
Do you remember, Erastus, what we have said concerning the End and Order which God proposed to himself when he created Man, and are you convinced of it?  Erast. 
I remember it, and am convinced of it. I believe that God acts for none but himself: that when he makes a Spirit, it is that this Spirit may know him; and that when he makes a Will, it is that this Will may love him.  
This Order seems to me so necessary, that I do not believe that God preserves any Spirit, but what in some manner knows and loves him. I believe that the Union which Spirits have with God by their knowledge and love, cannot altogether be dissolved without annihilating them.  
For what kind of being were that Spirit that should know and love nothing? But all Spirit that knows and loves, knows and loves only by the means of the Union which he hath with God; since he is not to himself his light, and that the motion which he hath towards good in general, and which makes him capable of loving private good, doth not proceed from himself, nor from any thing below him.  Theod. 
That's true, Erastus, all Spirits are essentially united to God, nor can they be entirely separated from him without ceasing to be. But what ought to be their Union with God, that they may be as happy and perfect as it is possible for them to be?  Erast. 
It is plain that this Union ought to be the narrowest that can be, for none but God is the sovereign good of Spirits.  Theod. 
Thus, Erastus, we become more perfect the greater and the stronger the Union, which we have with God, is. The damned have but just so much Union with God, as is necessary to keep them in being: But the blessed are united to God in so perfect a manner, that they do not only receive from him a being, but also its perfection. Let us see therefore, Erastus, wherein consists this kind of Union with God, whereby we receive all the perfection whereof we are capable in this life?  Erast. 
I have learned in the Conferences which I have had with you, and by the perusal of the Book of the Inquiry after Truth, 
Chap. 8. of the last Book.  that God alone is the true cause and true mover as well of Bodies as of Spirits, and that natural causes are only occasional causes which determine the true cause to act in consequence of his eternal Will.  
I am persuaded that I can be united to the Bodies that are about me, and to that which I animate and move, only because I am united to God; 
Dialog. 1.  for all Bodies cannot by themselves act in my Soul, nor make themselves visible to her, as she likewise hath not by herself the strength to move any Body, since she doth not even know what must be done to stir an Arm. Thus, Theodorus, if I speak to you, and understand you; if my Spirit unites itself to yours, or my Body to your Body, God alone is the true cause of it, he is the Bond of all the Unions which I am able to have with all his Works. I can be immediately united to none but him, since none but he can immediately act in me, and I only act through his means.  
But, Theodorus, I may be united to God, and fix myself to him, and in that have no relation to any other but him; and I may also be united to God, with relation to some other thing but God: For when I think on abstracted Ideas of things, I am united to God by my thought, since I see those things only through the means of the Union that I have with God. 
* Dial. 3.  But this Union doth not bind me to Creatures. On the other side, when I feel sensible good, it is only by the Union that I have with God, and because he acts in me: 
* Dial. 2.  For all Bodies are insensible by themselves; but this second Union which I have with God, fastens me to sensible things, for God unites among themselves all his Works, and he alone can be the Bond of all Unions.  
I therefore believe, that our Union with God upholds our Being, and that we should not exist without it. But I am persuaded, that the Union which fastens us to none but God, and hath relation to none but him, is that which gives the utmost perfection of which we are capable.  Theod. 
Do you not remember, Erastus, that the Author of the Book of the Inquiry after Truth, demonstrates, That our Senses never represent things to us as they are in themselves, but only according to their relation to ourselves; and that therefore all sensible knowledge is useful for the preservation and conveniency of our lise, but altogether unprofitable for the perfection of the Mind, and the knowledge of Truth?  Erast. 
I do remember it, Theodorus, and shall never forget it; for it was that which persuaded me, that of all our Knowledge and Notions, none but those that are purely intellectual make us more perfect; and, indeed, we can be said to see in God things as they are only through those forts of Notions.  
When we have a sentiment of things, we do not see them in themselves, we have no knowledge of them, and even in reality they are not the sensible Objects that we do feel, but our very selves; for our Sensations belong to us, and not to those Objects to which we generally use to attribute them. How then could our Senses lead us to the knowledge of Truth, since we do not know Truth, but when we see things such as they are?  Theod. 
If you remember also what that Book saith of the Errors of our Imagination and Passions, you ought to grant that not only the Imagination and Senses hinder us from discovering Truth, but also that our Passions carry and remove us from the true Good. In a word, that all the thoughts and motions of the Soul, that excite themselves in us, by reason of some changes that happen in our Body, disunite us from God, to unite us to Bodies. For, after all, it is necessary that the Soul, who ought to mind the preservation of her Body, be warned to think on it when some new Accident happens to it.  Erast. 
I grant all these things.  Theod. 
Let us suppose then that there never happens any change in the Brain, but that the Soul receives some thought which takes it off from the light of truth, and the love of true good, and disunites her from God, to unite her to Bodies. If it is certain that the perfection of the mind consists in the knowledge of truth, and in the love of true good, in one word, in an Union with God which hath relation to none but him, I ask you: In the state which we are in, wherein we cannot hinder the communication of motion, nor the bodies that are about us from penetrating and agitating ours, what are we to do, to tend continually towards our perfection? do not consult the Gospel now, consult only your reason.  Erast. 
It is plain that we ought by flight to avoid being acted by those Bodies that are about us, that we ought to mortify our Senses, and keep shut as much as we can all the passages at which sensible Objects come in, and disturb our Reason.  
When we cannot stay the motion of those Bodies that are capable of offending us, we never fail to step aside to avoid being struck by them: Thus, when we are not able to stop the action of sensible Objects, we ought to avoid them by flight, in the same manner as we use to preserve ourselves from contagious distempers by change of Air.  
Let an Insect but prick us, we immediately lose sight of the most solid truths; let a Fly but buzz in our Ears, and our mind will be presently filled with darkness. What shall we do then to hold this truth which still gets away, and preserve this light which vanishes from us? Must we kill all the Infects, and drive away all the Flies? this can never be. We must then remove somewhere else; for, after all, it is impossible that the Sensations that divide your thinking Faculty, should not hinder us from discovering Truth.  Theod. 
You begin perhaps, Aristarchus, to discover by what we have said, and by this last Answer of Erastus, that what Christ hath preached about the mortification of our Senses, is the best method that can be to reunite us to God by the knowledge of Truth.  Arist. 
It is true: But I am afraid that you attribute to the Doctrine of the Gospel some perfection that Christ never designed to give it. For, in all likelihood, Christ never intended to give us any Precepts to direct our minds in the inquiry of certain Truths, which are not absolutely necessary to us in the World.  Theod. 
I own, Aristarchus, that Christ's principal design was not to instruct us in certain speculative Truths, which do not by themselves conduce to the knowledge and love of sovereign Truth. But the Precepts of the Gospel are so useful, that they extend to all the things that may in some manner add to the perfection of the mind; for they are directly opposed to the cause of our disorders, and remedy our diseases in their beginning. And thus they tend to give us all the perfection whereof we are capable, since to deprive ourselves of sensible things, is not only a necessary thing to help the conversion of our hearts, but also for the perfecting our understandings, as you will see it better hereafter.  
Do you think, Erastus, that nothing besides actual Sentiments can hinder the mind from applying itself to Truth, and that a Man who hath for some years enjoyed the pleasures of the World is able, when he leaves them, to unite himself to intellectual things, with as much force and light, as those who have during all their Lives been careful to purify their Imaginations?  Erast. 
No, certainly, none can enjoy worldly pleasure with impunity. When the Imagination hath been touched by some sensible thing, the impression of it remains; and the enjoyment of worldly pleasures makes it easily Slaves to them. There remains in our Brain some impressions that always represent to the mind the pleasures that it hath enjoyed, and that often hinder it from applying itself to such things as have no sensible attraction.  
Therefore when the Imagination is sullied, the Mind is filled with darkness, because Concupiscence, which of itself takes off the Mind from the sight of Truth, is strengthened and increased by this new Concupiscence that is acquired by the use of sensible things.  Theod. 
What must we do then, Erastus, to become capable of attaining that perfection of understanding which consists in the knowledge of Truth?  Erast. 
It appears plainly, that we must with all imaginable care avoid whatever is able to make any deep impression in our Brain; we must (give me leave to use your expression) strictly take care to purify our Imaginations.  Arist. 
But then, Theodorus, we ought not to do Penance; for painful Sensations as much divide our thinking Faculty as those that are pleasing.  Theod. 
A Man ought not to mortify himself with an intent to find the Solution of a Problem, such an Action doth not enlighten the Mind. None can actually seel Pain, and see Truth actually at the same time. But Sufferings, how unuseful soever for the knowledge of certain Truths, are very useful to take us off from sensible things; 
* Pontificius loquitur.  to satisfy God's Justice, being joined to those of our Saviour; to merit us the sight of that sovereign Truth which dissipates all our darkness; and even to teach us some certain moral Truths, on which we do not think when we feel nothing.  
But, Aristarchus, do you not see that the impressions of Sufferings that remain in the Memory, do not darken it, like the impressions of Pleasures? Do you not see that they never provoke Lust, never disturb the Mind, never divide its Attention, and that things being thus, they do not hinder it from discovering Truth? We easily cease to think on Pain, as soon as we cease to suffer it, and have no cause to fear it, because Pain hath nothing that is pleasing in itself. But the same doth not happen when ever we have tasted of any Pleasures, their vestiges or impressions remain strongly printed in our Brains, and do each moment excite some troublesome desires that disturb the peace of the mind; and those desires renewing those impressions, Concupiscence, which is the Spring of all our Ills, and consequently of the want of application of the mind to Truth, as well as the corruption of the heart, incessantly receives new strength.  Arist. 
You are in the right: But yet we see that many learned Men have spent their whole Lives in Debauchery, abandoning themselves continually to all sorts of Pleasures.  Theod. 
Not so many as you may think, Aristarchus, for the number of the false learned is very great. A Man must see Truth clearly and distinctly, to be truly learned. It is not enough to have read much; for the Mind knows nothing, if it sees nothing. Pleasure, unless it be excessive, doth not hinder a Man from reading, none but violent Pleasures darken the memory and imagination, but the least thing in the World can darken the sight of the Mind. The Learned of whom you were speaking, make more use of their memory, and of their imagination, than they do of their understanding; and I every day perceive that those whom you esteem most for their Learning are a sort of Men whose understanding is so small, so dark, so dissipated, that they are not capable of having the least apprehension of many Truths which Erastus very easily comprehends.  
There is much difference between that Learning which depends upon the largeness of the Memory, and the force of the Imagination; and that Learning which consists in a sight purely intellectual, wherein the Imagination hath no share, unless it be indirectly.  
All pure Ideas vanish, and dissipate themselves at the appearance of sensible Ideas. We do not hear the voice of Truth, when our Senses and our Imagination speak to us; for we had much rather confusedly know the relations that things have with us, than clearly to know what relations they have between themselves. We are in so great a dependence under Bodies, and so little united to God, that the least thing separates us from him.  
But sensible knowledge, and the sight of the imagination being strengthened by the vestiges or impressions of the Brain, may withstand contrary Sentiments; the Ideas of that knowledge have, if I may use that expression, a Body, and cannot be so easily dissipated. Thus Retirement, and a privation from all Pleasure, is not absolutely necessary to gain all the knowledge wherein we make a greater use of the Senses and Imagination, than of Reason.  
If Mr. Des Cartes came to be so learned in Geometry, Physics, and other parts of Philosophy, it is, because he passed 25 years in a Retirement; it is because he hath perfectly discovered the errors of our Senses, that he hath with care avoided their impression, and oftener meditated than read. In a word, it is because being held by few things, he could unite himself to God, in a manner close enough to receive from him all the necessary lights. This made him extremely learned.  
Had he still disengaged himself more from his Senses, less immersed himself in the World, and yet more carefully applied himself to seek after Truth, it is certain that he would have carried the Sciences of which he hath treated much further, and his Metaphysics would not be such as he hath left them to us in his Writings.  Arist. 
But, Theodorus, now that so many able Men have wrote of Philosophy, Mathematics, and other Learning, methinks it is enough if we read their Works. Those learned Persons whereof I was just now speaking to you, know Des Cartes as well as Des Cartes could know himself. My Friend whom I have a mind to convert, understands him so throughly, that nothing can be mentioned out of that Author but is known by him; nay, and the very place where it lies: yet he never meditates, reads a Book in three days, and knows it all. Therefore I judge that Retirement is not necessary for Learning.  Theod. 
Not for that Learning which resides in Memory, and doth not enlighten the Mind. Do you think that those Persons who so easily remember other men's Opinions, can see the truth of them? Do you think that your Friend knows Des Cartes, or rather do you think that he sees what Des Cartes saw? If you do, you are much mistaken. I will grant to you, that your Friend knows all the words which Des Cartes hath used, better than Des Cartes himself did; or that he can better relate Des Cartes' Opinion, than Des Cartes himself could have done it. In short, I will believe, if you will, that he is fit to make a Man a Cartesian, to enlighten the minds of those that hear him, and make them receive Des Cartes' Sentiments, than Des Cartes himself was: yet, for all this, I do not believe that he truly knows Des Cartes.  
Des Cartes's Philosophy is in his memory and imagination, and for that Reason he speaks pertinently of it: but I do not believe that it is in his mind, and for that Reason he neither sees nor approves those Sentiments that are the necessary Consequences of it.  
It seems as a Paradox, that a Man who doth not know a Truth, should sometimes be more capable of persuading another of it, than he who exactly knows it, and discovered it himself; yet if you consider that we instruct others only by Words, you will easily perceive that those that have any force of imagination, and a happy memory, often can, remembering what they have read, explain themselves more clearly, than those who are accustomed to meditation, and who discover Truth by themselves.  
Thus, Aristarchus, do not imagine that those who speak pertinently to you concerning some certain Truths, see them perfectly, for it is not always so: many times this happens, yet those Truths are only in their memory, or else they see them by an imaginary sight, for that sight furnishes expressions lively, and that seem to signify much, tho' they signify nothing distinct, only to those whom they move to retire within themselves.  
There is much difference between seeing and seeing; between seeing after having read, and seeing after having meditated: And to find out those that see distinctly and perfectly possess a Truth, from those who do not possess it, there needs truly to propose to them some question that depends from it; for then those that see clearly speak clearly, but the others always speak in such a manner as discovers their want of light.  
Examine your learned Men, Aristarchus, according to this method, and you will find that the most learned are the most ignorant; that they have the less penetration, and the greatest rashness; that they cannot so much as discern Truth from what seems to be such; that they speak without conceiving what they say; and that often in the very instant that you admire them, what is most to be admired in them, is nothing but an effect of that memory which, like a Watch, goes of itself, and whose springs unbend themselves by the action of the imagination.  
In short, you will see after all, that almost all their knowledge is destitute of light and evidence, of that intellectual light and evidence that is darkened by the slightest sensation, and dissipated by the smallest motion; and that therefore Retirement, a privation of sensible things, the mortification of the senses and passions are absolutely necessary for the perfection of the understanding, as also for the conversion of the heart.  
But this doth not justify the Morals of the Gospel, for Christ did not come to teach us the Mathematics, Philosophy, and such other Truths, which by themselves are unuseful enough for our Salvation.  
All knowledge of Truth rendering the mind in some manner more perfect, it was necessary that Christ's directions should be proper to purchase it. But the true perfection of the mind, and the shortest way to learn generally all Sciences, being an Union with God (not the natural Union, which is incessantly interrupted by the motions of Concupiscence, but the Union which a clear sight, and a continual love make indissolvable,) It was necessary that Christ's Precepts should put us in the way, whereby we may attain to that Union.  
You will see at our next Interview, that the Christian Religion alone can lead us to it. In the mean time I leave you with Erastus, to meditate on the things which we have said now.   

DIALOGUE VIII. That Christian Morality is absolutely necessary for the Conversion of the Heart.  Theod. 
WEll, Aristarchus, are you convinced that Retirement from Business, a Privation of Pleasures; in a word, that a mortification of the Senses and Passions, is absolutely necessary for the discovery of secret, abstracted, and sound Truths, whose knowledge puffs not up the Heart? For I well know, that the Commerce of the World engages the Mind in the Study of such Sciences as render a Man famous, and that Concupiscence gives us a Passion for all Truths which are useful to make a Man considerable in the World.  Arist. 
Yes, Theodorus, I am convinced. Truth in itself appears so mean a thing to Men tossed with Passion, or joined to some sensible Object, that they can't but despise it; and tho' there are many that seek after it, 'tis, I confess, out of design, and hope to draw some advantage from it. The brightness and glory which environs the Learned, sparkles and dazzles us, our secret Pride awakes and stirs us up: But the pure light of Truth is not lively enough to make us perceive it, when we are preingaged with other things.  Erast. 
I have known some Men, who probably read in the Morning, for a matter of Talk in the Afternoon; for as soon as they had left the little Company that applauded them, they have had such an horror for Books, and every thing called Learning, that they could not abide to hear it spoke of. You remember Mr. F. for three years, he doubtless took great pleasure to teach three or four of us young Men who came to hear him, since he would fatigue himself every Morning, to repeat the miserable Reasons which he plundered out of Aristotle's Problems. Now he reads no more; for we hearing him no longer with admiration, he speaks no more with pleasure. He even has much aversion for all Discourses of Learning; and as he is a little troublesome, we have found out the secret to get rid of his Company, by proposing some Question to him to have it resolved.  Theod. 
This Example, Erastus, was not needful to convince us that Persons who are wedded to some sensible thing, do not search after Truth for its sake. You see that we are well enough convinced of it. You may observe the weakness of other Men, and how their Vanity renders 'em miserable, provided that you suppose yourself in their person, for we are all very near one as the other. But, Erastus, we never ought to inspire into any one a Contempt of, or Estrangement from a Person, unless we are certain, I say certain, that he is dangerous and contagious. Otherwise we must speak in general terms. You would, perhaps, by your judicious Reflection, give us to understand that you are witty; we already know it, but we knew not that you would have it known. 'Tis a hard thing to accuse others of Vanity, without condemning one's self of the same thing, or something else equivalent. Thus, Erastus, you may constantly observe, continually criticise, but think and correct yourself, and if you would not condemn yourself, hold your peace.  
You freely grant, Aristarchus, that the Counsels of JESUS CHRIST are necessary to acquire that perfection of the Mind which consists in the knowledge of Truth. Nevertheless JESUS CHRIST came not to make us Philosophers, his Counsels, as I told you yesterday, tend only indirectly, and by reason of their universality to make us wise. But if he gave not to his Disciples many Precepts of Logic to reason justly, yet he taught them all necessary Rules to live well, and gave them also all necessary power to follow them. 'Tis for this end that JESUS CHRIST is come, his design is to remedy the disorder of Sin, to reunite us to God, by separating us from the Body, to save us, and raise us up to himself in Heaven.  
We shall eternally remain such, as we shall be in the moment that our Soul shall leave our Body. If we love God in this moment, we shall love him always; for the motion of Spirits is only unconstant, and meritorious for this life: But all human Sciences are in themselves unprofitable, to regulate this moment, upon which depends our Eternity; they merit us not the Assistances of Heaven for this moment, they incline not our hearts towards God. Thus JESUS CHRIST was not to guide us directly to this perfection of the Mind which is barren for Eternity, and which ceases at the moment of Death; he was to recommend to us a privation from sensible Good, to the end that our hearts may be filled with his love, being empty of every thing else; and to the end that adhering to nothing in the moment that commences Eternity, our love may carry us towards God who is the source of all happiness.  
Let us not then any more consider the Counsels of JESUS CHRIST, with respect to the knowledge of Truth, but with respect to this perfection of Mind, which consists in the love of real Good, in Charity which remains for ever, which alone merits Eternity, and without which all Virtues are but imaginary.  
Let us examine the Morality of the Gospel with relation to the Rule of Manners, but let us examine it with all possible strictness, that there may be no Subject for a second Enquiry; let us not be convinced less of our Duties by Reason, than we are by Faith.  
Certainly if the things which I have proved concerning JESUS CHRIST in the preceding Conferences are true, there remains no doubt about the truths of Morality; we must renounce our own Wills, we must bear his Cross, we must weep, fast and suffer. JESUS CHRIST hath said it. If he is God, if he is Wise, 'tis evident that his Counsels are very advantageous to us. But because we can't be too much convinced of the truth of these Propositions, which are so incommodious, and which offend us so sensibly, we must endeavour to discover by our own Reason that there is no other remedy for our Evils.  
Perhaps we shall do like those that are dangerously hurt, who, to preserve a miserable life, present their own Bodies to the Surgeons to be cut and burnt; they believe these Men upon their word, and confide in their Operations, and expose themselves to a great pain, in an uncertain prospect of a Good which in itself is very inconsiderable: What then should hinder us from imitating them, when the evidence of Reason concurs with the certainty of Faith? If we refuse to believe in JESUS CHRIST, if we fear not Eternity, if we harken to out Senses and Passions, yet it may be, that Reason joined to Faith, will effect our Conviction: And it may be that, by continually condemning our laziness, it will excite in us a profitable Inquietude. Let us therefore examine those things in their Principle.  
We ought only to love what is lovely. No Thing is lovely but what is good; but no Thing is good with respect to us, if it be uncapable of doing us good, if it be uncapable of rendering us more perfect and happy (for I speak not here of a kind of Good which consists in the perfection of every thing.) Now no Thing is capable of rendering us more perfect and happy, if it be not above us, and capable of acting in us. But all Bodies are below us, they can't act in us, they can't produce in us either pleasure or light, than they are not to be beloved: What think you Erastus?  Erast. 
When I ask my Reason, I freely rest upon this; but when I make use of my Senses, I doubt it: Yet as my Reason answers me more distinctly than my Senses, as it is preferable to my Senses, and as it never deceives me, tho' my Senses always do, when I make use of them to judge of Truth; I believe that sensible Objects are uncapable of rendering me more perfect and happy.  Theod. 
Then you ought not to love Bodies?  Erast. 
'Tis true, this is evident.  Theod. 
But don't you love them?  Erast. 
Much, Theodorus, I follow not my Reason; I follow my Senses, my Pleasure.  Theod. 
Thus Erastus. To love sensible things, it's sufficient to taste Pleasure in the use of 'em; Pleasure captivates the Heart, it acts more powerfully upon you than your reason, since you love because of pleasure such things as you know by reason are unworthy of your Love.  Erast. 
I have for a long time known what you now tell me.  Theod. 
I don't doubt it, 'tis not to teach you what I now tell you, but to make you think of it; But pray tell me do you love the Game of Piquet or Omber.  Erast, 
Very much.  Theod. 
Do you love Hunting?  Erast. 
I have not yet been at it, but I imagine that there's no great pleasure to course a Hare for three of four hours together, in the Wind, Rain or Sun.  Arist. 
You know not what you say, Erastus, there's no greater pleasure in the World.  Theod. 
Take heed Erastus, Aristarchus judges not of Hunting as you do, he loves it, and you love it not. But would you love it? Does your Reason represent it as if it were worthy of your love?  Erast. 
No, Theodorus, neither my Reason nor my Senses; for what pleasure can it be to pursue a miserable Beast a whole day together; I pity the Passion of Aristarchus.  Theod. 
I advise you then never to go to it; for if you did, you perhaps would come back more passionate than Aristarchus, he was once as you are, without any desire to hunt before he had tasted the pleasure, it may be he had even an aversion for it, but by little and little he was so accustomed to it, that he could not refrain from it.  Erast. 
I believe it, and will never go, for I would not be ruined in Horses and Dogs.  Theod. 
But, Erastus, why play you? Why do you lose your time unprofitably? Will you ruin your 〈◊〉 by play rather than Hunting?  Erast. 
I can't help it.  Theod. 
Then 'tis with you as with Aristarchus, you condemn one another, and have compassion for one another.  Arist. 
'Tis true Erastus; and I are not over wise, thus to follow the Motions of our Passions, although I see well that he runs the Risque of losing at Cards, and I, of falling off my Horse.  Theod. 
What should have been done then to reclaim Erastus from gaming, and Aristarchus from hunting? For as things now are, there only remains in human apprehension a violent Remedy.  Erast. 
When Aristarchus perceived himself, agitated by the pleasure of the Chase, he should have forthwith left it; He should resemble me, his Imanation should not be filled with these Vestiges, which continually renew the object of his Passion; 'tis the Pleasure that is found in the use of sensible things which is the Cause of Passions, and which agitates the animal Spirits; but when the animal Spirits are strongly agitated, they impress deep Vestiges in the Brain, they even break, through their violent Course, all the Fibres which resist them: Thus as soon as we taste pleasure we must examine and see if it be advantageous that the Vestiges of the Object which cause this pleasure perfect their form; if the Object which causes this pleasure is unworthy of our Application and Love, we must deprive ourselves of it, and also shun the pleasure which enslaves us by the Vestiges it impresses in our Brain. 'Tis this I believe which we ought to do to hinder our Concupiscence from a continual growth.  Theod. 
— But Erastus, when you actually taste of pleasure, can you easily quit the Object that causes it? When Aristarchus was in the heat of the Chase, the first time he went thither, do you think he was in a Condition to reflect upon himself? Did not the Sound of the Horn, the Noise and running of the Dogs, the motion of the Horse, and above all this the pleasure that he found in all these different motions, take up his mind? Did not his Passion carry him as well as his Horse, to the Death of the Hare or Stag? And do you believe that he could then think of your Remedy? Or if he had thought, do you believe that he would have been willing to have made use of it? Or that he could have resisted the Passion which agitated him? The Philosophical Remedies which you have laid down, are not proper at such a time, Erastus, to hinder our Concupiscence that it should not increase.  Erast. 
'Tis true Theodorus, the most certain of all Remedies is that of privation. Pleasure poisons us, we must not taste it, this the most short and sure Rule (b) He that commits Sin becomes the Slave of it. 
Joh. 8.34  I find that reason perfectly agrees with the Gospel, nevertheless I remember that I have cured my Imagination and resisted my Passion by the use of things, which, according to what you have said, should increase it. Thus,  
About three or four years ago, I freely believed every thing that I heard: One day there came an Officer hither who said, that travelling with an Englishman, that could not forbear smoking, it happened that this Englishmans Horse fell down, and broke his Master's Leg, who being upon the ground, and thinking rather on his Pipe than Leg, he put his hand into his Pocket, and taking out his Pipe whole, he cried out with Joy, Well, well, my Pipe is not broke. This Relation struck me, and I imagined the smoke of Tobacco was the most agreeable thing in the World, so that I perceived myself urged with a violent Passion to try it; but it happened to me as to many others, that I had no sooner tasted it, but had a horror for it. Thus, Theodorus, your Remedy, which is to deprive us of sensible things, is not general; for the use of Tobacco has cured me of the Passion I had for it, and when I had not used it, I was desirous of it.  Theod. 
But, Erastus, don't you see that we must be deprived of all that is capable of sullying the Imagination? The Commerce we have with those who speak of Bodies as true Goods, is capable of impressing traces in the Brain which carry us to the love of Bodies, as well as the very use of Bodies. A Drunkard, who speaks of Wine as of his God, who despises those who know not how to drink, and who places amongst his bravest Actions the Victories which he hath got at the Table against the greatest Debauchees of the Province, such a Drunkard, in his gay humour easily persuades a young Man that 'tis a fine quality to drink as much Wine as two Horses can drink Water. 'Tis for this that in all places where Men speak of drinking much, as of a Virtue, all the World drinks to excess; for even those who don't at first delight in drinking, doing as others, to avoid being the Subject of their Companions Raillery's, they are by degrees so accustomed to Wine, that they can't be without it.  
Thus, Erastus, as Concupiscence does principally reside in the traces of the Brain, which incline the Soul to the love of sensible things, it must be deprived of all things which produce these traces, not only of the actual use of Bodies, which is of no use to the preservation of health and life, but also of the Conversation of Debauchees, who speak with esteem of the objects of their passions.  
'Tis pleasure, Erastus, which agitates the Spirits, and which produces dangerous traces, not only that which we enjoy by our Senses, but that also which we enjoy by Imagination; not only the taste, but, also the desire. And sometimes the Imagination does so augment all things, that the pleasure it produces excites the Concupiscence after a more strong and lively manner, than that we enjoy even in the use of Bodies.  
Persons who have too quick and delicate an Imagination, may sometimes cure the hurt they have received in a contagious discourse, by tasting the pleasures which are represented to them, or of which they formed themselves too great an Idea. And there are certain bashful, lazy and judicious persons, and of a certain disposition of mind hard to describe, to whom it is convenient sometimes to show the world, to give 'em a dislike of it.  
But, Erastus, this is rare, and 'tis extremely dangerous to be familiarized with sensible things. You have an horror for Tobacco, you are pleased not to be subject to the necessity of always having some with you; yet if you were to be with Men who frequently use it, their discourse and manner would engage you by degrees to use it yourself, and Use would subject you to it as well as others; for I know some who can't be without it, that could not endure it heretofore.  Erast. 
It is true, Theodorus, that the great Secret to resist Concupiscence, is to have continually an eye to the purity of our Imagination, and to take heed that it leave not footsteps in the Brain, which may carry us to the love of sensible things, thus to remedy the beginning of our Irregularities. The Counsels of JESUS CHRIST, which only tend to deprive us of the use of sensible things are admirable, but they are very uneasy; methinks Philosophy furnishes us with a Remedy more commodious than that of the Gospel, 'tis this:  
Philosophy teaches me, that all Bodies which are about me can't act in me, and that 'tis God only that causes in me the pleasure and grief which I feel in their use; this being granted, I can enjoy Bodies without loving them: for as I only ought to love that which is truly capable of making me happy, to excite in me the love of God, I have only to remember in the use of sensible things, that 'tis God who makes me happy by their means. Thus I ought not to shun Bodies, on the contrary I ought to seek them; that so by exciting pleasure in me, they may continually make me to think of God who is the cause of it.  
Whence comes it that the Blessed love God constantly, and that they can't leave off loving him, if it is not that they see him, and that they are tied to him by a preingaging pleasure? Well then, I see God by Philosophy, I perceive him in every thing; if I eat, I think of God, because 'tis God that makes me eat with pleasure; I'm not careful to love good entertainment, as there's nothing but God which acts in me, I only love him.  Theod. 
You, Erastus, are free from sin, and confirmed in grace, for who shall disunite you from God? the most violent pleasures tie you more strongly to him, and pains can only produce in you a fear and respect for him; but do you yourself often make use of your own Remedy, and have you never acted contrary to the remorse of your Conscience?  Erast. 
I am very sensible, Theodorus, that this Remedy of my Philosophy is not sovereign, but pray explain to us the defects of it.  Theod. 
I will: When you taste of Fruit with pleasure, your Reason tells you that there is a God whom you see not, who causes in you this pleasure; your Senses tell you on the contrary, that this Fruit which you see, which you hold in your hands, 〈◊〉 which you eat, is that which causes in you this pleasure; which of these two speaks higher, your Reason or your Senses? As for me, I find that the noise of my Senses is so great, that I even think not of God in that moment; but perhaps Erastus is such a Philosopher, that his Senses are silent as soon as he pleases, and that they never speak to him without first obtaining his Licence. If so, your Remedy is good for you; for the privation of Bodies is not absolutely necessary to those who have no Concupiscence. Adam could taste of pleasures without becoming their Slave, though he had done better to have let them alone.  
Then let those who feel no Concupiscence in them, and whose Body is entirely subject to the Spirit, make use of your Remedy, 'tis good for them: they are just by themselves, they descend in a right Line from the Pre-Adamites. Neither did Christ come for them, he came not to save the Just, but Sinners. He came for us who are Sinners, Children of a sinful Parent, sold, and subject to Sin, and who always feel in our Bodies the Rebellion of our Senses and Passions.  
When the obligation we have to preserve our health and life constrains us to enjoy some pleasure, than we must make a necessity of Virtue, and make use of your Remedy if we can, remembering that these are not the Objects which cause in us this pleasure, but God only, we must thank him for them, and pray to him that he would defend us from the malignity of sensible Objects, we must use them with fear, and with a kind of horror; for without the grace of JESUS CHRIST, that which gives life to the Body, gives death to the Soul, you know the Reasons of it.  Erast. 
But why? Pleasure in itself is not ill, I receive it, than it does me no harm, I thank God for it, and love him the more; it unites me to God, who is the Author of it, than it does me good.  Theod. 
The love of God, which the enjoyment of Pleasure causes in you is much interested; I'm much afraid, Erastus, that in loving God as the Author of your Pleasure, you love yourself instead of loving God. But I wish that this love be not ill, I also wish that you have the power of raising yourself up to God, in the time that you enjoy some Pleasure, but this Pleasure makes traces in the Brain, these traces continually agitate the Soul, and in the time of Prayer, or some other necessary business, they disturb the Action, blind the Mind, and stir up the Passions. Thus when you would even make a good use of Pleasure, at the moment that you should taste it, the trouble that it disperses through the Imagination, has so dangerous Consequences, that you had better have been deprived of it.  
Think you, Erastus, that there has been a Race of Mankind so very stupid, as to get drunk for the honour of God, and to bring him into one's mind for the pleasure of drunkenness; and do you observe, that the pleasure which is found in the excessive use of sensible things, is such as can't be prayed for to God without remorse. Hence it is, that this pleasure was not ordained by Nature to carry us directly to God, but for the use of Bodies, so far as they shall be necessary for the preservation of life.  
We must love God, because Reason informs us, that every thing is centred in him that deserves our love. God will be loved with a clear love, with a love which flows from pure light, and not with a confused Sentiment such as Pleasure is. God is so lovely, that those who see him as he is, would love him in the midst of the most cruel Torments; and we do not love him as he deserves, when we love him because 'tis he only who can create agreeable Sentiments in us.  
A Friend reproves us, because he should do it; we offend ourselves, when we punish ourselves for our Irregularities, do we therefore cease to love ourselves or our Friend? No, doubtless, we endeavour, perhaps, to shun the Reproof which our Friend thinks himself obliged to give us; but if we see that he only does what he ought to do, we are unreasonable, if we cease to have an intrinsic respect and love for him.  
If then a person could conceive that God owes that to his Justice, which he inflicts upon him to make him sensible of the highest pains, he always would suffer patiently, without ceasing to love God. He should not love these pains in themselves, but he should love the Author of them, who, if he did not inflict them, would be less lovely, because he would be less just, and less perfect.  
A Criminal who hath bribed his Judge, loves and esteems him much less than if he had punished him; provided that this Criminal, who is not just enough to hate the Crime in himself, would be reasonable enough to hate it in another. Accordingly the blessed might suffer the pains of the damned, without hating God; for altho' the pleasure they enjoy keeps them united to God inseparably, yet they love not God for the sake of the pleasure which they receive from him, they would even love him in their Torments: For, after all, pleasure is not so much instituted to make us love the Author of it, as to unite us to him, since, as reasonable Creatures, Reason alone ought to stir up our love.  
Pleasure should carry us to the cause of it, and true Good should be capable of producing it, because true Good should recompense all those who truly love: But pleasure, which is the recompense and attraction of the love of the Just, is not their end, for the Just would then love themselves instead of their good. God deserves love in himself, and the pleasure which is found in the use of Bodies, instead of inviting, is to love him as we ought to do, and even the sweetness which is tasted in love, sets us at a distance from him, if resting upon this sweetness we love him not for himself, for than we love ourselves instead of him.  Erast. 
I observe that there's nothing more dangerous than to make use of sensible pleasures, and I am am now convinced that they increase Concupiscence, by the impressions which they make in the Brains, and carry the mind not to God, who is their Author, but to Bodies which seem to produce them, and that tho' (absolutely speaking) they may induce us to think of God who is their Author, yet they excite in us nothing but an interested love, a love which is more like Self-love, than true Charity.  Arist. 
But, Theodorus, the Law of Nature does not only oblige us to love God, but also Men; and if we have not some Correspondence with them by means of the Body, what other Reason will induce us to love them? 'Tis Interest which forms Societies. 'Tis Pleasure which unites different Sexes; and there are whole Nations that can't maintain Peace and Commerce but by the means of Wine. To drink together is sufficient to put away Enmity amongst some Men. A glass of Wine must be drunk to drive on a Bargain. Thus you see it is profitable for Men to enjoy Pleasure together, to preserve that Union and Charity amongst them which is commanded them.  Theod. 
I believe you have a mind to make yourself merry, Aristarchus, What! do you believe that there's any thing besides Truth and Justice, which can strictly unite us together? do you believe that a Peace concluded in drink betwixt Drunkards, would be so solid as that which reasonable Men make in the sight of Justice, and by a Motive of Charity? Certainly all the Bonds which are made by Interest, are unserviceable towards the fulfilling of the Precept of loving our Neighbour. The Appearances are saved, and Men are treated with Civility, but cordial Love is wanting, when Interest lies at the stake. We must love other Men for God; for as it is he that should terminate all the motions of our heart, he can only reunite all minds in himself. But the Commerce which we may have with Men by means of the Body, are only proper to create a division amongst us; for sensible Goods are not like those of the mind, one can't possess them without sharing them. It's enough for a Man to desire an enjoyment of his Friend's Estate, to make him unhappy and become his Enemy. It's the Love of temporal advantage which begets Wars, and breeds Division in Families. Persons would enjoy these Goods, but can't, without depriving those of them that possess them. Thus 'tis evident, that a contempt of sensible Goods, and a privation of Pleasures, are as useful for the preservation of Peace amongst them as to continue a strict Union with God.  Arist. 
'Tis true, Theodorus, that to avoid a quarrel with any Body, there's no better means than to yield our Possessions to those that desire them of us, but the Command of Jesus Christ in this matter is very inconvenient, and I do not see that even the most perfect follow it.  Theod. 
I confess it, Aristarchus, there are many occasions on which we should not too rigidly pursue this Command, but we must always be disposed to it if there be necessity. 'Tis not the difficulty that we find in this Command, and in the rest, which ought to hinder us from practising them; on the contrary, they are so much the more useful, as they tend more to satisfy the 
* Pontificius loquitur.  Justice of God, and to merit the Favour of our perfect reunion with him.  
We are all Sinners, and deserve to suffer; and these instructions of Privation being painful, they have this advantage, that they cleanse us from our Sins, in making us partakers in the Sufferings of CHRIST.  
In our misery we have all of us need of the assistance of Heaven, but CHRIST teaches us to merit them, when our Sufferings being joined to his, our Sufferings are meritorious with his. Thus the Inconveniency you find in the Precepts of CHRIST, bring their Recommendation along with them.  
If the trouble which attends the privation of sensible Objects were not necessary to satisfy God, nor merit his Assistance, of which we have the greatest need, I confess there would be a fault in the Evangelic Councils; nevertheless there would be none better, for the Reasons I have produced. But these Instructions do so perfectly and universally remedy all our Evils, they are so proportioned to the Condition which Sin has reduced us to, that if we cannot follow them, we can't yet forbear to admire them.  Erast. 
'Tis true, the Instructions of CHRIST do perfectly remedy Concupiscence, but 'tis provided we follow them. We can do only those things which we would do, and we are commanded to do what we would not; for 'tis pleasure that makes us willing, and the Gospel forbids it; Who then shall be able to follow these Instructions? I am much afraid that Aristarchus' Friend will say, That Christian Morality resembles Plato's Politics; that 'tis beautiful in its Idea, but has this essential fault, which renders it wholly unprofitable, that Men are incapable of it.  Theod. 
It's necessary, Erastus, that Christianity should be such as it is to be perfect, you agree with me in this, but say it's impossible to follow it. Yes, Erastus, 'tis so without CHRIST, but with him all things are possible. He is our Strength, as well as our Wisdom. If he counsels us to act contrary to our Wills, 'tis because he is able to change our hearts. He is not like Plato, who gives Laws to establish a Republic, but does not make Men capable of observing those Laws. CHRIST hath established the most perfect Morality that can be, and at the same time gives Men a power to act agreeably; he regenerates them, and strips them of the Old Man; he gives them a heart of flesh, in which he writes those Laws which the Jews received from Moses written in Stone; Faith and Experience teaches us these things.  
The Republic of Plato is a Republic in Idea, it is not made up of Men; but how many Christians, even in a strict Sense, pursue the Counsels of their Master? How many Religious Saints continually mortify their Senses and Passions, and labour with all their Might to destroy the Body of Sin, this Old Man, whose desires disturb their peace and hopes?  
It's necessary, Erastus, that the power of God appear in the execution of the Precepts of Morality, that we may not doubt of the truth of Religion. It's necessary that there be nothing humane in the Religion which God establishes, to the end that it attribute nothing of its establishment to the Politics of Princes; the inclination of Men, and the natural disposition of their minds.  
The Precepts of CHRIST, tho' painful in themselves, yet being followed, justify Religion; and known Religion makes men obedient to his Precepts. He in whom we believe enables us to act as we act, and what we thus act is so much above our power, that it makes us believe what we believe. Thus the Precepts of CHRIST far from being unprofitable, because they appear difficult and uneasy to us, aught to be esteemed by us wholly Divine, since he that is wise enough to give them to us, is also powerful enough to assist us. We shall speak something the next Meeting of this power by which we are enabled to fulfil the Precepts of the Gospel. Pray, Erastus, think of it with your Friend, so that our next Discourse may be the more satisfactory.   

DIALOGUE IX. The same Subject continued.  Arist. 
I Have thought on those things you said to us yesterday, Theodorus, and on those whereof we are to treat this day. I am convinced of the first, and I will tell you what I think of the others.  
I look upon Man as being between Heaven and Earth, between the place of his Rest and Felicity, and that of his Troubles and Miseries; fastened to God, yet knowing him not; fastened to Bodies, which he sees. Seeing that pleasure moves and transports him, and that, whilst he enjoys it, he doth not see Him who is the true cause of it in the same manner as he sees and feels the Bodies that are the occasion of it, he runs with Fury after Bodies, and doth not so much as think on God. So it is necessary that he deprive himself of sensible pleasures, if he will stop the motion that draws him out of the way to Heaven, and carries him towards earthly things; this is plain; but a privation of pleasure is not yet sufficient to raise him towards Heaven.  
Let us suppose, Theodorus, a Balance, one of whose Scales is empty, and the other heavily laden; though by little and little you take out of the Scale what was in it, till there remain almost nothing in it, notwithstanding all this, there will be no alteration in the Balance: For this you must altogether empty it, or lay something of weight in the other Scale, that may poise it equally.  
Now our Mind is like a Balance; nor is it perfectly free in one sense, but when the weight that transports and captivates it, is equal for Heaven and Earth, or rather when there is no weight of either side: For then the Mind being as it were in Aequilibrio, easily moves of itself towards that which by reason it finds to be its true good. It is not moved nor determined by preingaging pleasure, but by reason alone; its senses have no share in the Act; it's love is an understanding love, and altogether worthy of it.  
Adam, before his Fall, having no Concupiscence, his Senses and his Passions yielding to him as soon as he desired it, in short, being not drawn in spite of himself to the love of sensible things, by involontary and rebellious preingaging pleasures, he was perfectly free, and stood in no want of that kind of Grace which consists in a preingaging delectation; because the Balance was not swayed on either side by any weight.  
But now that one of the Cups of the Balance is extremely loaded, we cannot be free in the same manner as the first Man; for even the most Righteous Persons cannot entirely free themselves of the weight of Concupiscence. All they can do, is to lessen the weight by retirement, by a privation of pleasures, and a continual mortification of their Senses and Passions. But not being able to bring that weight to nothing, they stand in need of the delectation of Grace to counterpoise it, and put the Scale in a perfect Aequilibrium.  
I therefore believe Theodorus, that for us to deny ourselves the Pleasures of this World, is not sufficient to deliver us wholly from being Slaves to them, but that in order to this we stand in absolute need of Christ's 
* Note, By Christ's Grace, is here meant that which he has particularly merited us, which consists for in a preingaging delectation, or in a loathing which he causes us to have for false good: For the Graces of Light and Joy which Christ hat halso merited for us, are common to us with the First Man, who, knowing no Concupiscence, had no need of preingaging Pleasures, as we have explained it in the foregoing Dialogue.  Grace. But as a small Weight is able to make a pair of Scales even, when one of them has very little in it, 'tis plain that a lessening of the weight of Sin, or a denying one's self the use of Worldly Pleasure, is the best preparation in order to receive, not only Grace, but even the efficacy of Grace (provided this Self denial be an effect of the dictates of God's Spirit.) For 'tis evident that the efficacy of Grace commonly depends on the disposition which we are in, with respect to Worldly things, as a Weights acting in a pair of Scales depends, as to its effect, on the force of the contrary Weights.  
As every Weight presses downward, so in one sense every Grace is efficacious, or draws us towards God; but as every Weight does not make the Scales even, nor turns them when another Weight hinders it, so every Grace does not set us wholly free, nor does it force us towards God. So that every Grace may be said to be efficacious, though it turn not a Heart entirely, and every Grace is sufficient to do this, when we are well prepared to receive it; for there is no Weight, how small soever it may be, but what may set a pair of Scales even, when the obstacle is very light.  
Thus the efficacy and sufficiency of Grace may be considered in themselves, or relatively: If we examine them in themselves, any Grace will appear to be efficacious, and consequently sufficient; if relatively, we shall find it sometimes efficacious and sufficient, and sometimes not. Yet not but that God may bestow on a Sinner some Graces whose efficacy all the malignity of Sin could never hinder; for though we suppose a Balance to be extremely filled on one side, there may yet be found a Weight great enough to make it even.  
This is what came into my Mind upon the subject matter of our Conference.  Theod. 
Your Reflections are Just; but your Comparison does not say enough yet. Pray, Aristarchus, what do you mean by this word Grace? 'Tis a lose and undetermined expression which, like some words used by Logicians, can give no distinct Idea of any thing, principally to such a one as Erastus. Do you understand by this word barely preingaging Delectation?  Arist. 
Hitherto I only meant this kind of Delectation: But by the word Grace, we may understand whatever is capable of making the Scales even, and of drawing the Mind towards God, or of fixing it strongly to him, if it be united to him already.  Theod. 
All this is still very general. Pray tell me Erastus, do you know what are the things that are capable of drawing us towards God, and of fixing us strongly to him?  Erastus, 
I do not know them all in particular; but it seems to me in general, that only Light and Pleasure make us love him, and that, besides Light and Pleasure, Joy may confirm our Love, though it never gins it; since, when I examine myself, I know no other motive of my particular will. If I begin to love any thing, it is either because I know, or feel that this thing is good for me; and if I continue to love it, 'tis because I continue to know or feel that this thing is good for me; or else it is that I rejoice at the sight or taste of the good that I possess.  Theod. 
Thus, Erastus, all the Graces of which you have an Idea, which carry you towards good, are either Graces of Light which enlighten the Mind without determining it, or Graces of preingaging Pleasure which determine the Mind without enlightening it, or Graces of Joy which follow the Light and Determination of the Mind, and only serve to confirm it in its choice. You do not speak of being ignorant of false good, or weened from it, nor do you speak of the Loathing which we come to have of it, nor of the sorrow we conceive at the sight of our misery when we rejoice in this false good. But I plainly see the Reason of it: 'Tis that these sorts of Graces do not by themselves carry us towards our true good, though they are often necessary that the Graces which by themselves carry towards that true good may act.  Erast. 
This is true, Theodorus.  Theod. 
But pray, Erastus, what think you of the necessity of Grace? Are you of Aristarchus' Opinion?  Erast. 
Altogether, Theodorus: I believe that a self-denial as to sensible Pleasure, after what manner soever you may imagine it to be, cannot of itself reunite us to God, though the efficacy or the prevailing of the Grace of Christ depends on that for the most part, I believe that all Men have need of the Light of Faith, and that those who are tempted by violent Pleasures cannot overcome them by the Grace of Light only: I believe they have still need of preingaging Pleasure, especially if they are used to follow the motions of their Passions. As for the Righteous whose Hearts are strongly fixed on God, though they cannot overcome a Temptation without actual help, I believe that Light alone, which they never want in pressing occasions, is commonly sufficient for that, and that the Joy which they feel in the practice of Virtue, works in them the same effect that preingaging Pleasure does in those who are beginning that Conversion.  Theod. 
But, Erastus, why do you say that the Righteous never want Light in great Temptations that tend to draw them away from God?  Erast. 
'Tis because the Righteous are only such so far as they love God. Now those that love him, even when they are in danger of losing him, have a desire to keep to him; but they cannot desire to keep to him without thinking upon the means that may serve to that end, nor without representing to themselves the greatness of their loss.  Theod. 
Why so, Erastus?  Erast. 
Because the Natural Prayer that obtains of God the lively Idea of an Object is the actual Will of thinking on this Object. For when we will think on any thing, the Idea of this thing presents its self to our Mind, and this Idea is so much the more lively the more firm our Will is.  
A Just Man loves God more than all other things, and in a Temptation, by which he is in danger of losing God, is in a condition of seeing his loss; nor can he see it without being sensible of it, nor without desiring to avoid it. His Will therefore Naturally requires Light, and obtains so much the more of it, the stronger his Desire is, and the more fervent his Love; for 'tis this Love that prays as it ought, and is always heard.  Theod. 
This is true, Erastus: Our Good cannot be snatched from us, but that at the same time we must be desirous to preserve it, and this Desire or Will is always followed by Light; for nothing gives so much Light as Interest. Those that look upon God as their true Good have commonly Light enough in the dangers of Temptations, and usually find out means to avoid them. But, Erastus, this only happens when the Love is strong, and the Temptation weak. There are some Righteous Men who love God above all things, yet whose Love is not lively, being suffered by them to languish for want of Nourishment, and weakened extremely by that Concupiscence which incessantly wars against it; so that the Ideas, which, according to the Laws of Nature, present themselves to their Minds in Temptation, dissipate and vanish in a moment; they are of no substance nor consistence: But the Ideas which according to the Laws of Nature are excited in the motions of the Passions are sensible. Thus, Erastus, lest the Righteous should fall, God must either give them a greater Light than that which should ensue from their love, according to the Laws of Nature, or awaken and fortify their love by a preingaging delectation. But because he does it if he pleases, and as much as he pleases (this not being in course of Nature a thing to which he is obliged) the Light of the Righteous and the Disposition of their Hearts, as sufficient as it is, does not always give them the victory in the time of Temptation.  Erast. 
'Tis a very sad thing that even the Righteous—  Theod. 
It is true, Erastus, but the Righteous can pray. God has obliged himself by his Promises, which he keeps as inviolably as the Laws of Nature, to give them continually actual and efficacious help, if they have need of it. The Righteous are Members of Christ; they are animated with the Spirit of Christ; 'tis, as we may say, Christ that prays in them, and God can refuse nothing to his Son: For the Righteous obtain nothing that they ask, unless they ask it in the Name of Christ, and in order to preserve the Spirit of Christ within them.  Erast. 
But, Theodorus, when a Righteous Man through negligence lets his love decay, when he lets the Light and Life of the Spirit die in him, God knows his wants, God loves him, for every Righteous Man is loved of God; why then does he stay till he pray to him? Why does he not grant before he demands? Why does he not protect and defend him?  Theod. 
God does not always stay till the Righteous pray to him, but often gives them help which they ask not of him; and if he does command them to ask it of him, it is because he will be loved and adored for it. God knows our wants better than we do ourselves; and if he commands us to pray to him, 'tis to oblige us to think on him, and to look upon him as the only Being that is able to fill us with good things; 'tis to excite and awaken our love towards him; and not to learn of us either our wants or the motives he has to relieve us. He is resolved to be gracious to us upon his Son's account, and if it is his will that we pray to him for it in his Son's Name, 'tis that we may love him and his Son.  
'Tis love that prays, 'tis respect, 'tis the disposition of the Mind and Heart: For we cannot pray to God without actually believing a great many things concerning him and us, without actually hoping in him, and actually loving him. But acts stir up and even beget habits; therefore 'tis principally to awaken in us our Faith, our Hope and our Love, that God commands us to pray to him.  
But when our Faith is lively, our Hope firm and our Love ardent, it is not possible, according to the very Laws of Nature, we should want a lively and efficacious Light. For, as you say, 'tis impossible that what we love should be snatched away from us without exciting in us a desire to preserve it; and this desire is naturally followed with a prospect of the means to preserve it.  
Besides, the Joy we find in the possession of what we ardently love is of great force: For the Righteous possess God by the fore-taste of their hope, and this fore-taste accompanied with light is able to make them overcome the strongest Temptations, because it makes them embrace with Joy the means that the Light offers them. Thus Prayer is the nourishment of the Soul, and by it it receives new strength, by it it thinks on God, and comes into his presence, unites its self to him, that is its whole strength; and even it receives of God, through Christ, the delectation of Grace to counterbalance those preingaging Pleasures which it receives also of God (for 'tis God alone that acts in it) but which are involuntary and rebellious by reason of Adam's disobedience.  
And you ought to observe, Erastus, that the Righteous have always in them the strength to pray (seeing it is Love that prays) and consequently strength to obtain an increase of their Love, seeing that God has obliged himself by his Promises to grant them their Prayers. Nay they can easily make use of this strength they have to pray at all times in which they have liberty of Spirit, and need of Prayer, especially if they live in a retirement, and deny themselves sensual Pleasures. For, as the Righteous love God, it is easy for them, when they have liberty of Mind, and perceive that any thing sets them at a distance from God, to make some attempt to return to him again: And this effort is an efficacious Prayer which is rewarded according to the greatness of the effort. They may fly to Christ, think on his Counsels and Examples; and if they cannot easily imitate his Life, they may at least desire to do it, they may strengthen their hope and raise their love, by praying with Faith and Humility in the prospect of the Merits of Christ.  Arist. 
They may do what you say, if they think upon it: But if they do not think upon it, certainly they cannot do it; for none can do what you say with out thinking on it.  Theod. 
They always think upon it, Aristarchus, when it is necessary, because, being righteous, they love God. For those that love God have him still present when there is danger of losing him; because we cannot have that which we love snatched away from us, and not desire to preserve it. I suppose, in the mean time, that they preserve the Liberty of their Minds by putting away Sensual Pleasures; for sometimes the Imagination is so taken up and troubled by the Action of Bodies that are about us, and by the Motion of the Spirits which the Passions raise in us, that we may lose God easily enough, and without making all the Reflections which I believe necessary to preserve and fortify Love.  Erast. 
Thus, Theodorus, we should always return to the Counsels of Christ. There is nothing more necessary for the Righteous, as well as for Sinners, than to remove from the Noisy World and Violent Pleasures; and I believe that those who set no Bounds to their Pleasures, nor to their Passions, can hardly continue in this Presence of God which bears up and fortifies their Love. I fancy that the Hurry, Music, Pomp, Magnificence, and other Allurements that are at Public Places, would very much perplex my Mind, if I should resort thither; for, they say, the Authors of those Sports, which you formerly frequented so much, Aristarchus, have no other design than to raise the Passions, and bewitch the Imagination. I think that if any Temptation surprised me in those Places, I should not be Master of myself enough to resist it; so I'm resolved never to go thither.  Theod. 
You speak with a great deal of Reason, Erastus; We should always seek the most simple, and most moderate Diversions; we should use Recreations as harmless as are those of Children: But some People cannot be diverted without being disturbed; these do not take their Diversion as you do, merely to unbend their Mind; alas! they never tyre it with hard Study; they are for Diversions that may give some respite to their Passions, which weary them too much because they follow their violent Motions. Their design is not by this means to settle again the Imagination in its natural Seat after it has been harassed by Meditation; but rather to put out of their Mind some ambitious, or other unruly Thoughts which the Passions have excited, and which are no longer pleasing to them; that so they may make themselves more happy in following the Motions of Passions softer and more moderate than those that commonly move them: for after all, the Passions which are Acted on the Stage do not so violently move us, as those whose Object is real and substantial.  Erast. 
Certainly, Theodorus, these Persons are very miserable; their Imagination is much disordered; Concupiscence, or the weight of Sin, (to use Aristarchus' Expression) weighs heavy in their Scale, and there had need be a great deal of pre-engaging Pleasure to counterbalance it.  
In the mean time, they hope to be saved like other Christians, and imagine, that, though they do not prepare themselves for ordinary Graces by following the Counsels of Christ, God will give them those extraordinary Graces which overcome all the Malignity of the most corrupt Minds. In short, they say that it belongs to God to convert them.  Theod. 
When I hear your voluptuous or ambitious Men complain that God does not give them such Graces as may work their Conversion, methinks I see a Company of cruel Wretches that stab themselves, and at the same time accuse God of the barbarity which they use against themselves. They expect that he should do them good, while they are doing themselves harm; and at the very time that they cause in their Bodies such Motions as by the Order of Nature are still to be attended with Pain, they would have God to alter that Order and Work Miracles for their sakes.  
We cannot too often call to mind, that God always acts by the most simple Means, and inviolably keeps the Laws which he has prescribed to himself, not only in the Order of Nature but also in that of Grace. The simplest and shortest way for the Conversion of Sinners, is, that they deprive themselves of Pleasures; this is plain: They must therefore begin with this, and not flatter themselves with the hopes of such extraordinary Graces as may really be esteemed Miracles in the Order of Grace.  
If we desire to live, we must eat; if we would enjoy some Pleasure, we must excite within our Body those Motions which Nature has decreed should be attended with pleasing Sensations; for, these Motions oblige God, in Consequence of his Will, to cause us to feel the Pleasure which we wished for. So, if we would attain to a regenerate state, and live the Life of Grace, we ought to ween ourselves of sensible Objects, mortify the Lusts of the Flesh, and pray without ceasing. Our Repentance and our Prayers will prevail with God, according to his Promise, to bestow on us such Graces as are able to regenerate us. But if we follow the Impulse of our Passions, and rely on the Efficacy of extraordinary Graces, 'tis as if some Madmen should cast themselves headlong down a Precipice, in hopes that God would do a Miracle to save them.  
When we do not know what the Laws of Nature are, we learn them by Experiments; but, when we know what those Laws are, we look upon them to be inviolable, and, conforming our Actions to them, we do not pretend to overturn them. So, a Person who does not know that Fire may offend him, comes too near it; but he no sooner knows how it acts on him, but that he takes greater Care of himself, neither does he think that the Fire ought to respect him if he should presume to throw himself in the midst of its Flames. Now if we are ignorant in the Laws of Grace, we ought to inform ourselves about them, and when we know what they are, we must be conformable to them, and not think we may break them as we please; For, God's Will can never be made to depend on our Capriccios.  
The Natural Philosophers have but a very imperfect Insight into the particular Laws of Nature; for, Experiments, which are the surest Means to discover them, are very uncertain: yet, they revere and fear those Laws, as unknown as they are to them; and shall Christians, void of all Veneration and Fear for the Laws of Grace, which they do not know, presume to reconcile all Things to their Designs? They know the Poison, but because it seems pleasant, they swallow it without horror.  
Reason teaches them, as we discovered it at our last Conference, that the shortest way for the Restauration of Nature is Self-denial; the inward Sentiment of their Conscience confirms the Decree of their Reason; the Admonitions of our Saviour, his Example, those of all good Men, do not suffer them to doubt of it; yet they take pleasure in blinding themselves not to discover the necessity they lie under to follow that Means; and if they find themselves obliged to own how necessary it is to follow this Direction given us by Christ, all the deference they pay to it is often barely exterior; denying themselves some certain Things which they do not value; and suffering a carnal Circumcision, that is not the Circumcision of the Heart which God requires of them.  
When we consider the Life of our Saviour's Forerunner, who was, in a manner, the Personal Preparation to Substantial Grace; for, St. John the Baptist was sent to represent to us by his Preaching and Holiness of Life all the things that prepare us for the receiving of Grace, as Christ was sent to impart it to us: When we consider, I say, that living Pattern of Preparation to Grace, we see in him nothing but a separation from the World, a continual self-denial even as to the things that seem needful for the upholding of Life; for you know what is said of him in the Gospel, Matth. 3.4. Thus his Example sufficiently teaches us what we are to do to befit ourselves for the receiving of Grace. But our imagination, wholly depraved by sensible Pleasures, soon takes off our Eyes from this model of Mortification and Penitence, to mould us another of some Person whom the World esteems a good Man, though he indulges himself in the Pleasures which St. John disclaimed as contrary to the ways through which Christ comes to dwell in us.  Arist. 
I must needs own to you, Theodorus, that all the Heroes whom I have hitherto set before myself as living Exemplars to walk by, are more generous and communicative than St. John the Baptist, since they are not afraid of being sociable, nor of complying with the World; enjoying certain Pleasures which they term Civil and Gentlemanlike Recreations. I don't know whether they allow themselves this freedom as knowing themselves strong enough to overcome them; but I think myself obliged in Conscience to let Erastus know that I never failed to become a slave to a great many Pleasures, when, like these Heroic Gentlemen I was not afraid to enjoy them.  Erast. 
I would not make the Opinion of the Multitude the Rule of my Conduct; I know we ought to follow a Rule, and be guided by Reason; since, to act only by a Principle of Imitation has more of the Brute in it than of the Man. I thank Theodorus for putting me in mind of this. If we set ourselves a Pattern to imitate, 'tis that its Example may excite us resolutely to do what we know Reason directs us to perform: For, as all Men are apt to err and to sin, no Man can be to us an infallible Rule; Reason ought to correct the defects of the Exemplar.  Theod. 
Reason ought also to make choice of these Exemplars. For, many times our Imagination, dazzled by the deceitful lustre of false Virtues, makes us admire a Hero instead of a Saint; and because 'tis much more pleasant and easy to live like the first than like the latter, that we may justify our conduct, we are very ready to set before ourselves such Exemplars as suit with our humours.  Erast. 
The surest way is to imitate such Exemplars as God prescribes us to follow; since God cannot deceive us. Our Saviour's Precepts are undoubtedly the best, and St. John's Conduct is altogether consonant with them; we must then walk after him. Methinks Reason obliges me to retire like him to Deserts, that I may avoid the Contagion which rages in the World, and prepare for the Grace of Christ. For, after all, Reason has convinced me that St. John is a good Pattern to imitate; the Holy Ghost sets him before us in the Scripture, and our Saviour highly commends him for his holiness of Life. What do you think, Theodorus, do you believe I ought to imitate him?  Theod. 
I don't know, Erastus; but if you ought not to follow him, I know you ought to follow Christ. As St. John prepared us for Grace, but did not bestow it, he was to show us an Example of the greatest austerity: 'Twas his Duty to take out of the Scale all the Weights in general that make it have a propensity to cleave to the Earth, because he could not give us the weight of Grace to make the Scales even. As the precursor of the Author of Grace, he was to remove by his Preaching and Example all the impediments that kept us from receiving Christ. For this Reason it was fit he should with the greatest strictness imaginable forbidden us the use of Worldly enjoyments; this was his Duty.  
But Christ teaches us to make use of these things. The weight of his Grace sets us free, because it sets the Scales even again. With that Grace we may live in the World without becoming slaves to it, because it hinders us from loving the World. We may enjoy the things of this World, because by the means of his Grace we enjoy them without Pleasure, as enjoying them not; or rather, because the Pleasure which attends Grace is stronger than that which we find in the use of these things. But we must take great care that the liberty which is given us by the Grace of Christ do not give us occasion to live according to the Flesh. We may be saved without hating the World; and if while we live in the World we love it and become slaves to its Pomp, Reason teaches us that we ought to forsake it; for, we cannot overcome it without Christ; and if his Grace dwelled in us, we should feel within ourselves a Power able to overcome the World. We may use certain Pleasures on some occasions, but never without fear and horror; and if we use them without fear and horror, we ought to avoid them.  
Charity obliges us to live with the rest of Mankind; for, Grace does not destroy Civil Society: But the same Charity obliges us to settle such a Communion with them as may not end with this Life.  
I own that Christ did not come to send Peace on Earth: he came not to send Peace, but a Sword. He came to set a Man at variance against his Father, and the Daughter against her Mother, and the Daughter in law against the Mother in law, Matth. 10.34,35. If there be five in one house he is come to divide them, and to set three against two, and two against three, Luke 12.52. He came to set Man at variance even with himself. If any man hate not his own life, and does not bear his Cross and come after Christ, he cannot be his Disciple, nor worthy to be called a Christian. But our Saviour came to do these things only that he might reunite us to God, reconcile us to ourselves, and, even in this Life, begin a fellowship that is to last eternally.  
Do you think, Aristarchus, you, whose Heart is so susceptible of Friendship, that 'tis possible you should here below have a real love for a person, except you love him as a Christian? You may indeed love him well enough; so far as Civil Society, which depends on the relation which Bodies have to one another, requires it; but you are neither in a condition to know him such as he is, nor even to know yourself. Do you fancy you see your Friend, when you behold a certain disposition of matter, which is called a Face, or when you hear the sound of words that move the Air? I don't believe you do. But if you do not see your Friend, what is it you love then, when you think you love him? Certainly you either must love yourself, and then your Love is selfish; or you love your Friend's Face, and then your Love is unworthy your Friend; or else you love your Friend's Virtue and upright Principles, and in that case your Friendship is just; but then 'tis a Christian Friendship; for thus you love God in your Friend, or your Friend as he has a relation to God; you love him because he belongs to God, lives according to God's Commands, and makes his own Will conformable to that of God.  
And yet, Sir, your Friendship is still imperfect because you don't know what you love. As you don't see your Friend's Mind in a clear and distinct manner, you cannot really love him; for, if you saw him inwardly, you would perhaps abhor him.  Arist. 
You make me wish that my Friend may be worthy the Friendship I have for him: I am going to endeavour his Conversion. I have a world of things to say to him.  Theod. 
As he is capable of knowing and loving God, he cannot but be worthy your Friendship; for now nothing but that can recommend us to the love of one another, since we don't perfectly know each other.  
We begin even in this Life to love God and our Neighbour; but because we are not to have a clear sight of God nor of our Neighbour till we are in Heaven, our Charity cannot be perfect till we are there.  
Go, Sir, see your Friend. But, you Erastus, pray what do you think on?  Erast. 
Aristarchus thinks on his Friend, and I think on myself: I don't know, Theodorus, whether I shall be here to morrow, or no. Methinks I ought to make a good use of the Truths you have taught me. I leave you; for, I am now too much disordered; you doubtless perceive it well enough. I recommend all things to your Prayers.   

The Tenth and Last DIALOGUE.  Arist. 
I Have a great deal of News to tell you, Theodorus; my Friend at last is converted; but we have lost Erastus.  Theod. 
Pray, what's become of him?  Arist. 
I just now discovered it. His Mother and I wondering that he was not at home at Dinnertime, I went up into his Chamber to look for him, and found this Letter sealed up on his Table.  
For Aristarchus.  
I Am convinced, Aristarchus, by Reason and by Faith; by a clear Light, and an infallible Authority; by the intelligible words of inward Truth, and by the sensible words of incarnate Truth; in short, by all that can convince a Rational and Christian Soul; that the most safe and usual way to come to God, is to seclude ourselves from the World, and deprive ourselves of all sensual things. But I ought to take the greater care; for, the more the business is of consequence, the more 'tis necessary, difficult and dangerous. I ought therefore, Aristarchus, to retire to some place where I may be sheltered against the persecution of those who would have me apply myself to some studies that are necessary to qualify a Gentleman for some Employments, to which I do not find myself to have a particular Call.  
'Tis true indeed I do not find myself to have a particular and extraordinary call for the design I have; But there needs no particular Call when Reason alone, and the general vocation of Christians is sufficient. Without doubt those who engage in the affairs of this World ought to have a particular Call to that way of living; for Reason and our general vocation teach us to do otherwise: But, as the World goes now, methinks a Man needs but to have common Sense and to believe the Gospel, to do what I have done.  
However, as I would not engage in a particular Course of Life without a particular Call, I'll be still ready to return to you, when 'tis necessary. But I declare, I would think myself guilty of a less fault, should I, without a particular Call, presume to conform myself to the way of living of the Religious Persons with whom I intent to live; than if, without a Call, I entered into the Bonds of Matrimony, or took an Employment that would tie me to too many things.  
All my Relations persecute me, every one according to his humour and ambition. They have ends which I neither have nor would have. Besides I would gladly break off the Society which I have with some infectious Wits, who perhaps will abhor me at my coming back. In short, I believe I ought seriously to mind what is most essential. Anthimus and Philemon are very fit to finish what Theodorus hath begun. So, I am now going to them; you know they have wished for my coming a long while.  
I beg that you will not impute my withdrawing myself without any previous leave or notice, to a want of Friendship for you, or of Dutifulness to my Mother. Far from this; I did it because the Natural Affection which I ought to have for her, and you, is too violent. I dreaded the Consequences of it in the performance of a Design which I was resolved to fulfil, for fear of being wanting in that which I own to God; but at last I persuaded myself, that as my Mother and you have a very great esteem for the Persons to whom I am now going, you will, both of you, forgive the omission of a piece of Formality, which I could not keep, merely out of too deep a sense of Love for you.  
I did not dare write to my Mother at first; but I beseech you, dearest Cousin, persuade her to admit of the Assurances of my Duty and Submission: I know that, next to God, I own all things to her. As for Theodorus, I pray you to tell him, that I'll continually meditate on the Principles which he discovered to me; and that I love Truth extremely. By this he'll easily know that I'll seldom be without thinking of him.  Arist. 
What think you of all this, Theodorus?  Theod. 
If you would know, Sir, what I think of Erastus; I must needs tell you, that I never knew a more just and penetrating Mind, a purer and clearer Imagination, a sweeter and more honourable Temper, a more upright and generous Heart; and in short, that I never saw a more accomplished young Man than Erastus.  
As for his Conduct, if you blame any thing in it, do but Answer what his Letter says in his Justification: Finding himself here holden by Ties that enslave him, he breaks them publicly, not being able to get free otherwise. He is afraid of not being able to preserve the Purity of his Imagination, the Freedom of his Mind, and the Love of True Good, among Persons who use to take all Things upon Trust without examining the Truth, and who, by their imposing Ways and infectious Behaviour, are continually like to make some 〈◊〉 Impressions on his Mind. You see that even some of his Relations persecute and seduce him. They endeavour to bring him in to the World for their own Credit; and they would have him to become considerable there, that his Advancement may promote theirs, and his Glory reflect some upon them. But Erastus is convinced by the Strength of Reason, that Wealth, Pomp, and Greatness, disorder the Minds of those that enjoy them; he is also convinced of it by the Authority of Christ: Would you not have him be guided by his Light, and Faith? Would you have him grasp a Phantasm that vanishes, court a Stage-Greatness, and feed himself up with Illusions and Chimaeras? Either let them prove to him that he follows a false Light, and that Christ is a Seducer, or else let him alone.  Arist. 
Do not think, Theodorus, that I have the least Thing to object against his Conduct; I will rather follow him than disturb him in his Design: He is in the Right; I am fully convinced of it, not only by what we said in our former Conferences; but also by what he said to me Yesterday, when I was come back from my Friend's. Would you have me give you some account of it?  Theod. 
You will oblige me; we are always very fond of knowing the last Words of those that leave us.  Arist. 
Erastus never expressed himself with more Eloquence and Happiness of Thought: He told me, among other Things, that, Man is not only united to his own Body, but also to all those that surround him; that our Passions diffuse our Soul into all sensible Objects, as our Senses diffuse it through every part of the Body; and that those who launch into the wide World, continually running after Riches, Pleasures, and Honours, dissipate and lose themselves by being dispersed as it were out of themselves.  
While they fancy that they enlarge their own Being, they weaken themselves; and become Slaves to those whom they would command: And while they increase their Power on the Bodies that surround them, they lose that which they have on the Truth that penetrates them.  
Let me consider, said he, how Man comes to be sensible. Out of his Brain certain Nerves are emitted, whose infinite number of Branches are dispersed over all the Parts of his Body. These Nerves, or Fibres, which correspond to the Seat of the Soul, agitate her as soon as they are stirred; they disperse her through all the Parts into which they insinuate themselves; and whatsoever happens in the Body breaks her Quiet and disturbs her.  
Now let me examine the Condition which that Man is in who is led by his Passions, and fastened to every Thing. Out of his Heart some Bonds may in one sense be said to be emitted, and thence their strings are dispersed through all sensible Objects. These Strings are no sooner stirred by the Motion of those Objects, but his Heart is also moved. If these Objects are removed at some distance, his Heart must follow, or be torn. In short, his Soul disperses herself by the Means of these Ties through whatever surrounds him, just as she diffuses herself by the Means of Nerves over every Part of the Body.  
When a Man inconsiderately gives himself up to the Commerce of the World, the Ties of his Heart fasten him to a Thousand Objects which only serve to make him wretched; and if he be mad enough to have a real Love for those Objects, or to be pusst up with his new Greatness, he is (said he to me) like those who would be proud of a Dropsy, or of Wens or Bunches that swell their Body to a bigger Bulk than ordinary.  
Do you think (continued he) that the Souls of Gigantic Men are greater than those of other Men? They have, indeed, a larger Body, and can put a greater Mass of Matter into Motion; but if you examine them well, you'll find that their Motions are more irregular. The very Horses and Elephants are stronger than they and more bulky, and if these Men measured the Greatness of their Soul by that of their Body they would make themselves universally ridiculous.  
Yet it were a juster Thing to measure the Greatness of the Soul by that of the Body, than by that of Riches and Honours, For, after all, our Body is more our own than our Wealth, and we are more united to it, than we are to our Clothes, our House, or our Lands: How foolish and vain then are not Men when they pretend to grow greater by being dispersed out of themselves!  
Truly (cried he) Imaginary Greatness makes Men become very miserable Creatures. Every thing offends them; every thing disturbs them; every thing holds them fast. And can Men in a perpetual Hurry, and, as it were, wounded in every Part, be able to Think? Can they be able to cleave to Truth for which alone they are made, with which alone they can be nourished, and through which alone they can grow more wise and more happy? They are commonly mad, stupid, thoughtless Creatures, void of Light and Understanding.  
Do you think (added he) that the Voluptuous, and those who continually strive to extend their Slavery by enlarging the Bounds of their Commands, do so much as know that they are not made for Bodies, nor for a Time, and that they are not on Earth barely to live there? Alas! they know nothing of this; they do not perceive that Bodies are inferior to them, uncapable of acting on them, and altogether unworthy of their Love. As they have not yet felt the Sting of Death, they cannot strictly be said to know they shall die. Their Tongues indeed say, they must; and they believe it; but they do not know it: They think they shall be no more, but they do not know they shall die.  
What vast difference is there not between seeing and seeing! 'Tis but a very little while since I know, that I am not made for Corporeal Being's, that the Figure of this World passeth away, that the true Good of Spirits is a Spiritual Good, and even since I know what it is to die. Nay, as my Understanding is but small, I have too been obliged to think with my utmost application to comprehend these Truths. Before this, I thought of Death what my Eyes discovered to me of it, and scarce any thing more: And if I had not been in a greater Capacity of applying myself to thinking than those who are in the Hurry of Business or a hunting after Pleasure, I must confess, I had not known what I believe is unknown to great Numbers of Men.  
The application of the Mind produces Light and discovers Truth: The sight of Truth gives perfection to the Mind, and regulates the Heart: Such an application is then necessary. But can a Man when he is pulled and drawn on all sides, struck and wounded every where, thrust back when he would get forwards, dragged forwards when he would go back, and continually disturbed and misused; can such a Man, I say, think with application? Can a Man who fears every thing, yet desires, hopes for, and runs after every thing, think on what he does not see?  
Truth is distant, and not sensible, nor is it a Good which we find ourselves pressed to love: We must seek it, if we would find it; But we may still put off the Search; for, it never wholly leaves us. On the contrary, Body's cause themselves to be felt every Moment, press us to love them, and continually oblige us to cleave to them, for they are transitory, and leave us as soon as they have tempted us. So, because Opportunity when lost is not easily recovered, Men are quickly determined to enjoy them; but as for Truth, they put off from time to time the applying of themselves to it, because it never leaves them, nor causes itself to be felt, and for that reason it does not press them to love it.  
How happy are those (added he) who wait for Eternity in Deserts, and who, finding themselves too weak to preserve the Freedom of their Mind and the purity of their Imagination against the Efforts and Malignity of sensible Objects, have bravely broken off all their Bonds to be strictly joined to God But how much to be pitied are not those whom God calls to live in the Midst of the World, to convert it; what Woes have they not to undergo! what Enemies to fight with! I tremble (said he) when I think on't; yet with Christ's Help any Thing may be brought under.  
Yet (continued he) do you think we are obliged to live amidst the Hurry of the World? For my part, I do not see that God calls me to this. And indeed the Glories of the World dazzle me; my Imagnation grows confused, my Mind dissipates itself, and I am dispersed and out of myself as soon as I do not keep a strict Watch over my Actions.  
As for you (said he to me) you are strong; you are not afraid of the World; your Imagination is firm and settled, and God has given you Grace to loathe the World, after you had enjoyed its Pleasures. I admire (added he skilfully, to make me reflect on my inward Misery) how the Traces, which were imprinted on your Brain by sensible Objects, could so happily wear out; how the Passions, whose Impulse you formerly followed, could be calmed; and how the Commerce which you have had with the World, does not increase and prompt Concupiscence in you! As you have experienced, that the Figure of this World passeth away, you enjoy it as enjoying it not; for, a Man of your Sense will not suffer himself to be deceived twice. But I alas! am so stupid, that I have no sooner got out of a Snare but I fall into it again; and I am so insensible as to fancy myself wholly free, while I am a Slave to my Passions. As soon as I have resolved to get rid of some ill Habit, I fond imagine I have really cast it off; So that I am like a Patient who thinks he is perfectly cured, merely because he passionately desires to get out of Bed and go abroad.  
While Erastus spoke thus, I felt within me what he said of himself; and knew him to have that Firmness of Mind for which he commended me. This so deeply struck me, and laid me open to myself in so clear and lively a manner, that the State of my Soul at once affected me with Terror and Pity; while on the other side Erastus seemed to me so lovely and ingenious; and spoke to me in so sweet and natural a manner, that I could not but give the deepest Attention imaginable to what he said. But at last, after he had spoken some of those Words which never come out of the Mouth but when the Heart is open, he looked in my Face to read in my Eyes the Effect which they had produced in my Soul; and seeing me as I was then, his Countenance at once changed according to mine; his Speech failed him as mine did me; he opened his Mouth, but was not able to utter a Word; and when we had gazed on each other a Moment more to know one another, our Disorder increased, and we were obliged to part.  
This is part of what passed between Erastus and myself at our last Interview; for I have not seen him to day; and, by the little I have now told you of it, you may believe that he has not only convinced my Reason, but also made himself Master of my Heart. Whenever I think on him, I, as it were, feel him drawing me along; but while he takes me with him, the things I leave call me back, and I lose him. However, I do not lose him for a long time, and I know very well what I shall do.  Theod. 
You surprise me much, Aristarchus. What! would you imitate Erastus? follow a young Man's Example? what will not your Friends say?  Arist. 
They may say what they will. 'Tis not after all that I would follow Erastus; for I should be ashamed to do it: But 'tis that Erastus is in the Path in which I would tread, because I know 'tis the best. I own that I have a particular Love for him, and the Example he shows me makes me resolve to do what I think I ought to do: But I follow the Dictates of my Reason, I obey the Gospel, and walk in the Way that leads me whither I would go; though Children or Madmen went before me, I ought not to go out of it; for when a Man hath Business, he goes along without minding who besides him walks the Streets.  
I have lavished the best half of my Life in the Hurry of Business, and the Diversions which Wo●…y Men usually take. All my former Studies have only 〈◊〉 to pervert my Understanding; I did read only in order to make a Figure in the World, to make myself fit for Conversation, and to gain the Name of a Wit and a Man of Learning; so that I hardly know any thing of the Christian Religion and Morals, but what I have heard you say of them  
Is it not time than I should look to myself, and seriously minding what is most essential, repent me of my former disorderly Course of Life? I had promised Erastus to study the Holy Scripture with him; All keep my Word to him; his Retirement ought not to make me forbear it; for, that sort of Study is most proper in a Retirement. In short, had not I a mind to endeavour, as much as I can, wholly to convert my Friend, I should not a little surprise Erastus; for I then would be before him where he is a going. But I hope to surprise him otherwise; perhaps I shall not go by myself to meet him there: My Friend's Heart is changed; and as 'tis difficult he should be able to lead a Christian Life in the sight of the Libertines, with whom he formerly kept Company, who would continually persecute him, I believe 'twill be no hard matter to make him resolve to fly to a Retirement.  Theod. 
You are in the Right, Aristarchus; I advise you to relate to your Friend what passed between you and Erastus, just as you told it me now, and to give him an account of the Design you have to follow him. If he sincerely desires to alter his Course of Life, I am sure he wishes for some Place to which he may retire: For 'tis likely, he does not find himself armed with a Resolution strong enough to conquer the Shame which those who follow Christ are put to by the World. But your Overture, backed with your Example, will probably make him resolve to fly to some dark Retreat.  
The Thing, in doing of which a Man who is in great Reputation in the World finds most difficulty, is in resolving to pass for a Fool or Madman the rest of his Life. But let that Man think that he forsakes the World and follows such a Friend as you, and then his Imagination will not so much disturb his Reason. For our Imagination is usually comforted by Examples; and if on one side it fancies that some Men will laugh at what we are going to do, it remembers at the same time that those Scoffers will be distant and are now nothing to us.  
Your Friend who so often laughed at those whom he now would imitate, best knows how hard a Thing it is to live among Worldly Men, and not do as they do. He has experienced that those who would lead a godly, righteous, and sober Life, must suffer Persecution. He has not forgot how he has used others, and perhaps cannot resolve to condemn himself, in leading a new sort of Life among his old Acquaintance.  
Thus you'll doubtless ease him very much, if you entreat him to follow your Example; and this will certainly prevail with him, if, as you say, he intends to change his Life.  Arist. 
I even believe, Theodorus, that neither he nor I can live in the Hurry of the World, without running the danger of being undone. The Pleasures which we have enjoyed, and the Honours which have been paid us, have impressed on our Imagination some Traces that represent them, and which continually folliciting us might surprise and pervert us at last.  Theod. 
'Tis true, Aristarchus: We need but taste a while of a Pleasure to become a Slave to it; and we cannot abide to expose ourselves to be laughed at. When the Imagination has been contaminated, the least matter disorders it: So those who have formerly given themselves up to their Pleasures, aught to deny themselves many Things which other Men may be allowed to enjoy. And when our Reputation runs too great a danger, we naturally model ourselves according to the Spirit and Ways of the World: So that we ought to be, as it were, hidden, if we would live according to the Light of Reason and the Gospel.  
When we are alone, we take what Countenance or Posture we please; but when we are in Company, we lose that sort of Freedom; because the Presence of others naturally spreads on our Face an Air suitable to the Quality and to the Disposition of Mind of the Persons that speak to us.  
The same may be said of our Conduct; we live as we please when we are alone; but we are, as it were, obliged to do as others do, and follow their Maxims when we run too great a Risque of being laughed at, and fear the Censures of too many People.  
We were made to live in Society one with another; And the Natural Union which we have with Men, is now stronger and stricter than that which we have with God. So that we often swerve from Truth, and from Justice, out of mere Complaisance. We offend God rather than disoblige our Worldly Acquaintance; and prefer their Applause, to the Testimony of our Conscience; fearing less the secret Checks of our Reason, and the terrible Threats of the Living God, than the silly Laughter of Worldly Men.  
Thus, Aristarchus, you justly believe that the Ways of the World might lead both you and your Friend astray. Therefore steadfastly follow your Light; and retire to some Solitude to breathe an uncorrupted Air; eat an Enemy whom you fear to engage; break the Bonds that detain you in Captivity; but break them publicly and with Noise; that having made yourself ridiculous in the Eyes of carnal Men, you may be ashamed to appear before them, and that your Imagination may no more urge you to look back, but rather that it may excite you to be private, that you may enjoy the Freedom you desire.  
A private Recess chief befits those who are obliged to mortify their Affections and lead a most penitent Life, those who are like your Friend, whom you have described to me as a Person who used blindly to follow all the Dictates of his Passions: For, 'tis necessary that those who have wallowed in Pleasure should live after the strictest and most Selfdenying way; and the continual Humiliation practised in Religious Houses is the surest Means to pull down the Pride of the Mind.  
Endeavour, then, to save your Friend, and, with him, also yourself. Be sure to make use of all these Arguments, to prevail with him to forsake the World; and, in short, help and support one another. The Advice which I now give you, does not indeed square very well with the common Sentiments of Friendship; but I dare say, you will give me leave to wish you that which I know is your True Good; since, though I seem to lose you for a Time, it is only that I may find myself again united to you, by Ties as powerful as God himself, and as lasting as Eternity.  
FINIS.   


Meditations Concerning HUMILITY AND REPENTANCE.  
Written in French By F. MALEBRANCHE.  
LONDON, Printed in the Year, MDCXCV.   

TO THE READER.  
THE Design of the following Meditations is to humble the proud Soul, and to incline it to Repentance.  
Man is so mean a thing, that the very Knowledge of him is Naturally attended with Contempt; and he is so corrupt and degenerate, that 'tis impossible to avoid hating him, when we consider him as he is in himself, and without relation to the Great Restorer of all things. I shall endeavour to represent him as a Creature, as the Son of a Sinful Father, and a Sinner himself; and I am persuaded that this will be sufficient to inspire us with just and becoming sentiments of ourselves.  
If those who have had a lively and serious sense both of their Miseries and Obligations, did ever afterwards remain dead to Pleasures, uncapable of Vanity, and thoroughly convinced of Essential Truths; these Meditations would be proper only for such as are just beginning to set about the Work of their Conversion. But I think I may adventure to assure the Reader that they will be profitable to all that shall be willing to make use of them; not so much by enlarging their Knowledge as by fixing their Thoughts on such things as they would not otherwise consider with due application.   

Of MAN, Considered as a CREATURE.  

The First Consideration.  
MAN, in himself, is but a mere Nothing: His very Being depends absolutely on the Will of God; and if God should only cease to will his Existence, he would at the same time cease to be. For, the Power that God has to annihilate his Creatures, does not consist in willing their Nonexistence, since Nothing includes no Good, and cannot be the Object of a Positive Act of Gods Will. But he is able to destroy them merely by 
Not that God can cease to will what he once did will, since his Will is Eternal and Unchangeable: But he might have willed from all Eternity, and by an Unchangeable Will, that I should exist to this very moment, and no longer.  ceasing to will that they should continue to be; for since the Creatures do not contain all Goodness, they are not necessarily and indispensably lovely; and God himself includes all that Perfection and Goodness that is in them.  

The Elevation of the Soul to GOD.  
O GOD, make me continually sensible of my dependence on thy Almighty Will, my Being is thine, and the duration of my Being, or my Time, is also thine. How great then is my Injustice! My Being is in a manner the Being of God; and my Time is properly God's Time; for I am more God's than my own, or rather, I am not at all my own, nor do I subsist by myself; and yet I neither live nor employ God's Time but for myself. Alas! how do I deceive myself! O my God, all that Time which I do not employ for thee, I cannot be said to employ it for myself; and I can neither seek nor find myself, but by seeking and finding thee.    

The Second Consideration.  
MAN, in himself is nothing but Weakness and Infirmity. He cannot desire Good in general, but by virtue of a continual Impression from God, who does incessantly turn and force him towards himself; for God is that indefinite and universal Good, which comprehends all other good things. Man is also not able by himself to desire any Particular Good; but only so far as he is capable of determining the Impression which he receives from God.  
Man is utterly unable to do Good, but through a new supply of Grace, which illuminates him by its Light, and attracts him by its Sweetness; for, by himself, he is only able to Sin.  
He could not so much as move his Hand, if God did not communicate to his Blood and to the Aliment by which he is nourished, a part of that Motion which he has spread through the whole Mass of Matter, and afterwards determine the Motion of the Spirits according to the different Acts of the impotent Will of Man, by guiding them towards the Pipes of the Nerves, which the Man himself does not so much as know.  
A Man indeed may desire to move his Hand, but 'tis God alone that can, and knows how to move it. For if Man did not eat, and if that which he eats were not digested, and agitated in his Entrails and Heart, to be afterwards turned to Blood and Spirits, without expecting the Orders of his Will, or if these Spirits were not guided by a knowing Hand, through a Million of different Tubes, it would be in vain for Man, who is ignorant of his own Body, to desire to put it into Motion.  

The Elevation of the Soul to GOD.  
O GOD, let me never forget that without thee I can neither desire nor do any thing, not even so much as move the smallest Member of my Body. Thou, O God, art all my Strength, in thee do I place all my Hope and Confidence. Do thou cover me with shame and confusion, and fill me with inward remorse, if ever I shall be guilty of so much Ingratitude and Presumption, as to lift up that Arm against thee, which owes even that Motion, which I seem to give it, rather to the invincible Power of thy Will, than to the feeble Efforts of mine.    

The Third Consideration.  
MAN, in himself, is nothing but Darkness. He does not produce in himself those Ideas by which he perceives all things, for he is not his own Light; and since Philosophy teaches me that the Objects cannot form in the Mind those Ideas by which they are represented, it must be acknowledged that 'tis God alone who enlightens us. He is that great Sun which penetrates all things, and fills them with his Light, and that Great Master who instructs every Man that comes into the World. All that we see we see in him, and in him we may see all that we are capable of seeing. For since God includes the Ideas or likenesses of all Being's, and we also are in him, for in him we live, move, and have our Being, 'tis certain that we see or may successively see all Being's in him. He is that intelligible World in which all Spirits are, and in which they perceive the Material World, which is neither visible, nor intelligible by itself.  

The Elevation of the Soul to GOD.  
O GOD, to whom I own all my Thoughts, thou Light of my Soul and of my Eyes, without whom the Sun himself in all his Glory would be invisible to me, make me ever sensible of thy Power and my Weakness, thy Greatness and my Meanness, thy Light and my Obscurity, and in a word, what thou art, and what I am.    

The Fourth Consideration.  
MAN, by himself, is insensible, and in a manner Dead. The Body cannot act upon its own Soul. A Sword indeed may pierce me, and cause some alteration in the Fibres of my Flesh, but I perceive clearly that it cannot make me suffer Pain. A harmonious sound may first shake the Air, and then the Fibres of my Brain; but my Soul cannot be shaken by it. My Soul is far above my Body, neither is there any necessary Relation between those two Parts of myself. On the other hand I find that Pleasure, Pain, and all my other Sensations, are produced in me without any dependency upon me, and oftentimes even in spite of all my endeavours to the contrary. And therefore I cannot doubt but that there is a Being different from my Soul, which inspires it with Life and Sensation, and I know no other Power but that of God which is able to act thus upon his Creatures. 'Tis he then who is the Sovereign of the Soul, and can only punish or reward it.  

The Elevation of the Soul to GOD.  
O GOD, since I live but by thee, make me also to live only for thee, and may I be insensible of all things but the love of thee. O God, make me sensible that none of all the Creatures can either hurt me, or do me good: That there is not one among them all that can make me feel either Pleasure or Pain: That I ought neither to scar nor love them: That thou alone, O my God, deservest both my love and fear; because thou art only able to reward me with the Joys of thy Elect, or punish me with the Torments of the Reprobate.  
O my chaste Delight, thou Author of Nature, and cause of all the Pleasures that I feel, thou knowest that these very Pleasures instead of uniting me to thee, who alone canst make me sensible of them, chain me like a wretched Slave to the Earth; Grant, I beseech thee, that I may never more be so violently assaulted by them in the use of those things which thou hast forbidden. Scatter a holy dread, and a wholesome bitterness on the Objects of my Senses, that I may be able to disengage myself from them; and let me feel in thy love those unutterable delights of thy Grace which may unite me closer to thee. Grant that the sweetness which I taste in loving thee may augment my love; and that my love may renew the sense that I have of thy sweetness. May I grow thus in Charity, till at last being full of thee, and empty of myself and every thing else, I may re-enter, and lose myself in thee, O my All, as in the Fountain of all Being's. May that Word, God shall be All in All, be entirely accomplished on me; and may I find myself and all things else in thee.     

Of MAN, Considered as the Son of a Sinful Father.  
WE have seen in the foregoing Considerations, that Man, in himself, is a mere Nothing, that he is made up of Weakness, Infirmity and Darkness, that he receives Life, Sense and Motion, continually from God, that he owes to him his whole Being and all his Faculties. And therefore he is certainly under the highest Obligations of Love and Gratitude to God, since he depends so absolutely upon him, as he is a Creature: But if we consider him as the Son of a Sinful Father, and as a Sinner himself, we shall find so great a multiplicity of essential and indispensable Duties which he owes to God, and at the same time so great a want of Power, and so much unworthiness to perform them, that so far is he from being able to do his Duty, that even his Performances would be rejected, if Christ our Mediator had not merited Grace for him by his Death. We must not then consider Man only as the Son of a Sinful Father, and as he is a Sinner himself; but we ought always to look upon him in Jesus Christ, in whom alone we are able to please God.  

The Fifth Consideration.  
MAN considered as the Son of a Sinful Father is a Reprobate, a Child of Wrath, whom his Father will not see, and who shall never see his Father; for he is a Child whom his Father does not love, nor will he be beloved by such a Child.  
God loved Adam before his Fall, and desired to be loved by him: He was willing to communicate himself to him, and to be in a manner familiarly acquainted with him. He called to him, as he now does to us, but with a much clearer and more intelligible Voice, I am thy Good, make me the only Object of thy Love and Hope. At these words his Senses and Passions were silent, nor was he disturbed by that confused and flattering noise, which arises in us even against our Wills, and boldly opposes the dictates of Truth in our Souls. God spoke to him, and he did not murmur: God enlightened him, and he was freed from Darkness: God commanded him, and he made no resistance. The Pleasure and Joy which he felt in seeing himself favoured and protected by a God that would never forsake him, if he did not first leave him, kept him united to his Lord by Bonds that were never like to be broken.  
God did not force Adam to love him by preingaging Pleasures, because he would have him merit his Reward more speedily. He left him to the determination of his own , that he might have power to choose for himself; and he bestowed a due measure of Knowledge and Understanding upon him, that he might be enabled to make a good choice. Thus Man perceived clearly what he was to do to obtain solid and perfect Happiness, and nothing could hinder him from performing that as long as he pleased.  
But he was not separated from himself, and the consideration of himself filled him with a certain Joy and Pleasure, which made him in a manner feel that his Natural Perfection was the cause of his present Felicity; for Joy seems to proceed naturally and absolutely from a view of our own Perfections, because we do not always think on him who operates always in us. Besides, Adam had a Body, and could, when he pleased, relish such Pleasures in the actual enjoyment of Sensible Things, as made him feel that Corporeal Things were his Good. I did not make choice of this Expression without Reason; for he knew that God was his Good, but did not feel it, because he felt no preingaging Pleasures in the performance of his Duty; and on the other side he felt that the Objects of his Senses were his Good, but did not know them to be so, because that which is not cannot be known.  
When Adam felt that Sensible Objects were his Good, or imagined that the cause of his Happiness was in himself; when he tasted Pleasure in the use of Corporeal Things, or rejoiced at the sight of his own Perfections, his Sensations obscured the clear perceptions of his Mind by which he knew that God was his Good: For Sensation confounds Knowledge, because it modifies the Soul, and divides its capacity. Thus Adam who perceived all these things clearly, aught to have been perpetually upon his guard: He should have resisted the allurements of the Pleasures which he felt, lest he should be distracted by them, and betrayed into unavoidable destruction: He should have stood firm in the presence of God, and depended absolutely on his Light. But relying too much upon himself, he suffered his Understanding to be darkened by the relish of Sensual Pleasures, or by a confused Sensation of a presumptuous Joy; and being thus insensibly disunited from him who was his true Strength, and the source of all his Happiness, he was justly punished by the revolt of those Senses to which he had voluntarily submitted. By which Punishment it seemed that God had utterly forsaken him, and that he would never any more vouchsafe to accept of his Love, and had given him the Material World to be the Object of his Knowledge and Affection.  
The Curse of God that was pronounced against Adam, is fallen upon all the Posterity of that rebellious Father. God has withdrawn his presence from the World, and instead of communicating himself to it, does continually thrust it farther from him. We suffer Pain when we seek God, but we feel all sorts of Pleasures when being weary with following him through such rough and troublesome ways, we join ourselves to his Creatures. The World does not clearly perceive that it ought to love God, and that he alone ought to be the proper Object of its Affection; but it feels in a very lively and alluring manner, that it should love something else besides him; and consequently it does not love God, but flies from him continually, and even is unable to turn to him. It was shamefully driven out of Paradise in the Person of Adam, it has forfeited its Title to God, and lost the hope of Heaven and Happiness: It is accursed and eternally accursed. It is a Crime to wish well to it, because it is and for ever shall be at enmity with God. And even it cannot wish well to itself without doing itself an injury: For by wishing well to itself it endeavours to break the established Order of Things, it provokes the God of Order, and increases the Hatred and Indignation of him to whom Vengeance belongs. What can it thus do? Shall it yield itself up to Fury and Despair, and seek to be annihilated because it cannot enjoy God? But annihilation itself is perhaps a Favour which it does not deserve, and therefore shall not obtain. We may indeed kill, but cannot annihilate ourselves; and if Death were an annihilation, it would not be in the power of Man to put an end to his Life. What must we do then, and what course must we take to regain our lost Happiness? We must humble ourselves before God, we must hate ourselves mortally as the Children of Adam, and neither love nor esteem ourselves or others but in and through Christ, in whom all things subsist, and by whom we are reconciled to God.  

The Elevation of the Soul of GOD.  
O GOD, let me always be sensible of the wretchedness of my condition, as a Son of fallen Adam; that as such I am not worthy to think on thee, or to adore and love thee; but am a Child of Darkness, a Sojourner in a dry and parched Land, banished from thy Presence, despised and rejected by thee, and Heir to thy Eternal Malediction, and that I have no right to complain of thy just rigour either to thyself, or to thy Creatures. Grant that I may humble myself before thee, and abhor myself in this condition in which I am incapable of loving thee, and that I may with an humble Faith fly to thy Son, who has restored us to Peace, and by whom we have free access to thee, to render that which we own to thee, and to ask of thee that which thou seemest to owe to our Misery. O Jesus, my Deliverer, perfect thy own work, strip me of the old, and clothe me with the new Man. I will not henceforth love any thing in myself, but what thou hast put into me, or rather I will only love thee in my Heart. Thou art all my Wisdom, and all my Strength; be thou also all my Glory, and all my Felicity.    

The Sixth Consideration.  
MAN considered as the Son of a Father who revolted against God, is a miserable, weak and tender Child, destitute both of  and Arms, exposed to the injuries of the Wether, and given up as a prey to the fury of wild Beasts.  
Adam, in the State of Innocence, was strong and mighty, he was seated in an inaccessible place, and under the protection of God; nothing durst assault him, and he was able to resist every thing. After his Fall all the Creatures made War upon him, and he was not able to resist any of them. All the Posterity of this rebellious Parent do not only partake of his Sin, but also of his Punishment. Let us illustrate this Truth by distinct Ideas.  
'Tis Pleasure that rules with a Sovereign and Arbitrary Power in the Heart of Man, especially when his Reason is blinded: For, Pleasure is the Natural Character of good, and Men cannot forbear loving that which is good. And therefore Pleasure is, as it were, the weight of the Soul which inclines it by degrees, and at last pulls it forcibly towards the Object that is the true or seeming Cause of that Sensation, tho' Reason may oppose it for some time. Adam before his Fall did not feel those preventing and preingaging Pleasures, which afterwards constrained him to place his Affection on the Objects of his Senses: He enjoyed a perfect liberty, and a full power to dispose of himself: He was neither forced nor enticed; but, of his own accord, and according to the measure of Light that was in him, he inclined to love his real good. But together with his Innocence he lost his perfect Liberty. Not being longer Master of Pleasure, nor able to stop the Sensation of it, he was at last enslaved by it, and both his Understanding and Affections were subdued under the tyrannical dominion of Terrestrial Things. He became altogether Earthly, a Slave to Sin, subject to Death, and to a thousand other Miseries which it would be needless to describe.  
We are all born, like our first Father, chained to the Earth: For we do all Naturally feel Pleasure in the use of sensible things which are the good of the Body, but we don't Naturally feel any good in those things which contribute to the perfection of the Mind: And it is this irregularity of our Pleasures that disorders our Affections, and is the most fruitful source of all our Miseries.  
And while we are in this wretched condition, we cannot by ourselves draw near to God, neither are we able to find in the Natural Order of things, a Creature that is noble and pure enough, and sufficiently elevated by the dignity of its Person, and by the greatness of its Merits, to reconcile us to God: But we find all that we want or can desire in the Christian Religion.  
This Holy Religion does continually exhort us to Mortification, Resignation, to a Circumcision of the heart, and lessening of the weight of Sin; and it gives us also a Mediator, by whose Merit we receive the weight of Grace, that victorious delight, which passeth all understanding, and which draws us to God, notwithstanding all the resistance of our Passions and of the Pleasures of our Senses. For these two things, the privation of Pleasures, and the delectation of Grace, are absolutely necessary to us in a state of Sin. We must by a continual Mortification of our Senses and Passions, diminish that weight of Concupiscence which draws us to the Earth; and ask of God through our Mediator Christ Jesus the delectation of his Grace, without which all our endeavours to diminish the weight of Sin would be in vain, for it would still weight us down; and the least weight of Sin would infallibly draw us along with it, and keep us as it were fastened to the Earth, and under the dominion of our Enemies.  

The Elevation of the Soul to GOD.  
O GOD, let me never forget that I am an unhappy exile from my Native Country; that I am in the midst of my Enemies who are still plotting my Destruction; that the Air of the World is pestilential and poisonous; and that all the Creatures draw me to themselves, and divert me from thee. Make me sensible O God, that my Domestic Enemies are most dangerous; that I ought to fear myself more than the World, and the World more than the Devil; and that among so many Enemies I have no strength to defend myself, no arms to resist them, nor understanding to discern them. Inspire me with a deep sense of all my Infirmities, Wounds and Miseries, of which I have yet but a very imperfect knowledge.  
O JESUS, I see nothing in myself but weakness, when I look upon myself without thee; but when I feel thee with me, I find myself endued with an invincible strength. Through thee will we push down our Enemies; and through thy Name will we tread them under that rise up against us. For I will not trust in my Bow; neither shall my Sword save me. O thou derided, buffeted, and scourged Jesus, thou that wast covered with Spittle and Blood, and humbled even to the Death, confound my Pride and Sensuality. Drive all my Domestic Enemies out of my Heart, by the Virtue of thy Sufferings, and by the Merit of thy Holy Resignation: Cloth thyself in Purple, O my King, put on thy Crown of Thorns, and take thy Reed in thy hand; come to my assistance, and judge and subdue all my Enemies; make the Earth tremble before thee when thou ascendest the Throne of thy Cross; slay Death itself, and for ever destroy the Pride of Sin. Carry me up with thee, O my God, and unite me to thee; Crucify and sacrifice me with thee, that I may partake of that Power which is so terrible to my Homebred Enemies, to the World, and to Hell itself.     

Of MAN, Considered as a SINNER.  

The Seventh Consideration.  
IT is extremely difficult to represent the inward Dispositions of Mind that a Sinner ought to have; for neither the lowest humiliation, nor the highest self-abhorrence, nor even annihilation itself, are suitable to so mean wicked and empty a thing, or rather nothing. Annihilation would be a Blessing to a Sinner who is reserved for the Wrath that is to come: And he cannot abhor himself as he ought, for 'tis God alone that can hate him as much as he deserves.  
Man as a Child of Adam is indeed a Reprobate, but he is not subject to the Punishment of the Damned; he ought indeed to live in perpetual sorrow, as being deprived of his sovereign good, but he does not deserve the extremity of Torments. The Children of a Criminal may be justly deprived of all the Favours which their Father received, but they do not deserve an equal Punishment. God may with Justice withdraw his Presence from the Sons of Adam; he may deny them his particular Favours, and refuse to be their Recompense; and even may, if he pleases, annihilate them, since they are his Creatures. But it does not seem agreeable to the Divine Justice to punish them with the utmost severity, only because they are the unhappy Children of a rebellious Father.  
But the Case is altered when we consider Man as a Sinner himself: And God might very reasonably exert all his Wisdom and Power to satisfy his Justice, if the Sinner were capable of being made the Object of the entire Vengeance of an angry God. For since the Greatness of Offences is measured by the Dignity of the Person that is offended, 'tis plain that every Offence that is committed against God is infinite, and deserves an infinite Punishment, if Man were capable of suffering it.  
Thus a Sinner considered without Christ, is something worse yet than a Damned Soul that is considered with the Satisfaction of Christ. For if we consider the Satisfaction of Christ, it is not necessary that damned Souls should suffer according to their utmost capacity of suffering. Neither, in effect, do the Damned suffer all that they are able to endure; for their Punishment is unequal as well as their Gild, tho' their capacity of suffering be the same, and they deserve to suffer to the utmost all that they are able to bear. And therefore the condition of a Sinner without Christ, is more deplorable than that of the Damned; for he is a Blemish to the Beauty of the Universe, and overturns the established Order of Things as much as 'tis possible he should overturn it.  
Such a Sinner is even more worthy of Hatred than all the Damned and Devils together; for the Death of Christ being sufficient to supply the defects of the satisfaction which the Damned make to the Justice of God, that Sacred Justice is fully satisfied, and God is Glorified in the Punishment of the Damned notwithstanding all their Malice and Spite; and even their Malice itself, as the due reward of their Sins, serves to glorify the Divine Justice: But a Sinner without Christ is a Monster whom God neither can nor will endure; he is not capable of being comprehended in any order, neither of Mercy nor of Justice. There is nothing that is Good in such a Sinner; 'Tis impossible to think on him without horror, and those who love Order, that inviolable Law of Spiritual Motion, can see nothing more worthy hatred and detestation than such a Creature.  
I can neither hate nor humble myself enough as I am a Sinner. Even my Repentance deserves to be rejected; for my Groans and Tears serve only to renew the remembrance of my Offences. In vain do I lift up my voice to Heaven; God hears not the Cries of Sinners; he laughs at their Calamities, and delights in their just Punishments. As a Creature, God hears me; as a Son of Adam, he despises me; but as a Sinner he cannot think on me without making me the Object of his most rigorous Justice, and punishing me according to the utmost extent of my capacity of lussering. How miserable then is the condition of a Sinner! But let us not any longer consider him without a Redcemer.  

The Elevation of the Soul to GOD.  
O Jesus, who camest into the World not to call the Righteous, but Sinners to Repentance; who didst take upon thyself all the marks of a Sinner, and condescend to be looked upon as a Sinner, and as a Friend to Publicans and Sinners; thou whose ardent desire it was to suffer for Sinners, and by the hands of Sinners, a Death which was appointed for the vilest Sinners; O Jesus, the Saviour of Sinners, be thou my shield to protect me against the Arrows of the Wrath of God; and stop the Arm of thy Father, which is ready to fall heavily upon me. Join thy Groans to mine, and mingle thy Tears with mine, that they may not any longer be the object of the scorn and abomination of my God. I do not ask thee to raise me from the ground, to wipe away my Tears, or to restore my first Robes; I am not in a state of Innocence, and desire not to live but in Sorrow and Humiliation. Yes, Lord, I will remain prostrate on the ground, with my Face covered with Dust and Tears, and thus together with thee bear that shame and confusion which I justly deserve for my offences.    

The Eighth Consideration  
THE Condition of Man, as a Child of Adam, and even though we consider him as redeemed by Christ, does necessarily require a separation and abstinence from all the Pleasures of Sense, and Objects of Concupiscence; for every Child of Adam, how righteous and holy soever he may be supposed to be, does always feel a weight that draws him to the Earth, and counterballances the effort of the weight of Grace upon his Soul▪ Now since the weight of Grace does not depend on us, and acts so much the more vigorously upon us, as the weight of Concupiscence is less; 'tis plain that all Mankind is under a very strict obligation to diminish the last of these weights, by carefully avoiding sensual Pleasures, which Naturally incline us to the love of those Objects that seem to cause them, and by so doing stir up and strengthen the motions of Concupiscence in us.  
Besides, Mortification and a depriving ourselves of Worldly Pleasures are not only useful to cooperate with Grace, and remove such things as might obstruct its efficacy, but are even many times necessary qualifications to deserve Grace; and in all appearance the shortest way to obtain it, nor do they ever fail of doing it when they proceed from a Motion of the Spirit of God, and are practised with due perseverance.  
When we consider that an unchangeable Order is the Essential Rule of the Will of God, we perceive clearly that Sinners are indispensably obliged to such a Privation and Mortification; for 'tis plain that Order requires the Punishment of Sinners.  
Every Man ought to wish with a certain Holy Person, Either to suffer, or to die; or rather with another, Not to die till he has suffered much. For every one who loves Order, who prefers the Will of God before his own, who has regard to the Beauty of the Universe, not that visible Beauty which is the Object of our Senses, but the intelligible Beauty which can be only perceived by our Minds; every one I say, that considers himself as a part of the Works of God, and who places not his chief end in himself, nor thinks it his Duty to love himself more than God, aught to conform himself to the Will of his All. He ought to undertake the quarrel of God, and inspired with a holy zeal for the satisfaction of his Justice, exercise a necessary severity against himself; a severity which will restore him to a state of Order, so much the more quickly as he shall exercise it more voluntarily: For, if the punishment of Sin were not voluntary it would necessarily be eternal.  
If we considered that Pleasure is a recompense, which God alone is capable of producing in us; and that he has obliged himself by the Order of Nature, which is nothing else but the Eternal Decrees of his Will, to make us feel Pleasure, as often as the Bodies that surround us shall produce in our Body such motions as are useful for its preservation: If we considered this, I say, we should be fully convinced that it is an abominable and shameful impudence to make use of the unchangeableness of the Decrees of a Just God to oblige him to reward us, at the same time that we deserve to be punished as Sinners, and even for those Crimes which we are then actually committing against God. For it is certainly a thing that cannot be reflected on without horror and amazement; viz. that we make the goodness of God favour our Passions, and in a manner force the God of order to reward disorder.  
But if we consider on the other side, that Pain is a punishment which God alone is capable of inflicting on us, and that he has obliged himself, by the same order of Nature, to make us sensible of Pain as often as the Bodies which surround us shall produce such motions in our Bodies as are contrary to its preservation; we then can no longer doubt but that a Sinner who willingly submits to the order of Justice, and makes use of the immutability of the Divine Will, only that he may be re-established in a state of order, who, if I may be allowed to use that expression, reconciles God with God, and natural order with essential and necessary order, and who, knowing himself to be a Sinner, obliges God in pursuance of his unalterable Decrees to treat him according to his deserts; we cannot doubt, I say, but that such a Sinner shall certainly draw upon himself the favourable Mercy of so good a God as he whom we adore. For, such a Sinner is truly amiable; he augments the beauty of the Universe; he endeavours with all his might to re-enter into a state of order, and he does effectually re-enter into it, his sufferings being united to those of Christ who alone is an atonement that is able to compass the glorious design of the general restoration of all things.  
How great is the difference between a voluptuous and a repenting Sinner! Let us endeavour once more to give a lively Idea of it. A voluptuous person is a monster who breaks all order, and spoils the beauty of the Universe; whereas a true penitent re-establishes a state of order, and restores to the Universe what he hath taken from it. A voluptuous Man is a Traitor who abuses the goodness of his Sovereign, and who, being acquainted with his designs, does maliciously take advantages from them, to oblige him to actions that are unworthy of him; but a penitent Sinner is a faithful Servant who studies the will of his Master, and is willing to undergo any sufferings that it may be executed; one who makes such a prudent use of the knowledge he has of his Lord's inclinations, that he obliges him in Justice to make him his Favourite. Finally, a voluptuous Man is a Malefactor who is perpetually committing new crimes; an obdurate Sinner who drinks up iniquity like water, and rejoices in his wickedness; a cast Devil whose doom is not yet pronounced; and a fatted Victim reserved for the day of the Lord's vengeance, and to be the fuel of inextinguishable flames. On the other side, a true Penitent is a just person who fears Sin more than he loves Pleasure; an humble and contrite Soul that is still purifying itself in bitterness and pain; a  sacrifice of Love; a sacrifice that is too pleasing and too acceptable to the God to whom it is made to remain in the order of Justice, and which shall therefore be infallibly translated to that of Mercy; for, its punishment, being voluntary, cannot continue for ever.  
We must not then delude ourselves by imagining that Christ came into the World to free us from our obligations to Repentance. Christ did not come to overturn the order of things: The design of his coming was to suffer with Sinners, by his sufferings to sanctify their Repentance, and render it wellpleasing to God. He came to bear by the greatness of his Power that which Men could not bear by reason of the weakness of their Nature, the finiteness of their Being and unworthiness of their Persons. But he came not to excuse them from Repentance; far from that, he encourages them to suffer by his own Example, strengthens them by his Grace, and instructs them by his Doctrine: For he has assured us that none but those who follow him to the Death shall enjoy that Life which he merited for us by the loss of his own. If any Man, says he, would rise again with me, let him renounce his own Life, let him bear the instrument of his punishment, let him take up his Cross and follow me; for he that would save his Life shall lose it. Nay, he even rebukes sharply the greatest of his Apostles, because he would have dissuaded him from suffering; he calls him Satan, and commands him out of his presence: Mark 8 33,34,35. But when Jesus had turned about, and 〈◊〉 on his disciples, he rebuked Peter, saying, get thee behind me S●…; for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but the things that be of men. And when he had called the 〈◊〉 unto him with his disciples 〈◊〉; he said unto them, whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it, and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospels, the same shall save it. This is the Doctrine of the Eternal Wisdom; this is the Advice which he gives not only to the Apostles, but to all Mankind in general. And when he had called the people unto him with his disciples also, he said unto them, Whosoever will come after me let him deny himself, etc.  

The Elevation of the Soul to GOD.  
O LORD, whose Will is ever effectual, and all whose Decrees are unchangeable, it is of thy bounty that we feel Pleasure in the use of sensible things; but ungrateful Man loves that false good, and despises the true cause of his Happiness; or rather, he is ignorant that thou, O Lord, alone art able to operate in him. It was wisely ordered by thy Providence, that Man should be able to discern, by short and evident Proofs, whether he should use or avoid the Bodies that surround him, that he might not be obliged to turn from thee, nor to six his Mind upon thy Creatures. But he has abused thy Mercy to his own destruction; for thou, O God, art not in all his thoughts: He imagines that matter is the cause of all the Pleasure which he feels, and therefore yields himself a slave to it, and makes it the only Object of his Thoughts and Affections. Thus what thou hadst appointed to preserve the Righteous Man in his Rightcousness serves now to harden the Wicked in their Wickedness. Is it just thou shouldst work a Miracle for a sinful wretch, O God? No, Lord, let thy Decrees remain fixed for ever; and woe be to those that tempt thee. Let Men shun Poison if they would avoid Death. They can discern that Poison, for thou hast taught them to know and avoid it.  
But, O thou Just and Merciful God, who dealest Righteously with thy Creatures, how shall we be able to hate Pleasure? How hate what thou causest us to love? It is just that we suffer as Sinners; but can we love Pain which thou seemest to make us hate by an invincible Impression? O Lord, whose Wisdom is infinite, enable us perfectly to understand that thou art not contrary to thyself, and that thy Wills do not imply contradiction; that Pleasure, in itself, is not absolutely bad, and that the true cause that produces it, really deserves and aught to be beloved and respected; beloved with all our Heart and Soul, and respected so as not to be constrained, in consequence of his Will, to gratify us, when, absolutely speaking, be should punish us.  
O Lord, who hidest thyself from our mortal Eyes, cause thy strength, and the efficacy of thy will to exert themselves, and do thou clearly and incessantly convince us that the Bodies which are on all sides about us are absolutely incapable of doing us either good or harm. Perhaps Men will love none but thee when they come to know that thou alone art able to do them good, and perhaps they will fear none but thee when they shall have rightly understood that thou alone hast sufficient strength and power to cause them to suffer Pain.  
But I beseech thee, O my God, to deal with me in a more safe and merciful manner. I know that thy Creatures are not my good, yet I love them: I am convinced that whatever is round me cannot penetrate me, yet my Heart insensibly opens itself, and expects to receive from the vilest of thy Creatures what thou alone art able to give me. Therefore, O Lord, be pleased out of thy infimte Mercy, to deal with me in a more safe manner than thou dost with those who follow the Dictates of their Love. Oh set me apart from thy Creatures since they turn my Heart from thee. Draw my Eyes from fixing themselves on sensible Objects, since I mistake them for thee; or rather, since I love them instead of thee. This is the surest means to remedy the disorders in my Heart.  
All my Philosophy is not sufficient to regulate my Love, and can only serve to accuse and confound me before thee. It teaches me that I make use of the Order, to overthrow the Order; that I misemploy thy Gifts by promoting what is ill; and that I make use of the immutability of thy Decrees merely to reward Rebellion and other Crimes: It plainly shows me my Impiety and Injustice; but leaves me plunged in it. I am stricken with horror when I think on myself, yet I cannot forbear loving myself. So I procure those Pleasures to myself which make me happy, at least while I enjoy them. O God, how stupid and senseless am I not! I love myself for a Moment, and ruin myself for a whole Eternity: But I have a feeling sense of that Moment, and I have none of Eternity. 'Tis true I think on it, and the Thought disturbs my Joy; but alas! Pleasure, though never so weakened by my Reflections, easily draws after its self a Heart which it has already put into motion. Deprive me then, O my God, of all the Objects that flatter my Senses and disorder my Reason. While, as being the Author of Nature, thou makest me seel Pleasure in the use of those Objects, do thou, as thou art the Author of Grace, make me loath and abhor them. And I beseech thee out of the abundance of thy Mercies, that at such times as Pains are voluntary, thou mayst make me suffer those which my Crimes deserve. O God, who canst not let sin remain impunished, make me continually return to the observance of the Order. Form me upon the model of thy Son, crucify me with him, and let his Cross, that is only folly and weakness to the Eyes of Man, be all my Strength, all my Wisdom and all my Joy.  
O Jesus! who wast nailed on the Cross for my sins, I am thine; nail and fix me there with thee; crucify my Flesh with its Passions and unruly Desires; destroy this body of Sin, or by thy Grace deliver me from the stress of it that continually presses upon my Mind. We are baptised in thy Death: We are dead to all the things of this World: We are even buried with thee through Baptism: Our old Man, according to thy great Apostle, was crucified with thee, that the body of sin might be destroyed. And wilt thou, O Lord, suffer this Old Man to live again, and this Body of Sin to subsist? O Saviour of the World, do thou finish the work which thou hast begun! Continue to suffer in thy Members: Do thou in our Flesh sinish the Sacrifice which thou hast begun in Abel, which thou didst continue in the Patriarches and Prophets, and to which thou wilt not put an end but by the Death of the last Member of thy Body, that is to be the last Saint whom thou wilt give to thy Church.  
O thou Blessed Spirit of Christ, thou Love of the Father and of the Son, diffuse thy Charity through our Hearts, drive the servile fear of Slaves out of our Minds, and fill us with that Fear that is found in the Children, and which gives a Right to the Inheritance of our Father. Come, O thou Spirit of Comfort, soften the bitterness and distaste which we find in Repentance; make us partake of the Sufferings of Christ, that we may also be made partakers of his Glory. But give us at the same time some of that Heavenly Fire which thou didst shower down on the Apostles; that Fire which kindled in them an ardent Zeal to preach the Cross of Christ without Fear, and to suffer joyfully the shame of Whipping, the stress of Torments, and Death itself for Christ Jesus. Amen.    
FINIS.