A SERMON Preached before the KING, MARCH 13. 1666/ 7.  
BY Edward Stillingfleet, B. D. Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majesty.  
Printed by His Majesty's especial Command.  
LONDON, Printed by Robert White, for Henry Mortlock, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Sign of the White Hart in Westminster Hall. 1667.   
PROVERBS 14. 9 Fools make a mock at Sin. 
WHEN God by his infinite Wisdom had contrived, and by a power and goodness, as infinite as his Wisdom, had perfected the creation of the visible world, there seemed to be nothing wanting to the glory of it, but a creature endued with reason and understanding, which might comprehend the design of his wisdom, enjoy the benefits of his goodness, and employ itself in the celebration of his power. The Being's purely intellectual were too highly raised by their own order and creation, to be the Lords of this inferior world: and those whose natures could reach no higher than the objects of sense, were not capable of discovering the glorious perfections of the great Creator: and therefore could not be the fit Instruments of his praise and service. But a conjunction of both these together was thought necessary to make up such a sort of beings, which might at once command this lower world, and be the servants of him who made it. Not as though this great fabric of the world were merely raised for man to please his fancy in the contemplation of it, or to exercise his dominion over the creatures designed for his use and service; but that by frequent reflections on the author of his being, and the effects of his power and goodness, he might be brought to the greatest love and admiration of him. So that the most natural part of Religion lies in the grateful acknowledgements we owe to that excellent and supreme Being, who hath showed so particular a kindness to man in the creation and Government of the world. Which was so great and unexpressible, that some have thought, it was not so much pride and affectation of a greater height, as envy at the felicity and power of mankind, which was the occasion of the fall of the Apostate Spirits. But whether or no the state of man were occasion enough for the envy of the Spirits above; we are sure the kindness of Heaven was so great in it, as could not but lay an indispensable obligation on all mankind to perpetual gratitude and obedience. For it is as easy to suppose, that affronts and injuries are the most suitable returns for the most obliging favours; that the first duty of a Child should be to destroy his Parents; that to be thankful for kindnesses received, were to commit the unpardonable sin; as that man should receive his being and all the blessings which attend it from God, and not be bound to the most universal obedience to him.  
And as the reflection on the author of his being, leads him to the acknowledgement of his duty towards God, so the consideration of the design of it, will more easily acquaint him with the nature of that duty which is expected from him. Had man been designed only to act a short part here in the world, all that had been required of him, had been only to express his thankfulness to God for his being, and the comforts of it; the using all means for the due preservation of himself; the doing nothing beneath the dignity of humane nature, nothing injurious to those who were of the same nature with himself; but since he is designed for greater and nobler ends, and his present state, is but a state of trial, in order to future happiness and misery; the reason of good and evil is not to be taken merely from his present, but from the respect, which things have to that eternal state he is designed for. From whence it follows, that the differences of good and evil are rooted in the nature of our beings, and are the necessary consequents of our relation to God, and each other, and our expectations of a future life. And therefore according to these measures, the estimation of men in the world hath been while they did preserve any veneration for God or themselves. Wisdom and folly was not measured so much by the subtlety and curiosity of men's speculations, by the finess of their thoughts, or the depth of their designs, as by their endeavours to uphold the dignity of mankind; by their piety and devotion towards God; by their sobriety and due Government of their actions; by the equality and justice, the charity and kindness of their dealings to one another. Wisdom was but another name for goodness, and folly for sin: than it was a man's glory to be religious; and to be profane and vicious, was to be base and mean: then there were no Gods worshipped because they were bad, nor any men disgraced because they were good. Then there were no Temples erected to the meanest passions of humane nature, nor men became Idolaters to their own infirmities. Then to be betrayed into sin, was accounted weakness; to contrive it, dishonour and baseness; to justify and defend it, infamy and reproach; to make a mock at it, a mark of the highest folly and incorrigibleness. So the Wise Man in the words of the Text assures us, that they are Fools, and those of the highest rank and degree of folly, who make a mock at sin.  
It is well for us in the Age we live in, that we have the judgement of former ages to appeal to, and of those persons in them whose reputation for wisdom is yet unquestionable. For otherwise we might be born down by that spiteful enemy to all virtue and goodness, the impudence of such, who it is hard to say whether they show it more in committing sin, or in defending it. Men whose manners are so bad, that scarce any thing can be imagined worse, unless it be the wit they use to excuse them with. Such who take the measure of man's perfections downwards, and the nearer they approach to beasts, the more they think themselves to act like men. No wonder then, if among such as these the differences of good and evil be laughed at, and no sin be thought so unpardonable, as the thinking that there is any at all. Nay the utmost they will allow in the description of Sin, is, that it is a thing that some live by declaiming against, and others cannot live without the practice of.  
But is the Chair of Scorners at last proved the only chair of Infallibility? Must those be the standard of mankind, who seem to have little left of humane nature, but laughter and the shape of men? Do they think that we are all become such fools to take scoffs for arguments, and raillery for demonstrations? He knows nothing at all of goodness, that knows not that it is much more easy to laugh at it, than to practise it; and it were worth the while to make a mock at sin, if the doing so would make nothing of it. But the nature of things does not vary with the humours of men; sin becomes not at all the less dangerous because men have so little Wit to think it so; nor Religion the less excellent and advantageous to the world, because the greatest enemies of that are so much to themselves too, that they have learned to despise it. But although that scorns to be defended by such weapons whereby her enemies assault her, (nothing more unbecoming the Majesty of Religion, than to make itself cheap, by making others laugh) yet if they can but obtain so much of themselves to attend with patience to what is serious, there may be yet a possibility of persuading them, that no fools are so great as those who laugh themselves into misery, and none so certainly do so, as those who make a mock at sin.  
But if our authority be too mean and contemptible to be relied on, in a matter wherein they think us so much concerned (and so I hope we are to prevent the ruin of men's souls) we dare with confidence appeal to the general sense of mankind in the matter of our present debate. Let them name but any one person in all the monuments of former ages, to whom but the bare suspicion of Vice was not a diminution to an esteem that might otherwise have been great in the world. And if the bare suspicion would do so much among even the more rude and barbarous Nations, what would open and professed wickedness do among the more knowing and civil? Humane nature retains an abhorrency of sin, so far that it is impossible for men to have the same esteem of those who are given over to all manner of wickedness, though otherwise of great sharpness of Wit, and of such whose natural abilities may not exceed the other, but yet do govern their actions according to the strict rules of Religion and Virtue. And the general sense of mankind cannot be by any thing better known, than by an universal consent of men, as to the ways whereby they express their value and esteem of others. What they all agree on as the best character of a person worthy to be loved and honoured, we may well think is the most agreeable to humane nature; and what is universally thought a disparagement to the highest accomplishments, aught to be looked on as the disgrace and imperfection of it. Did ever any yet, though never so wicked and profane themselves, seriously commend another person for his rudeness and debaucheries? Was any man's lust or intemperance ever reckoned among the Titles of his honour? Who ever yet raised Trophies to his vices, or thought to perpetuate his memory by the glory of them? Where was it ever known, that sobriety and temperance, justice and charity were thought the marks of reproach and infamy? Who ever suffered in their reputation by being thought to be really good? Nay, it is so far from it, that the most wicked persons do inwardly esteem them whether they will or no. By which we see, that even in this lapsed and degenerate condition of mankind, it is only goodness which gains true honour and esteem, and nothing doth so effectually blast a growing reputation, as wickedness and vice.  
But if it be thus with the generality of men, who were never yet thought to have too much partiality towards goodness, we may much more easily find it among those, who have had a better ground for the reputation of their wisdom, than the mere vogue of the people. He who was pronounced by the Heathen Oracle, to be the wisest among the Greeks, was the person who brought down Philosophy from the obscure and uncertain speculations of nature, and in all his discourses recommended virtue as the truest wisdom. And he among the jews, 
1 Kings 4. 29, 30, 31.  whose soul was as large as the sand on the Sea shore, whose wisdom outwent that of all the persons of his own or future ages, writes a Book on purpose to persuade men, that there is no real wisdom, but to fear God and keep his commandments: that sin is the greatest folly, and the meaner apprehensions men have of it, the more they are infatuated by the temptations to it. But as there are degrees of sinning, so there are of folly in it. Some sin with a blushing countenance, and a trembling conscience; they sin, but yet they are afraid to sin: they sin, but in the act of it they condemn themselves for what they do; they sin, but with confusion in their faces, with horror in their minds, and an earthquake in their consciences: though the condition of such persons be dangerous, and their unquietness shows the greatness of their folly, yet because these twitches of conscience argue there are some quick touches left of the sense of good and evil, their case is not desperate, nor their condition incurable: But there are others who despise these as the reproach of the School of Wickedness, because they are not yet attained to those heights of impiety which they glory in: such who have subdued their consciences much easier than others do their sins; who have almost worn out all the impressions of the work of the Law written in their hearts; who not only make a practice, but a boast of sin, and defend it with as much greediness as they commit it; these are the men, whose folly is manifest to all men but themselves; and surely since these are the men, whom Solomon in the words of the Text describes,  
(1.) By their character, as Fools, and,  
(2.) By the instance of their folly, in making a mock at sin; We may have not only the liberty to use, but to prove, that name of reproach to be due unto them; and (2.) To show the reasonableness of fastening it upon them, because they make a mock at sin.  
But before I come more closely to pursue that, it will be necessary to consider another sense of these words caused by the ambiguity of the Hebrew Verb, which sometimes signifies to deride and scorn, sometimes to plead for, and excuse a thing with all the arts of Rhetoric (thence the word for Rhetoric is derived from the Verb here used) according to which sense, it notes all the plausible pretences and subtle extenuations which wicked men use in defence of their evil actions. For as if men intended to make some recompense for the folly they betray in the acts of sin by the wit they employ in the pleading for them, there is nothing they show more industry and care in, than in endeavouring to baffle their own consciences, and please themselves in their folly, till death and eternal flames awaken them. That we may not therefore seem to beg all wicked men for Fools, till we have heard what they have to say for themselves, we shall first examine the reasonableness of their fairest Plea's for their evil actions, before we make good the particular impeachment of folly against them. There are three ways especially whereby they seek to justify themselves, by laying the blame of all their evil actions, either upon the fatal necessity of all events, the unavoidable frailty of humane nature, or the impossibility of keeping the Laws of Heaven. But that none of these will serve to excuse them from the just imputation of folly, is our present business to discover.  
1. The fatal necessity of all humane actions. Those who upon any other terms are unwilling enough to own either God or Providence, yet if they can but make these serve their turn to justify their sins by, their quarrel against them than ceaseth, as being much more willing that God should bear the blame of their sins, than themselves. But yet the very fears of a Deity suggest so many dreadful thoughts of his Majesty, justice, and Power, that they are very well contented to have him wholly left out; and then to suppose Man to be a mere Engine, that is necessarily moved by such a train and series of causes, that there is no action how bad soever that is done by him, which it was any more possible for him not to have done, than for the fire not to burn when it pleases. If this be true, farewell all the differences of good and evil in men's actions; farewell all expectations of future rewards and punishments; Religion becomes but a mere name, and righteousness but an art to live by. But it is with this, as it is with the other arguments they use against Religion; there is something within, which checks and controls them in what they say: and that inward remorse of conscience, which such men sometimes feel in their evil actions (when conscience is forced to recoil by the foulness of them) doth effectually confute their own hypothesis; and makes them not believe those actions to be necessary, for which they suffer so much in themselves because they knew they did them freely. Or is it as fatal for man to believe himself free when he is not so, as it is for him to act when his choice is determined? but what series of causes is there that doth so necessarily impose upon the common sense of all mankind? It seems very strange, that man should have so little sense of his own interest to be still necessitated to the worst of actions, and yet torment himself with the thoughts that he did them freely. Or is it only the freedom of action, and not of choice, that men have an experience of within themselves? But surely, however men may subtly dispute of the difference between these two, no man would ever believe himself to be free in what he does, unless he first thought himself to be so, in what he determines? And if we suppose man to have as great a freedom of choice in all his evil actions (which is the liberty we are now speaking of) as any persons assert or contend for, we cannot suppose that he should have a greater experience of it, than now he hath. So that either it is impossible for man to know when his choice is free; or if it may be known, the constant experience of all evil men in the world will testify, that it is so now. Is it possible for the most intemperate person to believe, when the most pleasing temptations to lust or gluttony are presented to him, that no considerations whatever could restrain his appetite, or keep him from the satisfaction of his brutish inclinations? Will not the sudden, though groundless, apprehension of poison in the Cup, make the Drunkard's heart to ache, and hand to tremble, and to let fall the supposed fatal mixture in the midst of all his jollity and excess? How often have persons who have designed the greatest mischief to the lives and fortunes of others, when all opportunities have fallen out beyond their expectation for accomplishing their ends, through some sudden thoughts which have surprised them, almost in the very act, been diverted from their intended purposes? Did ever any yet imagine that the charms of beauty and allurements of lust were so irresistible, that if men knew before hand they should surely die in the embraces of an adulterous bed, they could not yet withstand the temptations to it? If then some considerations, which are quite of another nature from all the objects which are presented to him, may quite hinder the force and efficacy of them upon the mind of man (as we see in Ioseph's resisting the importunate Caresses of his Mistress) what reason can there be to imagine that man is a mere machine moved only as outward objects determine him? And if the considerations of present fear and danger may divert men from the practice of evil actions, shall not the far more weighty considerations of eternity have, at least an equal, if not a far greater power and efficacy upon men's minds, to keep them from everlasting misery? Is an immortal soul and the eternal happiness of it so mean a thing in our esteem and value, that we will not deny ourselves those sensual pleasures for the sake of that, which we would renounce for some present danger? Are the flames of another world such painted fires, that they deserve only to be laughed at, and not seriously considered by us? Fond man! art thou only free to ruin and destroy thyself? a strange fatality indeed, when nothing but what is mean and trivial shall determine thy choice! when matters of the highest moment are therefore less regarded, because they are such. Hast thou no other plea for thyself, but that thy sins were fatal? thou hast no reason then to believe but that thy misery shall be so too. But if thou ownest a God and Providence, assure thyself that justice and righteousness are not mere Titles of his Honour, but the real properties of his nature. And he who hath appointed the rewards and punishments of the great day, will then call the sinner to account, not only for all his other sins, but for offering to lay the imputation of them upon himself. For if the greatest abhorrency of men's evil ways, the rigour of his Laws, the severity of his judgements, the exactness of his justice, the greatest care used to reclaim men from their sins, and the highest assurance, that he is not the cause of their ruin, may be any vindication of the holiness of God now, and his justice in the life to come; we have the greatest reason to lay the blame of all our evil actions upon ourselves, as to attribute the glory of all our good unto himself alone.  
2. The frailty of humane nature: those who find themselves to be free enough to do their souls mischief, and yet continue still in the doing of it, find nothing more ready to plead for themselves, than the unhappiness of man's composition, and the degenerate state of the world. If God had designed (they are ready to say) that man should lead a life free from sin, why did he confine the soul of man to a body so apt to taint and pollute it? But who art thou O man, that thus findest fault with thy Maker? Was not his kindness the greater, in not only giving thee a soul capable of enjoying himself, but such an habitation for it here, which by the curiosity of its contrivance, the number and usefulness of its parts, might be a perpetual and domestic testimony of the wisdom of its Maker? Was not such a conjunction of soul and body necessary for the exercise of that dominion which God designed man for, over the creatures endued only with sense and motion? And if we suppose this life to be a state of trial in order to a better, (as in all reason we ought to do) what can be imagined more proper to such a state, than to have the soul constantly employed in the government of those sensual inclinations which arise from the body? In the doing of which, the proper exercise of that virtue consists, which is made the condition of future happiness. Had it not been for such a composition, the difference could never have been seen between good and bad men; i e. between those who maintain the Empire of reason, assisted by the motives of Religion, over all the inferior faculties, and such who dethrone their souls and make them slaves to every lust that will command them. And if men willingly subject themselves to that which they were born to rule, they have none to blame but themselves for it. Neither is it any excuse at all, that this, through the degeneracy of mankind, is grown the common custom of the world; unless that be in itself so great a Tyrant, that there is no resisting the power of it. If God had commanded us to comply with all the customs of the world, and at the same time to be sober, righteous, and good, we must have lived in another age than we live in, to have excused these two commands from a palpable contradiction. But instead of this, he hath forewarned us of the danger of being led aside by the soft, and easy compliances of the world; and if we are sensible of our own infirmities, (as we have all reason to be) he hath offered us the assistance of his Grace & of that Spirit of his, 
1 Joh. 4. 4.  which is greater than the Spirit that is in the world. He hath promised us those weapons whereby we may withstand the torrent of wickedness in the world, with far greater success than the old Gauls were wont to do the inundations of their country, whose custom was to be drowned with their arms in their hands. But it will be the greater folly in us to be so, because we have not only sufficient means of resistance, but we understand the danger before hand. If we once forsake the strict rules of religion and goodness, and are ready to yield ourselves to whatever hath got retainers enough to set up for a custom, we may know where we begin, but we cannot where we shall make an end. For every fresh assault makes the breach wider, at which more enemies may come in still; so that when we find ourselves under their power, we are contented for our own ease to call them Friends. Which is the unhappy consequence of too easy yielding at first, till at last the greatest slavery to sin be accounted but good humour, and a gentle compliance with the fashions of the world. So that when men are persuaded, either through fear, or too great easiness to disuse that strict eye which they had before to their actions, it oft times falls out with them, as it did with the Soldier in the Roman History, who blinded his eye so long in the time of the Civil Wars, that when he would have used it again, he could not. And when custom hath by degrees taken away the sense of sin from their consciences, they grow as hard as Herodotus tells us the heads of the old Egyptians were by the heat of the Sun, that nothing would ever enter them. If men will with Nabuchadnezzar herd with the beasts of the field, no wonder if their reason departs from them, and by degrees they grow as savage as the company they keep. So powerful a thing is custom to debauch mankind, and so easily do the greatest vices by degrees obtain admission into the souls of men, under pretence of being retainers to the common infirmities of humane nature. Which is a phrase, through the power of self-flattery, and men's ignorance in the nature of moral actions, made to be of so large and comprehensive a sense that the most wilful violations of the Laws of Heaven, and such which the Scripture tells us do exclude from the Kingdom of it, do find (rather than make) friends enough to shelter themselves under the protection of them. But such a protection it is, which is neither allowed in the Court of Heaven, nor will ever secure the souls of men without a hearty and sincere repentance, from the arrest of divine justice; which when it comes to call the world to an account of their actions will make no defalcations at all for the power of custom, or common practice of the world.  
3. The impossibility of the command, or rather of obedience to it. When neither of the former pleas will effect their design, but notwithstanding the pretended necessity of humane actions, and the more than pretended common practice of the world, their consciences still fly in their faces and rebuke them sharply for their sins, then in a mighty rage and fury they charge God himself with Tyranny in laying impossible Laws upon the sons of men. But if we either consider the nature of the command, or the promises which accompany it, or the large experience of the world to the contrary, we shall easily discover that this pretence is altogether as unreasonable as either of the foregoing. For what is it that God requires of men as the condition of their future happiness which in its own nature is judged impossible? Is it for men to live soberly, righteously and godly in this world? 
Tit. 2. 12▪  for that was the end of Christian Religion to persuade men to do so: but who thinks it impossible to avoid the occasions of intemperance, not to defraud, or injure his neighbours, or to pay that reverence and sincere devotion to God which we owe unto him? Is it to do as we would be done by? yet that hath been judged by strangers to the Christian Religion a most exact measure of humane conversation; Is it to maintain an universal kindness and good will to men? that indeed is the great excellency of our Religion, that it so strictly requires it; but if this be impossible, farewell all good nature in the world; and I suppose few will own this charge, lest theirs be suspected. Is it to be patient under suffering, moderate in our desires, circumspect in our actions, contented in all conditions? yet these are things which those have pretended to who never owned Christianity, and therefore surely they never thought them impossible. Is it to be charitable to the poor, compassionate to those in misery? is it to be frequent in prayer, to love God above all things, to forgive our enemies as we hope God will forgive us, to believe the Gospel, and be ready to suffer for the sake of Christ? There are very few among us but will say they do all these things already, and therefore surely they do not think them impossible. The like answer I might give to all the other precepts of the Gospel till we come to the denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, and as to these too, if we charge men with them, they either deny their committing them, and then say they have kept the command; or if they confess it, they promise amendment for the furture; but in neither respect can they be said to think the command impossible. Thus we see their own mouths will condemn them when they charge God with laying impossible Laws on mankind. But then if we inquire further into the judgements of those who it may be never concerned themselves so much about the precepts of Christian Religion, as to try whether they had any power to observe them or not; nay, if we yield them more (than, it may be, they are willing to inquire after, though they ought to do it) viz. that without the assistance of divine grace, they can never do it: yet such is the unlimited nature of divine goodness and the exceeding riches of God's Grace, that (knowing the weakness and degeneracy of humane nature when he gave these commands to men) he makes a large and free offer of assistance to all those who are so sensible of their own infirmity as to beg it of him. And can men then say the command is impossible when he hath promised an assistance suitable to the nature of the duty & the infirmities of men? If it be acknowledged that some of the duties of Christianity are very difficult to us now; let us consider by what means he hath sweetened the performance of them. Will not the proposal of so excellent a reward, make us swallow some more than ordinary hardships that we might enjoy it? Hath he not made use of the most obliging motives to persuade us to the practice of what he requires, by the infinite discovery of his own love, the death of his Son, and the promise of his Spirit? And what then is wanting, but only setting ourselves to the serious obedience of them, to make his commands not only not impossible, but easy to us? But our grand fault is, we make impossibilities ourselves, where we find none, and then we complain of them: we are first resolved not to practise the commands, and then nothing more easy than to find fault with them: we first pass sentence, and then examine evidences; first condemn, and then inquire into the merits of the cause. Yet surely none of these things can be accounted impossible, which have been done by all those who have been sincere and hearty Christians; and God forbid, we should think all guilty of hypocrisy, who have professed the Christian Religion from the beginning of it to this day. Nay more than so, they have not only done them, but professed to have that joy and satisfaction of mind in the doing of them, which they would not exchange for all the pleasures and delights of the world. These were the men, who not only were patient, but rejoiced in sufferings; who accounted it their honour and glory to endure any thing for the sake of so excellent a religion; who were so assured of a future happiness by it, that they valued Martyrdoms above Crowns and Sceptres. But God be thanked, we may hope to come to Heaven on easier terms than these, or else many others might nevercome thither, besides those who think to make this a pretence for their sin, that now when with encouragement and honour we may practise our Religion, the commands of it are thought impossible by them. Thus we have made good the general charge here employed against wicked men, in that they are called Fools, by examining the most plausible pretences they bring for themselves.  
I now come to the particular impeachment of their folly, because they make a mock at sin. And that I shall prove especially by two things: 1. Because this argues the highest degree of wickedness. 2. Because it betrays the greatest weakness of judgement and want of consideration.  
1. Because it argues the highest degree of wickedness. If to sin be folly, to make a mock at it is little short of madness. It is such a height of impiety, that few but those who are of very profligate conscienciences can attain to, without a long custom in sinning. For conscience is at first modest, and starts and boggles at the appearance of a great wickedness, till it be used to it & grown familiar with it. It is no such easy matter for a man to get the mastery of his conscience; a great deal of force and violence must be used to one's self before he does it. The natural impressions of good and evil, the fears of a Deity, and the apprehensions of a future state are such curbs and checks in a sinner's way, that he must first sin himself beyond all feeling of these, before he can attain to the seat of the scorners. And we may justly wonder how any should ever come thither, when they must break through all that is ingenuous and modest, all that is virtuous and good, all that is tender and apprehensive in humane nature, before they can arrive at it. They must first deny a God, and despise an immortal soul, they must conquer their own reason, and cancel the Law written in their hearts, they must hate all that is serious, and yet soberly believe themselves to be no better than the beasts that perish, before men can come to make a scoff at religion, and a mock at sin.  
And who now could ever imagine that in a Nation professing Christianity, among a people whose genius inclines them to civility and religion, yea among those who have the greatest advantages of behaviour and education, and who are to give the Laws of civility to the rest of the Nation, there should any be found who should deride religion, make sport with their own profaneness, and make so light of nothing, as being damned? I come not here to accuse any, and least of all those who show so much regard of religion as to be present in the places devoted to sacred purposes; but if there be any such here, whose consciences accuse themselves, for any degrees of so great impiety; I beseech them by all that is dear and precious to them, by all that is sacred and serious, by the vows of their Baptism, and their participation of the holy Eucharist, by all the kindness of Heaven which they either enjoy or hope for, by the death and sufferings of the Son of God, that they would now consider how great folly and wickedness they betray in it, and what the dreadful consequence of it will be, if they do not timely repent of it. If it were a doubt (as I hope it is not among any here) whether the matters of religion be true or no, they are surely things which ought to be seriously thought and spoken of. It is certainly no jesting matter to affront a God of infinite Majesty and power, (and he judges every wilful sinner to do so) nor can any one in his wits think it a thing not to be regarded, whether he be eternally happy or miserable. Methinks then among persons of civility and honour, above all others, Religion might at least be treated with the respect and reverence due to the concernments of it; that it be not made the sport of entertainments, nor the common subject of Plays and Comedies: For is there nothing to trifle with, but God and his service? Is wit grown so schismatical & sacrilegious, that it can please itself with nothing but holy ground? Are profaneness & wit grown such inseparable companions, that none shall be allowed to pretend to the one, but such as dare be highly guilty of the other? Far be it from those who have but the name of Christians, either to do these things themselves, or to be pleased with them that do them: especially in such times as ours of late have been, when God hath used so many ways to make us serious if any thing would ever do it. If men had only slighted God and religion, and made a mock at sin, when they had grown wanton through the abundance of peace and plenty, and saw no severities of God's justice used upon such who did it; yet the fault had been so great, as might have done enough to have interrupted their peace and destroyed that plenty, which made them out of the greatness of their pride and wantonness to kick against Heaven: but to do it in despite of all God's judgements, to laugh in his face when his rod is upon our backs, when neither Pestilence nor Fire can make us more afraid of him, exceedingly aggravates the impiety, and makes it more unpardonable. When like the old Germans we dance among naked swords, when men shall defy and reproach Heaven in the midst of a City's ruins, and over the Graves of those whom the arrows of the Almighty have heaped together, what can be thought of such, but that nothing will make them serious, but eternal misery? And are they so sure there is no such thing to be feared, that they never think of it, but when by their execrable oaths they call upon God to damn them, for fear he should not do it time enough for them? Thus while men abuse his patience, and provoke his justice, while they trample upon his kindness, and slight his severities, while they despise his Laws and mock at the breaches of them, what can be added more to their impiety? or what can be expected by such who are guilty of it, but that God should quickly discover their mighty folly by letting them see how much they have deceived themselves, 
Gal. 6. 7.  since God will not be mocked, but because of these things the wrath of God will most certainly come upon the children of disobedience. 
Eph. 5. 6.  Which leads to the second thing wherein this folly is seen.  
2. Which is in the weakness of judgement and want of consideration, which this betrays in men. Folly is the great unsteadiness of the mind in the thoughts of what is good and fitting to be done. It were happy for many in the world, if none should suffer in their reputation for want of wisdom, but such whom nature or some violent distemper have wholly deprived of the use of their reason and understandings: But wisdom does not lie in the rambling imaginations of men's minds (for fools may think of the same things which wise men practise) but in a due consideration and choice of things which are most agreeable to the end they design, supposing the end in the first place to be worthy a wise man's choice; for I cannot yet see why the end may not be chosen aswell as the means, when there are many stand in competition for our choice, and men first deliberate, and then determine which is the fittest to be pursued. But when the actions of men discover, that either they understand or regard not the most excellent end of their beings, or do those things which directly cross and thwart their own designs, or else pursue those which are mean and ignoble in themselves, we need not any further evidence of their folly, than these things discover.  
Now that those who make a mock at sin are guilty of all these, will appear; if we consider whom they provoke by doing so, whom they most injury, and upon what reasonable considerations they are moved to what they do.  
1. Whom they provoke by their making a mock at sin; Supposing that there is a Governor of the world, who hath established Laws for us to be guided by, we may easily understand, whose honour and authority is reflected on, when the violations of his Laws are made nothing of. For surely if they had a just esteem of his power and Sovereignty, they never durst make so bold with him, as all those do who not only commit sin themselves, but laugh at the scrupulosity of those who dare not When Dionysius changed Apollo's Cloak, and took off the Golden Beard of Aesculapius, with those solemn jeers of the unsuitableness of the one to the Son of a beardless Father; and the much greater conveniency of a cheaper garment to the other; it was a sign he stood not much in awe of the severity of their looks, nor had any dread at all of the greatness of their power. But although there be so infinite a disproportion between the artificial Deities of the Heathens, and the Majesty of him who made and governs the whole world; yet as little reverence to his power and authority is showed by all such who dare affront him with such a mighty confidence, and bid the greatest defiance to his Laws by scoffing at them. What is there, the Sovereigns and Princes of the earth do more justly resent, and express the highest indignation against, than to have their Laws despised, their persons affronted, and their authority contemned? And can we then imagine, that a God of infinite power and Majesty, the honour of whose Laws is as dear to him as his own is, should sit still unconcerned, when so many indignities are continually offered them, and never take any notice at all of them? It is true, his patience is not to be measured by our fretful and peevish natures, (and it is happy for us all that it is not) he knows the sinner can never escape his power, and therefore bears the longer with him: but yet his lenity is always joined with his wisdom and justice, and the time is coming when patience itself shall be no more. Is it not then the highest madness and folly to provoke one whose power is infinitely greater than our own is, and from the severity of whose wrath we cannot secure ourselves one minute of an hour? How knowest thou, O vain man, but that in the midst of all thy mirth and jollity, while thou art boasting of thy sins, and thinkest thou canst never fill up fast enough the measure of thy iniquities, a sudden fit of an Apoplexy, or the breaking of an Aposteme, or any of the innumerable instruments of death, may dispatch thee hence, and consign thee into the hands of divine justice? And wherewithal then wilt thou be able to dispute with God? Wilt thou then charge his Providence with folly, and his Laws with unreasonableness? when his greatness shall affright thee, his Majesty astonish thee▪ his power disarm thee, and his justice proceed against thee: when notwithstanding all thy bravadoes here, they own conscience shall be not only thy accuser and witness, but they judge and executioner too: when it shall revenge itself upon thee for all the rapes and violences thou hast committed upon it here: when horror and confusion shall be thy portion, and the unspeakable anguish of a racked and tormented mind shall too late convince thee of thy folly in making a mock at that which stings with an everlasting venom. Art thou then resolved to put all these things to the adventure, and live as securely as if the terrors of the Almighty were but the dreams of men awake, or the fancies of weak and distempered brains? But I had rather believe that in the heat and fury of thy lusts thou wouldst seem to others to think so, than thou either dost or canst persuade thyself to such unreasonable folly. Is it not then far better to consult the tranquillity of thy mind here, and the eternal happiness of it hereafter, by a serious repentance and speedy amendment of thy life, than to expose thyself for the sake of thy sensual pleasures to the fury of that God whose justice is infinite, and power irresistible? Shall not the apprehension of his excellency make thee now afraid of him? Never then make any mock at sin more, unless thou art able to contend with the Almighty, or to dwell with everlasting burnings.  
2. The folly of it is seen in considering whom the injury redounds to by men's making themselves so pleasant with their sins. Do they think by their rude attempts to dethrone the Majesty of Heaven, or by standing at the greatest defiance, to make him willing to come to terms of composition with them? Do they hope to slip beyond the bounds of his power, by falling into nothing when they die, or to sue out prohibitions in the Court of Heaven, to hinder the effects of justice there? Do they design to out-wit infinite Wisdom, or to find such flaws in God's government of the world, that he shall be contented to let them go unpunished? All which imaginations are alike vain and foolish, and only show how easily wickedness baffles the reason of mankind, and makes them rather hope or wish for the most impossible things, than believe they shall ever be punished for their impieties. If the Apostate Spirits can by reason of their present restraint and expectation of future punishments be as pleasant in beholding the follies of men as they are malicious to suggest them, it may be one of the greatest diversions of their misery, to see how active and witty men are in contriving their own ruin. To see with what greediness they catch at every bait that is offered them, and when they are swallowing the most deadly poison, what arts they use to persuade themselves that it is a healthful potion. No doubt, nothing can more gratify them than to see men sport themselves into their own destruction, and go down so pleasantly to Hell: when eternal flames become the first awakeners, and then men begin to be wise, when it is too late to be so: when nothing but insupportable torments can convince them that God was in earnest with them, that he would not always bear the affronts of evil men, and that those who derided the miseries of another life, shall have leisure enough to repent their folly, when their repentance shall only increase their sorrow without hopes of pardon by it.  
3. But if there were any present felicity, or any considerable advantage to be gained by this mocking at sin, and undervaluing Religion, there would seem to be some kind of pretence, though nothing of true reason for it. Yet that which heightens this folly to the highest degree in the last place is, that there can be no imaginable consideration thought on which might look like a plausible temptation to it. The covetous man, when he hath defrauded his neighbour, and used all kinds of arts to compass an estate, hath the fullness of his bags to answer for him; and whatever they may do in another world, he is sure they will do much in this. The voluptuous man, hath the strong propensities of his nature, the force of temptation which lies in the charms of beauty, to excuse his unlawful pleasures by. The ambitious man, hath the greatness of his mind, the advantage of authority, the examples of those who have been great before him, and the envy of those who condemn him, to plead for the heights he aims at. But what is it which the person who despises Religion, and laughs at every thing that is serious, proposes to himself as the reason of what he does? But alas! this were to suppose him to be much more serious than he is, if he did propound any thing to himself as the ground of his actions. But it may be a great kindness to others, though none to himself; I cannot imagine any, unless it may be, to make them thankful they are not arrived to that height of folly; or out of perfect good nature, lest they should take him to be wiser than he is. The Psalmists fool despises him as much as he does Religion: for he only saith it in his heart there is no God; but this though he dares not think there is none, yet shows him not near so much outward respect & reverence as the other does. Every the Atheist himself thinks him a Fool, & the greatest of all other, who believes a God, and yet affronts him and trifles with him. And although the Atheist's Folly be unaccountable, in resisting the clearest evidence of reason, yet so far he is to be commended for what he says, that if there be such a thing as Religion men ought to be serious in it. So that of all hands the scoffer at Religion is looked on as one forsaken of that little reason, which might serve to uphold a slender reputation of being above the beasts that perish: nay, therein his condition is worse than theirs, that as they understand not Religion, they shall never be punished for despising it: which such a person can never secure himself from, considering the power, the justice, the severity of that God, whom he hath so highly provoked. God grant, that the apprehension of this danger may make us so serious in the profession and practice of our Religion, that we may not by slighting that, and mocking at sin, provoke him to laugh at our calamities, and mock when our fear comes; but that by beholding the sincerity of our repentance, and the heartiness of our devotion to him, he may turn his anger away from us, and rejoice over us to do us good.  
FINIS.