WADSWORTH's Remains: BEING A COLLECTION Of some few MEDITATIONS With respect to the LORDS SUPPER.  
Three Pious LETTERS when a young Student at Cambridg.  
Two Practical SERMONS, much desired by the Hearers.  
Several Sacred Poems and private Ejaculations.  
By that late Eminent Minister of the Gospel, Mr. THOMAS WADSWORTH.  
With a PREFACE containing several Remarkables of his Holy LIFE and DEATH, from his own Notebook, and those that knew him best.  Heb. 13.7. Remember them which have the rule over you, [or are the guides to you] who have spoken unto you the word of God: whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation. Aliud est locis communibus laudare defunctum; aliud desuncti proprias narrare virtutes. Hieronim●s in vitâ Hilarionis. 
LONDON, Printed for Tho. Parkhurst at the Bible and Three Crowns in Cheapside near Mercers-Chappel, 1680.   


THE CONTENTS OF THE PREFACE.  
THE Introduction, Sect. 1. His Birth and Youth, Sect. 2, 3. His Life at the University, Sect. 4. His thankfulness to God, and resolution from experience, Sect. 5 His experimentally differencing 'twixt carnal and spiritual love and joy, Sect. 6, 7 8, 9 His experience upon the discovery of the Divine Majesty, Sect. 10. His check to the lightness of his spirit, Sect. 11. Observation about doubting and examining Christians, Sect. 12, 13. About a multitude of sins, Sect. 14. About Security, Sect. 15. Mortification. Sect. 16, 17. Rising of pride in the heart, Sect. 18. Living above Duties, Sect. 19 About a dull and dead state, Sect. 20. And enjoyments, Sect. 21. Concerning self-abasement, and the exercise of humility in speaking, Sect. 22. And the shunning of pride, Sect. 23. The frame of his spirit in prayer, with some special cases about prayer, Sect. 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29. About raisedness and dejection, removing Objections, Sect. 30, 31. About carnal reasonings, and Satan's suggestions Sect. 32. 33. Of God's love in outward mercies and waiting, Sect. 34. Of not meeting God in Ordinances, Sect. 35. Of mourning for others sins, and praying for mortification of a particular corruption. Sect. 36. Of his Call to Newington, Sect. 37, 38. His observing the fruit of his Ministry, Sect. 39 His recommending Catechising, Sect. 40. His unwearied and seasonable industry at, and removal from Newington, Sect. 41. His Lecturing and Preaching in London, and ejection at Laurence Poultney, Sect. 42. His holy, prudent, and cheerful conversation; with a Case or two about merriness, and tentations therein, Sect. 43, 44, 45, 46, 47. Of raising Christian affections, Sect. 48. And outward mercies, Sect. 49. Of his Sabbath Sanctification, Sect. 50. Of his affections to, and prayers for his Relatives with thankfulness, Sect. 51. Of his respect to his people, and charity, Sect. 52. Of his Marriages and Children, Sect. 53. Of his Sicknesses, Sect. 54. Of his last Sickness, Sect 55, 56, 57, 58, 59 His Death, Sect. 60. His Works formerly published, Sect. 61. And his Remains, with the Conclusion, Sect. 62.  
SECTION I.  
TO the Publication of these Remains of that Man of God, Mr. Thomas Wadsworth, a large Preface of his holy Life and Death would have been acceptable; but a Melchior Adam well instructed with materials cannot readily be found, who might in a proper stile give him his due. Yet as an Addition to what hath been already written by Mr. Bragge in a Sermon, and an Epistle to it upon his Funerals; by Mr. Baxter, and Mr. Parson's Prefactory to the two last Sermons he himself Preached to his people; it may not be amiss to acquaint the world,  
II. That he was born of honest Parents, Decemb. 15. 1630, in the Parish of Saviour's, or Mary Overees Southwark. But it seems whiles an Infant, he had such a dangerous Thrush in his Throat, that the Milk taken into his mouth (not having a right passage) came out at his Nose: and he was grown so weak within the mouth, that they even gave him over for dead. Yea the nurse having him on her knee, thought to have laid him out as a dead corpse, only stayed till after Dinner; in which space (she thinking he had expired with a groan) he gave a Keck; whereupon she presently put her finger into his throat, and pulled out a core, which being removed, opened a free passage for the breast-milk, in this weakness his Parents seeking God earnestly ●or his life, did dedicate him to the Ministry, if capable, as Hannah did her Samuel to the Lord. When his Mother (to whom he did evermore show himself very obedient, and of whose tenderness he would speak with thankfulness to the last sometimes towards her latter end would say, He had ●ost her more pains in bearing and nursing, than any ●f her other Children. He would say pleasantly, ●et far from any conceitedness (but with an hearty acknowledgement of her motherly love and kind●ess) Ah Mother! when you brought forth me, you ●●ought a great Soul into the world. They that knew him best, had abundant proof that he really was such an one. He did timely show himself to be an ingenious and apt Scholar in the Free-school of that place of his Nativity; where the strict and skilful Master encouraged by his Father's liberality, found him every way ready to receive instruction, till about the 10th year of his age, he was fitted for Academical Studies. When upon his Father's frequent converse with the Reverend and Pious Dr. Samuel Bolton, than the famous Lecturer of the Parish, and the worthy Master of Christ-Colledg in Cambridg, who had often examined him at his Father's house, and found him not only very Religiously disposed, but well accomplished with School-learning; He was then removed to that College under the Tutoridg of (him who was afterwards) Dr. Outram, who had a great value for him as long as he lived.  
III. Before he went to the University, he showed himself to be one of a tender conscience; for when a Boy having took a fair Tulip out of another's Garden, and given it to his Father, who sometime after asked him where he had it? upon his Father's admonition, and his own acknowledgement of his youthful folly (as Augustine did his) 'twas often after a great trouble to his spirit, and did keep him humble and watchful. So early did he begin to startle at the committing of the least sin. For on a Lordsday going into the Workhouse in his Father's yard, and there a little loitering, he heedlessly clapped his hand on a Tenter-hook, and tore his hand much. Whereupon he resolved no more to misspend his time on the Lordsday, but to addict himself wholly to the Religious Observance of it; which resolution he was known to keep strictly ever after both at home and abroad.  
iv When at the University he made good Proficiency in that learning which might make him mostly instrumental for the winning of Souls to Christ, that being mainly designed by him in the service of his generation. In order to which, we find this young Student early associating with an honest Club of Scholars of his own and other Colleges, as were not only daily conversant in Philosophical Exercises, but did frequently meet to promote the great business of real godliness and growth in grace; and to make experiments on their own hearts of that Religion they should be called to impart to others. And it seems he began betimes to impart what he had received of the grace of God; for not long after he had been of the College, he observed a young Scholar of good parts, and a good humour, but having nothing of real godliness, whom he would often seek and single out, and talk with, to draw him off from vanity, and to engage him to mind the concerns of his precious soul; and as it pleased God in some short time, that same Scholar fell sick unto death, and upon his Deathbed sent for this young Mr. Wadsworth (as his spiritual Father) to whom he declared he was much affected with what he had formerly spoken to him in his health giving him hearty thanks for the love he had showed to his soul, and bewailing his own folly in his formerly declining such an one's company, and importuning his earnest prayers to God with him and for him. Whereupon this early spiritual Father, dealt freely and most compassionately with him in farther instructing, and then comforting of that spiritual penitent, who gave good evidence that he had a true work of grace wrought upon his heart, was a new creature, and died very comfortably, to the great rejoicing of the instrument.  
V Whom we find in a piece of his own Journal or Notebook, Aug. 8. 1650. on a day of Thanksgiving to God, for his mercies in exalting the Throne of Christ in the Land, the University, and College to which he did then relate, recording the frame of his heart, That it was pretty spiritual in the former and later part of the day, but in communion of some choice Servants of Christ, whom he and his Associates had invited to Supper, he was exceedingly raised in joy, so full that his mouth could not express his heart, (and so was another of his friends then) but he observed, that the Devil did suggest to him there was much carnalness in his joy, which made him afraid, though still he was persuaded there was much spiritual joy mixed with it; for (he adds) Oh! how sweet was the Communion of Saints to me! Truly it was so pleasant that I remember I wished I could have always lived in that state, and was loath to leave this company. The next day reviewing the temper of his spirit, he notes, he was very freely carried out for the good of Saints: Whereupon he resolved, first to mortify carnal joy, in which he had been before immersed; in that he found it very destructive to his spiritual comfort; and secondly, to be more active for God in the company, to select some out, and discourse with them, to inflame their souls in love to God in Christ, and to the Children of God, praying for strength thereunto from Heaven.  
VI The next Lordsday after, he records to the exaltation of the riches of God's grace, That he appeared very clearly to him as a Father in Christ. I may truly say, I never found such a discovery of the mortification of carnal joy, and carnal love, as then, when I was exceeding melted with a sense of love, and with the remembrance of God's deal with me. Further,  
VII. If any would have me distinguish 'twixt carnal love, and spiritual; let them first consider, that spiritual love is carried out only to a Saint, as the image of God appears in him; now carnal love to a Saint appears when it is upon account of a sweet disposition, humility, meekness, and loveliness of body, usually accompanied with a propensity to laughter, and lightness of spirit; but spiritual love is accompanied with abundance of seriousness of spirit, and composedness of mind, as I found at that time. Carnal love, and carnal joy in Saints, is a great rock against which they are very apt to run. You shall have Saints sometimes so ecstasied with joy, that they know not why, nor for what; and it is commonly in melt of soul. 'Tis true, there may be the spirit there working, as he is often; and likewise there is the flesh mixed with it, therefore 'tis good to consider that rapture of St. Paul carried into the third Heavens, where were things unutterable. There was joy with an high discovery of God; but thou wast joyful, and (may be) sawest nothing. Whence may be this Inference:  
VIII. That the more discovery of God and thine own nothingness, take them together; the joy coming in upon such discovery is the more spiritual; but the less the discovery of those things, the more carnality in that joy. 'Tis true, it is the common complaining of Saints, Oh I want comforts, joys, discoveries of love, and these they daily pray for; but because they have them not so given in as they used to be, they wonder. Alas! they little conceive, that there is some lust, some corruptions that they cherish in their bosom, which supplies the room of grace and comfort; and therefore note, God doth or would do thee a greater kindness to subdue thy corruption, than in giving thee in the comfort thou prayest for.  
IX. As to carnal love, mark whether thy love to other Saints comes from discovery of grace in them, or from the sweetness of their dispositions, (for the carriage and sweetness of their natural temper is excellent) and be sure the more love doth arise from the sweetness of their natural dispositions, the more that love is carnal, because such is common to any carnal man.  
And as to the effect, that love which ariseth from their carriage, doth decay and flag upon more familiarity with them; but spiritual love decays not, yea, it increaseth by more acquaintance. And again, spiritual love to Saints is accompanied with a composedness and serenity of soul; and doth not so much express itself in other outward joy, as in merriness of the countenance. The same may be said of that spiritual love in soul to God; it is not so much carried out in joy, which is external, but in the inward man; and the more thy love is spiritual, and thy joy spiritual as to God, the more it is accompanied with a discovery of self-emptiness and self-vileness; and this kind of love is masculine, and far more durable than that love which ariseth from the apprehensions of God's love, and a less of self-vileness. These are Truths much discovered to me, Aug. 12. 1650.  
X. On the 14th. saith he: I cannot but remember, that being drawn out then (as two or three days before) for a discovery of the Majesty of God, to keep me from sin: I had such a strong persuasion set home upon my soul, that if God should have answered my prayers in such a measure as I begged, I should not have endured his presence; for that glimpse I had then, though it was but confused and veiled, it put me into a kind of fear. And I could then say, If God had not mixed a discovery of Love with Majesty, I could not have been able to endure the sight of his glory. Therefore it is the best way for a soul in this case, to beg earnestly for a discovery of Love and Majesty, leaving it to the wise God (who knows how to compound these together, for the comfort and establishment of his Saints) to measure out the degrees of them. Oh! I cannot, I cannot but admire the greatness and goodness of God, and the poorness and meanness of the creature; and I can set my seal to that truth, That, They know not what to ask aright.  
XI. That Afternoon going to a friend, with whom we met some others, who discoursed of the aspersions which carnal men cast upon our meetings, calling us, Blockheads, Sots, despisers of learning, mine heart did fly out into vanity in laughing at such things, which should rather have drawn out my soul to mourning and sighing; to consider how my God, whom I professed so much love to, should be dishonoured by wicked men. After which being come home, I was dead in prayer, which I looked upon as a check to the lightness of my spirit. Yet, before I went to bed, God did as eminently raise me, and draw me out in melt for that forementioned vanity, that I could not but say the Spirit of God helped me with sighs and groans unutterable; for mine heart was so full, that I could not utter it in words. I was very much humbled, and truly I may say, to his honour, God did lift up my soul in a great measure above mine humiliation, so that I looked upon it as nothing, but as given in upon the account of Christ. Oh my soul! Praise the Lord!  
XII. It is very natural for young Converts to think they are never better than when doubting, and calling their state in question Ah! poor souls! let me ask you, what do you get by these vexatious Questions? If they come with power, they terrify, and then those that have them desire hearty they might be off again, (instance O.) Again, what assurance of God's love and comforts to your souls, do you get by them? If thou sayest, thereby thou shakest off security: Let me tell thee, that in shunning that rock, thou fallest upon one as bad. For in cherishing of such doubts, thou cherishest unbelief. And I dare say, there is no sin doth more vail that mystery of Justification of God in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, than unbelief. We are to live upon Christ above all fears, and are not to cherish a doubt, any more than a temptation.  
XIII. Object. But you'll say, What use should we then make of the examination of our hearts?  
Answ. This should be the Use: By it learn thine own misery, that by the sight of it, thou mayst the more exalt Freegrace. For this is the great mystery of the Gospel to exalt the love and free grace of God: In order to which, man's self must be abased. Now by this abasement is not meant a sorrowful, troubled, and vexatious temper; but such an one as is joined with humility; and for tears, sobs, and sighs, they are but accidental, or rather a consequent of this Humiliation and self-abasement, and not essential. Wherefore you shall observe, that your highest Christians, they can live cheerily, and yet enjoy abundantly more of God, than a doubting Christian. Be careful therefore of being too solicitous for troubles of spirit.  
XIV. There is another miscarriage in Saints, which keeps them from a full closing with Christ, and that is, the multitude of their sins. If, think they, my sins bade been but petty sins, I could have gone to Christ; but they are aggravated sins, against love; I have had hard thoughts of God, blasphemous rise of heart against God; (such had O.) who after this manner reasoned.  
I answer, That thou lookest upon Gods pardoning of sins with too carnal an eye, and thinkest that in this he is like to man, that because it is hard to man who is unwilling to put up the third offence, as he hath done the first and second, therefore it is so to God. Alas! this is a most gross mistake; wherefore know, as there be no degrees of hatred in God; who is infinite, so God is as fully angry at one sin as at ten thousand, and may as soon punish a man for one as for a million; because he who is absolutely perfect, admits no degrees of love or hatred. Therefore when thou lookest upon thyself, as offending love, as sinning against mercy, eye God as making the Covenant of Grace in Christ immediately, and to thee in Christ, and from that aspect thou mayst draw this Inference, That though I change, yet God cannot change. For the Covenant of Grace stands firm still; for he with whom God made it (taking in that which some call the Covenant of Redemption) stands as firmly as himself, and so unmovable. Whereupon my state is firm by virtue of that Covenant. Now this consideration is very rational, for if God made his Covenant immediately with us, every time we should sin, God must renew his Covenant, for we should lack still a New Mediator; but saith God, I have made an everlasting Covenant with you, which is upon the consideration of an ever-standing Christ.  
XV. If you would know whether there be security mixed with your Faith, and your dependence upon God as for the welfare of your soul; 'Twill be a good way to put this Question to the soul; Whether it could trust God with its body in case of exigency? Suppose thou didst want outward sustinence: suppose God should call thee out, to lay thy body at the stake for him. For this is very common to Saints, they can find in themselves, that they do fully resign up their souls to God; yet in the proposals of such cases, they will find their faith begin to stagger. Wherefore if thou findest thyself in this case to doubt, trust God. And assure thyself, that he who hath drawn out thy soul in dependence as for the one, will also do it for the other. See as to this case, Psal. 78. and compare the condition of the Israelites to thine, and see whether thou couldst have believed God in those things which they did not.  
XVI. Sometimes Saints are still and quiet as to the rise of corruptions, as passions, viz. anger, etc. and think it is mortified because it's still upon applying of the soul to the blood of Christ; yet if so be that particular corruption do afterwards rise again, they are apt to conclude, that sin was not mortified.  
Answ. Yet first we may conclude, That mortification, and the rising of corruption, are not wholly inconsistent, but may be in the same subject, in different degrees. For this is certain, that corruptions cannot be totally subdued in this life. If thou sayest, Why may they not be totally mortified as to the rise of them, as well as for a time? For I remember they were still, as to the rise of them for a time.  
Answ. Thou hadst better conclude, that thou wast blind rather as to the discovery of them, than that they did not at all rise at that time. But for more narrow search into this case, consider, whether thy corruptions now rising are resisted by thee, more than they were before; if so, conclude then the mortification of them. Secondly, It is not best in this case to ask the question too deeply, whether they were mortified before? because the Devil hereby will take advantage of the soul to vex it; but rather apply thyself to Christ by new acts of faith as to the mortificationof them.  
XVII. Often times souls are puzzled in their inquiries into the mortification of corruptions, and know not what to conclude of them. For if they look upon their hearts, they find corruptions either bubbling and rising up, and impetuous; or else they are still. If rising, that makes against the mortification of them; if they rise not, they are apt to conclude they are rather still than mortified. To resolve such a soul, I think it is best for it to look upon that in the soul, which is opposite to sin, and to examine whether there is greater love to God in him? whether he loves Saints more? and is more desirous that his sins should be mortified than formerly? If he find these things in him, he may conclude that his sins are in a greater measure mortified. For sins and grace, or love to God, are like two scales, and if you can but discover that grace is higher, or your love and breathe are greater, you may conclude that sin is lower, and mortified.  
XVIII. On Saturday, August 17, 1650. He records, I was exceedingly troubled with rise of a proud heart, and on Sabath-day in the morning I found the like accompanied with envying against the raisements of other Saints, as if I would have none higher than myself. Yea, and in the afternoon was exceeding troubled with lightness of spirit, so that I could scarce forbear laughing at Church, and after when I came home; for one of Trinity being with me, I was fain to leave him in the Chamber, and enter my Study, lest I should betray the nakedness of mine heart! Oh cursed heart! But for this spiritual distemper mine heart was suddenly troubled; and I had just such a sorrow as if I had lost some outward friend, and I did exceedingly take on in mourning for my folly.  
XIX. On the 22d following, I had an ingenuous melting possessed my soul on a sudden, reflecting upon my want of discovery of the love of God; these three or four days and the day following I was in a pretty good frame of spirit: Whereupon I came to consider, if a man would know, whether he lives above all his duties; let him see whether or no (in a search after Sanctification) he doth not lay more stress upon one duty than another; For this Souls are very apt to do, especially on those duties which are extraordinary. As for instance, if thou keepest a private fast with some other Christians, or else prayest at some part in the day different from the se●-times, or prayest more times a day than ordinary, either by thyself, or with other Christians, or such times as those above, praying at the Chapel; if thou dost, it is a sign that there is a tincture of self-dependence. Therefore it is the best way to make an equal conscience of them all, as for performance of them; and look on them all with the same eye, and say that thou art unprofitable in them all. And that thou mayst attain to this temper after every duty, examine what vanity of thoughts, what formality in spirit thou hadst in the doing of them, that thou mayst see they are all nothing without Christ.  
XX. What should I do in a dull and dead state? Answ. (1) Double the watch over thine own heart a●d affections, it is common to see a soul dead and careless. (2) Labour to strengthen faith in the Promises of God's love, and willingness to receive souls. The Parable of the Prodigal, and that if a child a●k his father bread, will he give him a stone? etc. should be considered. (3) Make this improvement of thy present deadness, to humble thy soul, and see thine own vileness, that thou shouldst abuse such riches of grace, as it may be thou hast done, and by that sin shouldst cause that deadness. Take heed of slighting the deadness of your heart; if you do, you grow careless of God's anger; for deadness is a sign that God is angry.  
XXI. What should a man do in enjoyments? Answ. It is common for such souls presently to grow so confident of themselves, as to let go their watch; and so oftentimes are betrayed by their enemies. (1) Be then as earnest for the enjoying of more of God when thou art raised, as thou wast to enjoy any thing of God when thou wast not. Let not a discovery of love stop thy breathing. Saints often sit down here, and so fall back again. (2) Seek to redouble thy faith, to make it stronger than ever; for time will be, that thou mayst have use of it. (3) Labour to humble thyself under thine enjoyments. Let not the thoughts of Sonship dry up thine eyes, but be sure the more of self-abhorrency the more evidence of thy Sonship.  
XXII. On Saturday the 5th, and Sabbath-day the 6th of Octob. 1650, (He records) The Lord humbled me much in the sight of unworthy deal with God, and I may say God was in me of a truth; this grace was then so lively in me, that I pressed it much to the company. But yet, Oh wretched heart! before I came out of the company, that night I was taken with a violent passion of pride and anger. Yet by this fall (I may bless my God) God humbled me more than I was before; yea, and it caused me to have more contemptible thoughts of myself than ever. Whereupon we find this sell-abasing Christian student to set down how he may get the victory over headstrong Passions, when he adds: Humility of spirit is attainable by getting quick and sprightful apprehensions of self weakness to grace, and discovering the evil of a carnal heart, which may be discerned in spiritual duties by its sallying often into the world; and much suspected when it is readier to close with a promise of God that speaks comfort, than with a command of God, which speaks obedience. Oh! pray against such a distemper as savours of self seeking, and labour to get holy Principles, such as love to God to be the spring of all thy words, actions, and walkings, and then thou mayst take comfort in them: for if any other humility which is carnal be found prevailing in thee, it will argue hypocrisy. There is so much pride in men naturally, that when God gins to work upon the soul, he finds no greater an enemy to it than pride; and of nothing more do Saints complain than it; which makes them unfit for any company, any discourse; and therefore you shall have many poor souls afraid to speak of any thing, lest they should discover a proud heart; and especially in such conferences wherein men are discoursing of the things of God. And you that experience this, shall find it mostly to rise in such discourse, when you are able to discover the experiences of your soul more clearly than other poor Saints. For you shall have some that are real Saints, yet but babes newly converted, that will speak of God but very confusedly, by reason that God hath but in a very small manner discovered himself to them; and withal they are afraid to speak lest they should discover an hypocritical heart in speaking. To direct him that hath had more clear discoveries of God: Let him consider, 1 Pet. 4.2. If any man speak, let him speak as the Oracles of God, as of the ability which God giveth. Let him labour to set the crown of all his discoveries on God's head, and so let him go on to speak; and without doubt if a man for fear of discovering his proud heart, cease to speak for God; in so doing he doth only labour to cut off the branch, but suffereth the root to grow; and goes about only to still the corruption not to mortify it. And on the other hand, let the poor weak Saint take heed of ceasing to speak to other Saints for fear of discovering his hypocrisy; but let him go on to speak and pray against his hypocrisy, and conclude it to be a temptation.  
XXIII. From this experience, and the Rule upon it, we have this very observant Divine, resolving this practical case or enquiry: viz. How a man may shun pride in the mind, and the appearance of of it in the body? To which he answers, The incitements and fomenting of pride, arise either from what a man's self enjoys, or what he apprehends other men think he enjoys. Examine it chief as to the first head; for if it be cured there, there is no fear of it in the other; if thou thinkest thou art rich, beautiful, and well-parted, and dost make these fuel for an high conceit of self, it argues a vain, yea a lighter than vain spirit. For consider,  
(1) What thou hast, thou didst receive it; it's none of thine own. What credit is it for thee to have an hundred pounds of another man's? wilt thou say therefore thou art rich of that which may be taken away from thee the next moment? Wilt thou be proud of an alms? me thinks to consider seriously that it's an alms, should humble thee.  
(2) Consider, thou hast not so much of any of these enjoyments, but others have as much, and many have more. And therefore if thou art esteemed for these, many have as much, and others have more than thou hast; and if it were put to their choice, they would leave thee and cleave to another, as one to be preferred.  
(3) Consider if some do esteem thee, others do dislike thee as much; few know thee, of those that know thee; few consider thee, of them that consider thee; some slight thee, some revile thee, some envy thee; and a fool art thou then to mind either what thou hast, or what others think thou hast.  

Take Rules to keep the heart from pride.  
[1] Never think of what thou hast, but think that others have more, and what thou hast was given thee; praise therefore the Donor.  
[2] Whenever thou thinkest of what thou hast, eat the thought that shall represent thee with what other men think thou hast; this is an effectual means to mortify thee.  
[3] Be much in thinking of thy defects, and thine unworthy improving of that thou hast; this will be a good means to humble thee.  
[4] Think if men knew all, they would abate and slacken of their esteem, if they would not sink into a disesteem of thy base heart.   

Rules to keep pride from the appearance of it in the Body.  
[1] When thou lookest, eat a superstitious scornful brow; put on a grave humble look, and labour to keep it constantly such; and then thou wilt appear constantly humble.  
[2] When thou speakest, let it be mildly; eat ostentation of words. Give others leave to speak as well as thyself, considering that thou hast not monopolised reason to thyself; and when thou speakest, be short and pithy, knowing that length is tedious.  
[3] If thou apprehendest any weakness in others discourse, seem to take no notice of it, either by any scornful words or gestures. But if their Discourse be lame, mend it in thy reply.  
[4] Use thy tongue as an instrument to express a grateful mind for what thou hast received; and be serious in the expression. For how shall men know what thankfulness is in thy mind, without thy bringing it up into thy tongue? or if thou bringest it thither, and speakest lightly, they will imagine that thine heart is lighter, and take it for no thanks at all.  
[5] In thine Appellations saluting any, give such as are suitable. That which becomes a Rustic, becomes not a Gentleman; and what becomes such an one at one time, becomes him at all.  
[6] In discourse take heed of over-vilifying that which others approve of, and thyself in part allows of; for this will be imputd to thee as arising from pride.  
[7] Take heed of bewraying pride in your Gate; walk humbly and seriously without any affectation of head, arms, or feet, or without any fantastical folding of thy garment about thee. For this will be an Index to others of an affected mind.  
[8] Take heed of the appearance of pride in thy garments; be not costly in them, nor yet too sordid; for both are indices of a base mind; but be sure thou takest heed of curiosity in any part of them.  
XXIV. On a Saturday in March 1651, we do again meet with this pious Student recording his experience in these words: I found much of God in prayer in the morning, and especially in the evening God spoke out of Heb. 12.8. I will be merciful for their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more. A sweet promise, I am sure to my soul; and yet the night before I had a very sinful frame of spirit, and likewise in the day, and much of the same spirit the day before. Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace and good will towards men. On the Saturday following I had 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a covering or cloud upon my spirit. But then after I never had such 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, desirable things, a clear making out of comfort wherewith Paul was comforted, when he prayed that God would take away the prick in his flesh (Christ prayed that his faith failed not) in my life. Note, it is a sign of acceptance notwithstanding sin, if God kept the heart from starting back, as an evil heart of unbelief doth. On Sabbath-day following, I was violently troubled with pride and unbelief as to trusting of God with means in the world; after Sermon more especially: but going up stairs I knew not well why, only if it was for any thing, it was to read of the Controversy of Mr. Goodwin; Yet as it proved (by the all disposing Providence) it was indeed for another business. For as soon as I was in my Chamber, I was exceedingly melted for those former sins. Oh happy time! Oh blessed spirit! that led me not with my Saviour into the Wilderness to be tempted, but to the Table of my Lord to feed on his fat things: Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!  
On Friday before Easter 1651, I had no small joy in prayer, never to my remembrance found I such a spirit of indefatigability before; O praise God, my soul! and high to God  
And elsewhere he writes: I have found in the various dispensations of God's love, and his dealing with me, such a temper as this; I have gone to prayer. and laboured under such indisposition of soul, and hardness of mine heart, that I could not tell how to speak to God, all sparks of faith (as to the casting of my soul upon God) seemed to be extinct, all breathe after God and Christ seemed to be dead; sin seemed as nothing; I sought to lay them to my charge, yea and according to their aggravations; I laboured to set Hell as to its torments before me, that by them I might be startled. Mine heart was so hard, sin and its aggravations did as it were rebound back, and convictions would not stick. Methought Hell and its torments in this case no more frighted me than a sword at a blind man's throat would startle him. I sought indeed that mine heart might be softened, yet (then) but in word, desires came not kindly from mine heart, and in such a case I left praying, (this being night.) The next morning I went to duty again, with a perhaps God will be gracious, but found my soul hard as before; and having prayed a while, and finding no comfort in it, I was thinking to break off; and so I should, had not God prevented me, by putting such an argument into my mouth as this: Lord! canst thou that hast said thou art a Father of such tender bowels, suffer thy poor child, thy poor creature, to plead thus with thee for a broken heart and thou with hold it so stiffly from him! Upon this mine heart was exceedingly full and broken, dissolved even into tears Oh ye Saints! remember that God's workings are arbitrary.  
XXV. As he records the failings and comforts he had before, in, and after prayer; so we have him noting: It is a good means to keep a man's soul up in a constant frame. If he every day call his soul to a question, How he hath walked with God that whole day? And those sins he finds he hath fallen into that day, let him resolve to watch against more strictly the next day, and beg strength against them, and by doing of this he shall quickly find a growth in grace, and victory over his corruptions. He adds: When thou art ever pleading with God against sins, remember that they are Gods enemies as well as thine. Tell God he hates sin and wickedness and these are the enemies that thou art conflicting with; and assure thyself God will not stand as a neuter, but will take thy souls part (as David in the fifth Psalm.) And again consider, that thy soul is as a Commonwealth, Christ the King, thy corruptions the enemies; now you know that the King is as much, or rather should be more engaged against the enemies of his Kingdom than the subjects are; because the destruction of them, or their victory, strikes more upon his honour.  
XXVI. It is an hard thing to believe that a man's prayers are heard, except he finds some warmings in his spirit in prayer, either in solid joy or an hearty mourning. Here these cases came to be resolved, viz. Seeing the Children of God are often drawn out in prayer at By times, a poor soul gins to reflect upon his own experiences, and finding no such matter performed by himself, is apt to be discouraged, and to doubt whether God ever loved him? First, Thou must know, though such dispensations are ordinary, yet not necessary. The Spirit can work without them, as doubtless he doth in many. Secondly, Perhaps it hath not been Christ's want of love to thee, but thy negligence towards him. He hath knocked, and thou hast not opened. Oh! this is a repulse to the King of Glory, a sad dealing with thy Jesus, with a Christ, that was all a-sweat for thee, and had his sides running out water and blood for thee, to let him stand and knock without, and give him no lodging.  
Object. Yea, but the soul may say, I have often watched mine heart, and marked the breathe of my soul, whither they tended Godward or no? but alas! I was hard and blind, a sottish creature.  
Ans. First, Let such a consideration as this serve to humble thee, but not to deject thee: Know that there is a time when God will not be found, and that is upon thy slighting of his former tenders. Oh! when ever thou findest thyself in such a case forementioned, Go and bewail before God thine hard and rough deal with him.  
Secondly, Consider that upon such a reflection on thyself, and finding thine heart dead and listless to prayer, it is very probable that the Spirit of God calls thee out at that time to prayer against thine hardness, thy listlesness, and blindness, as to the discoveries of thyself, and Gods love towards thee. Oh! take heed of slighting such a tender as this. Perhaps thou mayst never have more of such tenders as these are; and that thou mayst wrestle a blessing out of God's hand, urge God with his own promises in the 54th. Chapter of Isaiah, it is a most spiritual and raising Chapter.  
Here it may be Queried, How to know that God hides himself out of love to me? This to me is a strong evidence that God hides himself out of love to me after some miscarriage of soul,  
(1) When God by my fall into a sin, makes me more cautious of that sin for the future.  
(2) God by that sin discovers my base heart to me.  
(3) When God draws out my soul to beg earnestly for strength of him against it. But a man after he hath fallen into some sin, may take up resolutions against it and yet fall into it again? 'Tis true there is scarce a Saint but hath experienced this very thing; and the reasons of it are not dark.  
[1] On God's part, he will make his Saints to know, that resolutions, nor prayers, nor any duty else can conquer sin. He would have them acknowledge when corruptions are subdued it came from God, that so they may put the crown of mortification upon his head.  
[2] On our part, let us examine ourselves whether we did resolve in the strength of Christ? If not, it's no wonder if we fall. If we say we did. Let's examine our souls whether we did apply ourselves to God in the blood of Jesus, for the pardoning of that sin, and strength against it: If not, we may very well suspect that we did not resolve in the strength of Christ.  
XXVII. Says a poor Saint, I have gone to prayer many a time, and have been exceeding low, and have prayed with much carelessness, just as if I were talking or telling a tale, What shall I do in such a case?  
Answ. First, That neither raisedness, nor flatness in prayer is the reason why God heareth thee. And therefore consider, That in prayer thou art to approach a God-mediating, a God-man, and not a mere creature; but thus thou dost, if thou thinkest God will not hear thee, except God raiseth thee; thou makest raisedness the ground of thine acceptance, which is but a mere created being, as all other graces are. Oh! Take heed then of depending upon Ashur; say, Ashur shall not help me; but on the Lord will I depend.  
Secondly, Consider this for thy corafort, that though thine heart is straitened here on earth towards God, and in mourning as to thine own vileness, yet Christ's bowels are not in heaven straitened towards thee. He is not so capable of mutability as thy condition. Though thou losest thy first love, yet he is the same yesterday, to day, and for ever.  
Thirdly, Consider that 'tis Christ's Intercession, and pleading with his Father for thy prayer, and not thy raisedness that is the ground of the return of thy prayer. The consideration of God's former deal and dispensations of love is a good argument to move God in prayer, when a soul is at a loss for love now, or for strength, or when God seems to hid himself as to the answering of thy request, to say, Lord! why art thou so strange to me now? Time was that thou borest me as a lamb in thy bosom, and carriedst me into thy banqueting house, and feedest me with love. Time was that thou enravished'st my soul with a glance of thine eye; what is become of thy former love? hast thou shut up thy tender mercies in wrath! see the Psalmist thus pleading in Psal. 77.  
XXVIII. I have been in such a temper that I have found mine heart in prayer, even contradicting my tongue: If for mortifying of pride in parts, in learning, mine heart hath been ready to say to its self, that there could be no joy except in exaltation of self; as good to have no learning as not to delight in it, and applaud self by it; truly this hath been the language of mine heart. But I bless my God that he hath given me a joy, and that above all that joy which creatures can possibly afford. It was my non-experience of God's love to me, it was for want of spiritual enravishments that mine heart became so vain in its imaginations. Oh that I could magnify my God for this his love and goodness. Again, I have been sometime so carnal, that I have even thought that there could be no Feaven more sweet, pleasant and desirable than that which might be made up of created beings, as to enjoy pleasures, and never to be tired with them; to please my taste in feeding, and never be weary of feeding; to hear the most sweet and melodious music, and never weary of hearing; to delight mine eye in seeing, and never be weary of seeing Thus have I delighted my soul with foolish imaginations, as they soon appeared to be when God plucked off these earthly and sensual scales from mine eyes. He showed me more true joy in a smile of his reconciled countenance, than in a Paradise made up of all the sweetest flowers which may grow in Nature's garden can possibly afford me. Magnify the Lord, Oh my soul! and all that is within me, praise his holy name. For he hath been better to me than ten thousand worlds. I will rejoice in thee so long as I have a being. Oh my soul! praise the Lord!  
XXIX. At sometimes it is hard for a man after the committing of some sin, to believe that sin is pardoned, and withal to mourn for it. And it's grounded on this; thinks the soul what should I mourn for that which is not?  
Answ. Fear and sorrowing for sin may well be consistent with closing with a promise by faith for the taking away of guilt. Observe therefore that the freeness of grace, and the fullness of a promise ought no way to take off a Saint's watchfulness over sin, and the mourning for sin. Further consider, although God pardons the sin, yet he ceaseth not to hate sin, therefore mourn for sin, because it offends him. Again, it is difficult for a man to think that he hath acted faith upon God for pardon of a sin, when he hath not in prayer against that sin, felt himself raised, or his heart melted. As for example, after thou hast sinned, whether in letting thine heart rove upon worldly businesses, when thou hast been in duty at Church, etc. and apprehending it to arise from a carnal soul, coming home, thou goest to God by prayer to beg a pardon of that sin, and for spiritual strength to subdue it; and observing in that prayer that thine heart is not raised either in love to God, or breathe after the discovery of love; or else that thine heart is not melted for that sin; in such a case it is hard for thee to conclude with thyself that thou hast acted faith upon Jesus Christ for the pardon of that sin. For Answer, I confess it is a difficult case; but yet the soul may be exceedingly deceived in it. Therefore it is good for such a soul to mark this, that notwithstanding his present indisposition or blindness as to the discovery of pardon, yet in a secret manner he may have pardon given in; and hereby you shall know it, That if God do afterwards (a week or a month, or more) deaden and crucify that corruption for thee, thou mayst conclude thou didst act faith in that application of thy soul to God. The reason is clear, because actings of faith do always accompany true Faith. The instance of this is plain in Hannah, she went to God to beg a Son, 1 Sam. 1.7, 10. And when she had done, she knew not whether or no God would answer; as appears from vers. 11, 12. but in the latter end of ver. 9 we read that the Lord remembered Hannah. And another example of this we have in Cornelius, Act. 10.2. 'Tis said, He was a devout man, and one that feared God, and prayed to God always. And yet we read not that Cornelius knew that his prayers were accepted, until the Angel came and said to him, vers. 4. Thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a memorial before God. Hence the Inference is clear, That God may hear a soul, and see him acting faith for a mercy, when as perhaps the soul that prays could never judge of it himself. But it may be objected, 'Tis true God may hear a soul, and the soul not discover it; but as for acting of faith, neither of these places mention. I answer, That we have no reason in the world to say, that God will hear any prayer, so as to answer it, except it hath been put up in faith; and the reason is clear, which is this, because we can receive no mercy but through Christ; and can have no interest in Christ, except we believe; and so can receive nothing from God but through faith mediating; therefore because they did receive a mercy, to wit, the return of prayers from God, we must conclude that they did believe.  
XXX. I have oftentimes been exceedingly raised in spirit, and on a sudden cast down again, in an instant, as I may so say, and have been as far to seek for comfort as ever. Now upon enquiry into the causes of this, I have found them to be of this kind: First, God did let me fall, because I looked too much upon mine inraisements, as to the establishing of my soul, whereas I should have lived above them, and should have cast my soul immediately upon Christ.  
Secondly, God may cast-down upon the questionings in the soul concerning the reality of those inraisements; and God may do it upon this account, because a doubting soul mistrusting the reality of God's mercies, and not knowing whether they came from God, or his own natural strength, the soul knows not on whose head he shall put the Crown; and because God will advance himself in all Gospel-designs, he lets thy soul fall, that it might know that all its raisements are from God; and here God shows abundance of love to the soul, and makes it more firm in its joys the next time. And for direction in such a case, when a soul is at a loss for the discovery of God, it will be its best way to wait patiently upon God, and in an humble acknowledgement of his own unworthiness, that he deserves ever to be low; and if at any time he is raised, it is from God's free grace. And if thou hast found God in former time, coming into thy soul after such a sudden dejection; let that experience of Gods love be a stay to thy soul in this case, and then conclude that God's anger lasts but for a moment.  
Object. I, but saith such a soul, I could make indeed my former experiences of Gods love a ground of my faith now, if I were but certain that they were then real; but I am afraid they were but flashes: and I ground it upon this that I see mine heart as wicked as ever, as much pride, as much deadness to the things of God, as much carnalness as ever; in a word, I find not through mortification in my soul.  
I answer, (1) That thou being in a state of temptation, and of carnal reasoning art no competent judge of thy mortification, for it is 〈◊〉 such a soul in this case, as with a man in a passion, whiles he is in such a case, he can judge of nothing aright, for his reason is clouded with his passion.  
But (2) it is most certain that corruptions may be in the soul, and yet grace too, although as a spark it is covered with dead embers. Therefore I advise thee to wait patiently upon God till the spark flames, till the day star arise in thine heart, [2 Pet. 1.19.] And there it is very remarkable that the Apostle compares grace to an immortal seed which God puts in the heart. Now a seed, you know, may lie a long time under clods before it appear; wait then patiently upon God until the Sun of Righteousness arise in thy soul, and make this seed to sprout up, to bud forth, blossom and bring forth fruit to the glory of God.  
XXXI. Object. It is true indeed, wait patiently upon God I would, and live in expectations of a return to my soul again: but by reason of my treacherous deal with him, after receipts of mercy, discoveries of love, I have sinned, and am afraid that for this God will write bitter things against me.  
Answ. Let not sin discourage thee in thy faith, but be sure withal to keep a watch over thine heart, and join prayer to this watch, that thy sin may be mortified.  
Object. I, but says the soul, all that I have done as to the conquest of my corruptions, hath been by prayer, and this prayer too slightly performed; neither hath it been accompanied with diligent endeavours. For alas! I can remember such a temper, that I have gone it may be ten times or more to prayer at mornings and evenings against some one sin, and yet after every one of those prayers I have rushed into that particular sin: can God be gracious to me?  
Ans. It is true, thou hast a most wicked heart; but I would that thou wouldst but make use of a Parable which our Saviour put forth: What King (says he) will go to war before he hath sat down to consider what the war will cost him? And shall we think that the Alwise God, who foresaw all the thoughts of man's heart, all his pride, etc. knowing full well what an heart he had to deal with before he sent Christ into the world to die for sinners, can be put by his work? surely if it could but have kept God from showing and discovering himself to the soul, he had never prosecuted that Gospel-design; and now he is resolved to carry the soul through all oppositions, neither pride nor carnalness shall hinder him in it. We are therefore said to be kept by the power of God unto Salvation. Truly this very thing spoke abundance of comfort to my soul, and established me exceedingly, when I was once poring on my manifold corruptions.  
XXXII. God in his deal with his Saints sometimes leaves them to carnal reasonings, whereby they do in some sort reason themselves out of grace; and in this case Satan is very busy; and if such a soul should say unto me, what shall I do in such a case?  
Ans. First, Beware of entering the lists with Satan; if you do, 'tis a thousand to one but you are foiled; or at least cast into abundance of trouble and disquietments of soul, as I have known one (to wit, O.) who hath for that time been unfit either for the service of God or man. He could not follow his private calling for it. Indeed 'tis exceeding dangerous. For if you give way to one carnal reasoning, you shall presently have it backed with an hundred more; as for instance, in calling into question the reality of thy grace, thou mayst have most hard and strange thoughts of God.  
Secondly, Pray to Christ that he would answer thine objections for thee; and truly this is the readiest way to get rid of them, in getting Christ to rebuke them. And let every awakened Saint that is not troubled with such reasonings, know, that it was because Christ did answer them to the Devil, and establish the soul in his answers, or else he might assure himself that he should not have been freed from them. O Saints! admire the love of Christ to you in this case; and mark his deal with you herein, that you may admire him. When a man gins first to set his face Zion-ward, yea and afterwards when he hath made some progress in those ways, the Devil doth exceedingly labour with such a soul, to afflight ●im from the ways of holiness, in suggesting that his former company will despise him, and in these new ways there must be more strictness of life, more tentations and trouble of spirit; which kind of arguments will be apt to stagger such a soul very much, because as yet they are but weak, and have not such powerful principles infused into them, as may make them strong enough to find the yoke of Christ easy. Therefore it will be the best way for such a soul to resolve still to go on, and assure himself that there are more joys to be found in God, than in all his former courses: and withal pray earnestly for the strengthening of inward principles in his soul, and more spiritually in his heart to carry him through the straight gate with ease.  
XXXIII. This may be the temper of some souls, that have had some assurance of their good estate; that if afterwards some sin is set home upon their souls, they are exceeding loath to dive into their own hearts, which is accompanied with this slavish fear, lest they should find all their former hopes to be mere flashes, and that they have been in a carnally secure state even until now: some have dived into their hearts at such a time, and God hath shown them some hypocrisy, or selfishness in their former walkings; whence they have concluded, that if God had let them die in such a condition, they had been damned: and so after this discovery, if they have had a clearer discovery of the baseness of their heart, they have concluded the like of that estate. By this kind of reasonings there are these disadvantages happen to such a soul. First, He can by no means make Gods former deal with him subordinate to the innervating of his present condition; and without a special work of the divine Spirit, a man shall not gather any ground for his present condition. Secondly, By this he loseth a praising Spirit, and he also deals disingenuously with God in not owning all his gracious dispensations to the soul. The direction that I would give such an one, should be this: Let him know that the least grace is true grace: Grace in the seed is as true grace, as grace in the bud; and grace in the bud as true, as grace in the blossom: Shall the blossom contemn the bud, because it is not so fragrant, and so flourishing, or the bud the seed? Oh! take heed of a non entertainment of divine Love. I have had such quick checks of conscience, that they have forced me to Duty, to Prayer, to Church, to Chapel, private Conferences; and now I am afraid lest all these actions come merely from checks, and not from inward principles. Of this thing, if thou wouldst satisfy thy soul, ask it whether thou hast not a Will contrary to this fleshly temper, and it carries thee out to pray earnestly against that; I mean not to the stilling of conscience, but that God would discover to you, that your duties came from more filial principles of love. Bless then God for the quickness of conscience, and press for strength, to obey whatever conscience dictates to be according to right reason, and the mind of God: but on the other hand, take heed of daubing it with any light gloss from Scripture, as some species of good; if thou dost, thou sinnest.  
XXXIV. Seeing that all the mercies of Saints have divine Love mingled among them: Now I enjoy worldly blessings, I know not whether they are given to me out of love to me, says some poor Saint.  
I Answer. There be these three marks whereby a soul may see whether his earthly blessings are mingled with spiritual love. First, Mark whether they were given to you upon the account of prayer? Did you beg them of the Lord upon your knees? So that you may say all your mercies, are the children of your prayers, the births of your entreaties, your health, your meat and drink were wrestled for at a Throne of Grace. After this manner did Hannah procure her son Samuel, as we may read [1 Sam. Chap. 1.] reflect now upon yourself, and see whether your outward mercies come this way: if they do, O how sweet and comfortable will they be to you: you shall never look considerately upon them, but your heart shall be warmed with the love of God. Here (you may say) is a mercy, and there is a blessing which I pulled out of the bosom of divine Love (as it were) with mine own hand; this child, and that child, this crumb of bread, and that drop of drink are all pledges of God's love to me: these are divine influences, and sparks of the flames of God's lovingkindnesses. What Adamantine heart would not such discoveries melt into love towards God? what soul would not such chains of gold enravish, which were both made, and put about its neck with the lovely fingers of Christ's hands? What soul would not such a Cordial comfort, which is compounded of love and goodness? Mine heart is enravished within me whiles I think of this love; and every thought that I have of it bespeaks admiration: this is that which Angels admire, and in which glorified Saints are immersed: these are the Crystal streams which run before the throne of the Lamb; every drop of which presents a jewel of inestimable price: It is a thing rather to be admired than talked of: here I could be content to dwell to eternity, but I am called off to the second mark, to discover this love in outward mercies; and that is this: Ask your soul this Question, Whether it hath been drawn out in praises for that which you have received of God? Can you say that you love God the more for them? and do they engage you to serve God more? if they do, you may assure yourself that God's love is in every mercy you receive. Thirdly, Can you see them, given to you upon the account of Christ? Can you say, that God loves you in Christ, therefore God gives you this and that mercy? this is one of the highest attainments of a Saint on this side glory. This speaks fullness of comfort. O! how sweet is it to see a reconciled Father hold forth his hand full of mercies! to hear him come and say, Child, take this mercy, and that mercy! and when ever thou lookest upon them, remember that I love thee! O how pleasant is such a voice! This cannot but work up the soul to love God, and to breathe after God more than ever. It is hard to distinguish betwixt an holy waiting upon God for the answer of our prayers; and a kind of security, which is apt to seize upon men's souls after prayer. Now for answer, consider this: That waiting doth not impair breathe of soul after God; security doth. Again, Patience makes the soul more cautious of its walkings, to take heed of offending God: Security doth not. Let a man therefore in his waiting seek for an holy restlessness of soul after God. I found it in my practice hard to distinguish betwixt these two cases, 1650.  
XXXV. Men go to Ordinances, as Reading, Hearing, Praying, etc. and meet not God in them. The Reasons of which distemper are, (1.) because of the distraction of their thoughts in them, and that ariseth from the temper, or rather distemper of the soul exercised in thoughts of those things before they went, which in Ordinances do distract them. As for instance: Perhaps a man's studies, or affairs of the world, and his thought of them distracts him: it's a sign he had been thinking of these things, either immediately before he came, or else his heart was too much carried out in the weekdays after them. (2) Thine heart was hard when thou goest to hear or read; and it's no wonder if the seed falling on rocky ground, that it do not grow up and bring forth fruit. (3) Because thou goest not with an open mouth, and an hungry soul to the Ordinances; that's another reason, why thou art neither filled, nor art satisfied with divine Consolations: few have gone to hearing with a full intent to hear what God would speak to them there, and so have come away empty. It is ordinary for Saints in a weak and low estate to put up Petitions to God as low as they themselves. They think it presumption to ask the great things promised, as Adoption, Assurance, etc. and they are apt to think they do well in it; then doubtless this came from an unbelieving heart, which would seal the fountain which God hath opened, and close those arms which God hath spread open to receive sinners, and to cover the breasts of consolation with a vail of modesty, which God taketh not well at our hands. Many Saints will complain of their hardness of heart, listlesness to praying, reading, hearing; and this is the burden which they lie under. Now if I were to advise such a soul, it would be thus: Let him cast all these distempers of soul upon his own self as the cause of them. Let him reflect upon his conversation: hath he walked close with God? or hath he not given way to looseness? either in his carriage he hath been too light, or in his tongue too vain. If he say he hath set a watch over himself, and resolved to walk more strictly, and yet hath fallen. Ans. But didst thou not first let fall thy watch, and then fall into sin? or art thou not conscious to thyself, that thou couldst walk more strictly if thou wouldst? Thine own thoughts shall condemn thee; thy conscience tells thee thou mayest pray more, if thou wilt; thou mayest read more, and meditate more on what thou readest, and pray more over what thou meditatest, if thou wouldst. O man, thy judgement herein is just!  
XXXVI. It is a general complaint of Saints, that they cannot get up their hearts as to mourning for the sins of others. And for Answer, This may cast down many a poor Saint: but I would have such an one to take notice of what temper his soul is as to his own sins; and if he finds his heart hard, and not able to mourn for his own sins, it is no wonder if it mourns not for the sins of others. So then I would have thy soul in this case, as thou wouldst in the other. Now as for thine own sins, thou canst satisfy thyself as to this case, that thou canst remember, God hath drawn thee out in a melting frame for them: So then think thou whether at any time, when thou hast been in an humble melting temper, thou couldst then mourn for others sins: But withal take notice of this, that a mourning temper for others sins, is an high attainment. Therefore pray thou for it, that thou mayest continually be in such a temper; and that upon this account, because thy God, thy Father is dishonoured by their sins; labour for a tender regard to God's glory. And as to mourn for the sins of others, so it is hard in praying for another Saint, if one hears that soul hath received that which he prayed for, to believe that his prayers had an interest in his deliverance: and this is the reason why he cannot find his heart carried out in praises to God for the deliverance of that soul. Let such a soul take up only this consideration, and know that his prayers have as much influence upon another, as upon himself, and so let him resolve himself. But in our praying for mortification or comfort in our souls, we are apt to miscarry, in determining God's time in our souls for the giving of it: As for instance; Suppose I pray for strength against my passions, I am apt to determine God's time to the next time I have an offer to my passion; and this occasions great dejection to some who are apt to think that God did not hear, neither did Christ intercede, nor the spirit help in that prayer. Therefore this is the advice I would give to all Saints in this case, let them pray for that which they want; but be sure let them withal adjoin patiented waiting upon God to the giving in of an answer. Or thus: I would have a man be resolved that God will give in an answer, but let him be undetermined as to the time. It is very difficult for a soul that hath been praying againstany particular corruption, and that for a long while; and yet finds his corruptions to overcome him, or to get head, to persuade himself that God hath heard his prayers, and that Christ interceded for those prayers; yet thou mayst know whether Christ interceded for thee in those prayers, First, if thou art carried out in thy dependence upon God, notwithstanding these prayers are not answered directly, as to the conquest of thy particular corruption. Thus he dealt with Peter; saith Christ, I have prayed that thy faith fail thee not. And that the prick in Paul's flesh was not quickly took away, yet he had an answer, God's grace was sufficient for him. Secondly, If he keeps up thine heart in a continual praying against this corruption. For we must know, that every breathing of the soul after mortification, is purchased of the Father by the death and intercession of the Lord Jesus Christ. Thirdly, If God answers thee as to the mortification of any corruption, though not in that which thou prayedst against in particular. Suppose thou prayed'st against anger, or pride; perhaps God will answer thee in deadning thine heart to the world: and by these signs thou mayest discover the beams of love, though there be a cloud that interposeth.  
XXXVII. Now we have given you a taste out of his own journal, in his own words, how this Pious Virtuoso (besides his Philosophical and Theological studies) was exercised in gathering experiments for the improvement of spiritual knowledge, even whiles at the University, which might make him a Workman that needed not be ashamed: We shall look upon him, though then but a Bachelor of Art, (who yet had gained respect by his Collegiate and Academical exercises, and was well furnished with abilities) as called to be employed in that exercise to which the former were only preparatory and subservient. For it seems about the latter end of 1652, when his Father being admonished by age, was summoned by sickness to leave this Temporary life, he was concerned to be at home, the place of his Nativity; where his custom was to call his Father's servants to an account about their Souls, and to Catechise them in the main Principles of Religion. Here when he had as a most dutiful Son, performed the last offices to his dying and deceased Father, and was comforting his sorrowful Mother, and instructing the Family: He was importuned by some good Christians of his acquaintance (who soon found what excellent gifts and endowments this young Timothy had) to employ his Talents in Preaching the Gospel, as occasion should offer. This upon their invitation he readily embraced, and by his Preaching gave such evident proofs of his experimental knowledge, utterance and zeal for God; that upon the death of Mr. Morton, a very Reverend and Worthy Minister, the Parishioners of Mary Newington-Butts having heard him Preach, and being satisfied of his Learning, Piety, and Ministerial abilities (as the Instruments show), and Petitioned for him, He was Feb. 16. 1652, ordered to that Rectory by those then in power, as a Godly and Orthodox Divine. And this was very remarkable in his Election to that Charge, that though the Parishioners were divided into two several Parties, and both went with their Petitions to Westminster upon the foresaid vacancy, to have a Minister settled amongst them, neither party knowing the others mind, yet they both pitched upon him, for whom the unanimous Petitioners did easily obtain a grant.  
XXXVIII. Hereupon this observant young Divine, who was ever ready to acknowledge God in all his ways, doth in his book with his own hand record this seasonable Call, viz. God called me very clearly (as I thought) to the charge of Newington, in which I used no means but Prayer, wherein I was carried out in abundance of calmness of mind, grounded on Faith. This is remarkable in it, that for some two weeks before I heard of it, I was exceedingly troubled in my thoughts about means for subsisting at the University till my profits came in. And behold how God graciously silenced all them, by a gracious Providence; but I look higher than so. For much about this time (as we conceive) he was also Chosen Fellow of Christ's College; yet to the satisfaction of the Reverend Dr. Bolton the Master, and his particular friend, He resolved to accept of the Charge at Newington, where He was so unanimously desired, and where he might have a greater opportunity of doing good to souls; which was most upon his heart; and the working of God upon others hearts by his Preaching, was much heeded by him. For we have him noting Feb. 17. 1652/ 3. I Preached at Mary-Overees, wherein God wrought so graciously by me upon T. W. that through the urgencies of his spirit, He wrote a large Letter to me (indeed very spiritually) wherein He blessed God particularly, that He had heard me, and that God had counted me so worthy, as to become an Ambassador of so glorious a Gospel. This was the first occasion of the renewing our acquaintance. Bless the Lord, O my soul, that He hath made use of thy foolishness to manifest his Wisdom, and his Grace to others.  
XXXIX. Afterwards on March 6. and 11. we find him again recording these Observables. I heard from one of Newington, that a wicked man of that Parish should say to him, That he was very glad that they had made such a choice of me, which forced him to these expressions (through my weak preaching) that he was persuaded if the Devil himself should come and preach to men, he would persuade them to seek heaven. O my soul! admire the new Jerusalem. Further, Mr. Diaper brought one of Newington to me, they called Mr. Langleys Convert, who told me in our Converse, that he had lain under a deadness of heart for almost a quarter of a year; but since my Preaching there, his spirit was exceedingly refreshed and quickened. This is the Lords do, and it is wonderful in mine eyes. The same night in our Conference, both concurred (I mean the forementioned parties) in this experiment, that they have kneeled down on their knees; yet through straitness of heart, have risen up again, and Petitioned nothing of God. March 12. (saith he) my soul was in an exceeding spiritual frame, wherein God exceedingly deadned me as to worldly-mindedness, with which (through a little dallying with, a day or two before) I was somewhat bewitched; Oh! my soul take heed of jesting with covetous expressions, lest it prove thy snare. On Saturday night, April the 1st, my spirit was very much refreshed in the light of God's countenance, the actings of my faith being very visible in relation to Newingtons' salvation. A friend of mine told me of a very carnal wretch, that at hearing of me concerning the unkindness of sinners to God, was very importunate with the said party to write out my Sermon for him; which importunity lasted for a week or more; but at length the said importunate party waxed cold, and he heard no more of him (when he had written it out for him). Note, All convictions, and all melt are not converting.  
For the searching of such like, we have this experimental Preacher recording, You shall find it in your deal with some souls, that it is very hard to bring them off their good meanings and wishes, especially such as are any thing moral, and haply do subdue some of their grosser sins. Examine such thus: First, How doth your soul take it, if you find not God in prayer? if you can rise up, as you kneel down, find God, or not find him, suspect thine heart, for all is not right within. Secondly, Whether doth the absence of God, or the loss of a creature, a child, or a wife, or a husband, most trouble thee: thou mayest by this search thine heart to the quick; for the loss of whatsoever it is that troubles thee most, that is thine heart most upon. Indeed the heart of this choice servant of the Lord was much upon his Master's work, for the good of Souls. For on a time June 1651. we find he had noted, that he was furprized in spirit with joy unutterable, breaking out, Oh! how did my bowels earn when I thought of Souls at a distance from God, and sitting upon the shadow of death! Whereupon he communicated his experience to his Chamber-fellow.  
XL. And now having after thorough examination and profession of his faith been solemnly set apart to his Ministerial office, and Pastoral Charge, by the laying on of the hands of the Presbytery and Prayer in a great Congregation at St. Mary-Axe Church, London; like a good Husbandman, as he was careful when he had sown his seed with diligence in Preaching of the Word, to see how it sprang up; so he was to prepare the ground for the receiving of it by Catechising his people, which he was very zealous to carry on successfully, as you may see by the Epistle (before the short Catechism he recommended) in the words he then printed.  
To all the Inhabitants of the Parish of Newington-Butts, Grace and Peace from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ.  
My dear Parishioners!  
GOD is my witness how the Salvation of your neverdying Souls is desired by me: If I could not have compassionated you, as men and women drawing near to that Tribunal, where you shall (within these few days) receive your final sentence, either to everlasting Happiness or Torment, I had never been so earnest and importunate with you in my Pulpit, for your hearty entertainment of the Lord Jesus, in a sincere obedience to his Laws, and unfeigned love of his person and benefits, as the only way to eternal life. And if the same love and tenderness had not continued in me, I would never have ventured upon this toilsome, laborious work of sending for you family by family, to instruct you in the knowledge of that Jesus Christ, through whom only you expect to find salvation. If God shall be pleased to make you as willing a people to learn, as he hath made me willing to spend, and be spent in this service of teaching you, I shall have cause to praise him to my dying day.  
The God and Father of our Lord Jesus persuade your heart to receive his teachings of you in your Ministers, that you may not shut the knowledge of himself in the Gospel out of your doors, which will prove of more sad and dreadful consequence to your Souls than you imagine. Amen.  So prays one that unfeignedly loves you, and that is willing to sacrifice health, strength, ease, and all I have in the service of your Souls. 
Thomas Wadsworth.  
AT the end of the Catechism he adjoined an Admonition. I have here presented you but with a few things to commend to your memories; but if through age, or other weaknesses, some of you cannot get this little without book, let me desire you to perfect yourselves in the Creed, the Lords Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. But however, if you are Parents, or Masters and Mistresses of families, let me entreat you to command your Children and Servants to get the rest, and to hear them say it once or twice a week: you may make it part of your Lords-days work, and adjoin it to your Praying, Reading, or Repetition of what you heard when you come home.  
Having laboured much in this and other ways with great success, to reduce the Inhabitants of that great Parish from their disorderly living, to the obedience of the Gospel. After a profession of their faith (Printed singly after the example of the Ministers in the Worcester-shire Association) he engaged those instructed who were willing to join in all Ordinances, to signify in these words, I do consent to be a member of the particular Church of Christ at Newington-Butts. whereof Thomas Wadsworth is Teacher and Overseer, and to submit to his Teaching and Ministerial guidance and oversight according to God's word, and to hold communion with that Church in the public worshipping of God, and to submit to the brotherly admonition of fellow-members, that so we may be built up in knowledge, and holiness, and may the better maintain our obedience to Christ, and the welfare of this society, and hereby may the more please and glorify God.  
XLI. You see what pains and cost he was at, for the good of the Souls under his Charge at Newington, where you had before from his Hearers, in Mr. Baxters' Preface to his Two last Sermons, a more particular account of his most exemplary and unwearied industry in his Ministerial-office. And then on the Lord's day in his own family, when his great work was over in the public Congregation, he used to have Sermons repeated, and he himself prayed and Sung Psalms with them; yea, and being well instructed of his Lord and Master (who knew how to speak a word in season to him that is weary) and remembering the Apostles charge for Preaching the Word [2 Tim. 4.2.] too be instant in season, and out of season, reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long-suffering and doctrine: He did in a time of an extraordinary long Frost, when poor Watermen were sorely put to it for a subsistence, set up an Expository-Lecture for four or five mornings in a week, at least two months together. When it pleased God to manifest his special presence with him in this seasonable work, for it proved the means of turning several from their evil ways unto God; and some who had lived loosely before, can to this day with humility and thankfulness testify that a work of grace was then wrought upon them; So that they were seals to his Ministry, and to that truth of the Wiseman's [Prov. 25.11.] A word fitly spoken (or seasonably, on the wheels) is like Apples of gold in Pictures of silver. This was extraordinary; but the other was his course, whiles he continued at Newington, which was till Mr. James Meggs, who vouched himself to be Legal Rector of it, forced him to resign that Benefice to him in August, 12. Carol. 2di. and put an end to all Suits; only he yielded that Mr. Wadsworth should Preach there till Septemb. 29. next ensuing. Though Mr. Meggs, sometime before his death, could not but acknowledge, that however he had given Mr. Wadsworth trouble, he had not before, that real and legal title to Newington, he had made the world believe he had. But our Practical Divine had learned to suffer, rather than to do any wrong.  
XLII. However the great God, who had made much use of this choice instrument in his work, would not let him as yet lie by useless. For after he was removed from Newington by no fair dealing (as before) of him that succeeded, besides his Lecture on Saturday mornings at S. Antholins', yea and for some time likewise there at five of the Clock in the evening of the Lords days, and for a Winter or two, on Monday nights at Margret's Fish-street-Hill, London, where by the concourse of Auditors, 'twas evident his labours were much valued (though he had low thoughts of the apprehension of men); He was by the Parishioners (in whose power the presentation or nomination than was) chosen to be Minister of Laurence Poultney, where he continued (and being then a Widower, and removing from the House of his intimate friend Mr. Sedgwick then marrying, lived in the family of his worthy friend Mr. Robert de Lunà Merchant) till the frowning Bartholomew 1662. when he was ejected thence, and out of his Lectures, as 2000 of his Brethren were elsewhere, because they could not assent and consent to all and every thing in the new Ecclesiastical Establishment made then at the importunate instance of the Hierarchy. But at the motion of his friends to give them a Sermon that Saturday night, (before the severe Law was to be executed the next day,) he yielded, though they had not spoken to him till when he was that day at dinner; and a Text was named to him who soon after turned aside to his Meditation, they rang the Bell, and he preached a farewell Sermon (not that in the Printed one's on Revel. 2.5.) from that very Text given, viz. Mal. 3.16. Then they that feared the Lord, spoke often one to another, and the Lord hearkened and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought on his name. They knew it was not very difficult for him who was instructed to the Kingdom of Heaven, like the householder, to bring forth out of his treasure things new and old. He would often say to some of his friends (he blessed God), if he had but a little time to premeditate and digest matter, he was never at a loss for words on his Master's Embassy, but hath for words often took more care how to speak prudently in conference with some in private, that he might not be mistaken, than how to speak in public, when he expected more of God's special aid, being assuredly on his errand.  
XLIII. 'Twas observed, as by Mr. Obadiah Sedgwick abovesaid, that he was in all things a praiseworthy and extraordinary person, by Mr. De Lunà and his Virtuous Wife, whiles his Commoration was with them in their house at London and at Theobalds', about a year and an half, that he was of singular Piety, constantly promoting Holiness in the Family; especially much raised in his spirit, when he came from Preaching and the Lords Table, being then as in an Heaven upon Earth. A man that would (but with much prudence) reprove sin in any person, of what high rank or quality soever in the world. It might be truly said of him, as 'twas of Mr. Hugh Latimer the Martyr: He did behave himself as a faithful messenger of God, being afraid of no man, telling all degrees their duties faithfully and truly, without respect of persons, or any kind of flattery. Yet he did not much care to converse with the Rich unless he could bring them to acts of Charity. When in the things of this world, which he had earnestly desired, He met with disappointments, He would pass them over without much concernedness. He was in Discourse very mild, and would give way to others to speak; and when he had heard them, he would without passion, and with much judgement and clearness return answers to them. If he had heard any one good Christian speak bitterly against another Christian; It was usual with him to say, That the other likely meant better than he had expressed himself; and if what was said, could be took in two senses, it ought to be interpreted in the best, because every Christian cannot in such a ready way utter his mind as another can. Insomuch, that when a dispassionate and more particular enquiry hath been made into the matter, and he hath been desired to explain himself, or another standing by, hath put words into his mouth, it hath often been found he did not mean as at the first, the other apprehended he did. And therefore our Author would give this Rule upon another's saying or doing, If a good sense can be put upon it, never take it in a bad one.  
XLIV. Belike he practised according to his own Directions he had recorded, for Christian prudence in our conversation with men, viz. Let's lay the Apostles Rule, Philip. 4.8. for our foundation. (1.) Whatsoever things are true, or good, which may be conceived as the Genus to those that follow. (2.) Whatsoever things are honest or venerable; therefore be innocent as may be, with reference to evil. (3.) Whatsoever things are just. There is Justice Universal, whereby we must yield obedience to the universal Law of God, and of man, as agreeing to the Law of God. Here we must show all due respect to others, especially Superiors, as to Magistrates, to be as little, and as cautiously as can be in speaking against them, as to any action of theirs, unless there be some necessity, and then as favourably as may be. To Parents, to be as plausible as may be to them, and if in any thing they descent from us, if in matters of indifferency, rather give way to them, than oppose them: and so likewise amongst any we converse with, having an especial eye to the time and place, and therefore as little as may be publicly. Justice particular is either Remunerative, or Commutative; Remunerative is a distribution of honour and rewards, without any respect of persons, according to deserts. Therefore if you see any thing in any man praiseworthy, give him due honour, and let no prejudice cloud it. Commutative justice is a giving to every man his right, in all your converse and commerce with them, in bargaining, etc. (4.) Whatsoever things are pure, lovely, and of good report, or well spoken of. Therefore eat Cards and Dice, which are not well accounted of by good men, which (as too commonly used) will bring a scandal on your profession, make you unfit to reprove others in that, or any other vice. Be sure it is the best way to continue a man's enjoyments with God, to be acting for God amongst them we do converse. If any say, I have often been admonishing, yet find I no good wrought on them; and I seem worse myself? Answ. [1.] This ariseth from thine own miscarriage in the duty. Didst thou pray before, or after thy duty? or didst thou keep up thine heart in an holy, humble frame, whilst thou wast in it? If not, no wonder thou hast succeeded no better in it. [2.] Reflect upon thine heart, whether thou didst never arrogate too much to thy self, if God at any time made thy words to take effect? And thou shalt know upon a secret rejoicing, when thou hearest any directly or indirectly speak of such an one's conversion, and so not giving glory to God; he therefore never withholds the influence of his Grace.  
XLV. Others who had reason to know him intimately, as they did observe his prudence; and also that as he was always very serious, so most frequently cheerful, insomuch that a good friend of his remembers, when in frost and snow, and bitter storms, he went to preach the Gospel, one coming to him, and pitying him in regard of his bad journey: He said cheerfully, 'Twas his Master's work, and therefore no burden to him to serve so good a Master, though he passed through many difficulties. He by grace had attempered his natural disposition to merriness, and brought it to a Christian cheerfulness, by watchfulness and experiments. And therefore we find him 1649, in his Notes, largely stating the case concerning laughter and smiling in Christians in several particulars.  
1. Sorrow is the proper consequent of sin. Christians therefore so far as freed from sin, are necessarily in a state of freedom from sinful sorrow, slavish fear, etc. That liberty, 2 Cor. 3. latter end, is fixed to joy: nothing so genuine and characteristically appendent to the state of an Adopted Child of God, as joy; because having the spirit, he ought to rejoice evermore, and that with joy unspeakable and full of glory.  
2. I grant also that Saints ought to joy in one another's society with a spiritual delight; considering the Wiseman's saying, Prov. 15.16. Better is little with the fear of the Lord, than great treasures and trouble therewith. The company of such should be all their delight, Psal. 16.3. Christ himself speaks of his rejoicing in the habitable parts of his earth, and his delights with the sons of men, Prov. 8.31. This might be more at large evidenced from Scriptures.  
3. I must (as I have had too sad a cause) put in this much, That as Christian liberty in other things, through Satan's policy is abused too too much for an occasion to the gratifying of the flesh, and vanity of heart (which should not be, Gal. 5.13.) so in this, which I account (if it be brought to the face) vain laughter. Which I shall describe in brief, and then leave to spiritual judgements. There is such a frame of heart in many precious Saints as this, viz. Ascertain, sudden, indeliberate, and rash leaping of heart, carelessly, blindly, and unadvisedly transported with fleshly apprehensions of some sensual ridiculousness in somewhat (though never so spiritual) without the soul; an unreasonable jocundness, a shameful discovery of the heart's nakedness, and inconsiderable jovialty: a carnal unaccountable tripudiation in cases never so serious, yea sometimes when most serious; a delightful frenzy, an irregular itching of the laughing faculty; Alas, I cannot but say I have sound mine own heart sometime like a feather following the puff of any ridiculous object up and down, according to the less or greater impression which any vain foolish matter made upon my sense. I had occasion to cry out June 18. O the filthy emptiness of my weak heart, arising from those troubled steams within me! This I could then count nothing but a fuzze of vanity, a bubble of corruption, a carnal dancing of the careless sons, the bane of reason, and poison of Religion. Carnality therefore and vanity are the formal Constitutives of this distemper. Vanity, I say, and lightness in an untameable predominancy. The internal cause of it, is the looseness and rottenness of such a soul as is void of the actual exercise or power of reason, discretion and judgement; but it is promoted, cherished, and enlarged from some particular circumstance in the object, ab extra, let into the unsettled mind and indisposed heart, by the quick convoy of the brutish senses, which causes this lightness I speak of; or an unaccountable, or overpowerful frame of laughing, upon the presentation of the imagination or understanding, either of a very serious thing, grace, or carriage of a person apprehended under the notion of his being usually familiar, or light; or more nearly, I mean spiritually related to the soul thus distempered; having for its external rise, or occasion, ex parte objecti, that very thing ordinarily which to a rectified and considerative mind should rather be a cause of sorrow, or serious humble rejoicing; namely sometimes, (1.) Another's expression of the like vanity. (2.) The more precious, serious, or so apprehended Saint, his casting his eyes fixedly upon thee. (3.) Such a familiar Saint his relation, either of some great sin, or some special act of divine grace, in any spiritual working of soul, or his putting a light soul on any more singularly advantageous duty (suppose Prayer) out of a serious heart.  
4. The external efficient cause of this distemper, is Satan, who perceiving the heart lose at the bottom, easily disposed to lightness of spirit, makes it more vain, and causeth other objects to take.  
5. As the cause of this distemper is very bad, because corruptio optimi est pessima, so the effects are, and proportionably worse. Take it thus in the lump: It's scandalous, and a temptation to others, it makes one uncredible as to any spiritual thing done or urged by one in such a frame; yea it renders a more serious mood suspicious upon the same account, it grieves true Saints, and delights the Devil. In respect of ones self, it causes (accordingly as it is more prevalent) a general indisposition to all acts of Religion, and sense of God; it deprives a man of all spiritual communion, either with God or his Saints: for it takes away seriousness, which is the considerate fixedness of the soul, as to acts of reliance on Christ for strength against it; and lastly, it hinders sympathising with other Saints, especially as to mourning.  
6. There be connexed with this distemper while it is in act upon the soul, (1.) Pride, self-applauding; no self-abasing apprehensions. (2.) Security of heart, no sense of the Lords being dishonoured. Having seen these particulars opening the nature of lightness, or carnal laughter; the concerning Question is,  
XLVI. How may I distinguish betwixt Christian joys, and this kind of laughter?  
Answ. First, Spiritual joy and the expressions thereof (be it in smiles, or other gestures) is still competent and consistent with the hearts well-disposedness towards God, and all spiritual things, because it is the fruit of the spirit, Gal. 5.22. This doth as it were oil the Chariot-wheels of the soul, disposing it better to communion with God, and all spiritual activity. Yea, seeing it ariseth from some love of God and Christ, in him darted into the soul, it fits the soul more for Christ, and inflames it towards him: by this the apprehensions of God are not extinguished, but sweetened; not diminished, but rather enlarged. Whereas è contra, the frame before mentioned, dims the light of grace, which by the spirit hath been sown in the soul; it quenches the spirit of divine Union, and so estranges the soul from God; it sets the door open to backsliding, and profaneness of heart; and we see it is the nurse of profaneness in our spiritual backsliding. Get a soul into never so high an attainment, this will cast him down, and betray him, so that the soul hereby is brought to a strange loss, seeing the spirit through such vanity of mind is sent away with grief and sadness. I could produce a most remarkable instance of one, a most precious one amongst us, who by this means, and the subtlety of Satan, was cheated of very much spiritual comfort.  
Secondly, Spiritual joy, and the expression thereof in cheerfulness, consists with prudence and discretion; so that a man may be spiritually joyous, and yet behave himself fuitably to occasions, persons and circumstances: but this laughing frame puts a soul upon absurd, unbeseeming and unsuitable carriages, as laughing when one goes to sympathise with a soul broken for sin. [See Partic. 3d. above].  
Thirdly, A man hath power over himself in the expression of spiritual joy to order it well: but he hath no power to refrain from, or regulate this laughing, even then when he well knew he ought not to laugh.  
Fourthly, Spiritual pleasantness is acceptable to, all that are wise to salvation: but a civil discreet, man would be exceedingly offended to see Christians so unreasonably transported, to laugh, and know not wherefore.  
Fifthly, Spiritual joy and cheerfulness is not only every way regular, but wellgrounded too: Now of this same laughter above described, a man can give no rational account at all.  
Sixthly, The last inconvenience, which should cause an utter extirpation of this wild kind of laughing, as that which stands in opposition to spiritual cheerfulness, is non-edification. The spirits of Saints are more cold and flat, and indisposed by it: Reflection strikes conscience for it as vain; but true Christian mirth, joy and cheerfulness, hath contrary effects with Saints.  
From the premises for the determination of the case I thus judge: (1.) Christian's smiling at their first congress, if conscience suggest not some sufficient ground, or spiritual account thereof, must needs be some degree of vanity aforesaid, as proceeding from the lightness of their spirits, especially if their meeting be spiritual, and deeply serious, in which cases the vanity of heart in Christians doth oftentimes bubble up, and should be checked. (2.) One of the best ways for a Christian to discern both in the point of Congress, and the whole continuance of converse, whether his smiling or laughter be vain or spiritual (consequently lawful and commendable), is his having power over his heart therein: so that he can restrain it if he thinks fit, still keeping spiritual liberty to the exercise of other spiritual duties; which vain laughter and smiling alloweth not.  
XLVII. Saints often times in the midst of their spiritual enjoyments, are apt to meet with this tentation, the Devil suggesting such thoughts as these: Surely this joy will not last always; one time or other thy sins will provoke God to leave thee utterly. For dost thou think that he can ever look upon sin, and not punish it, seeing he is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, but with detestation? Know that in such a case God would have thee to live by faith, I mean as to thy during joys. And of this we have an excellent Type in Exod. 16.25. God would have the Israelites to gather Manna only for the present day, and to cast off all solicitousness as for the morrow. And God doth this, and suffers such injections of Satan to try thy faith, as he did theirs; which you may observe in all God's methods of grace towards them. He brought them into the Wilderness, where they were to trust him for provision, into the Red-sea, that they might trust him with their lives. And truly upon a serious consideration we shall find his methods the same in these Gospel-times. Get therefore to live by faith. Here may be confuted a scruple of many a poor soul, being not yet come up to discover its Saintship, Whether it may laugh or be merry, seeing it knows not but it may be in a state of Damnation? The Devil by such a temptation or injection works much upon a scrupulous soul. Let such an one argue thus with himself, There is no more reason for this, that I should not laugh (being as yet ignorant of mine eternal happiness), than that I should not study, or work, or follow my calling in such a case; for one helps me as to my spiritual state, as the other, But again, Let such an one know this, that he must exceedingly watch over his heart in such a condition; for perhaps it's joy is too carnal, and by embasing of that joy, he may want of spiritual comfort: For he that regards the least iniquity in his heart, the Lord will not hear him. And perhaps this is thy bosom-pleasure: pray therefore that thine heart may be moderated to such pleasures, and mortified more to the world. There is a temper of spirit in some Saints at sometimes, although very rarely, that being in a raised frame they are so full of divine love, that every verse of Scripture they have read hath begotten a new ecstasy of joy: and they have been thus for a while together, yea so long, that they have been weary of rejoicing, this excelling sensation is too strong many times for the body: and by reason of the weakness of the flesh, there is not a sufficiency of spirits to fluctuate about the heart for a long time, but by degrees they decay and weaken: or (as Mr. Lockier says) God's consolations are as your Aqua Vitae is, and the Saints of a weak brain quickly turned with the reception of them: So that God in wisdom gives us in comfort by measure, lest our weak vessels should break.  
XLVIII. Consonant to that Christian cheerfulness, for the describing, distinguishing, and regulation of which, as we have had his thoughts once and again; and his friends were refreshed with this well-regulated temper in their conversation with him: So in his preparatory experimental Theology we find him resolving and recording some things concerning the raising of a Christians affection and carriage, with reference to the praising of God. Where he notes, Many souls are troubled in the examinations of themselves about their affections, whether they are set more upon God, or things here below, and are exceeding apt to conclude against themselves? Upon which observation he resolves.  
First, Thou art not to think, that thine heart is to be ever actually set upon God in the midst of thy worldly affairs: and therefore if thou art in thy studies, or employments of any other honest particular calling: If heavenly thoughts come in, thou art not so to entertain them as immediately to leave off the business of thy particular calling, and fall to spiritual exercises: therefore one comparing the thoughts of man, saith some are like to a friend, others like to strangers coming to visit another man. Now the friend coming at the door, he will turn his friend into the door, and make him tarry a while, till he hath done with his stranger; but the stranger being gone, he will return then to his friend, and he shall lodge with him perhaps all night. The Application of this is very sweet; you yourselves may apply it. But,  
Secondly, If thou canst but willingly and freely part with the world, with thy corruptions, and desire hearty of God that he would deaden thine heart to creatures, and give in more of himself; it is a sure evidence, that thou takest more delight in the things of God, than of the world. And of this we have an example which the Apostle gives us in the Patriarches, Heb. 11.13, 14. These all died in [or, according to] faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth: for they that say such things, declare plainly that they seek a country.  
XLIX. Further there, from the story of the Woman of Canaan, who acted faith on Christ for the cure of her daughter; whereupon Christ said unto her, O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee, as thou willest, and immediately her daughter was made whole. He infers that Saints should not have slight and superficial thoughts of these outward mercies: but should know these mercies come or stream from the same fountain as spiritual mercies do? and can we think that sweet and sour water come from the same fountain? Oh get your hearts into an admiring, spiritual, praising frame for outward mercies. Upon which he put this Question, What is the reason, that Saints find it such an hard thing for them to get their hearts into a praising frame for the receipt of mercies merely external?  
Ans. First, Examine thy soul, whether thou dost not set thine heart too much upon some external mercy, as learning, parts, estate; and this perhaps may be the cause, why God doth not spiritualise thine heart in the reception of that food and health thou hast. And here we may allude to a place of Scripture: If then thou regardest iniquity in thine heart, the Lord will not hear thy prayer: So if thou dost idolise one creature too much, God in punishing of thee will not raise thine heart to praise him for another mercy.  
Secondly, Another reason may be, because thou hast not studied Christ in such mercies, so as to acknowledge thou art made partaker of them by his procurement.  
Thirdly, Because thou hast not constantly lived upon God for the giving of them in; and if God should keep some of them from thee, thou couldst praise God as well as for the giving of them to thee, being not regardful of thy dependence upon him for all thou hast.  
Fourthly, Examine yourselves whether or no you prayed for these mercies which you now receive, and for which you find your soul indisposed to thankfulness. Assure yourselves, there is no greater motive to a man's thankfulness to God, than when he looks upon mercies given in as a fruit of prayer. Of this you may have an instance, (Rom. 1.8, 9, 10.) saith Paul there, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, that your faith is spoken of throughout the world. And what is the reason? Vers. 9, 10. For God is my witness whom I serve in my spirit in the Gospel of his Son, that without ceasing I make mention of you always in my prayers, making request, etc.  
L. As he had early impressions upon his heart to Sabbath-sanctification, so they continued to the last. For several years (as some of his nearest Relatives have observed) it was his usual practice, when he risen out of his bed on the Lords-days in the mornings, with a cheerful heart and voice, to sing a Psalm, or some part of it, or spiritual Hymn, for the putting of himself into a spiritual frame for the work of the day, or to repeat those eucharistical expressions, or salutations of the heavenly host recorded, Luke 2.14. [Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towardmen.] By this means his spirit was much raised, and ●e showed himself not less zealous for the well-performance of the Lords work, than he then was for the due sanctifying of the Lordsday; not only in the Congregation, but in his Family, and amongst his Friends: For hearing some of them on that blessed day, talking about worldly matters, he fairly rebuked them with kindness, saying, John when in the Isle of Patmos, was in the spirit on the Lordsday. He had acquainted us in his experiments on Saturday night, the middle of June 1651. when before he went to bed, he did by the spirit exceedingly heighten the freegrace of God to him of a dream of his; saith he there, I dreamt that some Scholars were playing at Ninepins in our Chapel on the Sabbath-day. My thought when I saw them, Oh! how was my spirit moved. I ran amongst them, kicked them down, and said, Hath England lost so much blood for such sins, and will you take no warning? And this I uttered very affectionately. Such dreams as these liked me well, and from thence I often gathered the frame of my spirit. On a Sabbath sometime after this he records, I was not in the day in so spiritual a frame as I desired, my thought mine heart knew little of God, which I was desirous to have been my trouble, but towards the evening reading, Gal. 4.9. But now that ye have known God, or rather are known of God, etc. How kindly did that place work on me? as eyesalve to my faith, as fire to my love. The word was this [or rather being known of God]. It seems that was the precious word which did rest so sweetly upon the heart, and so deeply affect this choice Servant of the Lord, on the Lordsday, when he used to have his heart greatly raised in singing of Psalms in his family; and would say to his Wife and Relatives, Do not you find a sweetness in this day? Oh! certainly it is the sweetest day in all the week!  
LI. In all his Relations he was a man greatly beloved, and singularly useful by prayer, counsel, and various other ways of doing them good. We have him on Feb. 25. 1652. recording an experiment which his Relatives had to his dying-day an abundant proof of. His own words are, At morning mine heart was melted, and so at evening in a special manner; Changed! how evidently God made out my faith to me, both for myself and others, especially for our family, and my other Christian friends, and the Church in general for bringing peace to her: Verily of a truth the spirit helped me in that prayer. I was much broken in heart, and had a deep sense of the love of God. A little after he adds, I was much in melting humility; let it be one of the evidences of thy Saintship, for I never saw humility more apparent before. Oh! praise thou God, and never cease. One of his nearest Relatives remembers he would often say in self abasement, If it were possible I could do as much work for God, as any man did upon earth; I would not care whether it were known there were such a man as I am in the world. So little regard had he to the applause of men in what he did; and so little regard had he to the rewards of men, that when some had told him of some small presents that such and such neighbours had presented to some of his brethren in the Ministry; and thereupon asked him, Whether they had been with him? He answered, no; And subjoined, he was not sorry he was passed by in that way, saying, I am hearty glad I had not their presents, so that I might receive my reward from my Master: For I am never better pleased than to think, after I have done his work, that Jesus Christ hath all my reward in reversion for me; yea, and he would express some trouble, if any of the lower rank in the world did bring him some small thing; for though he did thankfully own their kindness, yet he would let them know he would not be burdensome to them. He used to be very grateful for favours, though never so small. But more notably thankful to God. One bringing him a little cordial-water after his Preaching, not being well; with his eyes lifted up to heaven, he said, What am I, or my Father's house, that God is so mindful of me a poor creature? Oh! blessed be God. His impartiality in judging causes amongst those of his acquaintance, who referred themselves to him, was owned to be very remarkable. And he used to advise his friends often to take care, and watch for opportunities to seek God by private prayer. He himself was a great man in Prayer. And we find this Anagram of his Name [Thomas Wadsworth] under his own hand, viz. [Ah! Os tu oras Deum] which is as much as to say in English, Thou openest thy mouth in prayer to God. You know it is given us as a remarkable character of Paul after his Conversion, Behold, he prayeth, Acts 9.11.  
LII. Having a door opened to him at Theobalds' for the preaching of the Gospel, though he met with many difficulties, yet being encouraged there (where he was concerned to abide most for the health of himself and family, not for any other gain, but rather the impairing of his estate) by the conflux of Hearers, to whom his labours were very acceptable; He accounted it needful to stir them up to the participation of all Ordinances according to Gospel-order; which notion they readily closed with under his Administration. Upon which, to prevent any jealousy amongst his people in London and Southwark, he told a member of his society to this purpose: Peradventure because I have not any maintenance from you, you may think I look not upon myself to be therefore so much engaged to you: but fear it not, for I think myself to be every jot as much engaged to you, as if I had my whole maintenance from you: for my great Lord and Master (knowing you are not so able) hath provided for me another way, yet nevertheless to do you service: so that sigh God by his Providence hath settled me amongst you, and hath inclined your hearts to embrace my Ministry, fear not my leaving of you. He was one ever ready to deny himself his own due right, that thereby he might provide for the welfare of souls committed to his charge; yea and to do what he could to encourage others in that great work. His Charity, as well as self-denial was manifested to his distressed brethren in the Ministry, in making Collections for them both at Deadmans-place and Theobalds' (and he had a singular faculty to dispose his Hearers to give liberally), distributing all that was collected, and more, to several, in such proportions, as in their circumstances he judged most convenient, as was evident from his particular accounts of that matter, and the grateful acknowledgements of those who received the benefit; he practised according to Paul's Directory for a Bishop, 1 Tim. 3.3. he was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, one not given to filthy lucre, and one not covetous. He showed great love to the poor in relieving of them, and conversing with them, He would often say, He rejoiced to send them away cheerful, because they were God's creatures, and 'twas like God to make the hearts of the poor merry. And he would not have those of his Family to be too hard in buying things of poor people, saying their hearts would be glad if they had a good price given to them for their Commodities they brought to sell.  
A further instance we have of his freedom from prevailing covetousness, and his real self-denial beyond exception. When T.S. the Son of his second Wife was very dangerously sick of the Small pox, though 600 l. would have come to him and his, if this Son-in Law had then died, not being then at age; yet he did call his Religious friends again and again to join with him in solemn prayer for his recovery. And when his prayers were prevalent upon his restoration to health, he solemnly returned thanks to God; which upon the expense of circumstances, did signally evidence the integrity of his generous soul, and may well be transmitted to posterity for imitation.  
LIII. Whiles he was at Newington, many overtures were made to this eminent Minister for the change of his condition; but he closed with none of them, having early fixed his eye upon one, to whom after full knowledge and mature deliberation, he made known his affection. Her Parents consented that this their Daughter (a virtuous young Gentlewoman) should match with this man of God. She was of a good family, being the younger daughter of Henry Hastings, Esq of the Parish of Newington-Butts. Her name was Elizabeth Hastings, which this Religious and Poetic lover did from his certain knowledge of her piety and zeal for God, thus Annagrammatize, [Big zeal hateth sins.]  
By her he had born to him, Octob. 3. 1661., a Son named Henry-Hastings, but the pious Mother of him did not live above ten days after his birth, for she departed this world on Octob. 13. following, betwixt eight and nine of the Clock of that Lordsday morning. And this fair blossom their Son was soon cropped off, for about a month after, viz. Novemb. 15th, on Friday morning he died at Nurse. This disconsolate Widower bereft of a meet yoke-fellow, and likewise amoved from his Ecclesiastical Wife at Newington, having so journed for a time with his friend Mr. Sedgwick (whiles a Bachelor), and then removed to Mr. de Luna's (as above) about two years after the decease of his first wife and child, being recommended to a virtuous Widow Mrs. Margaret Sharp, Daughter to Henry Gibs of Bristol, Esq and Relict to Mr. Thomas Sharp, Merchant, about Novemb. 1663. he married her, she having then a Son by Mr. Sharp her former Husband, who had also left Lucy Sharp a Daughter by his former Wife; this Daughter being consumptive did not long survive the Marriage of her Mother-in-law, but in her sickness did greatly bless God for her being thereby related to Mr. Wadsworth, whose instructions and prayers she found to be successful for the good of her precious soul. She died about the 16th year of her age.  
Mr. Wadsworth living then for his better health mostly at Theobalds' (but came to preach to his Congregation in Southwark) he prevailed with his Wife to dwell there with him. By her he had born to him, Octob. 10. 1666, Josiah. Whose Mother became sickly, and Jan. 3. 1667, left him motherless, and his Father a sorrowful Widower again. In his sorrows he had drawn up a notable character of this his second Wife, giving an account of her piety; but he so disposed of that, it is not to be found amongst any of his Papers. This only Son Josiah lived about five years and an half to the comforting of his Father; but March 25. 1672, he followed his Mother. Upon the loss of him, than his only child, whom he greatly affected, his mournful but religious Father set a fair copy to others of much Christian patience and submission to they will of God. He had stayed three years a Widower from the death of his second, and then Decemb. 14. 1670, took to his third Wife (with the good liking of her Parents) Anna sole Daughter to Colonel Henry Markham, one of an ancient Family, and a Gentleman of his Majesty's Privy Chamber: By whom he had first Anna, than Hester, afterwards Thomas, and lastly Nathaniel, all these four he left alive; but this last Son when he was about a year and an half old, departed this life to go and rest with his Father gone about a twelvemonth before.  
LIV. It seems this famous servant of Christ was in Decemb. 1672, (well nigh four years before his death) by some illness at Theobalds' admonished of his frailty; and being come to London, as to preach his usual course, so also to advise with a Physician for his health upon those symptoms were then upon him, during which time in his house at Pickle-Herring he was suddenly surprised with a kind of fainting fit, that occasioned some failure of spirits, and sweatings; which did a little startle him. Hereupon by and by he called for a Candle, went up stairs and retired himself into a private room, not permitting either his Wife or Sister then to accompany him; but addressed himself to God alone, as one summoned by him, it might be, shortly to appear before him. Then after a while returned to his dear Wife, etc. upon his coming down they observed an admirable raisedness of spirit in him, who then greatly blessed God for a cold sweat, and a trembling pulse, which had occasioned him to look more narrowly within, where finding all well to his great comfort, he behaved himself as one that was not afraid then of an arrest to Judgement. We find him indeed in his Memorials upon a former sickness, from March 6th. till the 16th. recording: I was cast into a fit of sickness, God brought me into a wilderness, but spoke kindly to me: He afflicted me but for a moment. About a week after he adds: I was exceeding well, much melted, having an eye opened to see God in prayer by faith, as if I spoke to any of my familiars. This humble confidence of going to God as his Father was raised, as he elsewhere where notes, from discoveries of mortification and purity in heart. And besides this, he lays it down afterwards: That, Nothing speaks Adoption fuller, than the discoveries of Gods love either to the answering thy prayers with reference to mortification and strength in grace, or comfort, Joh. 15.15. And adds, The readiest way to come to spiritual disveries of the Mystery of the Gospel-promise, is to do the commands of God, Joh. 7.17. He was a sincere doer of God's will, and such God heareth.  
LV. When in perfect health, he would be thoughtful of changes, and therefore would often pray, that God would prepare him and his for sickness, death, and parting. About half a year before his last sickness, when he had exceeding sharp pain, he said, He would not have been without it, to have been without those joys he felt by it. Being resolved to leave his more expensive habitation at Theobalds', to live in Southwark nearer to his old charge; It seems the Family and Friends talking somewhat cheerfully of their removal, his Eldest Daughter Anna then a Child betwixt four and five years old, said unexpectedly, What if my Father should go to London and die? He was so apprehensive of a dying hour, that he said after, His Girl (whom he had a great love for) was a true Prophetess. 'Twas about three weeks and odd days before he died, that he came to his house at Pickle Herring Stairs, having preached the first of those two last Sermons published, on the eighth of October, and the last on the 15th. 1676. The next day following he was cheerful in the morning, but then afterwards that day his pains came upon him, he possessed his own soul in more than ordinary patience. And was not willing to confult a Doctor till the 24th, after a week of extreme pain night and day; then with great importunity he was prevailed with to send for one in great reputation for skill and practise. Who conceived at the first visit that it was the Stone; not questioning at all, but that he would do well notwithstanding. This was on the Tuesday, Octob. 24th. That night after, he slept well; whereupon with a thankful heart to God, he told some of his friends how he had been carried through; Saying, I am like a man who had gone over a precipice, and looking back, trembled to see the danger he had passed through. For (saith he) when I was in pain, God supported me: and now I stand amazed how I got through it. He indeed did use often to say when he had seen others in great pain, he was afraid of dying, i. e. of the antecedent pains he might pass through; but he was not afraid of being dead: He knew full well, that Death, which was the dissolution of his soul and body, would only open the passage to his soul to be for ever with the Lord.  
LVI. On Wednesday 25th, he risen pretty cheerful, and spent some time in reading; but after dinner his pains returned again; when he began to complain of sin, saying, Ah! vile sinner! God is carrying me back again into the Wilderness to afflict me: expressing some sorrow of heart, but without any murmuring. Then he bid his Wife to read the 88 Psalms; by that time she had done, Justice Reading, and some other friends came to visit and condole with him. Afterwards about seven of the Clock that night came in his second Wife's Brother, Mr. W. Gibb's (going for Bristol the next morning) and his dear Wife Mrs. Sarah Gibbs, who greatly respected, and dearly loved this choice Servant of the Lord; she indeed was a gracious Woman, of a most sweet temper, a choice one of his dear flock (who since went to rest with him her faithful Pastor in glory Jan. 27. 1679) These were discoursing about his taking a Countryhouse nearer to London than Theobalds'. To which he replied with much composure of spirit, Yea, God will provide me a Country, meaning an Heavenly one. Then his former Wife's Son, Thomas Sharp, 〈◊〉 about to go to Sea, and come into the room: He told him, It was not likely they two should meet again here. Whereupon he gave him with tears a most Pathetical Exhortation to mind his souls spiritual and eternal welfare, and to serve God holily, righteously, and soberly in this present world; which showed his great and conscientious solicitude for the real happiness of this young man committed to his charge. The night after, his great pains did again return with much acuteness. And  
LVII. On Thursday morning 26th, he had sharp pains. Then in the afternoon some of his choice Christian friends, Ministers, and others, met to seek the Lord with fervency on his behalf. When again pinched with recurring pains; he said, He was in an agony, but not a bloody one. And what are all my pains to those Christ did undergo for me! When they were earnest with God in prayer for faith and patience: He would often be saying, Though thou killest me, yet will I trust in thee. And expressing much humility when they were importunate for his restoration. Ah! poor, useless, sinful wretched creature that I am, that they should be so earnest for my life! But when it pleased the Lord that his pains should continue, and the joint and ardent prayers of his dearest Relatives and people were not prevalent for his recovery, He would be ever and anon thus stilling and quieting himself, What shall I say unto thee, O thou preserver of men? One minute in heaven would make amends for all this pain.  
LVIII. On Friday 27th his repeated pains did continue, yet the Doctor of Physic said, There was no danger. Towards evening he had some intermission, and then was reading some part of his own Book, concerning the Immortality of the Soul, and Faith's Triumph over the fears of Death. That Friday night, his friend that much loved him, Mr. Jeofferies' sat up with him. When being again racked with grievous pain, he spoke to this purpose; Oh! the wonderful mysteries of the Providence of God who can see a Job cast out upon a dunghill, filled with botches and biles, forsaken by his friends, and worried by Satan; and yet at that very time, God had not a more choice servant on the face of the earth, nor one more dear to him than he was. To another of his Congregation come with his Wife that evening to visit him, and saying, If it should please God he should then die, they should be a scattered flock, as sheep without a shepherd; He said, The great shepherd of his flock liveth still, or eternally: He doubted not but he would take care of them.  
LIX. On Saturday morning 28th, he by the help of his intimate friend Mr. Obadiah Sedgwick, Merchant, made his Last Will and Testament, constituting his Wife sole Executrix. he then as one who had set his house in order, taking leave of this world, told his Wife, He had now done with Wife and Children; and not less than twice to the Question, How it was with him as to soul-concerns? He answered, I bless the Lord I have no cloud upon my spirit; yet if my God should give Satan leave, he may put me into an Agony before I die. Reverend Mr. Bragg in his Sermon, p. 24, 25. hath more He then spoke of this nature: yet further he repeated that of solomon's, The soul knows his own bitterness, and a stranger intermedles not with his joy. He told Mr. Parsons, his fellow-labourer in the Ministry, All my self-righteousness I disown, and I trust only to Christ, and hope I have a Gospel-righteousness. This evening seeing his Wife to weep, He said, I prithee weep not, but turn thy face with Hezekiah to the wall and pray. The night after, when he was weaker, his pains grew stronger; but when an acute pain was a little over, He would ever and anon say, Now, this pain is over, and I shall know it no more. And to one that stood by (who he thought had not walked acurately), Now see the benefit of a good conscience. Then when they had given him something from the Apothecary to dispose him to sleep, though his speech was somewhat interrupted with pain and drowsiness: He was much concerned for the People of God in England. After a little slumber, he said, I long to see a people rich in spiritual graces, as well as spiritual privileges; but surely God hath here a peculiar people, a royal priesthood, that serve him day and night in sincerity.  
LX. On the Lordsday morning 29th, his Wife ask him whether he knew her? What (saith he) not know thee? not know my Wife? Thou wouldst make me to think. I am going to triumph before I am! However his triumph was not many hours after; For though his people in the solemn assembly that holy day, had been earnest again with the Lord, if he had seen good to have spared him longer to them, about one of the Clock that Lordsday (on which blessed days he had used to be much in an heavenly frame, as before) this choice servant of the Lord expired his last breath, and his holy soul entered those joys he had often been labouring to get a Pisgaghsight of, and to show them to others whiles he was here in the body. Upon his death, that being dissected, there was a stone took out of his bladder, figured like an Egg, which then did weigh 'twixt three and four ounces: It may yet be seen in the hands of his Sister: He had a brother, who though a very strong young man, when he was not above 20 years of age died, being cut of the stone, which much affected our compassionate Author, and made him all his life after pre-apprehensive of those pains which nextly caused his own dissolution.  
LXI. If upon their departure as Erasmus saith in the life of Hierome), We are ready to kiss the very shoes and shirts, though soiled, of those Saints we loved; we should certainly account their Books their best Relics, most useful and efficacious. The Works of our Author much beloved by those who knew him well already, published with good effect, are  
1. His serious Exhortation to an Holy Life, wherein he doth with great strength, and much affection from Mat. 5.20. put in a plea for the absolute necessity of inherent righteousness in those that hope to be saved. This was written when he had been six years at Newington, as (he saith) in his Epistle to it.  
2. The Immortality of the soul, proved by Scripture and Reason, to the Saints joy, and the Sinners terror. Printed much about the time of his last marriage, 1670. To which is annexed,  
3. The Triumph of Faith, being in a tendency to the Practical improvement of the former from Phil. 1.21. answering fears upon the conceived approach of death.  
4. ● Sermon in the Printed Book of Farewell-Sermons (though it seems that was not the very last he preached before stinging Bartholomew) on Rev. 2.5. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and do the first works, or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent. (Published 1663.) where he presseth England to repent; Lest (said he) if God be provoked by sin to go, the Devil come, And (he adds prophetically enough) the Plague, Pestilence and Sword, and all other manner of Evils follow. God doth not go alone, neither doth God remove his candlesticks alone. I do not tell you that God threatens you to pull down all your lights; I would not terrify you, by telling you that God is a departing from you, when he puts out some of your lights. But yet I must needs tell you, that when God doth deprive you of so many hundreds of as Pious, and Laborious, and as learned Ministers (some of them) as any are in the Vineyard: I say when God deals thus with you, I cannot think that it is in mercy to you, but in judgement. The Church of England is a great people, and there are many poor souls in it, that are as firebrands in the fire, that have great need to be plucked out. And as there are, blessed be God, many Eminent Ministers at this day in England, to snatch poor souls as firebrands out of the fire; yet I say, that where there is one, we have need of ten. He lived to see the prediction verified in the great Plague, the Dutch War; and what succeeded till 1676. What evils have been since, they who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity, can well observe.  
5. A Sermon in the Supplement to the Morning-Exercise at Cripplegate, about Practical Cases of Conscience, viz. Sermon XII. published 1674. wherein he hath clearly showed how it doth appear to be every Christians indispensable duty to partake of the Lords-Supper. From 1 Cor. 11.24. This do in remembrance of me.  
6. A Sermon in the Morning Exercise against Popery, viz. Sermon XXIII. published 1675. on Heb. 10.12. But this man after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down at the right hand of God. Whence he made it evident against the Papists, That Christ crucified is the only divine and proper sacrifice of the Gospel; and being once offered, was so completely efficacious, as that it took away sins fully and for ever.  
7. Separation no Schism; being a full and sober vindication of the Nonconformists from the charge and imputation of Schism, in Answer to a Sermon preached before the Lord Mayor by J. S. This Printed 1675.  
8. His Last warning to secure sinners, being his two last Sermons concerning the certainty and dreadfulness of the future misery of all ungodly sinners; wherein his fervency of spirit in serving of the Lord, is very conspicuous. This last was published shortly after his death.  
LXII. Concerning these Posthumous Remains, which now appear abroad, though they have not those Polishing which might have been given to them by the last hand of their excellent Author, yet they should not be under valued. 'Tis very well known he was no slave to his syllables. As to that which he himself published of the Souls Immortality, in his Epistle to the Reader he there tells him, He must not expect from him a fine set of words or flourish of phrases; and that he was not for the pleasing of the fancy with such toys; yea in a Epistle o● his to his Hearers, prefixed to his serious Ex●ortation to an Holy Life; He tells them in Print (sometime before he left Newington), I tell you, I dare do any thing for your sakes, yea hazard the reputation of my discretion, rather than be thought defective in my care for your neverdying spirits. Great souls regard the substance more than circumstances, and the attaining their great end, more than acquiring some trivial plumes of reward; you may be assured there hath been all care and sincerity used in what in this Preface or elsewhere hath been transcribed out of his own Copies, to give you his genuine sense in his own words. But where there may be slips and defects discovered, which the learned Author himself could have easily rectified, had he been alive, and designed to have made these things useful in this way, Candid Readers, who have a love to the deceased, will be ready to overlook them without any impeachments of the Author's worth, or the Publishers integrity, the doing of good to souls being the design of these last, as well as of him whose Memory is blessed. And if any hastily conceit some particulars might have been left out, they would do well to consider, that particulars are more pungent and affective than generals; and how that the choicest Saints of God in the Scriptures did note their own infirmities, and by what means they had helps against them, and were victorious over their corruptions. Further, This may engage serious Christian Readers (more especially Relatives) to watchfulness and resolutions of practising according to such examples, as have through Christ behaved themselves acceptably to God. For as one said well, The lives of holy men do teach us, what ought to be done, and at once convince us that it may be done. And therefore another hath pertinently observed, That the Historical parts of the Scriptures are little other than Annals and Descriptions of the Lives of the Patriarches, Judges, Kings, Prophets, etc. The Meditations here published, most of them were gotten into the hands of Booksellers, two several Copies of which we have seen, besides the Original: These might with the Letters, and some of the Poems (which were also in several hands) have crept abroad more to the disadvantage of the Author, (whose happy memory hath herein been sincerely consulted), so were the two Sermons taken in Shorthand, and offered for gain to be Printed, being they were greatly desired by some of his dear friends, and beloved people; which things laid together, with good hopes they may be useful, occasioned a yielding they should be Printed as they now are (Errors of the Press excepted) knowing the holy Author did evermore seek the profiting of others, rather than any praise from them to himself. In the close of his little Manual for an holy life, his own words are, I writ not to please all, but to profit some: If the Lord shall please to bless it to that end, it will content me, though it doth not thee. In his Meditations as you have them, you find he is very Pathetical, and in his Poetic vein we may easily discern he did all along breathe after that heavenly state he is gone to possess. And who knows how much his sanctified fancies and holy ejaculations may raise the affections of others that read them, to the life of God. He being somewhat musical, did compose, and in private make use of these Hymns, etc. for that purpose. In his own Memorials (out of which much of this Preface is composed) he hath left this general direction, I shall here subjoin in his own words, viz. That soul who would be true to himself, as to the enjoyments of God, Let him labour to get up his heart into a praising temper. For doubtless there is nothing speaks more pure Saintship and Holiness in the soul, than when it is carried out in Praises. My reason is this, because Praises do purely terminate upon God, without any reflection upon such actions as are most purely holy. And here examine this case, whether a man can love God absolutely for himself, or only relatively, as he doth discover himself to a soul? He wrote some other things, as particularly an Answer to a piece of Mr. Pen and Whitehead, at the instance of a Theobalds' neighbour, to whom he gave a Copy of it for his satisfaction. He was also in hand with an Answer to Mr. Lamb's Stop to Separation, showing the weakness of his arguings. We find also some solid reasons of his own practice, in dissenting from the present National Ecclesiastical establishment in the point of Conformity. And that he was drawing a parallel of Mr. Medes and Dr. Hammonds Expositions of the Revelation, with an Examination of Dr. Hammonds. And somewhat more particular he was writing concerning the Millemium, and the right stating of it as he apprehended, carrying it always with great mildness and kindness towards those Brethren from whom he did in any thing descent about these controverted points; lest any unseemly heats amongst Evangelical Ministers, should occasion people to have less regards to those undoubted truths and essentials of the Christian Institution, wherein they were cordially agreed. But though he had made some progress in these and other things, yet he did not live to finish them. However the last doth appear to be pretty well completed. We shall conclude, having prayed that these now published may do good to souls, especially those who desired them, with that of the beloved Divine Rev. 14.13. Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them.    

An ELEGY on the Lamented Death of the Reverend Mr. THOMAS WADSWORTH, sometime Minister of St. Marry Newington-Butts, and after for a short time of St. Laurence Poultney, London. October 29. 1676.  

WELL may the Church now wash her wounds with tears,  
When her best blood from every vein appears;  
If the sound members be cut off so fast,  
Sure the whole Body will pine away at last;  
For when our dear Right Hands and Eyes are gone,  
The sorry stump will seek Consumption;  
And every one, like that Disciple, cry, 
Joh. 11.16.   
Let us go Partners in his fate, and die.  
The Ark is Israel's Chariot; but when Death  
Pursues its chiefest Horsemen out of breath,  
Well may our Wheels be taken off, and we  
Be driven to despair of Remedy:  
If God proceed to fill his Garner so  
With labourers, whom we need so much below,  
Such chaff as we almost justly fear,  
God hath no israel to be gathered here;  
And if provoked Justice should begin  
To whet its sword, and thrust its Sickle in;  
Oh dreadful Harvest! when the Reaper claims  
The whole for fuel to Eternal flames.  
God's naked Vineyard cannot but decay,  
If skilful Dressers be thus called away;  
And how can we expect, but that they will,  
When we're thus barren in a fruitful Hill;  
Laden with such Wild Grapes, as vengeance hath  
Adjudged to the Wine-press of his wrath.  
The firmest stakes in all our Hedge, we see  
Plucked up by the same hand successively;  
And God's just counsel sure of us in store,  
Is to lay waste, and to replant no more;  
Hedges of thorns there are, not for defence,  
But only set to gore our Innocence;  
Wild-Bores of ' he Roman forest may invade,  
By us there can be no resistance made;  
For at these Breaches they'll come in, and then  
Whose skill or strength shall drive them out again?  
The little Foxes spoil our tender fruit,  
And who can take them, 'nless the Keeper's do't?  
Doctrine and Worship, like two Clusters stand,  
Exposed to be snatched by every hand;  
And they who boldly dare call evil good,  
May give us poison next instead of food.  
Well may the Philistines now proudly boast,  
When all our Champions leave the wounded Host  
Now, that the danger's greatest, and they think  
In heat of War to give us blood to drink;  
So we, who hoped to see Goliah's fall,  
Fellow our Leaders to their Funeral.  
When such as these defy God's mighty Name,  
Who shall stand forth to vindicate the same?  
For they that knew it best, have left us here  
To strive at once with Ignorance and Fear;  
Suspecting Error, 'tis an easy crime  
In weaker eyes to shun the Truth sometime;  
And when our light is gone, men in the dark  
Will bring their Tinder to a Wildfire spark.  
When Reason climbs the Throne, we stand in doubt,  
Whether our Faith may cast this Hagar out;  
But now those eagle's face the Sun, whose flight  
Hath made their Faith to vanish into sight;  
No Veil within that Temple; therefore they  
Have open vision, and perfect day.  
These Palm-trees once adorned our Sion-Hill,  
And though by Death cut down, they flourish still;  
But in another soil, and Country, where  
They only now a weight of glory bear;  
And other pressures taken off, they soar  
Above those skies they could not reach before;  
No other Canaan now, but that is known,  
With Milk and Honey always overflown;  
Rivers of pleasure run on every hand,  
Like channels cut throughout this promised Land.  
From future Evils they're escaped, while we  
Survive to feel the threatened misery;  
For 'tis most certain, when the Bridegroom's friends  
Are called home, God's Marriage-Treaty ends:  
Which, after such remissness, and neglect,  
Is but what foolish Virgins might expect.  
Thus what they feared, and predicted too,  
May be accomplished in our final woe;  
And though the Messengers are gone, we find  
Their message in full force shall stay behind;  
Like to that Church above, Truth will appear  
To shame Despisers, yet Triumphant here.  
Among that throng, whose souls have lately fled  
Out of their Bodies to embrace their Head,  
This Man of God hath taken wing, to taste  
Whether the best Wine be reserved till last;  
There he is proving, what he proved before;  
Now in the Ocean, then upon the Shore.  
That Immortality, of which each line  
Partakes, and thereby proves itself divine:  
Thus in his Book, beside his own intent,  
He raised himself a lasting Monument,  
Wherein his Name shall live, and Readers come  
Like devout Pilgrims, visiting his Tomb.  
And as his Faith the fears of Death ' o'ercame,  
So shall those Papers evidence the same;  
For what he had by Reason taught long since,  
He after learned by expertence;  
His Agonistick Tortutes, and his Pains  
Screwed up his joyful foul to higher strains  
Of Triumph: and when nature struggled, he  
Obtained by Grace the greater victory;  
Wonder and Pity both were moved in those  
Who were spectators to his pangs and throws:  
Well might all such conclude, that saw him then,  
That dying Saints are somewhat more than men:  
For when he smarted most by's Father's Rod,  
Still our dear Thomas cried, My Lord, my God;  
As seeing now his wounded hands and side,  
Whom he had preached, through weakness crucified.  
Thus Patience had its perfect work; at length  
Like one, whose Conflict had increased his strength,  
He triumphed over all, and did commit  
His soul to him, that had redeemed it.  
His Course so finished, he at last sat down;  
And he that first won souls, than won the Crown.  
These Works now follow him, while he's possessed  
Of's full reward in Everlasting rest;  
Faithful in all God's House, like Moses, still  
HE obeyed the sovereign Legislative Will;  
Observed the Pattern in the Mount, although  
Men's wanton fancies would not have it so;  
But by God's Post attempt to set their own,  
As if that were too weak to stand alone.  
'Twas not Event, but Duty, which his Eye  
Fixed as the measure to be guided by;  
His Courage in this warfare was so great,  
Nothing could ever force him to retreat;  
But still he kept his ground, as who should say,  
If I lose that, I also lose the day;  
Therefore let Enemies do what they can,  
My fear of God hath drowned the fear of Man.  
Thus did he sow in tears, till now at last  
To him this lowering stormy season's passed,  
And his full sheaves of Glory make amends  
For light afflictions, with what far transcends.  
He lived beloved, and died bewailed; and such  
Wh' enjoyed him most, enjoyed him not too much;  
His Body's Earthen-vessel henceforth must  
Be laid up silent in its native dust;  
Until that matter, when the Trump shall sound,  
Start with another form out of the ground;  
He walks in his uprightness; but the sense  
Of this his sleep should make our Diligence;  
That when with Christ the Judge among the train  
Of Saints and Angels he shall come again,  
Then in that General Assembly, we  
May sing these Sion-songs eternally.  
S. O. Not worthy to unloose The Latchet of his Shoes.    

To the Reader on the Picture and Book.  

HERE you may see some Lines of Wadsworth's face,  
More of his thinking power, sublimed by Grace:  
His Sacramental thoughts in Prose, are sweet:  
His Sermons lively, Fancies walk on feet:  
His Letters great affections showed, when young;  
Yet all fall short of Wadsworth's Pulpit-Tongue.    

A Pathetical Meditation on the Passion of Christ; to be read by Communicants before their reception of the Sacrament of the Lords-Supper.  
Quest.  
WHat is the Sacrament of the Lords-Supper?  
Ans. It consists of two visible signs, Bread and Wine, which by the Lord's appointment was to represent to the receiver his bloody death, that so his Disciples may keep it fresh in their memories.  
Q. But is it only to remember that there was a Christ, and that he was crucified, and no more?  
Ans. Experience tells us that such a bare remembrance as that, doth little move upon the heart and upon the affections, and so will do little or no good. It is not the remembrance of any man's death that doth of itself affect me, but as I consider him as a father, or as a husband, or as a friend, with many other expressions of his love to me when living, this will exceedingly work upon the heart, so as to cause sorrow and grief, and the like.  
Quest. What is it then that I must call to mind when I think upon a bleeding and dying Christ, so as to affect my heart?  
Answ. The cruel and bloody nature of his Death; here you may consider the whole story of his Arraignment, his being betrayed by his own Apostle, his being spit upon and crowned with thorns, his being mocked and jeered by putting a reed into his hand instead of a sceptre, afterwards his bearing of a Cross, and his being nailed to it in his hands and feet; after that, his being pierced through with a spear; this Mat. 27. will fully acquaint you with. Secondly, the causes of his Death; it was no natural disease, neither was it for any evil done of his own, but for us, He bore our iniquities upon the cross. Thirdly, the effects of his death, which was to obtain power of his Father to conquer the Devil, and pull us out of his hands; to break our hearts, and to conquer us to himself, to pardon our sins, and to give unto us eternal life with himself in glory, and this upon our faith and sincere repentance. Now from all these things are your Meditations to be raised, before you come to the Sacrament, and when you are receiving of it.  
An Example of Meditation I have here set you down as followeth.  
Away these wanton wandering worldly thoughts, you are clogs to my soul. Away all trifling worldly business, I cannot now attend your call, my heart hath now something else to do. Adieu my Friends, farewell my Husband, Wife and Child, I must go see my bleeding Lord, that's dearer to me than you all. Come now my soul, thou art alone, thou knowest the way, make haste and speed; look yonder, see how the people flock; cross but this vale, and climb but up this Mount, thou wilt soon arrive at bloody Golgotha, where thou shalt see thy bleeding and dying Saviour to sigh and linger out a dying life on the Cross in love for thee. This, this might, Oh my soul, have been thy day, and thou mightst have been the prisoner; this I say might have been the day in which thou mightst have drunk the bitter cup of the fierce anger of God. But look yonder! there he goes that must drink up the dregs, and all for thee. Look again! there he goes that must lay down his life that thou mayst be reprieved. But come, my soul, draw up a little nearer, thou canst not see him well at so great a distance; stand here and thou wilt see him passing; look there he goes with a train of Virgins following. But see how cruelly these barbarous Jews do use him, they make him bear his Cross himself, and press his wearied fainting limbs above his strength; see how they laugh and scoff, and wag their heads as if he were their May-game. Methinks my heart boils up with rage to see these cruelties revenged. Oh! how could the blessed God forbear to see his blessed Son thus wronged? Why did he not send twelve Legions of Angels for his rescue? Why doth he not send down fire from Heaven upon the heads of these his Sons enemies, and so consume them? But stay my foelish heart, thou knowest not what spirit thou art of; this debt was owing, and it must be paid; God requires so much, and it must be given, or thou canst not be saved. Thy Lord did know this well enough, for this he came from Heaven, and committed himself to the rage of men; he knew he must endure all these revile, and doth it grieve thy soul to see him thus abased? Stay but a while, and thou shalt see him more; look up, my soul, come, tell me what thou seest? Oh I cannot, sorrow ties my tongue, I cannot speak; I see and hear those things that I want a power to utter. I see a troop of Virgins following him, their weeping eyes, their blubbering lips, their sighs and throbbings speak them mourners. I see my Lord looks towards them, and kindly chides their loving sorrow, Why weep ye, Oh ye Daughters of Jerusalem? weep not for me. My Lord! what need was there for that question? Should not they weep when thou must bleed? Would not their eyes have been flints if that then they should not drop tears for thee, when as thou wert about to pour out thy life and blood for them? Ah! could they choose, or do less than weep to see thine innocent self among a herd of Tigers! what should a Lamb do there? they saw thee in their ravenous jaws about to tear thy heart, to suck out all thy blood, and leave thee dead. Have I not sat and read, and read and wept in viewing over the story; and could they forbear that with their watery eyes saw this scene then acted? But whither, O whither, O ye blinded Jews, are ye dragging this my Lord? My spirit gins to faint, I now can look no longer, my heart now gins to swell with grief, it must now break, or I must vent it at mine eyes in streams! Look! see the Hammer and Nails, the Hammer lift up to strike. Bloody man! thou durst not sure; surely thou dost not know whose hands and feet thou art now piercing; it is the Prince and Saviour of the world Foolish heart! see how thou art mistaken; look, see it's done, the nails are driven to the head! see how the crimson tears run trickling down his hands and feet, and see how hardened hearts be laughing at it! Oh silly foolish blinded men! what laugh you at? This very Christ whom now you mock, shall be your Judge; this very man Jesus whom you have thus abused, shall come attended with thousands of Angels, with the sound of Trumpets, and shall sit upon your life and death. Him whom you now have nailed to a Cross, hath God exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour. What then will you do when that great and terrible day of the Lord shall come? How will you look him in the face whom you have spit on? How will you dare to speak a word for yourselves to him whom you have nailed to a tree and crucified? His wounds in hands, side and feet shall all bear witness against you, and his innocent blood that you have spilt shall cry aloud about the throne for vengeance against you; your flouts shall then be turned into tears, and your taunts into lamentations. And how will you then look and cry when God passeth sentence on you, and thrust you down to Hell to bear the punishment of your sins? this is the Lord that came to spare your lives, yet your wickedness spared not his; and how at length can you think to escape with yours?  
But once again, look up, my soul, and see what is become of thy nailed and crucified Lord: Ah me! he is not quite dead, look how he gasps and pants for life! Oh how his looks are changed! How pale and wan do I see his cheeks! the blood and all the spirits are quite drawn from them. Methinks he should be dead, for see how weak his neck is grown, that it is not able to support his head that lies a dying on his bleeding breast. What yet not dead! see how he shakes and stirs his dying limbs! what gasps and groans do I hear him fetch, as if his soul were struggling to get out Hark, hark, he speaks! Oh let me catch the last breath of my dying Saviour. What saith my Lord? Hark, what dost thou not hear! what? My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? I am amazed to hear these words. How couldst thou suspect thy Father's love? How could he be far from thee, who was one with thyself? But Oh! this is but the voice of his Manhood, and not of his Godhead. It was the voice of the dying and bleeding Man Jesus, not the voice of the God Jesus.  
But, Oh my Lord, what are those pains and gripes thou feelest, that brings forth these complain? But why do I ask this question? hath he not been all this while a drinking up the cup his Father gave him, the bitter, and sour, and poisonous cup of his Father's wrath, which I and all the world had else drunk of? he just now swallowed down the last mouth full of the dregs, whose bitter noisome taste hath sent forth these doleful lamentations; for mark, he had no sooner spoke these words, but he gasped his last.  

The causes of his Death.  
And must the Son of God be humbled thus? must he that was from everlasting, raised and advanced above every name in heaven and earth; he that lay in the arms and breast of God, loved by the Father, and his only Son; honoured, adored, admired and beloved of ten thousand times ten thousands of Angels; But must this God leave all this glory, and change that sweet Heavenly and delightsome Palace for so mean, so low, so dirty a cottage, as to be born a man. And must his entertainment at first be no better than a stable or a manger could give him? No sooner must he begin to live, but must an enemy assault his life? Must he travel up and down this earth, and spend his time and strength in preaching glad tidings to miserable undone men, and fill the world with signs and wonders, and not deserve so much of men as a house to dwell in, or a hole to put his head in? and after all this humble, holy, long-suffering life, must he be thought of by this unthankful and unbelieving world as one not worthy to live, and not have a breathing in that air which he both made and gave them to breathe in? but must he at length be laid hold of by a traitorous Judas that he had once taken for one of his own Apostles; and must he suffer all this? But ah! alas! what is this? must he be also crowned with thorns, and must he sweat and bleed? Oh far more than tongue can utter! Oh astonishing condescension! thus did the Son become a servant, and learned obedience by his sufferings, and served a three and thirty years' apprenticeship in the pain and travel of his soul here on earth, a longer time than Jacob served for his beloved Rachel, and that because he loved us better, and therefore gave a better dowry for us. But had I lived to have seen this Prince of Glory thus disguised, this Eastern Sun thus benighted in a cloud, this glorious God thus wrapped up in rags of flesh, should I have known him, or not? my sensual heart, I doubt thee much; wouldst thou have cleaved to him & loved him better than thy life, and have said, Though all leave thee, I will not; and with Paul, I am willing and ready not only to be bound, but to die for thee. What thinkest thou, Oh my soul! couldst thou have left Husband, Wife, Father and Mother, and all the rest of thy friends, and have sold all that thou hast, and followed him? what him whom the Prophet foretold, Isa. 53.23. He hath no form or comeliness in him, that you should desire him: he is despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with griefs. Tell me, tell me, couldst thou have divorced thyself from all, and have taken this seemingly uncomely person for thy Lord, and only Husband? Ah me! I do not know my heart; but surely had I known him as I do now know him, I should not have stuck at any thing for him. For what if his Face did want comeliness, seeing it came so with tears and grief for thee? and wilt thou love thy friend the worse, because he shares in sorrow with thee? for thou canst not but know that he came from Heaven to take to himself a Spouse on Earth; and if I was one that he loved, and grieved for to see my stubborn heart so hard to yield, was this the cause he wanted beauty? Oh such a want as this is lovely, and methinks my heart could have cleaved the closer to him: There was no beauty or comeliness in him; and what of that? my ugly and deformed soul deserves more loathing; my righteousness, the comeliest part about me is but rags, or a menstruous cloth; if there were no more desirableness in him than in me, Oh had I loved him then, and left all for him, it were no wonder: but that he should love me, I rather stand amazed! There was no beauty in him, it may be so; but could it be otherwise expected from him who came to work in fire and smoke, who came to quench the flames of Hell, and to satisfy God's wrath and justice? to pull out filthy souls from the jaws of lustful sensual flesh and blood? it was not beauty but strength that was here needful. A glance of an amorous eye would not have wounded Satan, and made him fall from Heaven like a flash of Lightning. A comely countenance could not have enchanted and unbar'd Hell-gates, and made them fall, and break before him into shatters. What need a fair hand to touch our filthy rotten souls, and take them up in menstruous blood, and wash them clean; or what need such clean hands to clasp about the rusty iron gates wherein I and all the world lay bound in chains, and to pull them down, to take our cankered bolts and knock them off; to take us by the hand to help us up, and lead us out? Alas! there needs no such eye, face, or hand for such a work. It is powerful, all-conquering strength that is here required. It was a powerful victorious arm that here was needed, and such a one he had. But what should he do with a beauteous body that must be so abased and abused as his was? an uncomely face will serve where it must be spit on. What must he do with a fair soft delicate tender hand, which must be pierced? another kind of hand is good enough to knock a nail into. And what needs his body be of a clear, white, thin transparent skin? will not any serve that body that must be bruised and wounded as his was; nay, as it was necessary his should be? But why thus necessary? either he must be thus dealt with, or else my sin cannot be pardoned. Either he must be despised of men, or I must be of God. Oh he must drink up this bitter cup with all its dregs, or else I must have drunk it up myself. It was I that sinned, and I must have suffered: this cursed, proud and earthly heart of mine rebelled and broke the Laws, and should have suffered and born the punishment; had not he stepped in and born the stroke off from me, I had been now burning in everlasting flames, and have been linger out this time in torment, which I am now spending in the sweet thoughts of my escape. And is not this all true? speak out, my soul; hath not the Prophet said as much? Surely (saith he) he hath born our griefs, and carried our sorrows: he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace lay upon him, and by his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep are gone astray, we are every one turned to his own way, and the Lord hath laid upon him the iniquities of us all. He was oppressed, he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; he was brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before the shearers was dumb, so he opened not his mouth. He was taken from prison and judgement, and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off from the land of the living. And for the transgression of my people was he smitten. Thou seest thy debt, and thy Saviour's payment of it; these are no fictions; thou hast just now read a sure word of Prophecy that hath confirmed it. Those wounds, those stripes, those bruises which thou readest of, he bore for thee, and which were due to thee. It was thou that shouldst have been led from prison to judgement, from prison to the Judgment-seat of the great God, who should have sat as Judge; he should have arraigned thee, sentenced thee, and have sent thee to the slaughter-house of Hell, where thou shouldst have been weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of thy teeth. But Oh amazing love and grace! the Son of God that loved me better than his life, stepped off his Throne and took my nature on him, and became a man like to me (only sin excepted) he came and bid me comfort my trembling heart, he would put himself in my condition, and become the prisoner; and if my sin would cost his life, he would freely part with it. Methinks I feel my bowels turn, my spirits melt within me; was ever love like to his love? he was a stranger to me: why did he not let me die? It was his Father I did wrong, why did he not let me suffer? What if my punishment was as great as Hell? surely I did deserve it. What if my pains and screeches were eternal? Ah! I was a creature, a worm, a fly, a nothing to him, and what need he have cared? but he loved me; and could he love a prisoner at the Bar? I was a sinner, a vile polluted one, methinks he should have loathed me; but he did wash thee, and make thee clean again. I, but I was his Father's enemy, and so no friend to him; or would he love an enemy? or did he not know so much? but how could that be, when he saw my heart, and the enmity that was in it? yes, he did, and yet he loved thee; even while we were enemies he died for us. But why did he love an enemy? or how could he do it? I know not why, it is passed my reason to imagine it: Oh inexpressible love! Oh love past thought! I cannot fathom thee with my reason, thy ways are unaccountable; he loves because he will love. And though his love displeaseth us, yet it pleaseth him to love us. What ails my heart? I cannot find it stir? What, dead under the reviving thoughts of thy dearest Redeemer! I just now said, he loved thee though an enemy, and when thou lovedst not him; I see the enmity is not quite removed, thou canst not love him yet: Arise, shake up thyself, and look about thee, thou dost not sure see thy mercy; surely thou understandest not what thou oughtest to understand. Come away, Oh come away, lift up thy drowsy head, I will make thee look and love, while I set thee all on burning, and make thee ere I leave thee confess thou lovest him. Think, think, Oh my soul, that thou hadst just now sinned and broke that law which threatened death, and upon the breach doth find thee guilty. Think that thou sawest a flaming Cherubin, a messenger of the Court of Heaven flirt in at that door and arrest thee for High treason, and give thee a summons to rise from the seat thou sittest on, to make a sudden answer for thy life. Look then, my soul, Ah! I looked just now, I see that door wide open: What's this! a spirit? Ah me, I am undone, for I have sinned! I think the room shakes under me, or else 'tis my heart that's trembling. What's this I hear! I must now answer for my life: Oh what shall I say! I know not what; I have sinned, my Conscience tells me that I have sinned, the witness within will cast me, I see the Indictment writ with blood on my heart.; the pride, sensuality, and the earthliness of which I am charged with, I am not able to deny one tittle. Oh for a mountain to cover me: Oh whither shall I go, whither shall I fly? That Bed, these Curtains, this Closet cannot hid me. My Mother, Father, Wife or Child, cannot help me: O who then shall? I run whither I know not; vengeance will find me out where ever I go. Oh cursed and subtle Satan! are all thy fair promises and enticements come to this! O my wicked cursed foolish heart! that ever I should believe him before my Creator, that told me, the day I sinned I should surely die. Oh that for a little simple transient pleasure I should so madly hazard my eternal life! and now I must be cast to Hell to bear the punishment of my folly. Think once again, think that this were the day, and this the very place in which God should come and sit in Judgement on thee. Methinks I see the Heavens bow themselves: Oh what a crackling do I hear in the Clouds; look yonder! see who comes! it is my Judge; his countenance is as a flame of fire, he utters his voice like Thunder, the mountains skip, or rather shake, or rather tremble. Now, now, is the time of my utter destruction near at hand. Oh how shall I look him in the face! his looks do already affright me! I shall not say one word, and I have not one friend that will say one word for me. It's true, I see a terrible glorious Troop of Angels that do attend him, but they are all his friends, and therefore all my enemies: I dare not speak a word to them; and alas! if I should, they are all but his servants, and fellow-creatures with myself; alas! they cannot, yea they will not help me. It's true, there is one, that one that seems as one with God, the beams of whose countenance are far brighter than all the Host of Heaven: Besides, if God have a Son, it may be it is he; methinks he is a mirror of his Father's Glory; but this I know not; be what he will, he cannot pity me a sinner, the doors of hope are all shut up, and now as a miserable wretch I must prepare to hear my sentence; the Judge is set, and with trembling heart and joints I stand a prisoner at the bar for my life, and now I must attend his call.  
God speaks,] Sinner, where art thou?  
The Sinner answers] Lord, here am I  
God speaks]. How darest thou thus abuse my Grace, and kindle up my zeal against thee, that now as stubble it will consume thee? Is this the thanks that thou hast returned for all the love that I have showed to thee? Must I make a whole world and give it to thee, and as if that was too little, I bid thee freely take myself and all, and would not this content thee? Was I not as a father to thee, the time thou lovedst me, and didst obey me? Did I not make thy seat a Paradise, and strewed thy paths with pleasure? Did I not rejoice over thee as a young man over his bride? What evil hast thou found in me, that thou shouldst thus rebelliously revolt and break my Laws, and for a trifle sell my favour, and hazard my eternal pleasures? Speak sinner, was it not so?  
The Sinner answers] My God, these weeping eyes and bended knees confess so much.  
God speaks]. Had I not told thee that sin would have cost thee thy life, than thou hadst had some excuse: have I said it, and will the great God change? Sinner, thou must die; I told thee so before, and now I tell thee again, the God of Heaven cannot lie. Get thee gone thou cursed wretch into eternal flames, and keep that Devil company in chains and torments, with whom thou hast rebelled against me, and go see what pleasure thou hast in sinning.  
The Sinner answereth.] Thou great God and terrible Judge! I do confess thy sentence just; but if there be any bowels of mercy in thee, pity me, or I die for ever. Mercy, mercy, Lord! for I am thy creature, the workmanship of thy hands. If there be any thing in the trembling heart and hands, and knees of this thy sentenced prisoner, that will move compassion, Oh pity, pity a condemned sinner.  
God speaks] What! stays he longer to trouble my patience! I say, be gone thou cursed; though thou art my creature, know that my wrath hath kindled on better creatures than thou art; get thee to Hell, and the howling Devils will tell thee as much.  
The Sinner speaks] Ah, woe, woe, woe to me, for ever cursed I am, and cursed must I go for ever. My Righteous Judge, and ye Glorious Angels adieu for ever: Live, live for ever blessed and happy in his love; I might have lived, and joyed, and gloried in that God that made both ye and me; but like a wretch that I am, woe that ever I was born, I sold his favour, and so my eternal life, for a thing of nought, a vain lust, a sinful pleasure that lasted but for a season, and I go, I go into eternal flames. What says my heart to this? Methinks the very thoughts of it do make my heart to quiver, and my flesh to shake all round about me; I feel no strength in all my joints.  
God speaks] So, so, I am glad something moves thee.  
But think again, that the Devil did take hold of thee, and drag thee from the place thou sittest on, to Hell; suppose the Father frowning on thee, and all the Angels shouting thee down to Hell, and glorying in thy damnation; but think again thou sawest when all were joying to see thee sentenced to Hell, that he that sat just by the Judge, whom thou thoughtest even now to be his Son, but knewest it not. Look! look! methinks I see him rise off his Throne; see, see, how the Angels fall to adore him, methinks he is a coming near thee. Oh how my heart doth tremble: Oh what will he torment me before my time! Ah me! my doom is great enough already.  
Sinner speaks] Thou wilt not send me to a worse place than Hell; my Judge hath passed my sentence, thou canst not send me into worse than flames, or punish me longer than everlastingly.  
Christ answers.] Oh how my bowels turn! this sinner knows not what is in my heart; he thinks I am his enemy. Sinner, shake off thy fears, and wipe thine eyes, thou shalt not die.  
The Sinner speaks again.] Oh thou glorious God or Angel, or I know not what to call thee, do not delude or deride a poor Caitiff wretch in the midst of misery: Why wilt thou raise me to such a pinnacle of hope, to cast me down, and make my fall the greater? My Judge hath passed the sentence, I must die; and who can reverse the doom? Ah! I must go; see my prison-door wide open; the smoke and flashes come to meet my despairing soul half way.  
Christ speaks] And now my heart gins to break, my love can keep no longer in; how causelessly doth this wretch torment his heart! he knows not who I am: I must reveal myself. Sinner, I love thee; I say thou shalt not die: Come, feel my heart and pulses how they beat, and tell how strong my love within doth act them? Dost thou not see I have left my Throne, and am come down to the Bar where thou standest condemned? But why dost thou weep? Come, let me wipe thine eyes, and bind up thy bleeding and despairing heart: I tell thee, thou shalt not die: If Heaven will have blood, it shall have mine, so it will but spare thine. Sinner, if thou knewest who I am, thou wouldst not doubt one tittle: I tell thee I am his Son, his only Son, that but now condemned thee: I know he is just, and justice must be satisfied. But do not thou fear, if one of us must die, it shall be I: I will pour out my blood a sacrifice for sin, and appease his wrath, and make you friends again. Ye innumerable company of Angels, (yet servants at my Father's will) why do ye rejoice to see my prisoner sent to Hell? this cursed soul over whom in glory you do now triumph, I do resolve to die for, and to buy her to myself a Spouse, and to make her blessed with yourselves, and give her a Princess' place on a Throne that is by myself.  
Sinner speaks] Is this a dream! or am I waking? the goodness, greatness, glory of this sudden unexpected blessed change, tempts me to doubt whether it be true, or whether it be some unruly fancy that doth delude this wretched heart of mine? What! for the Son of God to debase himself so low as to take my nature, and so my cause, and become the prisoner! What! and though he knows he shall be cast! Will he hear the sentence, and quietly bear bolts, and shackles, and chains, which should have fettered me? Yet more than this, Doth he know it is impossible to get a reprieve from his Father and Judge? and that he must most assuredly drink the bitterest dregs of Death, more bitter than Devils or damned souls in Hell as yet ever tasted of? For it is impossible the Cup should pass: And can he, will he, dare he venture? But stay, I must be a Spouse! to be exalted from this Dunghill to be a Princess to the Son and Heir of Glory! Hold, hold, here's enough, it is a Dream, an idle fancy of a distempered brain; I shall never find a heart to believe one syllable. But yet, methinks, if it be a dream, 'tis a Golden one. Is it possible that such a damned wretch as I, could harbour such silken gilded thoughts of such love, grace, mercy and tenderness of the Son of God? Oh my heart! if they were not true, how came they into my mind, or how came they to stay? or could they, if but mere fictions, make such a change in my heart? Can they so victoriously conquer all my fear, silence all my doubts, alloy the heats of a scorched and be helled Conscience? But why a dream, poor wretched heart? Didst thou not see him step off his Throne? Was it a time to dream or sleep in, when thou wert before the Judgment-seat, while God was frowning, and the Devils dragging thee to and fro to get thee away to Hell? Oh then, just then, he stepped down, drew near and took thee by the hand, and spoke these reviving words to thee: Doubt this, and doubt thy judgement. But why a dream? I am not now in Hell's torments, whither I was just now sentenced: My heart is now at ease and quiet; surely something must be the reason why the Devil that but now had hold of me, hath left me. Where is the Conscience that but now was burning in me? But Oh, cannot the presence of the Lord put me out of doubt? Do not his words that were so kind, his tender dealing with me, doth not his stooping to me, taking me by the arm, and the gentle lifts that he gives to my drooping soul, speak him present? Oh! do not my head, eyes, arms, heart, breast, and the ease of every joint and limb about me, witness the same? A way my unbelieving heart, what a stir is here to make thee believe a thing so evident? Doubt my mind, and freely doubt, I'●e give thee leave, when thou hast any occasion or reason for it. But why should I doubt that which is past all doubt? May I not believe my senses? I both saw and heard him speak the words; or shall I misdoubt his faithfulness? I know he is the Son of God, he cannot lie. But is it true? yet, my God, I pray thee be not angry with my scrupulous heart; thou seest in tears I make the doubt, let it be an argument to me of sincerity: I do not ask that question as one that would be fain persuaded its true: Canst thou think, my Lord, that I would not be reconciled, and cheerfully accept of Grace when thou so freely offerest it? Oh but Lord, speak these words to my heart which thou hast already spoke to my ear, and thou wilt melt it into love and thankfulness, and I shall never doubt it more.  
Object. But yet, but what can Heaven love so much?  
Answ. Thou silly worm! how idly dost thou question? must Heaven, and so its love, be bound up to so narrow and contracted thoughts as thine are? What, can God love no more than thou canst? Love is a perfection, and God is infinitely perfect, so must be infinitely and incomprehensively loving. Thou fool, go found the Sea, and tell me its greatest depths; give me the height of yonder Stars, this possibly thou mayst do; for the Seas are not so deep but they have a bottom, nor the Stars so high, but they may by art be known. But Oh the heights, and depths, and breadths, and lengths of the love of our Redeemer! He is God, and his breasts are so full of love, that they flow and overflow with love; they have no bottom. Do but try, my soul, cast thyself into this bottomless lovely Ocean, into this endless Bosom; and when thou hast been sinking millions of millions of years, tell me whither you come to ground. Ye glorious Angels, and ye blessed spirits of just men made perfect, that live above, you that have been wading downward these five thousands of years, do ye feel a bottom? or are ye near one? Away, away, my foolish heart; if this be all thou hast to plead, he may redeem thee, and take thee for his Spouse, and betrothe thee to himself, notwithstanding all this.  
Object. But Oh this filthy loath some fleshly self, this base unthankeful earthly heart, that can prefer a dunghill, dross, and dirt, before him that can freely lay out his love to a creature like myself: But Oh how hard, and stiff, and unrelenting am I to my God. But Oh he will slight me, because I have often put him off, and slighted him; he cannot love and die for such a one as I am.  
Answ. Cease, fool, thy reasonings; he cannot love an enemy, because thou canst not; he cannot die, because thy cowardly heart will not suffer thee! Why should he fear the grave, that had power over it? And what though thou art unworthy of his love, if he will have thee and make thee worthy? Thy heart is base, and what of that, if he will mend it? thy filthy rotten and polluted soul he intends to wash and cleanse it, till it is without spot and wrinkle, or any such thing. Thy stubborn proud earthly and lustful heart, he can make humble, tender, soft and yielding. And when he hath made thee as he would, why may not he take thee to himself, and lay thee next his heart, and delight over thee everlastingly?  
Object. But will his Father yield to this? I am too poor a match for the Son and heir of all things: But will he, can he suffer his Son to die to buy such a beggarly thing to himself as I am?  
Answ. Away these silly simple childish thoughts; how like an inhabitant of this earthly sensual world dost thou reason? thou wilt not under-match, and therefore will not God his Son? Thou fool, thou wilt not because thou canst find another equal. But dost thou not know that God can find none equal to his Son; he must stoop, or else go without. It's true, he might have gone without, but what if he would not, why should not Heaven have its will as well as thou? Thou hast no dowry, and he doth need none, and yet thou arguest as if Heaven would make traffic with his Son and his love, as we  worms do here; but we are beggars, and so are Angels, and all the glorious Hosts above, they are his Creatures, hang and depend upon him, and cannot subsist one moment happy without supplies and helps of his Grace; and why may he not bring a beggarly man as near to himself, as a beggarly Angel, if so it pleaseth him?  
Object: But doth it so please him?  
Answ. How often have I told thee it doth please him? and hast thou not believed? Come, if thy hearing will not satisfy, let thy seeing do it. Look, if thou hast eyes. Come, tell me, doth not Heaven look as though it was pleased with the offer of his Son? What cloud or darkness dost thou see about the Throne? what sign or token of displeasure canst thou at all discover? Open thine eyes, view the God of Glory. Do his looks bespeak him to be thy Father or thy Judge? And canst thou not read both Husband, Father and Lord, and all in his countenance? What not see it! surely thou art blind: If he had not told as much from his own mouth, his eyes and looks bespeak his love and favour loud and clear enough to thee. But doth he not tell thee, to put thee out of all doubt, this is my well beloved Son, hear him, hear him: what's that? believe him whatsoever he says: why, what saith he? O dull and stupid heart! hast thou forgot already! He said he will pay his life for thine; and doth not his Father bid thee hear him? He said he would reconcile thee, love thee, and make thee friends again; And is it not comfort when the Father bids thee believe him: he said, he will pardon, wash and cleanse thee, and take thee to himself, and betrothe thee to him for ever, and after all will give thee to see his Glory, even the same Glory which he had before the world. And the Father is willing to all this, for he tells thee his Son is his wellbeloved Son, and bids thee believe him, and misdoubt not one syllable. And canst thou after all this doubt that the Father is not willing. But do not his Angels likewise, who are ministering spirits, with voice and looks proclaim as much, that Heaven is well pleased with the Son, and with his Death and Passion, and so with thee in him. Do not the Angels admire the mystery of Redeeming Grace, that makes them so desirous to peep into it? Why did they proclaim his coming into the world, and sing for joy that there was goodwill in Heaven to men on earth? or why do they so diligently attend thee by night and by day? Thou seest them not keep guard about thy Chamber-door, and round about the curtains of thy bed. Why do they attend thee from room to room, and follow thee down stairs, and out of doors, if it were not but that thou art some great Princess nearly allied to their Lord and Master? Thou dost not see this, blame then thine eyes, and the infidelity of thy heart; shall it be less true, because thy base infidelity cannot digest it? Thou might doubt God, Heaven, and every thing else on that score; but hast thou not it from his own mouth, that the Angels are ministering spirits for the heirs of glory? Come, tell me, I say, tell me quickly, I must have an answer, Can this, and all this be true, and Heaven yet not be pleased? If God with his Son and Angels be all content that thou shouldst be restored, and so exalted to such dignities as to be heir unto the Crown of Heaven; if these be pleased, who is there in Heaven that can else be displeased? What saith my heart? what, not yet one word? Oh how long shall I be troubled and pestered with thy unbelief! Oh my God, strike, chide, and break this flint, reprove this stubborn and unbelieving heart, I cannot persuade it that thou lovest me, or art willing to love me: I urge thy word, and my best reason to prove it, but I cannot make it yield. Oh break, I pray thee, this Flint or Adamant upon thy downy breast of love; strike, and one blow of thine will make it fall in pieces, and confess at length that thou art well pleased with thy Son, and fully satisfied that he should bleed and die for me. But let me try thee once again, if thou hast lost thine ears and eyes, I'll see if thou hast lost thy feeling too. Thou sayest thou canst not believe that God is willing to accept the Son for thee, or that thou so vile a wretch canst be accepted of by the Father through the merits of his Death and sufferings. Come, tell me, is not this thy language? I know thou darest not to speak so much in words. But ah! my Heart, I find thou hast got a Tongue as well as my Mouth, that often mutters and speaks a different language. But tell me if thy unbelief hath any ground for it? What makes it then that thyself is so free from fears and terrors, when thou shouldst believe the Almighty, of thy Body's Death, Resurrection, and coming to Judgement, if thou thoughtest him not thy friend, and reconciled to thee in his Son? if not, methinks thy fears should fright thee, and trembling seize on every joint; and yet thou wilt foolishly mutter against thine own feeling.  
Soul speaks] O blessed God I feel thou hast overcome; I yield, I yield, I have not left a word to speak against thy love; thy Son hath offered satisfaction, and thou hast accepted it; thou hast laid down, O my Saviour, thy life for mine; and thy Father and my Father is well pleased with it: Blood is paid, Justice is satisfied, Heavens doors are widened, thine arms opened to receive me; nothing is wanting but my heart; make it such as thou wilt have it, and then take it to thyself. Come up, my soul, thou hast an heart, and there is a Christ; the Father thou seest is willing, and the Son is willing, give but thy consent, and he is thine for ever. Fear not thy hardness, blindness, deadness, loathsomeness, all these cannot hinder, if thou be but willing. He hath been in the world to ask the world's consent already, and also thine; thou canst not doubt of his goodwill; speak but the word, and he hath thine too. What stickest thou at? surely thou art a sluggish spirit; what dost thou all? Half of this ado would find a heart for a little mire or dirt, or something else that is worse, and is not Christ better? But ah! yet I feel a spice of unbelief still working in thy very bowels, as if that Jesus that died at Jerusalem were not the Son of God, and the Redeemer of the world. And is this all? O were I certain thou wouldst ne'er doubt more, how freely should I make satisfaction? But Oh! I faint and tyre with the trips and stumblings of my unbelief. But mount, my soul, thou must resolve to tyre and put to silence all thy unbelieving babble, or they will thee; which, if they do, never expect an hours peace or quiet more; thou must resolve to conquer thy unbelief, or to be conquered; thou knowest her tyranny too well to let her go away the victoress. He was not the Christ thou sayest, but tell me why?  
Object. His Parentage was too low and mean; what the Saviour of the world a Carpenter's Son! how can it be!  
Answ. My unbelief, in the first place thou liest, his Mother was a Virgin, and her Conception knew no Father but the Almighty power of the overshadowing Holy Ghost; he was more truly the Son of God than Joseph's Son. And was his birth, thinkest thou, so mean, whose Parentage was so glorious?  
Object. His birth but mean and beggarly; no sooner born, but cradled in a manger; and could Heaven suffer this?  
Answ. It is confessed. But yet it was as glorious: for did not a Star proclaim him born? and did not a whole Host of Angels sing and shout it up for joy? and did not wise men, yea and Kings, bring Incense, Myrrh, and Frankincense, being but as so much tribute, unto the newborn King and heir of all things, as if by instinct they knew they held their Crowns of him? a greater honour than ever any newborn Prince hath yet received before him, or ever shall or will do after him.  
Methinks, my unbelieving heart, I could dare to tell thee, that room was no stable, it was a Palace; and did not the cost, presents, and glorious presence of Kings speak as much?  
Object. But his days were spent in poverty, meanness and disgrace; and can I, dare I, trust my soul with such a one, and take him to be the Son of God?  
Answ. And now I wonder at thee! it's true what thou fayest, if thou look'st upon him one way; his life was such as thou tellest me of; but 'tis a strong argument against thyself; for just such a one was the Christ to be, according to the Prophets; the 53 Chapter of Isaiah shows as much. But yet if thou truly understandest what true pomp and glory means, even to an eye of sense as well as to that of faith, Solomon's life embroidered with all his glorious acts, was not comparable to this life of his. Was it not filled with miracles and wonders? was he not proclaimed the Son of God with voices from Heaven? did he not conquer Devils, and therefore the Kingdom of Hell? Was ever Prince on Earth honoured with so great a Conquest? Were not his miraculous Feasts more splendid than those of Princes? the fare was but poor and mean, but the miracles made it rich and glorious. Had I been present, should I not have wondered and gazed more at the Master of this Feast, and have taken more pleasure to have seen him sit down with these five thousands, than with a Table full of Princes and great men? Alas, it were a trifling sight to this. Methinks my unbelief that pleads so much for sense, sense itself pleads too strongly against thee, for thou canst not argue one syllable.  
Object. But would the Son of God be hanged and crucified? could Heaven have suffered this? could not the Saviour of the world save himself? how could he then save me?  
Answ. Hadst thou not the blindness of the Jews, thou couldst not reason thus like them; but was it not necessary it should be so? Did not the Prophets foretell his death, and such a death? Had he not died, and died as he did, I might then have had some ground to doubt him whether he were the Messiah or not, for it was needful that the Prophecies should be fulfilled, Dan. 9 But yet as wretched and as contemptible a going out of the world as he had, and his manner of dying on the Cross, how vile soever it seemed to be, yet was there not enough to silence all the doubts that could possibly from thence arise, and much for the confirmation of my faith in the wonderful Eclipse of the Sun, the rending of the veil of the Temple, the opening of the Graves, the raising of the dead, and afterwards his own rising the third day, and ascending up to Heaven in a Cloud? If my faith might have staggered in seeing him on the Cross dying, it could not when it saw him risen, and in the Clouds ascending.  
Object. But were those wonders true and certain?  
Answ. But hast thou any ground to doubt them? are they not written in thy Bible? and art thou not certain that it is the word of God? or hast thou not sufficient reason to believe it to be so? But hast thou not a whole Nation, yea Nations that do believe the same? and before this age, did not our Fathers, and Grandfathers, and great Grandfathers, and so continued a testimony of ages from the time that they were done, to this day, witness to the truth of them, and that so unanimously and resolutely, that ten thousands have rather chosen to lose their lives, than the truth of them. Now put all these together, and tell me, canst thou doubt? Away, I see thou dost but trifle; confess the truth, or I am resolved to heed thee no longer. Come, take and embrace that crucified Jesus, account all things else but as loss, and dross, and dung in comparison with him; stick not at his outward meanness, scruple not at his ignominious dying, it is the very Christ the Saviour of the world. Oh why shouldest-thou thus torment me? Dost thou not see all thy fellow-Christians to glory in that Cross, and in that Christ that died on it? Do they not bear it as a badge of honour, and shall it be to thee as shame. Do not all the Christian World eat and drink as often as they can the Symbols of this their dying Lord? And do they not all sing, and joy, and triumph in it? and wilt thou the while lie vexing thyself over a company of needless fears and scruples? Farewell all needless doubts and tormenting questions, I see my faith is built on a Rock, blow winds, beat waves, you cannot now remove me. Blessed God I thank thee for thy. Son, thou hast given his life for the spoiler, thou hast bowed his back to the enemies, long furrows have they ploughed upon it, and the day of his calamity they laughed at. Lord! thou hast wounded him for my sins, and bruised him for my iniquities. These speak the depth of thy counsels, and the ways of thy mercy past finding out, and the tenderness of thy Bowels. Thou hast made him my Rock, and my shield, and my strong tower, and in the day of my sorrow through him thou wilt hear me. To thee, O God, will I make my vows, and to thee will I pay them; I will humble myself before thee. I will always lie at the feet of my Redeemer. Lord! his Cross and his shame shall be no more a stumbling-block to me, I will take it up and follow him, it shall be my Crown, my Song, and the glory of my rejoicing. I will enter into thy Courts with joy, and in the Congregations of thy Saints shall be my delight; I will remember thy lovingkindnesses of old, and the days in which thou didst afflict thy only Son for the sins of my Soul. I will call to mind the Covenant of thy Grace; and my heart shall praise thee, when I see it founded on blood. Then will I betrothe myself to thy Son; join thou, Lord, both our hands and hearts, and we will strike up a match for ever. Praise thou the Lord, Oh my soul, and all you that love and fear him, praise his holy name.   

The SACRAMENT.  

The Dress.  
Lord, where am I! What! all the Children of the Bride-chamber up and dressed, and I slumbering in my bed! Tell me ye fairest, what make you up so early? Alas our Lord was up before us all. He called us up by break of the day, and wondered that we were not triming our lamps, knowing with whom we were to feast this day. Oh! well then I will rise up too. Oh what a show do these bright and glittering Saints make in mine eyes? What a brightness do these pearls and diamonds cast in mine eyes! they do strike me into amazement. Oh what a lovely humble look doth crown their brow? and what a comely countenance hath joy and Heavenly delight cast on their cheeks? surely they did not thus dress themselves, it was my Father that made them thus prepared to entertain his Son. But where are my Clothes? Now for the fairest, sweetest robe of thoughts and wishes that can be found, or that the wardrobe of my Father can afford me. Oh how naked am I! But where are my silken golden twists of Faith to hang the jewels of joy, and love, and humility upon? I am never dressed till they be on. Oh where, where are they? I saw them by me but just now. I laid them by my heart before I went to bed. Oh what was I so long a reasoning about? Oh what long and many threads did my reason spin even now, but to make these twines to tie up my joy, and to raise up my love, and to hang my Heavenly delight upon? But ah! I fear this envious world hath with her vanities stolen them away, or hide them from me; or the envious Devil, or unbelief have been ravelling or snarling of them, that now I am as far to seek as ever. Whither, O whither shall I go to find them out? Now will the Bridegroom come, and I am not ready; I cannot, dare not go to day. Now will my Lord be angry, and ask me why I came not, and I have no answer to make him. And if I go undressed, he will ask me, where is my Wedding-garment, and then I shall be speechless. Ah foolish simple heart! that thou wouldst take no more care but to let these thoughts of earth so entangle themselves with thy so pure and Heavenly contemplations! Now how to get them lose again, thou knowest not, this thou mightst by heed and care have prevented; but now what help? Lord, I have sinned; O holy Father pardon this time, and I will take more heed. Oh come and untie my thoughts from this earth, and come and dress me up as best pleaseth thee. Come, be not discouraged, Oh my soul. Let but thy attire of Grace be whole, that is, sincere, thy God, and so thy Saviour will accept thee. Though thy garments are not so much perfumed with heaven, as thy brethren's are, but yet if they are but white and free from the spots of flesh and spirit, thou wilt be looked on and liked of well enough. Thy Lord doth know that all have not talents alike; and where he gives but a little, he expects but little. A Faith that is richly embroidered over with love and delight, is not given to all; and is not expected from any but from those to whom it is given. Thou hast an honest, willing, serious heart, that thinks it doth despise and trample under feet the nearest, dearest pleasures, profits and glories in the world, in compare with him that gave himself to death for thee; and hadst rather anger flesh and blood, the dearest friends, and all the world than him, by sinning against him in the least. If this be true, fear not, thou hast thy Wedding-garment on, thou art well clad; as mean soever as it is, it is such a one as Heaven gave thee, and such a one as thy dear Redeemer can, and will embrace thee in.   

The Presence-Chamber.  
Fear not, O my soul, I charge thee do not faint. Let not thy weakness, and the poverty of thy grace, discourage thee: see how thy Lord draws nigh. Fear not, I say, he will not ask thee, Friend, how camest thou hither not having on thy Wedding-garment? He sees thy heart, and sees thou hast it on. Oh he comes! and it is but to whisper thee a welcome in thine ear; it is but to fall about thy neck and kiss thy beteared cheeks, and bid thee a kind welcome to thy bleeding Lord.  
Soul. Oh did I think to be thus much made of! I thought he would not have minded me; but I did no sooner appear and set my feet within the doors, but he ran to meet me; he took me in his arms, he brought me hither, and set me here. Is this a house, or is it a Palace? Is this a Court for Princes, or for Angels? Never did place more ravish me into amazement than this place! Beautiful are thy gates, O Zion! O how pleasant is the habitation of the most high! Is it the place, or the company that strikes me into astonishment! Now I can say, most feelingly say with David, My delights are with the Saints of the most high, and the most excellent of the earth. Their poverty, their disgrace, their contempt amongst whom they live, do not puzzle my quick-eyed Faith; these are the King's Daughters that are all glorious within, their garments are of needlework, embroidered over with pure gold, finespun gold. These! O these! how poor and mean soever they are, or may seem to be, these shall sit with Christ to judge the World. Oh! how my foul is ravished with delight, to see and look on those with whom I shall live for ever. If they are so lovely now, what will they be hereafter, when our God shall take them, and scour off their rust, and wash their Garments bright in the Sunshine of his countenance, and change those mortal and corruptible bodies into immortal and glorious ones; and set them upon Thrones about himself, and lad their heads with Crowns of massy gold; and when I shall hear them warbling out the everlasting Praises of the Lamb, whose Body and Blood we all sit down to feed on!   

Communion-Plate.  
Never was Gold or Silver graced thus before,  
To bring this Body and this Blood to us, is more  
than to Crown Kings,  
or be made Rings  
For Starlike Diamonds to glitter in.   

The Bread.  
Welcome Fairest, take and eat; 'tis the sweetest dainties, dearst morsel Heaven can afford thee. Welcome, my Dear, to the Table of thy Lord. Welcome a thousand times, I bid thee; yea, welcomer than thine own heart can wish. Take, eat this morsel, it cost my life; it's a portion thy Father sent unto thee by me, and bid me remember thee of his love to thee. He bids thee remember a Father's love, I, a Saviour's. He hath a heart to give thee, and so have I. Take this in earnest of them both in one. Take freely; if thou wert not welcome, I would have told thee; I would have asked thee for thy Wedding-garment, knew I not thy heart; or if I were uncertain of thy love, I would have scorned thee as unworthy of my presence; did I know thou lovest any thing above me, I would have hid my face, and never have spoke thee a welcome so feelingly and kindly to thy soul. Tell me, O tell me! dost thou not love me? I know thou dost; and above Father or Mother, Wife or Child, Lands or Living, or Credit; I know thou dost. And wilt thou not take the Cross and follow me? I know thou wilt, I see and know the labour of thy love; I remember the pains and travel of thy soul; I saw thee follow me on thy knees in tears, and begged my life rather than thy life. I know thy heart, I saw it bleeding before my Throne; I took it in my arms and bound it up, and in that breast I remember I put it up again; I saw thee when no eye saw thee; I heard thee, and had compassion on thy groan, whilst thou wert complaining that I had shut out thy prayers; I well remember since thy heart did first fall sick with love, since the time thy flesh began to die, and since thou laidst thyself in the grave down by me, and wert willing to die to all this vain empty glory of the world, because I died and left it. I know thee well enough, Thou art mine, and I am thine. Take it, I charge thee; eat it as thou lovest me; and whilst thou feedest, remember the love of thy dearest Redeemer.  
Soul. Oh 'tis the sweetest meat that ever tongue did taste! it sends a relish to my very heart; I find it digests as it deseends; I feel my nerves and sinews strengthen; I never knew that bread was the staff of life till now; Oh how fit is my soul now for Christ? How easy do I now find his yoke, how light his burden! Methinks I could watch or pray, or read more earnestly, resolvedly, believingly, than ever. Oh! methinks I can take his Cross and bear it strongly, and take the shame and despise it fully. Oh 'tis a feast of fat things! The richest banquet of love that ever I was at; it was but a little that I took, and it fills me full, my hungry stomach now cries, 'tis enough; I find it now verified to my soul and spirit, that he that eats of this bread shall never hunger more. Well, I need not starve when there is such bread in my Father's house. I need not, I will not, I cannot feed any longer on husks with the swine of the world. I fed on air and smoke before; I never tasted substantial bread till I tasted of this. This is the staff of my life, and upon this will I support myself to my very grave.   

The Wine.  
Christ. Come my Dearest, I have drunk, and thou shalt pledge me: I have broached my side, and drew it on purpose for thee. This is a Wine of mine own making, when I trod the Winepress of my Father's wrath. It is my blood; but take and drink it; it was the cause of my wounding, but to thy soul it shall prove healing. I died and bled, it was but to make this Banquet for thee. I have brought thee into my Wine-cellar, and my Banner over thee shall be love. Fear not, take and drink, thou hast an ulcer in thy heart, and this shall cure it; spots and stains of guilt on thy soul, and this shall purge them away; thy spirits are faint, this shall revive thee, thou art afraid to see thy Father's face, this shall make thee to draw near the Throne of Grace with boldness. Drink, I charge thee; drink on thy love and loyalty to me. I command thee as thou wilt have thy heart to mend, thy wounds to cure, thy spirits to revive, thy fears to scatter, thy soul to love and obey me, take, O take this cup into thy hand, taste it, and praise my love.  
Soul. Lord! I have taken, I have drunk as thou hast bid me, I neither could, or dare deny thee. Can I refuse thy blood when I have accepted thyself? Or can I accept my pardon at thy hands, and refuse the seal thereof? I know I am vile, I am vile, but thou hast pardoned me. Lord, I have abused thy love, a thousand times refused thy offered self, and withstood the tenders of thy Grace; but thou hast covered all my sins, thou hast freely justified me by thy Grace, and made a full atonement for me by thy blood; this is that thou freely biddest me take, and I have freely drunk it. Never was Wine so full as this is. Never was Bowl so full of pleasure as this. I have swallowed down my life and pardon at one draught: I took it from my Saviour's hand, it was a cup of his own preparing. If ever drink was sugared, this was! I never tasted better relished Wine in all my life!  
The richest Cordials cannot match this draught Divine,  
Spirits of pearls dissolved would but dead this Wine.  
Oh when my hopes but kissed the purple dews, they hung and cleaved so,  
As if they were loath to let thee go.  
They strove and struggled to get near my heart,  
As if intending there to take a part.  
I dare not say them nay; blood from that bowl  
May the best room command within my soul.  
What a sudden, strange, yet happy alteration do I find within! my languid spirits are revived; my winter is over. Methinks I feel my life and joy to spring amain. My Aaron's Rod (a dry stick but now) doth bloom and flourish. My newly engrafted soul is full of Infant-clusters.  
Blood at the root of Vines  
They say, produceth richest Wines.  
Oh! if my Lord will undertake to dress this Vine, and trickle down his blood into my root, then draw it up into each branch of Grace, by the warming beams of his reviving love; then let my Dearest come, let him come as he hath promised, and bring my Father and his Father with him, and sup both with me and in me. Let them come, and I will bid them a welcome, I shall have a fruit to present them with, which they themselves shall say is pleasant; I shall not send my Father away now so oft complaining, I came to seek for grapes and fruit, but behold wild ones.    

The Conclusion.  
Oh! how unwillingly do I rise! methinks I could sit here and feast my heart and eyes for ever. What running-Banquets doth my Lord afford me here! surely he should not need to fear that I should surfeit on himself. But alas! I must be gone, what shall I do in yonder hungry soul-starving world again? I have been feeding on my Paschal Lamb, and now I must go and eat my sour herbs; but if it be his will, I must obey; if it be so, I must arise: I know thou hast prepared the endless feast above, where I shall ever sit and enjoy thy love, and glut my hungry eye and heart on the Banquet of thy everlasting self. As yet I am now on earth, my toil and work lies heavy on my hands, I have yet an afternoon to labour out, God knows my work is hard, too hard for me myself to perform. I scarcely should have lasted out so long, but that sometimes at such seasons as this is, he repaired my sinking spirits by pouring in the Cordials of his Blood. Now I must go, and perhaps find as sharp conflicts with myself as ever. I know the World and Hell have been laying their snares and 'gins to catch my new-fledged soul; and all conspire against my welfare. Now it is well if I escape a fall, a bruise, a breaking of my bones, in which sad plight I have so often lain, that my Lord might have took me for dead, but that my groan told him loudly I lived. Lord! must I leave this feast? must I go? Take me then by the hand, and lead me; if I must walk, let me see thee by me, that I may know I walk with my God. Led me away, and I will go with thee; and let me not go till thou bringst me hither again; I cannot, will not live without thee. And do thou Lord, say, I must not, shall not.  
If both our hearts in love so well agree,  
What then shall separate my Christ from me?    

A Meditation on the Death of Christ, Preparative to the Sacrament: Penned for his private use.  
BUT is he dead? Oh sad! yet joyful news! how strangely is my soul amazed, and diversely moved and troubled by these contrary passions! methinks I could pull up the floodgates of my sorrow, and vent it out in tears; but something bids me hold. Shall I mourn for him that's just now past his state of mourning? He's dead! and what of that? And so are all his griefs, his bloody sweats, his sighs and groans concluded, He hath drunk on the brook in the way; bitter while they were in his mouth, and he was living; but sweet now they have sunk into his belly, and and he in Heaven. Sweet to him, because it was his work, and he hath finished it; and sweet to me, because it was the potion of sorrow, death, hell, that I must have taken. And canst thou mourn! methinks if thou didst love, thine heart should rather sympathise with his: He is singing, and shalt thou be sighing? He is joying that his work is done, and now is welcoming into Heaven by God his Father, and shouting up by Angels voices, as the great Conqueror of the hearts of men on earth, and that now in triumph he is returned. And will a mournful weed, a wet eye, and a cloudy brow, become thee at these times of Festivals? Shall the Heavenly Angels be joyful, and thou sad? How strangely will this be construed! Will it not be said, thou dost not love him? or thou dost envy his recovered glory that he had left, and now again hath taken? Or that thou canst not endure to see him wear his Prince's Crown in Heaven, that for a time he had laid aside to come down to the earth to fetch thee thence to Heaven? But ah! my Lord, thou wilt not sure interpret sorrow thus; thou hast not sure forgot to give a meaning unto tears, to teach a sigh to speak, and then to know its language! Hath my Lord forgot so suddenly that he was on earth, and that he sweat, and groaned, and wept, and bled, as well as I do now? What though now all tears, and sorrow, and sighing is done away, and he ceaseth to be any longer subject to our infirmities? yet sure he knows it is not thus with us. I am not yet in Heaven, nor am I yet quite past the vale of sorrow; and it cannot then be strange to him, if he sees sometimes our faces look of a sadder hue than those that are in Heaven. But why should thus my tears be checked, and my throbbing heart be chidden? were it for a thing of nought I might be counted fool or child; but shall my Saviour die, and vent his soul in a stream of blood, and all in love to me? and shall he thus forsake the world, and die, and then be laid in the grave, and I be denied the liberty of following him thither as a mourner? Shall it be said of the Prince of glory, that he died and had the burial of an ass? because there was none to sorrow forth those words of, Ah my Lord! What! shall it be granted to a Wife to mourn for the death of a beloved Husband? and to a Child at the burial of a beloved Father? Shall not such be blamed, but rather pitied? And shall their friends come in and confess the loss and the ground of their sorrow just, and rather sit them down and bear them company in their grief? And must I of all be thus censured? Away with an Husband, Wife, or Child to me: Is he not more to me than ten Husbands? Might I not have had an hundred that would have never done half so much for me as he hath done? That first left his glory for my sake, and then laid down his life, and took the stroke upon himself that I myself deserved, and all because he loved me? Was ever friend like this friend! and ever love, like this love! Many waters cannot quench love; but neither waters, blood, death, nor many deaths could quench his love to me. But shall he love, and die in love, and thus be forced to leave me, because he loved me, and I not mourn the absence of my best Beloved? How unreasonably may any this deny me! But ah! what a bitter-worded check did I even now receive; as if my sorrow would arise from the envying of his now glorious state, and not from any love I bear him? Oh! what needle-pointed words are those! methinks they have pierced mine heart in every part, and from each prick hath started forth a drop, that hath set it o'er with a bloody dew! But how can it once be thought that envy should get a room in an heart that's full of love, with which it swells, it bubbles up, and runs all over? it cannot be. Bear witness heavens! I do not grieve that you contain him, but that I on earth have lost him! Oh my God I am not sorry that thy Son hath passed his sufferings, and is arrived to rest, and got again into thy bosom, his ancient nest of love and pleasure. Oh you blessed Orders of Seraphims and Cherubims, and you innumerable company of the spirits of the just men made perfect! I do not envy that you have my Lord with you, that you see his face, and live and walk, and joy in the light of his countenance: Alas! we your poor Brethren could not make him so welcome here on earth, as you can there: we loved him as sincerely as you, and believed in him, and took delight too in him; but yet nothing near so much as you. You know him better than we do; for you know him as you are known, and therefore know better how to prise him. We know him but in part, and the value, price, and love could but be in the like proportion. He is therefore far much better there than here; and how shall I then either envy him or you! And what, my soul! should I wish him back again? what if I thought I could prise and love him more, and could promise the like for all his beloved disciples? I could not alike engage for the wicked, envious, malicious, unbelieving world; I could not promise he should meet with no other Herod to seek his life, or that the hardhearted Jews would give him better entertainment, whom they dare yet curse with the name of Conjurer, though Moses and their Prophets bore witness to him, and though they received a seal from Heaven in voices, thunders, signs, and an innumerable company of real Miracles. Oh no! my Lord! though I could wish to fee thy face again on earth, yet not in such a state of misery in the midst of a den of Bears and Lions, as not long since thou wast. Ah! thou knowest I took no delight to hear that traitorous news of thine own Apostle that had betrayed thee; and that it filled mine heart with anguish to hear how shamefully and scornfully thou wast abused. Thou sawest me blush when I heard thy face was spit on; my head did ache when thine was crowned with thorns. Anguish and indignation did lose my nerves, and with a palsy shook mine hands, when thine had a mock-Scepter put into them, a reed, and a scoff, Hail Jesus King of the Jews. And did not mine heart break and bleed to hear that thine was pierced! Ah my Lord! and shall I yet find an heart to wish thee here again! No, no, I am glad thou hast escaped their bloody hands, and now got quite without their reach. I am glad thou hast got to perfect ease and rest; and knowst no pains, nor griefs, nor sorrows. Oh! take a full possession of thy Father's breast, and sit thee down upon his Throne, Thou art a King for ever. And take delight in these thy soul-did travel, die and bleed for on earth. I will repine at nothing that shall advance thy glory. But Oh! thou cruel bloody unbelieving world! you wicked murderous bloody Jews! though I rejoice my Lord is safe arrived home, and quietly landed within his haven; yet from you I cannot hold mine anger, that made his Sea a Sea of blood, and drained his heart to make it deep, and filled his sails with sighs and groans, that caused his voyage to be so doleful. What good got you to stand and laugh to see him sorrowful? to scoff and jeer to hear his lamentations? what cursed rage was that to make such haste to fetch him vinegar and gall to prolong his life, to lengthen out his dolours? How could you find such barbarous hearts to triumph over a bleeding dying lamb, that was so innocent? How could you taunt at him when you heard him praying for you, Father forgive them! and so tenderly excusing you, for they know not what they do! Methinks that kindly harmless carriage should have pierced your hearts; those melting words should have dissolved them; and instead of piercing him, I should have thought you pierced. And ah! but that I know an unbelieving heart myself, and understand what hardness means, I should stand and wonder! Oh! it's too hard an Adamant for downy words, and doleful sounds, and tender carriages to break and shatter! How often have I outstood all those myself! And when I served my flesh, how little did I mind them! And when they have been presented to me in the Gospel, or in a Sermon told that all these tortures he endured for me, and I in part believed it too, yet was I not as a man bereft of my senses, and I was no more moved in mine heart, as if I had not heard or understood, and were quite bereaved of sense and reason. But had I thus continued in my senseless unbelieving state, and as I lived so died; yet how deservedly should I have born the wrath of God, and have been sent to Hell as a recompense of mine unbelief? And yet, you careless secure Jews, can you think to escape when God comes to make inquisition for blood? How will you do if this sin shall find you out? If God requires blood for blood, what will become of yours? If he had been no more than a common man, the Law would then have required your lives for payment. But how if in the end he prove a Prophet? nay more than that, the Son of the most high God, the Prince and Saviour whom God had promised to raise, the Messiah whom Moses and the Prophet's bare witness to, and him that you so long longed and wished to see! How will you look! what will you say! what answer will you make when all these truths are cleared? where will you hid yourselves for shame? and what will you do when confusion shall thus take hold upon you? What! will you then confess the fact, or will you deny it? with what face can you do the first? And if you do the latter, the curse you and your Fathers drew upon yourselves, Let his blood be upon us and our children! stands still on record against you, and will cry you guilty. Will you excuse it with your unbelieving ignorance? But how will you be able to rub your brows into so much confidence? How dare you say you were ignorant of him, when you say you knew both Moses and the Prophets, and they bare witness of him? You asked a sign, and did he not give you both signs and wonders? How often did he cure your Lame? How wonderfully did he heal your Lepers, and those sick of the Palsy, yea of all manner of diseases? How did he open the eyes of the blind, and give light to him that was born blind! yea, restore the withered hand, and make the crooked strait, and open the ears of the deaf, and cast out Devils, and raise the dead! Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God hath made that Son Jesus whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ.  
Upon which Text, Act. 2.36. the Author Mr. Tho. Wadsworth preached at Gregory's Church by Paul's, March 29, 1656. evidencing clearly from those words:  
(1) That the poor life and ignominious death of him that was crucified at Jerusalem, was no good argument why the Jews should reject him from being the promised Messiah.  
(2) That that very God-man named Jesus Christ that was crucified at Jerusalem, was the true Messiah whom God made and appointed to be Saviour to the World.  
If his Notes were sufficiently legible, in the proving and improving of these two Propositions, so that they might have been published (as they cannot, unless any took them in shorthand for his own use) there would have been found in that Discourse a notable antidote against the poisons of Judaisme, and the Atheism of this present age.   

Three Letters of Mr. Tho. Wadsworth to his Sister Elizabeth Wadsworth in Southwark, when he was a young Student in Christs-college in Cambridge, wherein we may see the early breathe of his pious Soul.  

Dear Sister!  
YOU may remember very well that I sent a Letter to you all in general, to wit, my Brother and other Sisters; but it is my wonder and grief that I should receive an answer from none of you! I thought that your loves to me were not so contracted, but that I might have procured such a favour at your hands as three or four lines in a Letter; but however your not regarding of me, hath not begotten in my soul such regardlesness towards you, and therefore from among the rest I have chosen you out in particular to see whether you in particular will give me an answer to my other Letter. I remember that the last time I was with you, upon Conference that I had with you, I found a good and pliable nature in you; some softness of heart appeared by that crystal dew which trickled down your cheeks: I would have wished in some respects that it had continued until this time. For truly nothing speaks fairer weather in Heaven than moistened cheeks below on earth; you must not think to come to Mount Zion, the Heavenly Jerusalem, before you have passed thorough a vail of tears. Heaven is not a bauble, and it can't be attained by mirth and jollity; you must not think to live merrily in Earth and in Heaven too. I know you are naturally merry and jocund, but you must labour to mortify that merry nature you have; you are naturally full of talk, but if you love your soul you must labour to bridle the tongue. Perhaps you would say, O Brother! this I would willingly do, but I cannot tell how. I will give you this answer:  
First, Labour to live more seriously, to talk less; let your thoughts be on God, and think that he hears every word you speak; and as our Saviour says, You must give an account for every idle word. You must not think you shall ever be swallowed up in love, that you shall ever bathe yourself in Divine ravishments to all eternity with God in glory, and walk so lightly and vainly here on earth. O that I could but persuade your soul of this! If I could, I know that you would desire no other glory, than to swim all your life-time in a river of tears. I shall not here speak of the glory which your soul should enjoy in Heaven, lest my soul in writing should be swallowed up with confusion! for if I knew where to begin, yet I should never know where to make an end. Angels themselves have been wading these five thousand years in this Ocean, and cannot come to the depth of it; yea, and shall be wading to all eternity with the glorified Saints, and yet shall never fathom it. And now if thou art willing that thy soul should accompany my soul unto this Ocean of Love, take notice then of these paths which I shall here set down, which will lead thee unto this desired happiness. And truly I beg of thee, and likewise charge thee, in the presence of the Almighty God, as thou shalt one day answer it at the Judgment-seat, when God shall judge the quick and the dead, that you do not, when you have read this Letter, cast it away, and look on it no more. Therefore I beseech of thee, as thou art dear to me as a Sister, that thou wouldst put into practise every word that I shall say.  
First then, Be constant in prayer by thyself both evening and morning; and if you find any good motion in the daytime, go then again to prayer. And if you ask me, How you should pray? I answer thee, pray against every sin thou findest thy heart prone to commit. Pray against thy carnal joy, and beg that thou mayst be most serious in thy conversation. Dost thou find in thy soul that thou canst not mourn for sin? Pray that God would soften thy hard heart, that he would make thee to mourn, to weep and lament thy sins, because they are against such a tender and loving Father as God. Dost thou find that thou art given to anger, pettishness and frowardness; pray earnestly, beg of God on thy knees, as if thou wert pleading for thy life, that God would humble thee, and give thee more love to himself, and to the rest of thy brethren; and take heed likewise of angering them. O that thou wouldst but practise this! truly, truly, I should rejoice, Angels in Heaven would rejoice; as it is written, The Angel's rejoise at the conversion of a sinner.  
Secondly, Look that thou readest the Scriptures diligently every day; and let this be thy first work in the morning, and the last at night. And if thou canst not understand, go to God, and beg that he would give thee more light; and if thou dost this likewise, happy shalt thou be. And seeing it is late before you go to supper and bed, therefore thou mayst set apart some time for this duty in the afternoon. And this you must do, and then wait upon God for a blessing. And truly do but reflect on yourself, and tell me what's the cause of all that gross ignorance which is in you? Truly 'tis because you read little in the Scripture, and other good Books. And if perhaps you read a Chapter now and then, it is either because you are forced to it, or because you would read some story in the Old Testament, only to recreate your carnal mind. Let me but ask you this one question, Do you, when you take the Bible in your hand, consider it is the book of God, and if you do not practise what you read, it will turn to your condemnation? Do but consider this thing seriously, and the God of Heaven bless it to your soul. Now I pray and entreat you not to slight this which I have said, but turn it into practice. And it will be my desire th●t you will write this out fair, that thou mayst read it sometimes, and mayst know that thy brother loves thy soul as dearly as his own. What I have now writ unto thee in particular, thou wilt do well if thou communicatest it to all thy brethren, that they may not be wanting in these things which I have here desired of thee in particular; for I could desire that thou mightest begin to lead the way to Heaven in that family; but especially let this be known to my Sister Anne; I pray her not to think much that I direct this to you, and not to her, for I thought you would write to me, and I questioned whether she hath not forgot; but if she doth write, I assure her, if my soul and body can do her service, it shall. I shall not mention my Sister Mary, because I have hinted her case in my Father's Letter. The God of Heaven be with you: So I pray, who am  
Your tender and most affectionate Brother, Tho. Wadsworth.   

Dear and Loving Sister,  
IT hath been such a great interval of time since we last exchanged Letters with one another, that I know not whether to charge you, or myself with negligence; but I hope neither of us are guilty of forgetfulness. God is my witness that I daily make mention of you in my prayers; and I assure you it will exceedingly raise my heart in praises if God will but answer them upon your soul. And truly my expectations are very great towards you and the rest of my friends. I know not who they shall be, either in that family, or some where else, but rather there; for God of late hath shown me much of his goodness as to the answering of my prayers as to particular persons. And I am assured that he hath several times drawn out my heart as much, if not more for that family. So that I live in continual expectations of hearing of the Sun of Righteousness to rise among you, and the day star of holiness and purity to break out of some of your souls. And to this purpose I have sent you this Letter, that you among the rest might be one that may fulfil my joy in the Lord. I am sorry that all this while I have not heard from my Brother John; I hope that the Lord will stir up his heart likewise Heaven-ward. Tell him that I would have writ to him, but that I had so much to write to others, so that I was fain to steal a little time to write these few lines. As for yourself, for the present I shall only desire you to read Scripture much, and pray constantly, if possibly you can, twice or three times a day. For directions herein I desire you to peruse seriously my Sister Anne's Letter, which I have here sent her.  
Lastly, Take a special care of my Sister Mary, labour to get her to pray; though she can but chatter, God can hear. He hears the young Ravens when they cry, and feeds them; and will he not much more hear a young child? To whom I pray you commend my love very kindly. I have no more at this present, but that I am,  
Your ever Loving Brother, Tho. Wadsworth.   

Loving Sister,  
AS the Letter was with great affection desired, so was it as gratefully received by me. Neither was it so much because that you did write, but because you writ so well and hearty. And I shall here assure you that you cannot rejoice me more than in letting me see such sentences dropping from your pen, as did in the last Letter. And I am likewise as certain that your discovery of them proceeding from your heart, carries in it a far more exceeding weight of joy to your own soul. I shall have but one or two things to you at this time, and I shall conclude.  
First, Be constant in Prayer morning and evening, and labour not only to speak words, but let your words express your heart.  
Secondly, Before and after Prayer, join reading of the Scriptures.  
Thirdly, Take heed of vain and foolish discourse; be as little in talk as may be without it is in good discourse. I shall now only desire you to write to me every week or fortnight, and I doubt not but you will find your parts increase; and abour but to put Letters in practice, and you shall find likewise your grace's increase. And with this I conclude, only desiring you to remember me to your Brother and Sisters, and I shall be as I ever was,  
Your Loving Brother, T. W.    

A SERMON PREACHED BY Mr. THO. WADSWORTH. Taken in Shorthand.  REV. XII. 1. And there appeared a great wonder in Heaven, a Woman clothed with the Sun, and the Moon under her feet, and upon her head a Crown of twelve Stars. 
IN these words you have a description of the Church of Jesus Christ on earth; the Church of Christ is of all Societies of the world the most glorious; it is a Society founded by the Counsel of the great God; a Society that is purchased and bought by the blood of the Son of God; 'tis a Society called out of this wicked world to worship God in spirit and in truth; 'tis a Society that is to God himself as the apple of his eye; 'tis a Society that shall keep the Angels of Heaven company to all eternity in the Heavens, to glorify the Maker and the Redeemer of the world. This is the Church; a Church in a Kingdom is the glory of the Kingdom; and God in the Church is the glory of the Church. When God leaveth a Church or Kingdom, you may name it this name, the glory is departed; the glory is departed from a Town or Kingdom, when the Church of Christ is departed.  
If it be so, it will be worth our while to inquire which is this Church of Christ; for there are many pretensions laid to the Church, many would call themselves the Church; the Jews they would be the Church of God; the Turks would be a Church of God, for they profess to worship the God of Heaven; the Papists they would be a Church of God; and in England there are many parties laying their claims to the Church of God. No wonder, my brethren! that every one is so desirous to bear that title of being the Church of God; 'tis the most glorious title of the world, as I have shown you, 'tis the glory of the world.  
But to help you to find out this Church in the midst of all these claims that are laid to it, I have chosen this verse, wherein the Holy Ghost giveth a description of it, for by these characters you will be able to find it out, for this verse is nothing else but a characterizing of the nature of the Church of God.  
And there appeared a great wonder in Heaven, a Woman clothed with the Sun, and the Moon under her feet, and upon her head a Crown of twelve Stars.  
The Church is described two ways:  
First, In General.  
Secondly, More Particularly.  
First in general, There appeared a great wonder in Heaven; that is, in this Vision of John he did seem to see a very strange and unusual sight; we call things wonders that are strange things; it is no wonder to see the Sun shining, because it is common; and the Stars to give light, because common; but when we see a Blazing-star, we call it a wonder; so the meaning is, I saw a great wonder, saith John; and what of that? I saw a Woman, I saw a Woman in the Heavens. It is common to see the Sun and Moon and Stars there, but to see a Woman is a wonder; and so the Church is a wonder; to see a fire keep alive in the midst of the Sea; to see a people keeping themselves holy in the midst of a wicked and perverse generation; to see a people live to the glory of God in a wicked and debauched Kingdom, is a wonder! for in spite of all the wrath and rage of the Devil they are resolved to love God, and follow the Lamb where ever he leads them, this is a wonder; and in many respects the Church may be said to be a wonder, a wonder to Angels, a wonder to Devils, and a wonder to the wicked world.  
A wonder to Angels, we read they desire to peep into the mystery of Redemption, of Christ's coming into the world to die for a company of sinful creatures that deserve no better a condition than the dungeon of Hell; but for you Angels to see God taking poor sinners from the dungeon of sin and wrath, and raising them upon Thrones by giving them repentance and faith in Jesus Christ, and adopting them Sons and Daughters, and taking them to be his friends; this the Angels wonder at.  
And why may I not guests, a wonder to the Devils? for them to see the Son of God come, and themselves to be passed by, to be forsaken, eternally reserved in chains, and to see such creatures as we are to be brought into a state of fellowship and communion with God, may make them stand and wonder. And truly how can it choose but be a wonder to ourselves: if David in seeing the Heaven, Sun, Moon, and Stars, could cry out, Lord, what is man that thou art mindful of him? How can we choose but wonder when we look upon ourselves, being guilty of all manner of sins either in heart or life, to see God take us and wash us like swine out of the mire, and cleanse us, and make us live like his children, and call us his own, and write his name upon us, and seal us up for an eternal state in the Heavens?  
And so the wicked world do wonder that we do not follow them in the same excess of riot, drunkenness, and singing, and ranting in the Taverns and Alehouses, they wonder at it.  
Well, I saw this wonder in Heaven, that is in a most exalted state, and so my Brethren, it is in its own self, in its nature, it is highly exalted in the heavens of God's favour and affections; and when the time shall come that God will perfect his Church, she shall shine in glory as in a most exalted state and condition, and it is this she expecteth, and for this she saith, Come, Lord Jesus; and for this he saith, I come quickly.  
But more particularly to the nature of this wonder, What is it?  
1. It is described by a Woman. 2. The Attire. And 3. the place of her standing.  
First, A Woman, and her attire, and that is first of her head, a Crown of twelve Stars.  
2. The attire of her body, clothed with the Sun.  
And then 3dly, Here is her standing, She standeth upon the Moon, trampleth that under her feet; and this is a description of you, so many of you as are true members of the Lord Jesus Christ; what great things are here spoken, are spoken of every believer here.  
First, a Woman: why is the Church compared to a Woman? that the Church is compared to a Woman in Scripture, that is plain; the Book of Canticles, which is Solomon's Song, is a Song of the Church represented as a Spouse to Jesus Christ: the Prophets frequently compared the Church to a Woman in the Old Testament, and God is her Husband; the Apostles compared it to a Woman. I have endeavoured as a Virgin to present you to God without spot. And the Church is called the Lamb's Wife.  
But for what reason does the Holy Ghost compare the Church to a Woman?  
For these four Reasons.  
1. For her Beauty.  
2. For her Affection.  
3. For her Fruitfulness.  
4. For her Weakness.  
For these four she may well be compared to a Woman.  
1. For her Beauty. I speak not of that outward, that skindeep beauty which a little time will bring to wrinkles; but I speak of an inward beauty, a soul beauty; the Church of Christ is beautiful, that is soul-beautiful; the Graces of the Saints upon the soul of the Saints is the red and white; nothing enamours Christ so much as your faith in his Promises, love to his Glory, patience in afflictions, obedience to his Commandments. Thou art fair, my beloved, saith Christ to his Spouse. The Church is compared to a Woman for her beauty, and therefore the Apostle saith, I have endeavoured to present you as a Virgin: how? not a deformed one, but a Virgin without wrinkle, without spot; when the Church is sanctified by the Spirit of Christ, and nothing in your hearts but love, fear, and holiness, than you have this beauty that is without spot or wrinkle; sin does sully the soul, but grace taketh away spots and wrinkles. Likewise,  
2. The Church is compared to a Woman for her affection; their affections ordinarily are more strong. 'Tis said of Jonathan, his love did exceed the love of women. The Holy Ghost compareth the Church to a Woman, to signify that all the members of Christ have a very ardent love and affection to Christ. No love so strong as the love of a Saint to Christ; and therefore 'tis said, That many waters cannot quench it. There are few will be beggared for the sake of another, or banished or hanged upon a Gallows for the sake of another, burnt at a stake for another's sake; and yet the love of a Saint maketh nothing of all this; it rejoiceth to see its goods spoiled for Christ, to think itself worthy to be whipped for Christ, to go up a ladder, and to be thrown down with a rope about its neck for Christ. Water cannot quench a Saints love, neither can fire hinder a Saint from Christ; neither things present, or things to come can sepaparate from Christ. You would all be of this Church, pray look that you have affections suitable for Christ. You may have a time to try your affections; if you want affections, you are none of this Woman.  
3. The Church is compared to a Woman for her fruitfulness; the Church of Christ is a fruitful Church; that is, the society of the Lord Jesus do bring forth daily children to God, and as like the Father as they can look. The Church does meet together to preach the Gospel, and to pray and praise God together, and God does so bless them with the Ordinances, that they do convert sinners unto God, they bring souls that were aliens in their mind, they bring them to acquaintance with God. The Church is always travelling and bringing forth, and God does bless her to bring Sons and Daughters to himself; and when they are born they are like Christ, patiented as Christ was patiented, meek as he was meek, humble as he was humble, and heavenly as he was heavenly. Whoever pretend to be a Son or Daughter of this Woman, and do not bear the Image of the Lord Jesus Christ, they are bastards. Barrenness under the Law 'twas counted a very great curse. So take this note to find out the Church of Christ upon earth, and in England, look upon the several societies professing the name of Christ, see which look the most like him; have they affections to Christ? is there a beauty in their lives? are they barren? do they convert sinners to them? Some cry with a loud voice, The Temple of the Lord are we; but I pray see if they are fruitful. Are they travelling and bringing forth? and have they Sons and Daughters brought forth daily to them? or little conversion among them, they are not fruitful, they have not Sons and Daughters born to Jesus Christ? and by that you may know where to find Christ's Church.  
Lastly, The Church is compared to a Woman, because of her weakness; the Woman is the weaker sex, she is not made for fight, but in case of danger for flying; for this is the nature of the Church; it is not of a domineering boisterous spirit, but a womanly spirit, modest, humble and meek. Where you see a people pretend to be this Woman, pouring out malice and wrath, a domineering people, are they like this Woman that flieth in time of danger, but not from Christ? vers. 3. And there appeared another great wonder in Heaven, behold a great red Dragon, and that's the Devil; and the Dragon stood before the woman to devour her child as soon as it was born. But what was the end? did she fight? no, there were Angels stood to contend for her, she took up no arms, thought not upon fight; but presently the Angel rescued her, vers. 7. And there was war in Heaven, Michael and his Angels fought against the Dragon: and the Dragon and his Angels fought, and prevailed not. That is, the host of Angels did contend with the Devil and his Angels, and would not permit him to destroy her, and she fled into the Wilderness, vers. 6. And she fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a thousand two hundred and threescore days. She fled into a Wilderness, but in a secure state; she was secured in her Wilderness, and God looked after her; and we are in this thousand two hundred threescore days.  
She is a weak Church, but strong in Christ; and if so, my brethren, though you be weak, and meek as a sheep, and compared to a Woman the weaker sex, yet notwithstanding fear not; for I cannot stand to speak of all the things in this Chapter. Great wings were given her to fly with; the whole earth stepped out to help her, and swallowed up the flood which the Dragon cast out of his mouth: and the Angels helped her.  
Well now, let us come to the attire; I have shown you the reasons why she is compared to a Woman, and we will begin at her head, and so come down to her foot: On her head a Crown of twelve S●ar●, and her body was clothed with the Sun, and under her foot the Moon.  
What was this Crown of twelve Stars? if you do but mark the H. Ghost through this book of the Revelations, you will find him take a great deal of pleasure in this number twelve; and he does always use it, when he speaketh of the true Church; the new Jerusalem it had twelve Gates; and the Tree of life in the midst of this new Jerusalem, this Tree of Life bore twelve sorts of fruits, this you have in the last Chapter. And in the midst of the streets of it, and of either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bore twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month, and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the Nations. Why twelve Gates for the City, and twelve fruits upon the tree, and twelve Stars upon the Crown of this Church? what is the meaning of this? I will tell you what it is: You know Jesus Christ when he went about to gather this Church out of the world, he did choose twelve men that were his Apostles, and these twelve men he did acquaint with the whole mystery of the Gospel; all the things that he would have them teach the world, he gave them in commandment, and they were to be under him, the Fathers to beget this Church. And Christ calleth them lights, Ye are the lights of the world, because they were to deliver forth this Doctrine of the Gospel, this light from Heaven, these truths that lead men like tapers through this dark Dungeon to the palace of God; they were to be the lights to them. Now these twelve Stars are the twelve Apostles. And she had a Crown of twelve Stars; that is, she was a Woman that professed faith in the Doctrine of the twelve Apostles; she owned those truths that the Apostles preached, and would receive no truths as matters of her faith but what the Apostles did teach; and by this she was to be known in the several Generations of the World, so that by this character of a Woman with a Crown of twelve Stars, the Holy Ghost hath given you a note by which you may find out this Church, those societies that believe what they taught, and worship God according to what worship they delivered, that is the woman with a crown of twelve Stars; but if you see any society of Christians, and you ●ind more Stars thanS twelve, a star of vain Philosophy, or humane tradition, or a star of rudiments of the world, look upon them as none of the stars that Christ hath put in the Woman's crown; therefore when Christ commissioned the Apostles to preach the Gospel, he gave not liberty to Paul or Peter, or any of the twelve to lay any Commandment upon his Church but what they had from his mouth in the last of Matthew; and indeed they are as it were the last words he spoke to them: vers. 19, 20. Go ye therefore and teach all Nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Well, what shall we teach? teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you. No more; no more let them believe than what I have; delivered to you; let them use such Ordinances in Worship as I have appointed you, and no more; they were not to exceed there commission, it was as dangerous for them to do it, as any Ambassador to exceed the commission of his Prince; and therefore the Apostles when they were brought before the Rulers and Governors, and they charged them to teach no more in the name of this Jesus, say, We cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard; how can we choose but teach the things which we have seen Christ do? and reveal the miracles that we see wrought? and how can we choose but preach the Doctrine that we received from his mouth? They did not say, how can we choose but do that which we have seen invented by others; no, if they had taught any thing else, Christ would not have born them out; and therefore in the Election of a new Apostle in Judas his stead, they made choice of one to bear witness of what Christ had said and done; and all the Churches of Christ from that time, they are to keep close to those Doctrines, the Doctrines of the twelve Apostles; and by this they shall be known to be the Woman if they still keep the Crown that hath but twelve Stars. And now you may know what to think of the Church of Rome, and of the Turks, and what to think of the Jews. Some have not the twelve Stars, others have; as the Pope hath them, but he hath added; others have the stars of humane tradition of the rudiments of the world. I give you but the general note; for I will only give you rules in finding out the Church, and when you have found it, keep close to her; if you would find the Church, ask what Doctrine she holds, and whether there be any thing added, not one star added, but keep close to the Crown that hath just twelve stars in it.  
Now let us come downward: And she was clothed with the Sun: and you see the Holy Ghost hath picked out the most glorious thing in all the Heavens to resemble the beauty, and loveliness, and majesty of the Church; there was not any thing in the world to resemble the lustre, and majesty, and beauty of this Church; and therefore he goes up to Heaven, and putteth a Crown of Stars upon her head, and clotheth her with Sun beams; and she was clothed with the Sun; what must this Sun be? why in the Heavens, you know, the Sun is the greatest of lights, and its influences are most marvellous, and there is but one Sun. Why, what is there in the Kingdom of God that the Sun is most likely to shadow forth? I answer, it must be the Lord Jesus Christ; and he is compared to the Sun in Scripture, as in Mal. 4.2. But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; that is, Christ Jesus shall arise with healing in his wings, the wings of the Sunbeams. Christ is here compared to the Sun; well, but how may this Sun be said to be a clothing? is there any ground for it? why yes, the Apostle Paul does use an expression wherein he holdeth Christ as the Church's clothing; and so put the comparison that one compareth Christ to the Sun, and the other where you find Christ compared to the clothing of the Church, and then you have this truth, to wit, the Church is clothed with the Sun, i.e. with Jesus Christ. Nom. 13.14. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ. Here you see plainly the Apostle does compare Christ to a garment, and does exhort the Church to cloth themselves with Christ; and though Christ does not call himself a garment, yet he does invite the Church to him, that he may cloth her, Rev. 3.18. I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayst be rich, and white raiment that thou mayst be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear: and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve that thou mayst see.  
Well, pray, say you, how may the Church be said to be clothed with Christ?  
In two respects.  
1. In as much as they are clothed with the righteousness of Justification, and this in and by Jesus Christ.  
2. As they are clothed with the divine nature, with the nature of Christ, or with the righteousness of Sanctification; they that have these two righteousnesses upon them, they are clothed with Christ, they are clothed with the Sun.  
1. When you have the righteousness of Justification, for so this Woman had; the Church is a justified woman, a pardoned woman, and so are all the members of this Church; all her iniquities are all blotted out; all hand-writings of Ordinances are all canceled, all nailed to the Cross of Christ, all wrapped up and buried, and shall never rise up in judgement against them; this is a clothing by which her nakedness is clothed; why, Oh thou poor creature, that liest open to the wrath of God, to the storms of his displeasure; thou hast no pardon till Christ pardoneth thee; the Woman is clothed with the Sun, that is with the righteousness of Justification that Jesus Christ hath purchased for her. If you see a Church boasting of a righteousness of their own, a Pharisaical righteousness, a Legal Righteousness, a righteousness of their own, this is not the woman, for she hath not the clothing; there is a people that say they are the Church, but look unto them and you shall see nothing of the Righteousness of Jesus Christ upon them, they are not clothed with the Sun, neither have they the Crown of twelve stars; they do not build their faith upon the Doctrine of the Apostles, neither do they cover their nakedness with the Righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ; wherefore be not deceived. There are many parties crying, we are the people; look to them, see if they keep close to the Doctrine of the Apostles, have the Crown of twelve stars; and again, see whether they have the Righteousness of Jesus Christ, his dying for sinners; do they look upon all their acceptance that they hope to have with the Father, as from the Son? There is a generation that have some tokens of mortification upon them, but alas every one that looketh like the Woman is not the Woman; you must have all the attire upon her, if you will conclude her to be the Woman; never dare to join yourselves to a people that are not clothed with the Righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ that died for poor sinners, and made their peace upon the Cross, having expiated their sin thereby. This Righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ will grow more splendent, and more firm, the longer you wear it.  
2. There is a righteousness of holiness, of sanctification; it is not enough that this Church is clothed with the Righteousness of Christ, but this Church is clothed with the nature of Christ, Christ is upon her, and Christ is within her; she is all full of Christ, all over clothed with Christ, clothed with his nature; and therefore you find the Lord Jesus Christ calls you to an imitation of him, Learn of me for I am meek. This woman is no hasty woman, no wrathful, no revengeful woman; when she is provoked, she will not rail again, she will pray for them that curse her. And if you see a society of people that live not in meekness, and holiness, and do not follow the patterns of the Lord Jesus Christ, that is not the society which is the true Church; neither if you see a people boast of Christ dying for them, and yet wallow like swine in the mire, and defile them with the filth of sin and lust, that is not the woman, that is not the Church. And now you may, if you would see the Church, look upon the conversations of the Churches in England, look upon their lives, see how they live; if you see them a drunken, a cursing, a swearing Church, a blaspheming Church, this is none of the Lamb's wife, for the woman is clothed with the Sun, with the new nature of Christ, with the holy nature of Christ, hath put on Christ, and makes no provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.  
And thus you see the other part of her clothing, and she is clothed with the Sun.  
The last, and that is, The Moon under her feet; What is here meant by the Moon? We must here respect the Moon that ruleth by night. You see the clothing of the Church is set out by the Lord Jesus Christ, he is called the Sun; now whatever is opposite to the Sun, to Jesus Christ, that must be here signified by the Moon; whatever is in this world, or in Churches, found opposite to Jesus Christ, why that is the Moon that the Church trampleth under foot, and will have nothing to do with; for as the Sun is the Prince of Light, and ruleth the day, so the Moon is the Queen of the Night; and by this Moon is represented all the works of darkness, of the Kingdom of darkness, which are opposite to the Kingdom of light.  
Now this Church that weareth a Crown of twelve stars upon her head, and is clothed with the Sun, it is always day with her, they walk not in darkness, they are not the children of the night.  
Well then, what are these things of the Kingdom of darkness? why,  
1. There are the heads of the Kingdom of darkness, and those are the Devils; the Moon signifieth the night, and the night signifieth the Kingdom of darkness; the Devils are the Moon that are under the Church's feet: Oh! in what state does the Church sit clothed with the Sun, and all the powers of Hell under her feet! saith Christ, Go preach, and I give you power over all Devils; and they came back again, and said, Lord, we have healed diseases, and the very Devils are subject to us. That is, the Devils lie trampled under foot of the Church. Satan shall be laid at your feet shortly; and what an honour is it? You think it much to conquer men, why here is a poor woman that conquers the powers of darkness; not in your own strength, but in the strength of the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom you are married, whose righteousness you wear.  
2. All the instruments of the Devil are under you; who are they? they are all those that take part with the Devil in the world; how shall we find them out? why, you may find them out thus: They are always nightwalkers; Moon walkers hate the light; they are wicked and ungodly men, that live after their lusts, who please the flesh, and are enemies to God, and to his people; these are the instruments of the Devil, these are they that are meant by the Moon, and the Woman setteth her foot upon them. And this does signify, that all wicked men that are mocking and deriding her, and clap their hands when they see her fly, and say, Thus we would have it; shall fall under her feet in the issue. Know you foolish sinners, the time is coming when you shall lie at her foot, and she shall trample upon you; and that is another thing, the Devils, are the Principalities and powers of night, and wicked men are the Angels of these Princes, whom Christ made spoil of openly.  
But again, all principles, heresies, false doctrines, contrary to the nature of God, the Trinity, the union of the two natures, God and man; the Doctrine of Justification by faith only; all those Principles that are raised by the Devil in the world that are contrary to the Doctrine of Christ, are principles of the night, and the woman she treadeth down all false Doctrines.  
Again, all false apprehensions, institutions and appointments concerning the worship of God, are all the effects of ignorance, born of the night; all superstition that is introduced into the world, and into the Church, those who own such, are not she, that is the woman, that hath the Crown of twelve stars, clothed with the righteousness of the Lord; and hath no doctrine, no worship but what she received from Christ; she tramples all false doctrines, and superstitions, and heresies, she tramples them all down under her feet.  
Lastly, All wicked works, all pride, all vain glory, all envy, malice, hatred, revenge, whatever is of the flesh, this is all included under this notion or figure, to wit, the Moon; for as she rules by night, she does signify nothing but a state of ignorance, and of darkness, which is the Kingdom of the Devil.  

Application.  
And now my Brethren, take all these Characters together, and seek for such a Church, and beg of God that you may find her; and though she go into a wilderness, go with her, for she is the Lamb's wife: you read in the following part of the Chapter she must go into the wilderness, but there is a place provided for her; though the Dragon sendeth forth all his threaten, yet she shall be safe. Would you find the Church? look for a society that is beautiful, as a woman that hath strong affections for Christ; a society that is fruitful, that bringeth forth Children to God; where you see Children born unto God, that is a sign there is the woman; but where you see a people, 〈…〉, drunkards, or whoremongers, or swearers, or blasphemers, they are not of this woman, for she never bringeth forth but to the likeness of God, they grow up in Christ, into a likeness to him. And again, look for a Church that is meek and humble; where you see a boisterous Church, a cruel, a bloody and revengeful Church, that is not the Church, that is liker a man, and not like a woman. Put on patience, if you would look like the Church of Christ.  
And again, see what doctrine they hold; do they keep close to this Bible? if not, reject them, tell them they are not of God's people; why, I do not see upon your heads the Crown of twelve stars.  
Again, see what garment she weareth? does she wear a garment made of Christ's sufferings? look and hope for a justification that way, by the suffering of Christ; 'tis not the woman that is found in her own righteousness, but in Christ's righteousness.  
Again, if you find them crying up the righteousness of Christ's Justification, and have not the righteousness of Sanctification, they are none of the woman; that is the Church, where there is claim to the righteousness of Justification, and a care taken for the righteousness of sanctification; these are to accompany each other.  
Again, would you know the Church? look, see if she hath the Devil subject to her, and all false Principles, and false Doctrine, and false worship; does she trample them under her feet? for this woman hath all superstition and false doctrine, and temptations of the Devil under her foot, and all that is of the night, she hath all under foot.  
Having now shown you what this Church is, I hope as to the further application I have been so clear in the Doctrine, that you may easily apply it, for I have in effect applied it as I have gone along. But some may be ready to question with themselves what to do, and say with the Spouse, where dost thou feed thy flock? one cries, Come to us, we are the people; and another, We are the people; and a third, We are the people; but I want now tell you which is, but pray God to open your eyes to see and look upon the societies, and see which is likest the woman, having the Doctrine of Christ, and his Apostles, living in righteousness, and trampling under feet all the temptations of the Devil. I will leave you to find it out.   

Exhortation.  
But secondly, I charge you when you have found it, be a member of it: be a member of it, say you? if I am, I must be in pain; the Devil follows me, and poureth out a flood after me, she runs away, and runs into a wilderness, The woman fled into the wilderness, vers. 6. Shall I join with her? yea, join with her notwithstanding; though she be in a wilderness, she keeps her Crown, and she reigneth like a Queen, all the Devils are under her foot in a wilderness estate; join with her; alas! this is the Lamb's wife, she is married to Christ, and to be heir of all things, and to live eternally with the Lord Jesus Christ, where she shall never be persecuted more.  
But one thing more; Be not afraid to join with her; though she runs into a wilderness, yet she lives there, she hath a place prepared of God; vers. 6. The earth helped the woman, and opened its mouth and swallowed up the flood, v. 6. and the woman was saved, it was gone of a sudden; water enough, threaten enough to drown it, but all was gone in a moment.   

Advice.  
Again, one word to you that are of the people of God; you see your calling, my brethren; are you a Church of Christ? Oh how ought you to live! you are crowned, do not stoop too low; it becomes not a Prince to stoop for every pin, you are a crowned people; take heed of an earthly mind, take heed of poring on the world, and gripping at the world, and caring not what you do, so you can but scrape this world: it is below you; you are born to higher things; are you of this Church? Oh take heed lest any of the Town see you without your garment, let them see you clothed with holiness and righteousness, let not the Lord Jesus Christ be blasphemed because of you; your conversation may be made a blessing to the sinful, to convert them, and bring them over from sin to Christ, to be fellow-heirs with you; be always clothed with the Sun of Righteousness. Take heed of pride and passion, that is not like Christ. Take heed of fear and being cowardly, that is not like Christ. When you are called out to suffer for Christ, he hath enough to bear up your hearts, he will keep you company. Live as those that are clothed with the Sun, and hate sin and wickedness, and all works of darkness, for they are all of the night, all rioting, all wantonness, all evil discourses; trample the Moon of vanity and sin under your feet, and then God will make you glorious, even in the eyes of your enemies, when Christ shall own you before his Father, and Angels, in the great day, judging the world, yea and Devils too; only walk you as the woman that hath this crown, this garment, and this Moon under her feet.    

A SERMON PREACHED On the Anniversary Humiliation for the Burning of LONDON, September 2d. 1673. And these Notes were taken, read over, and corrected by himself, at the importunity of some to have it Printed.  Amos 3.6. Shall there be evil in a city, and the Lord hath not done it? 
IN the year 1666, a year never to be forgotten, God did visit this City with a great and fearful fire; when you then saw all in flames, and that there was no stopping of that devouring fire, but it went on raging till it had brought all to ashes, the great question then in London was, How came this fire? was it accidental, or was it by design? My Brethren, this part of the verse that I have opened, will give you light into that question, and will help you to know who it was that  London, it was the Lord, even that God which is the Author of every evil that is in a City; for saith the Lord, Is there any evil in a city, and the Lord hath not done it?  
In short, it was God burnt London, and God will justify it; you need go no further to inquire into the Author of it, I have done it, saith the Lord.  
The words you see are an Interrogation, Is there any evil in a city? But you may turn it into an Affirmation, and then the words run thus, There is no evil in a city but the Lord hath done it. These words are a conclusion that do depend upon the premised verses for their illustration. In the first verse of this Chapter, God by his Prophet Amos, as by his Herald, doth proclaim War against the Twelve Tribes, he declareth himself to be an adversary, an enemy to them: Hear, saith the Prophet, this word that the Lord hath spoken against you. I come with a word against you: why, who are these, you? who, the whole Family which I brought out of the land of Egypt, with every one of you, I have a word against you all; not only against the Ten Tribes, but I have a word of the Lord against Judah likewise, even against the whole family of Jacob that I brought out of Egypt. I have a word; that is, I have a word of threatening, I have a Proclamation of War from the great God against you. But this is strange, that God should have but one people in all the world, and that God should fall out with them at this time! all the rest of the Nations were all Heathens, they were all Idolaters, all worshippers of the Devil. And this people of the Twelve Tribes at that time, was the only people that God had in all the world, and yet God here entereth into a War with that very peo-people; Go, saith he to Amos, tell Israel that I am against them. I have a word against them. It is true, because they were such a privileged people, they had much ado ever to believe any Prophet that came with any sad tidings against them. For still when the Prophet came to threaten them with God's wrath and vengeance, they put all off with this: Are we not the seed of Abraham? Are we not a people in Covenant? Have we not the mark of the Covenant about us? Are not we the people that of all the people in the world God only knoweth? We will never believe that God will turn enemy against us. To this saith the Prophet, Yea, but God hath, even against you, whom he did so signally deliver, when he brought you by a mighty hand out of Egypt; even that very people, you; I had it in my commission to you; you whose fathers I delivered with an out stretched arm out of Egypt. Therefore do not flatter yourselves, to wit, that God hath been the God of your fathers, and therefore will not punish you their seed. I tell you I am sent to you: But God hath known us, surely he will not fall out with us for old acquaintance sake. Saith the Prophet, It is true, you are the people that God hath known of old, and hath known as a friend, hath known you familiarly: You only have I known of all the families of the earth: I grant it, saith God; I have known you in a way of mercy; I knew you when I chose you in Abraham; I knew you in bondage; I knew you when I delivered you out of Egypt; I knew you at the Red-sea when I wrought a wonder to save you; I have known you at Mount Sinai when I gave you my Law; I have known you in bringing of you into Canaan, a land flowing with milk and honey. I know you well enough, saith God. And I know you likewise by your sins as well as my mercies. I know you, and your fathers too, have been a rebellious generation, that have always provoked me bitterly; that provoked me ten times in the Wilderness. I knew you how you turned unto Baal-peor; I knew you in all your ingratitude; and therefore will I punish you. I know you as a people of the greatest mercies that ever were in the world, that ever I manifested to the sons of men; and I know you to be as ungrateful a people. I know you, and therefore I will punish you. But still will God punish? so difficult a thing it is to bring off a professing people from self-flattery. How? it cannot possibly be: these Israelites were ready to say, What God turn enemy to us! what, God that hath been such a great friend, and so long a friend! What, God that walked with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob! What, God that led us out of bondage, and carried us as an Eagle her young ones upon her wings forty years through a Wilderness! What will God threaten us, and destroy us! no surely, it cannot be. Well, the Prophet obviates this too, vers. 3. Can two walk together except they be agreed? True, I did walk with Abraham, and Abraham with me; I did walk with Isaac, and Isaac walked with me; that is in ways of righteousness, as Enoch is said to walk with God; that is, in a righteous life. But, saith God, now we are not agreed; when you and I were agreed, than you walked in my judgements, and in my statutes; and I walked with you in ways of mercy, and we were good friends; I did but speak, and you obeyed; you did but ask, and I gave. But now, saith God, you and I am fallen out; you have broken my laws; my statutes and my judgements are forsaken by you; I can live no longer with you, and I must part; we had as good part, we are not agreed; your ways and my ways, your nature and my nature are quite contrary; Therefore, saith he, I will part from you.  
Thus you have the meaning of the first three verses; we proceed to the 4th verse. God knowing what would be the event of this message, which is, that they would not believe it; He adds, But will they not believe I am thus angry? Go tell them, saith God, Amos go tell them, Will a Lion roar in the forest when he hath no prey? will a young Lion cry out of his den if he hath taken nothing? What is the meaning of that? It is observed of the Lion, that beast of the forest, that he seldom roars but either when he hath the prey in his paw, or the prey in his eye; when he seethe no prey, he roareth not; but when he hath gotten hold of the prey, and is tearing it with his paws and his teeth; or when he sees it in his eye, than he ordinarily roareth. What doth God by the Prophet mean here? This roaring of the Lion is the threatening of the Prophet; Gods threaten are as it were the roar of God. Now, saith he, shall God threaten destruction to you Twelve Tribes, and thus roar, and do you think yet that he will not destroy you? believe it, he will never thus threaten, but he hath the prey in his eye; he eyeth you Twelve Tribes, he intends to tear you in pieces, and to give your land to another people, why? because he roareth, because he threatens. This is the sense of the 4th verse; the 5th follows, wherein the Lord by his Prophet beats them from another refuge, where he knew they would seek to hid their heads, and that is, that though wars and desolation should come as was threatened, that they were but matters of chance incident to this world, and no argument of God's anger towards them. This the Lord meets with in a Parable of a bird being taken in a net: Can a bird (saith he) fall upon a snare in the earth where is no gin for him? shall one take up a snare from the earth when he hath taken nothing? He meaneth, however accidental plagues may seem to be to men; yet they are determined of God; when a bird is caught, it is but accidental to the bird, he lighteth and is catched in the snare; but it is the deliberate act, the intentional act of the fowler, for he sets the snare; for what end? to catch the bird; and he taketh not up this snare until he hath caught it. Oh Israel! when ever you find yourselves caught in the snare of God, when ever you see yourselves destroyed, however accidental those destructions may seem to come upon you as to second causes; believe it, I was the fowler, I laid the net, (saith the Lord) I did intent to catch you, it is my own work, my designed work. Therefore when such a Judgement comes, say, I sent it; when you are caught, I caught you; when you are torn in pieces, I tore you in pieces. And now in the conclusion of all this, saith he, Can there be evil in the city, and the Lord not do it? These words they are put by way of question, as I now told you; make them affirmative, and they shall be my Doctrine: That is then thus, Doct. There is no evil in a city but the Lord hath done it.  
In the opening hereof,  
1. I shall show you what is here meant by City.  
2. I shall show you what is meant by evil in the City.  
3. I shall show you how God is the author of all that evil in the City; and I shall show you the reason why he doth assume to himself to be the author of all the evil in the City.  
4. I shall show you the reasons why he doth inflict so many evils upon a City: and then we shall come to Application.  
1. What is here meant by City? City may be taken here either properly or improperly; properly for the rows of houses, the streets of houses, as they are compassed in with walls, which are the habitations of Citizens. The City, for the houses of the City; and than it is thus, Is there any evil befalls the Houses of the City, but I do it? Are Cities fired and burnt to ashes? I do it.  
Improperly, and here is a double Synecdoche to be understood in this word, City.  
1. City is here taken for the things and persons in the City, Is there any evil in a city? that is, Doth there any evil befall the Citizens of the City, or any concernment of the Citizens? and then there is another Synecdoche of the part for the whole: the City may be taken for the Kingdom, as being part of the Kingdom; nay, it may be taken for the whole world, as being part of the whole world; so the sense will be thus, Is there any evil in a whole Kingdom? Is there any evil in the whole world but I have done it, saith the Lord? God owneth himself to be the author of all the evil, (that is of punishment, I shall show presently) that hath been in the world from the beginning of it to the end. But then we must in the  
2d place, see what is meant by Evil: there is a great deal of reason that you should be well informed hereof. There are therefore, my Brethren, two sorts of evils which we must carefully distinguish.  
1. There is the evil of sin: And,  
2ly, There is the evil of punishment. The evil of sin, that is any transgression of, or any nonconformity to the righteous Law of God, this is properly evil; the evil of sin, yea, the greatest evil in the world. There are no evils of what kind soever that are to be compared with this great evil of sin. Now, my Brethren, in this sense you must take heed of understanding the Prophet: God doth not here say, or the Prophet doth not here say, Is there any evil of sin in a City, but I have done it? no, God forbidden! this were the highest blasphemy in the world, to make God the author of all the sin of the City. He would be a strange God if he should be the author of all London's sins, and all England's sins, and all the world's sins. This cannot be the meaning of the Prophet for these Reasons:  
1. Because God is so far from being the author of all the sin in a City, or in the world, that he never committed any sin since this world was; the world hath had experience of God for near six thousand years, but they never found God guilty of sin, guilty of any unrighteousness. God in upbraiding his people Israel, he doth make use of this, You have departed from me, saith the Lord; and why are you departed from me? What cause have I given you to departed from me? Have your fathers found (saith he) any iniquity in me? Have your fathers experienced any unrighteous deal from me? Did they ever find me an oppressor of them? Did they ever find me to exact work, and not to give good wages? Did they ever find me to be false to my word? In Jer. 2.5. Thus saith the Lord, what iniquity have your fathers found in me that they are gone from me, and have walked after vanities, and are become vain? What iniquity! your fathers never found any iniquity in God, no, nor you neither. The righteous God never was guilty, from the foundation of the world to this time, of any unrighteousness to any of his Creatures. No, here is a challenge as to all generations, if they can tell any unrighteous works, or any unrighteous act that God was guilty of, and if they can challenge him for any, they may have something to say for themselves.  
2ly, God is so far from being the cause of sin, that he doth disclaim an having any hand in it in any sort or kind whatever, no not so much as in any temptation to it; as you may see in Jam. 1.13. Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God. That is, when any man is tempted to sin, let no man say when he is thus tempted, that God tempted him to sin. Why should they not say so? Why, saith the Apostle, the reason is, for God cannot be tempted of evil, neither tempteth he any man. No man can ever tempt God to do that which is evil? neither doth God tempt any man to sin. How come they then to be tempted? the Apostle telleth, Every man is tempted when he is drawn away of his own lusts and enticed. You are tempted of yourselves, and of the Devil. Lay your sins at your own door, God hath no hand at all in them.  
3ly, God cannot be the author of the evil of sin; Why? because it is so contrary to the nature of God: It is so contrary, that it would even destroy, God if it were there. A sinning God is no God at all; for the very notion of the Godhead doth imply all Perfection in him. Now sin is the palpablest imperfection in the world; an imperfect God is a weak God; and an impotent God is no almighty God; and that which is not almighty, is no God at all. It is a hard thing for any creature to put off its nature, or that which is essential to it; now righteousness is of the very essence of the Godhead. How hard a thing is it, my Brethren, for you to think or conceive of a Sun without light, or to conceive of fire without heat? so hard and impossible is it for you to conceive of a God without holiness, a God without righteousness, yea without perfection of righteousness. And therefore the Apostle to the Hebrews doth reckon sin in God as an impossibility; it is impossible for God to sin, he instanceth in the case of falseness, or a lie, Hebr. 6.18. that by two immutable things, that is his word and his oath, in which it was impossible for God to lie. Now what the Apostle here saith of the sin of lying, I may say of all sorts of sin, it is as impossible for God to do unjustly, as it is impossible for God to lie; it is impossible for these reasons; you see it clear, that it is impossible for God to be the author of sin. Well then, how must it be taken? by evil must be here meant the evil of punishment: Why is punishment called an evil? for this reason, because that punishment doth deprive us of our good things; now that which taketh away our good things, is an evil thing; punishment taketh away our good things, strippeth us of them all, both spiritual and temporal. Therefore punishment is called an evil; so than the sense is this: Is there any punishment in a City? is there any evil of punishment? is there any plague? is there any judgement that doth befall a City? saith the Lord, I did them, I will own them: You are not ashamed of your sinning, and I am not ashamed of my punishing of you for your sin. You are not ashamed to provoke me to wrath, and I am not afraid to tell you when I am in wrath with you. Now there are several sorts of these punishments that God doth inflict for sin, and God doth own himself to be the author of them all, there are none of them to be found in the world, but God will own himself to be the author of them. There are some evils of punishment that do light upon the soul, and where ever you see of them in a City, the Lord is the author of them. All the evils, all the soul-plagues that are upon a City, they are of the Lord. What are these soul-plagues? why, judicial blindness, judicial hardness of heart, judicial unconvertedness; so far as these are judgements, so far God is the author of them. And alas! how much of this plague is upon London, this evil of judicial blindness, hardness of heart, unconvertedness, unhealedness? But will God own himself to be the author of this; yes, he doth do it by his own Son, Joh. 12.40. He hath blinded their eyes: who hath blinded their eyes? God hath blinded their eyes, he hath. God hath blinded their eyes. He hath hardened their hearts, God hath hardened their hearts, that they should not see with their eyes, nor understand with their hearts, and be converted and I should heal them. This is strange! is it not, my Brethren, that God should be the author of the blindness of the mind, and the hardness of the heart! I say it is as true as strange; for so far as blindness is a judgement, so far as hardness of heart is a judgement; not as it is a sin, but as it is a judgement, God is the cause of it: but if you should be startled as to wonder how possibly it could be that God should be the author of blindness and hardness; if you will but compare this phrase unto that other kind of phrase which the Apostle useth in his Epistle to the Romans, Rom. 1.26. the matter will be clear, Christ saith God hath blinded them; the Apostle he expresseth it by a phrase of giving up to sin. God he than blindeth, and then hardeneth, when he giveth up to blindness, that is that blindness that men have contracted; when he giveth them up to that hardness of heart that by sin they have contracted to themselves: For this cause (saith the Apostle) God gave them up unto vile affections (God gave them up to them) for even their women to change their natural use to that which is against nature. God gave them up to it. All the Villainies that were acted among the Heathens, all those abominable sins that they polluted themselves with, God gave them up in judgement to commit them. And truly when you look over this City of London, and you find all sorts of sins in a high degree to abound; when you hear of sins that are not to be named, though these sins are of men's own wicked hearts, yet as they are judgements, so they are of God. God gives them up to drunkenness, and up to swearing, and up to adultery and uncleanness; so far as these are judgements, they are to be attributed to God. God gives them up to them. And it is like that other phrase that the Prophet Hosea useth, Hos. 4.17. Ephraim is joined to Idols, let him alone. If you would know when God giveth up a people to blindness, and giveth them up to hardness, it is then when he lets them alone in their blindness, when he lets them alone in their hardness; when doth he let them alone? when he taketh off friends from reproving them, and Ministers from exhorting them, and Conscience from troubling them; giving them up to searedness of Conscience, when he takes off the Spirit from striving with them, than he lets them alone. So to let a people alone in their blindness, to give them Priests after their own hearts, to give them those that will sew cushions under their elbows, and will flatter them in their sins, and tell them it is an easy matter to please God, and get to Heaven, and therefore need not be at the expense of much trouble. When God giveth them up, I say, to such Priests and such friends as will flatter them in their sins, daub over their iniquities, than he lets them alone, than he is said judicially to blind their minds, and harden their hearts, that they should not be converted and healed. Oh what a great deal of this plague is upon London! and truly, Sirs, this is a worse plague than that of the Pestilence; this plague exceeds the Plague of Sixty-five, and exceeds the great plague of the Fire, for which you humble yourselves this day. It is worse than Plague and Fire: why? because those other plagues are but the litter of this Cockatrice eggs, all hatched in this womb of sin; London's blindness, London's hardness of heart under the light of the Gospel, was the cause of London's Fire, and London's Pestilence. It were well if there were a Fastday appointed all over England to bewail this great plague of blindness of mind, and hardness of heart; this judicial blindness and hardness that is as it were spread like a leprosy all over England; this is a plague we are not sensible of, little affected with, Why? because it is invisible in the soul. The fire that flamed and cast a dreadful smoke, and affected our senses, looked like Sodom, yea like Hell itself, these we are affected with; and when we see our dying friends look pale, and see them gasp and groan, this we are affected with; but for blind souls, dead souls, poisoned souls, poisoned with sin, being full of sin, and full of Hell, gasping and dying, and going to Hell, no body is affected with this; how few hearts are affected with this, and those least upon whom this plague is!  
2ly, There is another sort of evils, and those are such that reach the body: Is there any evil in a city but I have done it? That is, Is there any punishment upon the body? there is not. My Brethren, you never know God aright, you never adore him aright, you never fear him aright, till you can see him concerned with every thing that you meet with in the world; yea, every evil. God doth look so narrowly unto all that you are and have, that there is not one hair of your heads can fall to the ground without his Providence; there is not an aching head but God hath a hand in it; the least pain on your body that is inflicted, it is by a direction from God. There is not one evil in a whole City, no not among all the inhabitants of a City, but I have done it, saith the Lord; all the cross of your family, all of them, every one of them; whatever be the second causes that are at work, God is the first; he is the first great wheel. There is not an evil; all those burning fevers, agues, all the pains of the Stone or Gout, all those Plague-sores, those Boils and Blains, let the disease be what it will, what it can, as it is a punishment, God is the author of it, God inflicts it.  
And then there is another sort of evils; there are many of them indeed, but another, that which respects the estate; there is not one evil that may befall your estate in this world, but God is the author of it. Would you in London but believe this, it would be of great use to you: you never lose one farthing but God knoweth of it, and he hath a hand in it. You never trust a man, and he deceiveth you, but God giveth you up to be deceived by that man. You never trusted a man that breaketh through poverty, but God knew it before hand, and gave you up to lend him, or to trust him. There is not a Ship miscarrieth by Sea, but it is of the Lord it miscarrieth. Oh that you were but well acquainted with this Doctrine, then would you learn to acknowledge God in all your ways, and in all his works of Providence that you meet with in the world; and if there is none of these evils can follow your estate without God, then surely London could not be burnt without God; for if the least evil, how much more the greatest evil? So that here you see it was the Lord Jehovah that burned this City, a few years since he burned it to ashes, he would not have the fire stopped, he would have it go on raging till it had finished his Decree; he would have it so, the Lord hath done it, he owneth it this day that you are met together, and hath in his Providence sent me to tell you that God burned London, God burned it. Do not therefore much trouble yourselves about Instruments, though likely some might be wicked instruments in it, yet it was God that did the thing. I have done it, saith the Lord. Doubtless it it of an humbling consideration to us this day, now we are come before the Lord. But then the question will be in the  
Third place, How may God be said to be the author of all punishment? How is it that God doth burn Cities, destroy Families, Kingdoms? how doth he do it? There are two ways that God may be said to be the author of all the punishments that are in the world.  
First, God is the author of them by his decreeing of them.  
Secondly, God is the author of them by seeing to means that shall certainly execute them. God in his Decree appoints the end; and God in his Providence provides the means too; so that if they be decreed by God, and these Decrees executed by God, than God may truly be said to be author of them: I have done them, saith God.  
First, Then God is the author of all punishment in a City, in as much as when ever these evils come upon a City or people, they are first decreed by God; they do not come by chance, they are of Gods laying on, as the Prophet intimateth. God hath determined of them before hand; and this will be clear if you do but consult several like cases; when evils have befallen a world of people, and befallen Cities, they came not accidentally, but they came by the determinate counsel of God. We will give you some of these instances: One of the most universal plagues that God ever poured down upon this world, was that of the Deluge, when he drowned it: Why, whence come these waters? from God. Who drowned the World? I did, saith God. What, didst not thou spare, except those eight persons, man, woman, nor child? no, not one, I spared none of them, but drowned them all. What was it done rashly, inconsiderately, as men use to do in a passion, doing that in haste that they repent at leisure? No, no, God thought of it long before, sixscore years before the world was drowned, it was determined of God it should be drowned (he had passed his Decree upon it) for their iniquities, Gen. 6.7. And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created (I will do it, saith God) from the face of the earth, both man and beast, and the creeping things, and the fowls of the air, for it repenteth me that I have made man. I will do it, saith the Lord. Lord! when wilt thou do it? I will do it, saith he, about sixscore years hence. I will give them so much time to repent in, to see what they will do: vers. 3. For the Lord said, my spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh, yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years. That is between the threatening and between the performance, between the execution. So that the Deluge was of God, it was of God's deliberate determination, he decreed it, he was the author of it. So again, as to the burning of Sodom, God first sitteth in judgement upon Sodom, trieth Sodom, heareth evidence against Sodom, casts her, passeth sentence upon her, and all this before execution day: the righteous Judge of the world did proceed righteously, he hath a trial and a sentence before execution. And as he dealt with Sodom, doubtless he dealt with London too. Gen. 18.20, 21. Sodom had grievously sinned to provoke God, as London may have done; and there came continual tidings from earth to heaven, Let sent them up in his lamentations, good Angels peradventure declaims against them, crying out, How long, how long, holy and true, wilt thou spare yonder wicked Sodom? And the Lord said, Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is very grievous, I will go down now and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it which is come unto me; and if not I will know. I will deal very fairly with them, I will not burn them without they deserve it. And you know the Lord sent two Angels, who came to Lot's house, who were eye-witnesses of their abominations; for thither came the wretched Sodomites there to force the men that came to Lot's house: and what was the issue of it? Gen. 19.13. Haste thee hence (saith the Angels) we will destroy this place. There is the sentence, for we will destroy this place, because the cry of them is waxed great before the face of the Lord, and the Lord hath sent us to destroy it. And do you think, my Brethren, (though it may be perhaps hard for you to understand it) do you think London was not tried before burnt, as well as Sodom? ay, no doubt London's drunkenness, and uncleanness, and formality, cried in the ears of the Lord God of Sabbaths: God looked down to see what London did, and how London lived, and how London improved the Gospel it had; and upon trial it was found too light; and God sent them first the Pestilence, than the Fire. First, destroy the Citizens with the Plague, saith God; then burn the City. God decreed it, it was decreed before done. The Lord help us to have reverend thoughts of God in all his works here among the children of men.  
Again, I might instance in two more, and that was the first and second destruction of Jerusalem: They were destroyed; who destroyed them? the Lord destroyed them. How was the Lord said to be the author of the destruction of Jerusalem? because it was decreed before it was done. God decreed the destruction of it, and God sent Jeremiah to tell the people of Israel that he would bring the Babylonians upon them, a strong and mighty Nation; God had purposed to do it, and that many years before he did it: It had passed in the sentence of God, the judgement of God was passed upon them. So again the second time when the Temple of Jerusalem was destroyed and burnt by Titus Vespasian, when it was burnt, destroyed, and laid desolate by the Romans; it is true, the Romans were the Executioners, but it was God that had past the judgement upon them. Nay, it had passed in the judgement of God five hundred years before it was done. God had reckoned with the Israelites, reckoned up their sins from their forefathers, he had kept an account of them all from generation to generation; and foretold their destruction from the time of Daniel, which was to the destruction of Jerusalem, about five hundred years, Dan. 9.26. and what Daniel foretold so long before, that Jesus Christ foretold in his day to be nigh at hand. Christ looking upon that beautiful structure of the Temple of Solomon in the 24th of Mat. saith unto them, Do you not see a beautiful Temple here, the Temple of Jerusalem? Verily I say unto you, there shall not be left here one stone upon another that shall not be thrown down. How did Christ know that? Christ knew that his Father had determined to destroy the Temple. How long before? near five hundred years: For it is spoken of about five hundred years before by Daniel, as I have said: When ye therefore shall see the abomination of desolation spoken of by Daniel the Prophet, stand in the holy place, (that is, compass the City, besiege the City) whoso readeth let him understand. Why so? for now is the time spoken of by Daniel for to destroy this City, and for to destroy this Temple. Thus you see in these instances how God is the author of all the punishment that is in the world, in as much as he doth decree it before it comes to pass.  
Secondly, God is the author of all the punishments, because he seethe, he provideth means and instruments for the execution of his Decrees. God doth not only say, let such a plague come, let such a fire come; but God taketh care to see it done: When God will have a thing done, there shall not want instruments, it shall be done in a way and manner of his own contriving. If you will ask me who are these executioners of God's decrees in inflicting punishments upon this world, upon the Kingdoms, and Cities, and Towns, and Persons thereof? I answer you, the whole Creation, all the parts of it, they all stand ready as Ministers of God to do his pleasure; when God will have any punishment inflicted, both Heaven, and Sea, and Earth, Men and Devils, they are all ready to execute his wrath and vengeance upon the World. The Heavens they are the executioners of God's decree to punish men. When God had a mind to defeat Sisera's army, the very Stars in their courses stood on God's side and fought against Sisera. You have such a passage as that is in the Judges, The stars fought against God's enemies; the clouds, the hail, they are ready to do according as they are capable in executing God's wrath; when God would punish the Egyptians and their  with Hail, the Clouds they did as ministers of God charge themselves with Hail, and discharge like so many Harquibusses, discharged themselves again upon the Egyptians and their , and destroyed multitudes of them. The Winds they are ready to serve the Lord, and to do what ever he would have them do; The Winds: ye shall see how David put them all together as Ministers, servants of God, ready to do his pleasure, in Psal. 148.8. Fire, hail, snow and vapours, stormy winds, fulfilling his word: they all stand ready at the word of God, to go and come, to do what God will have them do, all of them ready to fulfil his word. Will God use the Seas to punish the wicked? those senseless creatures, those deaf creatures, they have ears to hear the word of God. God had punished Pharaoh and his host, and his people in Egypt ten times, yet Phareah was not satisfied, but followed Israel to the Red-Sea; now God will make the Sea to punish Pharaoh, the very Sea can do it. God spoke but the word, and those great waters (a wonderful thing!) divided hither and thither, and contrary unto their natures, stood like two crystal walls congealed, until the Israelites passed through; but when Pharaoh and his host assayed to do the like, God spoke the word, and like two Jaws they close again, and devoured Pharaoh and his host. The Sea was executioner of God's wrath upon that proud-hearted King. Look upon things upon the earth, they are all ready to execute vengeance upon God's enemies; the Fly, the Locust, the Caterpillar, yea, the very Lice, God maketh use of to bring down the proud heart of Pharaoh; and not only these inferior creatures but all sorts of creatures, yea the very Devils and wicked men stand ready to execute wrath even upon those that are as wicked as themselves. The very Devils, if God hath a mind to punish a man, they will be ready to run to inflict the punishment. They will do it, nay, they are very desirous, they would go more about this work of plaguing and punishing men, than God is willing they should do; and it was mere importunity, as I may say, whereby the Devil did get God to try Job. It is true, those afflictions came not in wrath upon Job, but for trial; but however it was in wrath from the Devil. But God giveth the Devil leave to burn Job his  by fire from Heaven, to raise a mighty storm, to bring the house down upon the heads of his children while feasting; to stir up the Sabeans to come into the field and take away his . And what he doth here for Job, so he will do it for those that are otherwise his professed friends and followers. Ahab was a good servant of the Devil, but Ahab had angered God, and God was resolved he would spare him no longer, but cut him off. How will God cut him off? He shall be cut off in battle, saith God. But how shall Ahab be brought to the battle? there steps one out, a lying spirit, I will be a lying spirit in the mouth of Ahab his false Prophets, and these false Prophets shall persuade Ahab to go to the battle, and there thou shalt cut him off. This was the Devil, the Devil that had put Ahab upon Idolatry; the Devil that had put Ahab upon selling himself to do wickedly, the Devil is readiest to do execution upon Ahab when his time is come. Saith God, he hath been false and treacherous to me, Go and be a lying spirit in the mouth of his Prophets, and they shall prevail upon him to lead him out to the battle, and I will provide an arrow that shall take away his life. Wicked men are ready to do execution upon any people that God is angry with. God threatneth his people Israel, I will but hiss for such a people, and they will all come: What a great people were the Babylonians; I will but because, I will but nod, I will but speak a word, and all that great Empire of Babylon shall be in arms: For what? to pull thee in pieces, Oh Judah, and Oh Jerusalem. So likewise if there were any instruments that did wilfully help forward the burning of the City, I tell you they had all their orders. But will God give wicked men order to do thus wickedly? no. God only gives them order to inflict the evil as it is a punishment, no otherwise; what wickedness there is in the principle of him that is the executioner, that is to himself. God gave commission to the Devil to burn Job's , and to destroy Job's Children; the Devil doth it maliciously, and with an intent to make Job blaspheme God: Ay, but God doth only give leave for the trying of Job. So when God maketh use of wicked men to inflict a judgement, he intendeth nothing but the demonstration of his righteousness against sin, but wicked men they may have malicious ends of their own. So if God should give leave to men to burn the City, I tell you, though the instruments be wicked, and do it wickedly, they are crooked staves, but yet therewith God strikes a right stroke, a right blow. It was sin in Judas to betray his Master, & yet the Apostle Peter tells you it was according to the determinate counsel of God. God had so ordered it in his Providence, that Judas should be one of the twelve that should betray Christ; so ye see that God is the author of all the evil of punishment, but not of the evil of sin. He is the author of it by decreeing of it, by providing means to affect his Decree.  
But than lastly, we shall add the reasons hereof, when God doth bring evil upon a City: Why doth God bring evil upon a City? I answer you, the principal reason for which God doth bring evil upon a City, it their sin; for their sins and their punishments are relatives; where there is no sin, there is no such thing as punishment. The Fire of London so far as it was London's punishment, it doth respect the sin of London, it was for sin. This is very clear in all the Judgements that we read of, they are all for sin. Why did God drown the old world? because their imaginations were evil, and that continually, it was for sin. Why did God burn Sodom? it was for sin; their sins cried in the ears of God. Why did God threaten the Twelve Tribes? it was for sin. Why was ten of them destroyed by the Assyrians about threescore and ten years after this Amos prophesied? it was for sin. God telleth us so. And why was Jerusalem destroyed by the Babylonians? for their sin. And so the rest. And if so, if sin is the cause of all the Judgements you read of in the Book of God, than you must conclude where there was so great a Judgement, so great a punishment inflicted upon London, it was for sin; it was for the sin of London. Why, what sins are there that God is so angry with? they are of two sorts, there are sins against nature, or the Law written upon the heart; and there are sins against the Gospel, against the grace of God in Christ Jesus. The sins against the law written in the heart, they are enumerated in Rom. 1.28. They liked not to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them up to a reprobate mind, to do the things which are not convenient, being filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, covetousness, maliciousness, full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity, whisperers; and so he goeth on, these are sins against nature, against the law of nature, and usually these are the sins for which God doth punish the Gentiles, or those that never had the Law nor Gospel. But then the sins against the Gospel, are the greatest sins, because they are against a most easy, gracious, merciful Law. God will more punish for sins against the Gospel, than for those sins that are against the Law of nature. Sodom sinned against the Law written upon her heart, but the Jews they sinned against the Gospel, and therefore were the greatest sinners. Let Christ be judge: I tell you (saith Christ) it shall be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the great day, than it shall be for you. More tolerable, why? for if they had had the means that you have had, they would have repent. They had sinned, but they had not the means of repentance, or at least not such means as you have had; for you have had not only the means of the Law to convert yond, Oh Jews, but you have had the means of the Gospel. The means of the Gospel doth as it were lift a people up unto Heaven, it bringeth them as near to Heaven as means can bring them; and thus was Bethsaida and Corazin lifted up with, What? with the means of the grace of the Gospel? they had the preaching of Christ among them, but they did despise these means, and continue in their infidelity, and therefore were thrown down to Hell, as Christ threatened them. And saith the Apostle to the Hebrews, (I am showing of you that sins against the Gospel are the greatest sins) If a trangression against the Law of Moses deserveth death, and was punished by death, of how much sorer punishment shall they be thought worthy that do neglect so great salvation? That is, the Gospel-salvation; Gospel-sins are the greatest sins; when God punisheth, he punisheth for both.  
And now I have spoken to the four parts.  

Application.  
Let me make a short Application, and I shall conclude. Doth it thus appear that God is the author of all the punishments that are upon a City, are you convinced of it, my Brethren? are you satisfied by what I have said, That there is no punishment that befalls any person, any family, any City, but it is of Gods appointing, and of Gods executing; that is, he provideth and seethe to the execution of it? Is this true? Then you have in the  
First place, a clear and a full information of the author of the burning of your City. Who did burn London? why, what was the burning of London, an evil? ay, and a great one too. Was it so? Be it then known to all you Londoners, saith the Lord, you that are the Citizens thereof, be it known to you, I did burn this City, and I do this day own it. God doth own it this day. God hath burnt it. I know you may be ready to be complaining of instruments; and surely if there were any, they were wicked instruments; for as I told you before in several instances, God may make use of wicked instruments to do his work, to inflict his punishments. God made use of lying Prophets to deceive Ahab, for to bring Ahabs' death about; and God made use of Judas his Treason to bring the punishment of the iniquity of us all upon the back of Jesus Christ. But my Brethren, whoever were the instruments, God is the principal efficient. Pray will you remember and carry it home with you, God did it. How did God do it? God did decree it, it came doubtless according to the determinate counsel of God. For as the world was not drowned without an antecedent decree; nor Sodom burned without an antecedent decree, nor Jerusalem the first and second time destroyed without an antecedent decree; so doubtless this City of London did not come to ashes without the decree of God, it was before determined in the counsel of God; and as God did decree it, so God in his Providence took order for all the means that were employed to the burning thereof. God had a hand in giving leave to all the lesser wheels to work. It was God that by six week or two months hot weather did purposely dry the Houses of London to make them fuel fit for the fire. Would you have believed it? the weather was the Lords, the Lord caused it. When it was fired, that men wanted wisdom or courage, or success to put it out, God took away their wisdom; God took away their courage; God stood by, and as it were said, Hands off, I intent to execute my wrath upon London, touch it not, let it go on. Magistrates do nothing, or if you do, let it be to no purpose.  
Again, God provided a wind, that when the fire began at one end, God ordered the wind to blow it on to the other end. The wind came out of the hollow of God's hand, it was no casual thing, no accidental thing, my Brethren, it was according to the predeterminate Counsel of God.  
That is the first thing; if God be the cause of all the evil of punishment, then of the burning of London, God hath done it; who ever was the instrument, God was the principal cause.  
Secondly, if God burned London, then in the second place let us this day learn to be silent under the hand of God, let us not question nor quarrel with his Providence; let us not say to the Almighty, why hast thou done so? Let us not have a thought rise up against him, as to charge him foolishly; let us be silent, nay, let us not too eagerly in our passion run out and vent ourselves against any that were instruments, for that is to do like the Dog that snarls and gnaws the staff and run after the stone, and gnaweth the stone, but never regards the hand that threw the stone, nor the hand that strikes with the staff; you vent your anger and wrath against the instruments, alas! the instruments they were but rods in the hand of Almighty God, they were but the stone and the staff, alas! they were in the hand of God, he could have frustrated them if he would, but he had so ordered it in his Providence to give men leave to execute their malice upon London; let us lay our han●● upon our mouths, and not murmur against the Lord; let us acknowledge that since it is the evil of punishment, it was a just one, for never did City deserve to be burnt as London did. Never! No, say you! What do you think of Sodom? do you think that we are as bad as they? I tell you, worse; you are worse, you are as much worse than Sodom, as Bethsaida was worse than Sodom. Why, wherein was Bethsaida worse? because Bethsaida did sin under Gospel-light, and so did London. Never had a people more of the Gospel than you have had; never Ministers more gifted than you have had; never a Ministry more drawn out in their affections after your Conversion than you have had; and yet London have blinded their eyes, and hardened their hearts, and would not be converted, So that you deserved it more than Sodom, and it will be more tolerable for Sodom in the day of Judgement than for you. Humble yourselves therefore under his mighty hand: Why, how shall we humble ourselves? by confessing it was justly done. Take the course that Daniel did upon a Fastday, as this may be, when he was interceding with God for the people of Israel, to bring them back out of Captivity, as you are this day, that God would not burn it again; he did it by confessing of sin, and all sorts of sin, Dan. 9.5. O Lord, saith he, thou art a great God, a God on thy part keeping covenant and promise to them that love thee, and keep thy commandments; but as for us, we have sinned and committed iniquity, and done wickedly, and have rebelled even by departing from thy precepts, and from thy judgements: neither have we harkened to thy servants the Prophets which spoke in thy name, to our King, and Princes, and Fathers; O Lord, righteousness belongeth to thee, but to us belongeth confusion of face. To us, who of us? to our King, to our Princes, to our Fathers, all deserve to be put to shame: why? because we have sinned against thee. This is our work this day to humble ourselves before God, to humble ourselves for our sins here in this City against God, whereby he was provoked to burn our Habitations.  
Thirdly, Is God the cause of all punishments? and are all punishments for sin? then from hence you may gather that London is a very wicked City. Why? because God is very angry with it: and it is certain, he is never angry without great cause; men may be angry without a cause, and we may chide one another without a cause; yet God never is angry without cause; and in as much as God hath shown himself angry with London, it is a sign London hath given God a great deal of cause for his anger: What cause hath London given God to be angry with them? Truly when I begin to think of London's sins, they are so many that it puzzles me where to begin, or where to make an end; but however let us name some of them; why did God burn London? for London's pride; London had lifted itself up in pride against God, and God pulled London down, he pulled it into ashes to make the proud ones of London know what they are, and what their Cities are, nothing but dust and ashes. My Brethren, God is a great enemy against pride; for the great King of Babylon's pride he took away his reason, and turned him into a beast, and turned him a grazing with the . Pride! God resisteth the proud, he is a great enemy to the proud, a great adversary to them, and to their projects and designs, but he showeth grace to the humble. Wherein doth London appear proud? proud in their Apparel, proud in their Houses, proud in their gestures, proud in their Professions, they are guilty of all these sorts of pride. I cannot stand to speak much of it, but the Lord open your understandings and your hearts that you may see where the guilt lieth; the fantastic dresses of many of the Londoners, that is one sort; the pride of their hearts, that's another sort. The next sort of sins are London's luxury, drunkenness, gluttony, their excessive feasting, their prodigal expenses. London is a wanton City; instead of worshipping God in spirit, it is a City, for a great part, that sacrificeth as it were unto Bacchus and Ceres; they make their belly their god; Oh the drunkenness of London! the gluttony of London! Is it not so? Again, the covetousness of London: God was angry with Israel for being covetous; why, you covet gold more than grace; covet earth more than heaven. Oh the injustice, the wrong-getting, the lying, the perjury in getting of Estates! Oh the covetousness in keeping, in not laying out proportionable to what God gave you to do good to others! God hath given you a Talon, and you wrap it in a napkin; or which is worse, you prodigally spend it upon your lusts, that make nothing of ten or twenty pounds to bestow upon a vain feast, and grudge to give an Angel or twenty shillings for the help of any of the poor servants of God; is not this a sin, do you think, when you are so liberal to your own lusts, and you are so heart-bound and hand-bound towards God and his people? yea certainly, and an highly provoking sin too.  
Again, London's profanation of the Lordsday: God all the time of the Law was very zealous for his Sabbath, and he had a Controversy with Israel often upon the account of his Sabbath; and there are many Promises that he gave them to encourage them to keep his Sabbath: If thou wilt keep my Sabbaths, and count them thy delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable, I will make thee honourable and great in the world: but if not, I will pull thee down and destroy thee, and make thee the tail and not the head. Hath not this been one of London's great sins? How full of walkers have the streets been on the Sabbath? how full have the fields about this City been on the Lord's day? what playing, what drinking, what drunkenness at every Alehouse, especially your by Alehouses in London, and in the Fields? How few in London do strictly observe the Lordsday? that pray with their Family in the morning? that take care that their whole Family wait upon God all that day in his Ordinances, that when they come home at night, are careful to see what they profit by what they hear? How few are there in London that spend the Lords day as they should do? God hath a Controversy with you for this. What account can you Masters, give of your servants souls? What care have you had over them, either all the week days, or else on the Lord's day? What have you done for them? For your sinful neglect herein, God is angry with you. For the adultery and uncleanness of London, for the whoredoms of Israel the land mourneth; for the whoredom of London, London was burnt. God punished the City with one fire for the sin of another, that is the fire of lust. But, my Brethren, it is not barely these sins that God hath been angry with London for, but for the aggravations of them. Why, wherein?  
First, For the brazen-facedness of them; alas! we know that these sins may be found every where: ay, but we are grown impudent sinners, brazenfaced sinners, we are not ashamed of our sins; but we can be drunk with boldness, and commit adultery, and boast of it. We can sin, as Absalon lay with his Father's Concubines, in the face of the Sun before all Israel. Here is the aggravation of the sin now, it is not the drunkenness only of London, and swearing, and perjury, and Sabbath-breaking, but London's shamelesness in it. As God when he came to reprove Israel, and threatens Judgements upon her, saith he, Thou hast a brazen face, thou hast the looks of an harlot, thou dost sin, and thou dost not blush at it. Truly this hath been London's sin, they will swear and receive no reproof; be drunk and scorn a reproof; it is the very mode of the times to be drunk and commit adultery; sobriety is laughed at; a scornful defiance is bid to the Law of God, and Ministers have now much ado to persuade men that these things are sins. It is for London's impudence in sin that God burned London.  
Secondly, they are not only the bare sins of London, but God is angry with them for these sins under the preaching of the Gospel. Alas! if you were drunk, you might be drunk, and God never have burnt the City; if you swore and forswore, and had been some of the Americans that had no Law, nor Prophets, nor Christ, nor Apostles, nor Ministers, you might have sworn and cursed, and God would have stood still and let you alone, and only took a course with you at death, burned you then in Hell. But since God hath taken England for his people, and London for his people, and sent Christ to be preached, and sent Ministers, and gifted them, and bid them cry, and cry aloud; believe it, God will not take your sins as he takes the sins of others. No, Sabbath-breaking is a greater sin in London than it is in the Northern parts of this Kingdom: Why, you have more means, you have the Gospel in a greater light. And you Parents in London, and Masters, for you to neglect your Families, God taketh it worse at your hands, than he doth at those in the Country. Why? you should know better: God hath given you more means to know the preciousness of servants and children's souls, therefore you should look more carefully after them. Your sins are committed against Gospel-light, and therefore more dangerous, therefore God punishes you.  
Thirdly, sins after vows of reformation: did London never promise God solemnly to reform? if you have forgotten it, God hath not. London hath been under a promise to reform: How to reform? to entertain Christ and the Gospel, and to improve it better, to promote his Ordinances, and to reform their Families, every one in their places. If you have broken your Vows, and thrown them behind your backs, God is still alive to punish for it. Ay, your sins are greater too than others: Why? because they are against more mercies, temporal mercies, in some respects, than the Countries about. In the time of the Civil War, when all the Country almost was laid waist, London was not touched; there were Cities besieged, Cities burnt, Cities and Towns laid waste and desolate, people beggared and undone every where. London did thrive all the while. God had a great reckoning with London. London! a people of so much means, so many mercies, so many deliverances, so much of the Gospel, and yet London, a drunken London, a covetous London, an adulterous London! Believe it, God hath now at length reckoned with you, and hath begun to pay off your old and long score, and I fear he hath not yet done with you. Christ hath been neglected, the Spirit grieved, Ministers rejected, hated, persecuted, Sabbaths profaned, London full of pride, covetousness, lying, swearing, luxury, drunkenness, and all these under the Gospel, and all these committed with a brazen face, impudently; for these things God is angry with you; for these things God sent the Pestilence, for these things sake God brought the fire.  
If this be true, here is another Inference followeth: Have our sins burnt our City, and brought so many thousands by the Pestilence to the grave? Oh that we could be ashamed of our sins, confess them with shame, be humbled for our sins, learn to hate our sins, beg of God for grace to conquer our sins. Oh that there might be a separation between sin and us, that the great separation between God and us may be prevented. Is God angry with London? it is for sin: Oh be rid of your sins, let us all this day search our hearts, and try our reins, and see what iniquity is in us; what personal sins, what Family-sins, what City-sins, what Church sins; let us see how far we contributed to the burning of London; and Oh that we might by repentance and reformation crucify those sins that burned London; this would be a good work, and without this work, in vain do you fast this day. God told Israel when they came fasting and mourning before him there in the Prophet Isaiah, That they should cease to do evil and learn to do well, and then come and fast and pray; and then faith he, Let us reason together, if you will cease to do evil, and learn to do well, Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. So I say in the name of the Lord to you this day, you are about praying to God that he would be at pe●ce with London; let all of us cease to do evil; what evils? those evils that I have named: have any of us been guilty of London's pride? the Lord help every one of us to resolve for to crucify that sin, and to resolve we will not have a hand any more in burning London. Which of you would not part with pride to save so great a City? let your ornaments be sober as become men and women professing Godliness. Those that have been guilty of drunkenness, let them be drunk no more, take up that resolution; those that have been guilty of injustice in their callings, let them resolve they will never more sin to get an estate, and that they will rather live and die beggars. Believe it, that is not the way to die beggars if you come to resolve upon it. For God can bless you in his way more than you can gain by walking in your own sinful ways. Resolve to lie no more, cousin no more, swear no more; are there any unclean? let them be unclean no more. Have you broken the Lordsday, and profaned that, do so no more. Resolve every one of you in your places, that for the future you and your Families, will endeavour to spend the whole Lordsday, in serving God, and looking after the Salvation of your Souls.  
Again, take up a resolution to give Christ a greater acceptation, a better acceptation; stand with your hearts wide open to the offers of Salvation; do not neglect and slight Salvation when God offers it. When you despise his Son, you despise God himself: They that receive me, saith Christ, receive him that sent me: So those that reject Christ, reject God the Father. When you come hither, and Christ is offered, and you will not entertain him, you reject God, you will not entertain God. See that the Gospel may come in its efficacy and power upon your souls. God is angry with every Citizen that hath not after all the offers of Salvation, accepted of it. Every impenitent unconverted sinner, because of his impenitency and unconvertedness, he had a hand in the firing the City. Let us, I say, repent of our sins, let us forsake those sins whereby we have provoked the Lord against us. But you will say, How if we should? we shall leave thousands, and ten thousands that will not? What if we here resolve to be sober? how many will go on to be drunk? if we resolve to keep the Lordsday, how many shall we find selling next Lordsday in the fields or streets, playing, and at Alehouses and Taverns drinking to drunkenness? What shall we do here? let not others wickedness discourage you to be good. Despair not, God doth not stand upon the repentance of a whole City, as to make it necessary for him to save it, or to save a Kingdom; but if there be any that do convert and turn, if there be any that do set themselves to humble themselves for the sins of others, and do intercede for God's mercy in his staying with a people, God will have respect to a City and a Kingdom for their sake. Let us, and let all that fear the Lord this day up and down London, resolve all to reform and bemoan the sins of London before God, and therein become intercessors for London, so we might prevent London's ruin.  
For a conclusion, let me add these encouragements to persuade you to reform, notwithstanding the generality of London will not reform still.  
1. Because God will have you to reform, though others do not. God speaketh to all to reform; do not you say I will not, because others will not; it is thy duty, if others do not; thou dost but thy duty when thou dost it, though ten thousands neglect it.  
2ly, God will take it better at thine hands if thou wilt reform in a wicked City, than if the whole City were generally good: Why? because the service is more difficult; it is an harder thing for a righteous Lot to live in a Sodom, than to live in a place where more godly persons dwell. It is an eminent piece of service, and an eminent testimony we give to God of our love to him, when we can serve him in a place where he is despised, his Laws broken, and he rebelled against.  
3ly, Some of you must reform, or it is certain God will go on still to be angry with London; and if God go on, woe unto us, surely it will be very bitter in the end. God hath not yet spent all his venomed darts. He hath more and greater plagues than yet we have felt, and nothing but the repentance and heart-reformation, at least of some of us, I say of some of us, that we may become fit intercessors for the rest, can prevent the pouring of them forth upon us. But you will say, Is it possible to have greater, than to have an hundred thousand swept away by the Pestilence in one City, and in one year? than to have such a famous City burnt down in three days? Yes. If God should but suffer Popery to come in, it would be greater. If God should bring in a company of bloody Papists that should threaten you with burning, or else with provoking God by gross Idolatry, you will say it is a greater; when you shall live in a London, and in England, and not hear of Christ Jesus preached to you from one end of the year to the other, I think it will be a plague; and to have it brought in too by a foreign enemy. No, perhaps you will say, God will never do so. This was Israel's old presumption: What, God that brought us out of Egypt, he destroy us! What! that God that hath known us, and hath been our God, and hath signified himself our God by many mercies! He that walked with us, and we with him, he send a foreign enemy! it is impossible. Do not deceive yourselves, God was as much engaged to the seed of Abraham as to London, as to England; and what he hath done, he can do again. This is one of the greatest Judgements that can befall the Land, if God should take away the Gospel, leave us in darkness and blindness, take the Candlestick away, and give us up to Idolatry, and say as to Ephraim, He is joined to Idols, let him alone. Repent, reform, lest worse things come upon you. Let the Lord see you after this day that you are a more careful, watchful, circumspect people in the whole course of your lives and conversations; and if so, doubtless God will have this day an ear open to your prayer; he will have an heart ready to pity you, and to compassionate you when you cry; you shall be numbered among those Intercessors that have stood in the gap, that have kept wrath from coming in upon England, to the utter ruin of it.    

A Meditation for the raising of mine heart above discouragements under slight in my Ministry.  
WHAT mean these drooping groans, and this languor of thy spirits, as if thou hadst neither life nor heat! What's become of thy wont joy, and magnanimity in the course of thy Ministry? Thou lookest and seemest as if a weary of thy work! what is the cause? Is it that God's glory is less, that thou carest not whether he is honoured or dishonoured by men? or what is it? That he is not so good to there as formerly? Hast thou not meat, drink and  as freely and fully as ever? Is thine health or strength abated? Or is the Throne of Grace, or the way to it shut up? Is God angry with thee? This were cause indeed, but nothing else, if thou enjoyest this. Or what is it? that thou canst not see these so well, his honour, and these mercies are so much prized? Oh! none of these are the cause; God's glory is the same, and his mercies they are continued, and constant to me as ever. And it's not because I want a relish of them. I do not serve an hard Master, that makes me weary of serving him. Why, what then is the matter? Hath he recalled his promise, or denied himself, and abated thy wages? Oh! no, Heaven and earth shall pass away, but not a tittle of his word; and let God be true though all else be liars. What is it? are the souls of men less precious, or their eternal life and safety now less dangerous? Is fire less hot, and Hell less tormenting? Are not the joys of Heaven so much to be desired? and so is the work of the Ministry less needful? Is not the case the same to deliver men from so many burning coals, as when Christ, his Prophets and Apostles preached? Art thou then weary? Oh! no, my strength's the same. But Oh! I am unprofitable to my God, I am slighted, they wonder I can come into a Pulpit, and have no more to say! How! and is that me a poor worm! and wilt thou be thus crushed with such a straw, and lose thy spirits under such a contemptible weight!  
(1) And didst thou not expect to meet with such things before? who bid thee go, and set thee on this work, and promised thee every hour a word? waste not told, thou shouldst be persecuted, slighted, scoffed at? And was it not predicted, there should be scoffers in the last times, as in the first? Why didst not think of this before? a wise man would have done it.  
(2) And was not God himself slighted by those that were invited to the feast? Was not Christ worse than slighted? and was not Paul called a Babbler? and the Gospel foolishness?  
(3) But consider further, Is not the Gospel, and the God of it slighted in thee? the message thou knowest is not thine, but his that sent thee.  
(4) And think, is it not natural for the carnal mind to have unsavoury, dark, foolish thoughts of the Gospel? was it not always so? did not Christ wonder, seeing their unbelief?  
(5) But think, it's God in Christ, or the strictness and spiritualness of the Gospel that they undervalue, and think nothing of the excellency of. They say, it's thou speakest nothing; they would say the other, but they dare not speak out; and so they cast it on thee; and art thou not willing rather to suffer, than it? wouldst not thou have interposed thy face to Christ, to have received the spittle, and kept it from him? and thine head to have been crowned with thorns? and what dost thou shrink in taking of this!  
(6) But think, what reason have they to charge thee with a nothingness and impertinency in preaching? what mean so many to follow thee! they may hear nothings and impertinencies nearer home. Wherefore go on cheerfully and boldly in thy work, and regard not what some few scoffers say, when thou art carrying on that work for the good of souls which the Lord will own and bless.   


HYMN I.  

WHat ails my soul to look so wan?  
My vitals they are fled:  
What faintings do I feel within?  
My heart as 'twere is dead.  
Love-beams do shine full in my face  
From off the throne above:  
They sparkle glories round my soul,  
Yet, yet I cannot love.   

I see the Heavens open wide,  
My Lord upon his throne,  
I see his Saints all clothed in gold,  
Bedecked with glittering stone.  
I fee a Crown held in his hand,  
To set upon my head,  
If once I were laid low in grave,  
Yet, yet my heart is dead.   

What my distemper is, God knows;  
It's cause I can unfold,  
My heart lay down upon the earth,  
And there it caught a cold.  
This, this alone had been enough  
My health to overthrow;  
But I of flesh a surfeit took,  
Which made my grief to grow.   

Lord, what compassions in thy looks,  
What pearls stand in thine eye!  
Like a kind friend thou turn'st away,  
As loath to see me die.  
No cordials can my spirits revive,  
Those glorious sights don't move:  
Oh, I am lost, there is no hope,  
I see, yet cannot love.   

My God my God done't me forsake:  
If I must needs then die,  
Whilst I am breathing out my last,  
Oh! do but thou stand by.  
Help! help! thou great soul-curing God,  
In languishments I lie.  
Speak but the word, my heart revives:  
Oh yet I shall not die.   

I find my native heat restored,  
My wont joys return:  
I love thee, Lord, I love thee now,  
With love my heart doth burn.  
Oh what are all the things below!  
What toys they seem to me!  
When shall I leave them, and come up  
To dwell, my Lord, with thee!    

HYMN II. The Souls Farewell to her Body.  

Tired with a body, now at last  
In travel on my road,  
I must take Inn, and rest myself,  
I must of flesh unload.  
I see my prison-walls fall down,  
And mold'ring into dust:  
I feel my chains of flesh break off,  
As eaten up with rust.   

Oh! I am going! help, my God  
A little respite give;  
Reverse thy sentence, add some years,  
That I on earth may live.  
Ah! foolish soul, how fond of life  
Dost thou thyself betray!  
Why a few minutes more dost thou  
With tears for life thus pray?   

Are not the years enough thou ' saint been  
A Pilgrim here below?  
Thy Father calls, bids come away,  
Ah! fool, thou wilt not go.  
What seest thou in this wicked world  
That thus delights thine eye?  
A father, brother, or dear friends?  
Thou ' lt find them all on high.   

Thy Saviour hath a Palace there  
Embossed about with Gold.  
Thine's but a den where now thou dwellest,  
Whose walls scarce keep out cold.  
What canst thou see more than thou hast?  
The same Sun runs its round,  
The river's ebb and flow alike;  
No new thing can be found.   

The pleasant faces of thy friends  
Thou seest but o'er again:  
The sweets of meats and drinks thou tastes,  
Are but the very same.  
Yet these sweet and beloved things  
Have thorns been in thy side;  
Their Prickles have so torn thy heart,  
Thou scarce couldst them abide.   

But Oh thou lump of Gold, my Soul!  
How full of dross and tin!  
Thy Father would but melt thee now,  
And purge thee of thy sin.  
Thou art, my Soul, a ball of light  
Here in dark lantern placed:  
God in a golden socket would  
Thee set to burn, not waste.   

Arise, my Soul! come shake thy plumes,  
Prepare thyself for flight,  
Like a fledged Eagle mount aloft,  
And bid the world Good-night.  
Farewell, than dearest friends, farewell,  
Farewell fond world, I say,  
Lord, now I come, Oh take me up,  
With sighs and groans, I pray.    

HYMN III. The Resurrection of our Blessed Lord.  

ON Golgotha, that fatal day,  
While Christ on Cross did bleed,  
The whole Creation groaned (they say)  
To see that bloody deed.  
The Earth's big heart with sorrow swells,  
Which burst out in earthquakes,  
The Sun his eye hides in a cloud;  
The lowering Heaven shakes.   

The bodies of the dead arise,  
Most ghastly look and wonder;  
Because men's hearts nor garments rend,  
The Vale doth tear asunder.  
Yet one thing do I admire more,  
To see a God-man dead:  
His breathless royal trunk they took  
And laid in grave, deaths-bed.   

Like conquered captive there he lies  
In th' prison of a grave?  
Three days the tyrant death him holds  
In fetters like a slave.  
So long, said he, I'll lie; then cried,  
Hell, grave, death, do your worst;  
Fast tie me, bind me, chain my hands,  
I'll all your fetters burst.   

Rowl, roll a stone upon his tomb,  
The Jews of Pilate pray;  
Set watch and ward lest that his friends  
By night steal him away.  
With bills and lanterns there they stand,  
With scoffs they him deride;  
See how he riseth! jeeringly  
They flout one very side.   

At length the third days morn doth dawn,  
Our Lord gins to ' wake,  
Whilst the hard stony Cover-lid  
Away the Angel takes.  
Look! look! the watchmen! see! they run  
As frighted! hark, their cries!  
The buried Jesus, he is risen,  
We saw him with these eyes.   

Shout, shout for joy, ye Saints of his,  
This is your Saviour dear:  
When you this wretched life must leave,  
Graves, Coffins, do not fear.  
This day a perfect conquest he  
Of grim-lookt death hath made;  
Your mouldered rotten bodies he  
Can raise, as he hath said.    

HYMN iv Of our Lord's Ascension into Heaven.  

I Sometime wondered why thou, Lord,  
Those forty-days didst stay  
On earth, betwixt thy Grave and Crown,  
Or thy Ascension day.  
It seems most like a Captain great  
After some bloody fights,  
Who walks to show his friends he lives,  
And puts his Host to rights.   

Thus all things settled, up he mounts  
Upon his Royal Steed,  
Who prancing through the streets is praised  
For his victorious deed.  
Just so my glorious blessed Prince  
With victory on his side,  
Being won with ghastly gaping wounds,  
In triumph he must ride.   

Down with a Chariot made of clouds,  
From th' Palace-yard on high,  
His Father sent to fetch his Son  
In great solemnity.  
Before he steps up to his seat,  
Like Royal Prince he gave  
Rich-wonder-working gifts to is friends,  
And then he took his leave.   

Straight at command the foaming winds  
With prancings up they fly,  
Proud of the burden that they drew,  
A load of Majesty.  
When he got home, Oh! with what shouts  
Of joy did Heaven resound!  
When th' Father sat him on his Throne,  
And there himself him crowned!   

Angels and Saints do all at once  
The Song of the Lamb sing,  
As worthy of all honour, praise,  
Yea worthy to be King.  
Sat there thou great Victorious Prince,  
At thy Father's right hand,  
Bring down thine enemies to thy feet:  
Rule all by thy command.    

HYMN V The Soul's Access.  

LOrd, hear my knockings, hark my cries,  
Want drives me to thy door:  
Oh! chide not, do not say, Away;  
I was here once before.  
Where shall I go? thou only hast  
That life none gives beside:  
I went about the world to beg  
For life, but all denied.   

Thou art my God and Saviour;  
To thee I naked creep:  
Besmeared in blood and tears I lie:  
Lord! pity, see I weep.  
If I have sinned, Lord, thou hast died,  
To free me thou wast sent:  
And thou hast said, I shall not die  
If that I will repent.   

Justice, Oh hold a while thy stroke,  
Suffer a sinner plead:  
It's for my life; one word, and then  
Strike on and make me bleed.  
If I had sinned, and would not yield,  
But stoutly stand it out,  
Thy wrath might then have broached my heart,  
And let my life run out.   

If I had heard a Christ was come,  
With open arms to save,  
Had I not run for refuge there,  
Mercy I might not crave.  
Now Justice strike, 'tis done: but see  
Where I encircled lie,  
Within the folds of Jesus arms:  
Strike! in his arms I'll die.   

Cheer up my heart! the storm is o'er,  
Justice is risen and gone;  
All thy accusers creep away,  
Thy Christ is lest alone.  
What blessed voice was that I heard!  
My Son rise off thy knees,  
Thy sins are pardoned, thou art free,  
And I have paid thy fees.   

Lord! what a quick dispatch hast thou  
In grace given to my cause!  
I am arraigned, acquit, set free  
By thy most gracious Laws.  
Had I not guilty dared to plead,  
Though fraught with Angel's skill,  
How sure my impanneled conscience would  
Have sought and found the bill!    

HYMN VI The descent of the Spirit.  

WHO knows the winds from whence they come,  
Or whither they do go!  
The holy breathe we receive  
Are from the Spirit: even so,  
Sometimes its cooling gales we feel  
On Conscience all on fire;  
Sometimes its cooling heats we find  
Our numbed hearts inspire.   

This is that Holy Ghost that Christ  
Did promise for to send,  
This is that powerful Spirit that  
Our stubborn hearts must bend.  
Jerusalem the City was  
Designed for his descent,  
Thither the Christians at th' command  
Of th' Heavenly Angel went.   

No sooner were they set, but strait  
A mighty tempest rose,  
Shook the foundations of the house  
Which they for prayers had chose.  
Struck with amazement; soon there fell  
Flames shaped both flat and long,  
Which hover, light upon each head,  
Much like a Cloven-tongue.   

Those little fiery bushes were  
But wonders for to show,  
That th' wonderworking Spirit was  
Come down to men below.  
For strait he tuned each Christians tongue  
All Languages to speak:  
The Parthians, Medes, and Elamites,  
To them their minds might break.   

Thousands of Salem flock to see  
This strange unheardof thing;  
They flock too fast: for they forget  
Good hearts with faith to bring.  
Some are amazed, but others scoff:  
Some praise, but others say,  
They have too much of tongue, they're drunk  
With much new wine to day.   

Oh injured God how canst thou bear  
These dreadful Blasphemies!  
These wonders speak thy Gospel true,  
They say it's nought but lies.  
Scarce fifty days now past, thy Son  
With nails they Crucifi'd;  
And now to heap up sin on sin,  
Thy Spirit they deride.   

Instead of wrath God's bowels yern,  
Yet thinks them thoughts of Grace:  
The bleeding Christ while Peter preached,  
The Spirit gave them chase.  
Three thousand hearts at once he struck;  
Who bleeding came and cried,  
What shall we do? we do believe  
On Christ we Crucifi'd.   

O holy conquering Spirit! thou  
Those souls didst captivate;  
This is a second wonder wrought,  
Which we with Songs relate.  
Oh let me find thy heats within  
As a refiners fire;  
Purge from my heart all dross and sin:  
This, this is my desire.    

HYMN VII.  

First Part.  

THOU dreadful Judge! whose Majesty  
Angels themselves adore,  
That can't with open face thee see,  
But clap their wings before:  
When thou with whispers dost but chide,  
The arch of Heaven doth quake;  
 clouds forth lightning bring,  
And into thunders break.   

When that thy wrath it doth but breathe,  
Great storms of whirlwinds rise,  
Hail, snow and rain come tumbling down,  
Whilst th' trembling sinner flies.  
The lofty mountains stoop their heads  
To hid them in their vales:  
Great men and Princes shrink for fear,  
Their hearts and courage fails.   

Some high and mighty Angels hatched  
Treason against his Crown;  
He spared them not, but from their Throne  
With vengeance pulled them down:  
He chains of darkness on them laid,  
As prisoners doth them keep,  
Against the great and terrible day,  
When hardest hearts shall weep.   

When the old world thy name forgot,  
And laid aside their fears,  
The gentle wrathful Heavens wept,  
Drowns it with showers of tears.  
When Sodom and Gomorrah burnt  
With fires of wanton lust,  
With flakes of fired brimstone thou  
Those Cities burnd'st to dust.   

Zion itself that darling hill,  
In Salem that did stand,  
Them both for slaying of thy Son,  
Thou mad'st a firebrand.  
Our bleeding carcases thy sword  
leaves reeking on the ground,  
Yet after this we no more fear  
Than men fallen in a swound.    

Second Part.  

When thou, O mighty God, shalt come  
Riding upon the wind,  
To judge the world, Oh! in what place  
Will th' wicked refuge find!  
How shall we hear thy shrill voiceed trump  
Cleaving th' air asunder,  
To wake our ashes in their graves  
With noise like claps of thunder!   

Lord! what a glorious train is that,  
That on their wings do ride!  
Look how they post in full career!  
Thronging on either side!  
Oh! they're the Angels of the Lord,  
Egypt's firstborn that slayed,  
That took poor Lazarus soul that died,  
And him in bosom laid.   

The Trump shall sound, and Michael then  
Th' Archangel straight shall cry,  
Arise you dead, to judgement come,  
The Lord your lives must try.  
Look how the wicked's bodies crawl  
Like Toads out of their den!  
What ghastly fearful looks they bear!  
They look like frighted men!   

Why do you sinners now thus quake!  
Call for your cups and sing,  
Scoff, laugh, deride your Preachers now:  
Care not for Christ your King.  
You worldlings call upon your gods,  
See what your Gold can do:  
Ye proud ambitious of the earth,  
Judge whether Gospel's true.   

Fear not you humble holy Saints,  
This is your Marriage-day,  
Your night is past, your tears dried up,  
Your sorrows fled away.  
This day you heard of, and believed;  
At it your hearts did melt,  
This wrath now come, you begged to 'scape,  
Whilst on the earth you dwelled.    

Third Part.  

Lord! I astonished stand to think,  
What brightness will thy face  
That day put on, when thou thyself  
To mortals will't uncase!  
How will the bleeding mangled Christ,  
On earth that seemed so poor,  
Outshine the Sun, and put it out!  
For it shall shine no more.   

Then to the wicked he shall say,  
See him whom you have pierceed:  
It's I whom you did scorn to fear,  
And bid me do my worst.  
You sinned, yet would not bow your knee,  
Though I you pardon could:  
You would go on and have your way,  
Though th' danger you were told.   

I must not rule you, you had got  
A better Lord than I:  
I cried, I called, but you were deaf,  
Why sinners will you die?  
How long did I your leisure wait,  
With hope you might repent!  
Ah sinners! now it is too late,  
My patience is quite spent.   

You hopeed to find a Lamb your Judge,  
And of my love to share,  
You shall me find a Lion now  
That can in pieces tore.  
Go cursed, cursed from my sight,  
I'll never see you more:  
I would have wiped off all your debts,  
Now you shall pay the score.   

Ye Angels that attend my will,  
Bind them in chains about;  
Now cast them in the dreadful gulf,  
They never shall come out:  
Loaded with sins now get you hence;  
Sink deep, sink deep in flames;  
Torments seize on your trembling joints,  
I ever be free from pains.   

Blow, blow thou wrathful breath of God;  
That kindlest Tophets fires:  
Ye worms of conscience catch your hold,  
By't hard and never tyre.  
You poisonous curled snakes arise  
Out of the sulphured Lake,  
Torment them ever with your smells;  
Their lives yet never take.   

Bear witness, sinners, I your Judge  
Am free from cruelty;  
I would have saved you from this death,  
You rather chose to die.  
Now you would leave your loved sins,  
Have me at any rate,  
Leave pride, and drink, and gold and life:  
Ah! now it is too late.   

Lord! hear a trembling sinner cry,  
While I on earth do dwell,  
I thee will love, and fear, and serve;  
Free me but from this Hell!  
Oh! when I die, grant me this wish,  
That I thy face but see;  
Gold, honour, pleasures here on earth  
I will forsake for thee.     

HYMN VIII.  

WHat if my Chests were crammed with Gold,  
My Chariots stood at Gate:  
What if a thousand servants did  
Upon my pleasure wait?  
What if my House a Palace were,  
Its walls with Rubies shone?  
My Chambers costly Tissue wore,  
In-laid with Diamond-stone?   

What if my Bed were clothed with Gold,  
Befringed with Pearls most bright?  
What if some clouds of ruffled Silks,  
Were Curtains for my light?  
What if I drank the spirits of Pearl,  
Eat of all sowls, beasts, fishes?  
What if each day these were served up  
In massy golden dishes?   

What if I had espoused one  
So wise, so good, so fair,  
That both in soul and shape she might  
With Angels well compare?  
What if my numerous offspring were  
Of Wits deeply profound?  
Their outward carriage state did bear,  
Yet all with meekness crowned?   

What if for one whole thousand years  
Our youth a springtide had?  
What if that while no pains we knew  
That ever made us sad?  
Yet ah my soul! this thread of life  
At length would fret away:  
A dark and sullen cloudy night  
Would rise upon our day.   

This long-lived candle at the last  
Would to her socket burn;  
Her flame would struggle for a life,  
And then to smoke would turn.  
My soul, choose rather to live well,  
How long it matters not:  
He that lives ill, while he hath lived,  
Hath done he knows not what.   

Thou mayst live well without this wealth,  
Be good without this state;  
Please but thy God, and thou wilt think  
Thy death will come too late.    

HYMN IX. 53 Chap. of Isaiah Translated.  

WHO hath believed our report?  
Who hath the Lords arm seen?  
When he his Son sends to the world  
By blood it to redeem.  
He must spring up before his face  
As a most tender plant,  
Out of dry ground he must shoot up,  
Yet seem all form to want.   

When one his visage shall behold,  
He nothing there shall see,  
Of that alluring beauty which  
May well desired be.  
Men him despise, and shall reject,  
Add sorrows to his grief;  
Of him ashamed, they hid themselves,  
So give him no relief.   

Yet certainly he only was  
The man our griefs that bore:  
But we thought he was smitt'n of God,  
So paid but his own score.  
For our transgressions he had wounds,  
And for our sins was bruised:  
By his chastisements we had peace;  
For our health, stripes he choosed.   

All we like sheep have gone astray,  
And turned from God each one;  
But God all our iniquities  
Hath laid on him alone.  
He was afflicted and oppressed,  
Yet moved not his tongue;  
Lay like a lamb, when to be killed  
By butchers laid along.   

From darksome prison he was took;  
Who shall declare his birth!  
For th' people's sins he smitten was,  
And cut off from the earth.  
With wicked men he found a death,  
Among the rich a tomb;  
Because for ill nor done nor said,  
He had received his doom.   

Yet did it please the Lord to bruise,  
And put him for to bleed,  
Therefore he shall prolong his days,  
And after see his seed.  
Therefore the pleasure of the Lord  
Shall prosper in his hand;  
The travel of his soul shall see  
His children at command.   

By his knowledge my righteous Son  
Shall many justify.  
For he by suffering shall bear  
All their iniquity.  
Therefore I him a portion  
With the great will divide;  
Because to death his soul he poured,  
His Kingdom shall be wide.    

HYMN X. A Consolatory against the fears of Death.  

THOU tyrant Death! look not so stern,  
Think not me to affright,  
The giddy tumult thou mayst awe  
With thy unconquered might.  
I wear (died in a Saviour's blood)  
A scarlet robe about;  
Strike where thou wilt, thy Serpent's sting.  
This robe shall fetch it out.   

Were I to die but like a beast,  
I think my heart would break;  
But now I know my soul survives,  
To fear it were but weak.  
Were it not baseness for to think  
Of Saints souls, though the least.  
That after death they did enjoy  
No more than a poor beast?   

If then I shall as joyful be,  
And happier every way  
Than I am here, why should I fear,  
To bid that world good day.  
But Oh! the fainting-fits and pains  
That I must needs go through!  
Why, what of that? they're quickly o'er,  
Than what needs such ado?   

They are not past some fourteen days,  
Diseases come to height,  
Be patiented but for that small time,  
Bid sorrows then good night.  
What must be suffered? why, is't feared,  
I can't my life defend?  
Fear, or not fear, it's all a case,  
My life must have an end.   

Death comes! why let it, why should I  
Plead privilege from what  
My God hath pointed out for all?  
It must be then my lot.  
He lent me to myself a while;  
My lent-out life recalls,  
What is his own he may demand,  
He wrongs me not at all.   

Why should I tremble at the grave?  
Alas! it is not Hell:  
Why should not I thank God and die?  
That it's not worse it's well.  
Art thou newborn, than thou hast felt  
The pains of death to lust,  
They're greater than those thou wilt feel,  
Which brings thee to the dust.   

To leave a sin, to wicked men  
Doth far more torment bring  
Than shame, than beggary or death,  
Or any other thing.  
Think how the wicked go to hell,  
How careless do they die?  
Shalt thou less fear it than they do,  
Though thou must fore on high?   

Think that thy grave were but thy bed,  
That God thee there did keep;  
That when that dying thou wert but  
A falling fast asleep.  
Think what a quiet undisturbed  
Repose thou there shalt take,  
That God when thou hast slept enough,  
Himself will thee awake.   

Think that thy Lord and Saviour  
In this cold bed did lie,  
Wilt thou not with him lay thyself?  
What love him, and deny!  
Think that a thousand thousand Saints  
Have hither crept for rest,  
Have longed and hoped to be dissolved,  
All counting it the best.   

Think, what's this world that thou must leave,  
It is not Paradise;  
A hell of torment, sin, shame, grief,  
A cinque of filthy vice.  
Where lust and pride do sit and reign,  
Grace, goodness, subjects are;  
If thou art good, thou mayst go pack,  
That's all the world doth care.   

How often their ungodly lives  
Have vexed thy soul, but think;  
Their selling Heaven for a lust,  
For dross, a cup of drink.  
It's true, thou mayst them contradict,  
But what gettest thou by that?  
They curse thee, wish thee in some pit,  
Where thou mayst lie and rot.   

Thou sayest, there's good as well as bad  
That thou must leave behind;  
If good men make thee will to stay,  
Above thou'lt better find.  
The best on earth are bitter-sweet,  
Weaknesses have their stings,  
They can thee hurt, and will sometimes,  
Till God to Heaven them brings.   

Thou sayest, if God the shepherd smite,  
The sheep will scattered be;  
If they were safe, it matters not  
What did become of thee.  
Thou fool! God will them bless or curse;  
If curse, thou must not live:  
But if for them he blessings hath,  
Better than thee he'll give.   

I come then: Oh ye Heavenly host  
Of Angels take me up!  
I've broke my fast with grace on earth,  
With you above I'll sup.  
I come, my Father! and my God  
Now to thyself me take;  
Through my Lords wounds I hope for love:  
Oh love me for his sake!    

HYMN XI. Comfortable at the death of a dear friend.  

DRY up thy eyes, and let thy looks  
Again seem fair and clear;  
Let not those briny staining streams  
Thy blubbered cheeks besmear.  
Who knows not man was made to die?  
Can tears blur the decree,  
Or sponge it out those Heavenly rowls?  
What God wills, that must be.   

Was he not made of dust that's dead?  
Can dust for ever last?  
What wonder is it then to see  
That dust on dust is cast!  
Hath not the wisest God all things  
Made subject unto change?  
Why should he thee or thine except?  
Is not thy folly strange?   

Why his departure thus bemoaned?  
He paid but nature's score:  
He me not leaves, I follow him,  
He's only rid before.  
It's God commanded him away;  
'Twas he that gave him thee;  
Is it not reason, more than thou  
the Giver pleased be?   

Thou sayest, no sorrows like to mine,  
None e'er lost such a friend!  
How many thousands say the like?  
Complaints will ne'er have end.  
Nay, think how far others in grief  
Have cause thee to exceed;  
Thou ' saint lost a friend, but they a child;  
Thou weep'st, but they do bleed.   

Is thine a child? their is a wife,  
Or else some dead husband:  
But if this last be thine own case,  
Think his is worse that's damned.  
Look round and view that numerous heap  
Of houses that do stand,  
Tell me the house that hath not mourned  
By strokes given by death's hand.   

Go round about the Royal Tombs,  
Number the Queens and Kings;  
How oft have Palaces worn Black  
By wounds made by Death's stings?  
Or think how many mourners thou  
hast cheered up before;  
Let the same reasons on thee move,  
That thy heart grieve no more.   

Or think of him as ne'er been born;  
Or born, not known to thee;  
He might have died a thousand times,  
'Twould ne'er have troubled thee.  
But did thy life and livelihood  
On him alone depend?  
For shame do not forget thy God,  
Who meat to Ravens sends.   

But ah! alas! he loved me more  
Than all the world beside.  
Ah! take thou care, in saying so,  
Thy God he be'nt belied.  
But, Oh the friend of my bosom!  
He cannot be forgot!  
But, fool! didst think he could not die?  
What did thy mind besot!   

Play not the child, my grown-up soul!  
Many spectators gaze  
At thy-high spirit! under grief  
Soul-weakness will amaze.  
Think thy employment calls aloud,  
To lay aside complaints;  
Think that thy Friends, thy Country, Church,  
Cry to thee as in wants.   

Or else look up unto thy God,  
In whom contentment lies;  
His heating brightness will dry up  
All tears from out thine eyes.  
If all the reasons I have used  
Will nothing move thy heart,  
Then take thy course, I only wish  
Thy cure be wrought by smart.    

HYMN XII. Of Thanksgiving for the restoration of Health.  

‛ THE God of Heaven is but one,  
To him alone I pray:  
To him in straits I made my vows,  
Which now in health I'll pay.  
My God is light, life, help, heart's ease,  
Physician, Nurse and Friend;  
Himself was the best Physic I  
Can take to make me mend.   

For sin, me weakness did confine  
Within my Chamber-walls:  
In prison as with Iron-bolts,  
My limbs were sore with gauls;  
My bones were all as out of joint,  
My sinews lax and lose,  
Each member was so feebly hung,  
As if it had lost its use.   

All elements did seem to strive  
To raise my misery;  
They would have surely me o'erwhelmed,  
But that my God was by.  
My trembling skin, my chattering teeth,  
The shiverings of my bones,  
My shoulders shrugging up with cold,  
Thus sadly made their moans.   

As if all hail, and snow, and rain,  
Their coldnesses had lent  
To some night-stormy blustering winds,  
My body to torment.  
I was like weary pilgrim that  
All night in forest lies,  
While rain, and snow, and chilling winds  
Do pinch him till he dies.   

But my good God those nipping blasts  
Screened off me with his palm;  
He sweetly rocked me fast asleep,  
So they did me no harm.  
The freezing air now thawed, I thought  
Me safe, but was deceived:  
For strait a watery vapour risen  
As much my body grieved.   

Each poor about a channel was,  
Which pains had opened wide,  
Through which as through sulphureous mines  
Did scalding liquors glide.  
Amidst those simpering plashes lay  
My wrinkled parboiled skin;  
In my own sweats I had expired,  
Had not my good Lord been.   

My God then dried up all my dews,  
Me richest cordials gave;  
Out of those waters I did cry,  
And he my life did save.  
Colds gone, and waters now assuaged,  
A fire fast hold doth catch,  
My muddy cottage was on flame  
Through sparks within my thatch.   

Its sindgings made my former griefs  
Desired they would return,  
That winds would blow, or waters flow  
To cool me that did burn.  
While my house flamed about my ears,  
My soul wished to get out.  
I cried, I called, my God did hear,  
And then put th' hot fire out.   

Next, must my rest a burden prove  
Unto my drowsy head;  
My spirits spent, my strength's decayed,  
I was as those are dead.  
My eyes as useless were through sleep,  
My tongue had lost her taste;  
Each thing it did offend my smell,  
My flesh about did waste.   

That very God that on dry bones  
Did breathe, and make them live;  
That very power that Laz'rus raised,  
Again this life did give.  
He put this quickness in my joints,  
These spirits in mine eyes,  
Restored this joy unto my heart,  
Thus answered all my cries.    

HYMN XIII. Remedies against Discontents.  


THAT blessed peace which all men wish,  
That none but good enjoy,  
Is when all states of life do please,  
And nothing doth annoy.  
If thus unshaken thou wouldst live,  
Contemplate God on high,  
As near as may be live like him,  
Fixed in self-constancy.   

Wish nothing more than to be good,  
Do justly, fear no man;  
Think on the blessed eternity,  
Let th' world do what it can.  
Be no more moved with thy reproach,  
Than God when men blaspheme;  
Let not want, loss, or death affright,  
Which men so dreadful deem.   

Think that the world below the Moon  
As yet thyself contains;  
And that all things here ebb and flow  
That nothing fixed remains.  
What wonder is't the Mariner  
At sea meets with a storm?  
How boldly yet he ploughs the waves  
In danger fears no harm!   

The traveller his weary steps  
Directs unto his Inn;  
Sometimes meets Sunshine, and then storms,  
Yet ne'er leaves travelling.  
Are not our days, and months, and years,  
Now foul, and sometimes fair,  
Variety doth not annoy,  
Change makes things please as rare.   

Why should I wish it always day?  
The world without a night?  
Why should I wish it always Spring,  
For flowers for delight?  
Were I not fool to weep to see  
A cloud creep o'er the Sun?  
Such folly is it to lament  
A cross when it is come.    

II.  

Rash man complains, In any strait  
But this, I could be blest;  
Any man's trouble I could bear,  
Mine only gives no rest.  
Says he, what sorrow can be like  
To want and beggary?  
This, this I feel, or else I fear,  
Which makes me wish to die.   

Man, be thou faithful, do thy work,  
Thou servest a righteous Lord;  
He will not let his servant want,  
But bread will sure afford.  
Starving-extremity thou fearest,  
This beggars never feel;  
Better allowance God them gives  
To whom his dole he deals.   

Hunger and cold, and nakedness,  
True, blessed Paul complains,  
Yet so as that he glorieth  
In them, so in his chains.  
Are not the Lilies gaily clothed?  
They neither toil nor spin.  
Are not the birds of th' air fed,  
That ne'er brought harvest in?   

Will God give grace and glory both,  
Yet barely bread deny?  
Will he give Crowns and Sceptres too,  
Of want yet let thee die?  
True, murmuring Israel cried out,  
Can God a Table spread?  
Can he in this vast wilderness  
Prepare for all here, bread!   

The Devil could have taught those men  
That God of stones could take,  
Can mould and knead them up to dough,  
And of them bread could make.    

III.  

The fool fears want while plenty lasts,  
Like one in Summers' day  
Should shake and blow his hands for cold,  
Then winters coming, say:  
Or like one that in streams doth swim,  
Yet gasps and cries for thirst;  
Then says, Oh me! what shall I do!  
This river leave I must.   

It's best things should be as they ' r made,  
That rivers ebb and flow,  
That glass or earthen ware may break;  
That riches come and go.  
Fool! don't torment thy heart in vain,  
If these things fleeting be,  
Fix but thy soul on things above,  
They ' l constant prove to thee.   

All will be gone; say, let them go,  
Man lives not all on bread;  
There is a word of promise that  
In want holds up thy head:  
I never will to death thee leave;  
I'll never thou forsake:  
Think but on this, do but believe,  
Thine heart 'twill joyful make.    

iv  

I know whence spring more troubles yet  
That do annoy me here;  
My undertake oft are great,  
And I success do fear.  
I often am engaged in more  
Than able to go through;  
Which makes me sit and moan myself,  
Not knowing what to do.   

Whose fault is that? why didst thou so?  
Thy God's too good a Lord  
To set thee on more work than he  
To do doth strength afford.  
Where he finds will, he doth accept,  
With eye to what thou hast,  
Give but thine all, he want refuse  
To crown that all at last.   

I often have intended much,  
But could not what I meant;  
I would men save, but ah! I can't,  
Because they won't consent.  
Instead of thanks for my goodwill,  
With taunting scoffs I meet,  
I would them raise up unto Thrones,  
They would me under feet.   

Sometimes I talk like to a fool,  
Deridingly they say,  
I now teach false, and then too sharp,  
I can't please any way.  
Be wise, and such things ne'er will touch  
Thy heart as to disturb,  
All thy attempts if good, should joy,  
Though insuccess them curb.   

It's reason to think in this world  
That good things should be crossed;  
If thou wilt fish for men, thou must  
With winds and waves be tossed.  
What if I disappointments meet?  
They are in use with men,  
Why should I not expect to share  
Alike with my breth'rens?   

What wonder is't that they should call  
That false, or sharp, that tart,  
That frets the sinews of their soul,  
And that corrodes their heart!  
Can the old man it quiet take,  
To see him bound about,  
That thence, where so long he hath lodged,  
He should be thus cast out?   

Is not my work a warfare called?  
What, and no enemy?  
How canst thou fight, and not oppose,  
Or use heavens armoury.     

HYMN XIV.  

TWO things, Lord, I desire of thee,  
First, that with thee I live;  
If thou delay'st to bring me there,  
Oh then assurance give.  
Content I'll be in th' shades of night,  
Until my glory dawn,  
Do but for surety grant this wish,  
That I may keep the pawn.   

Give, Lord, the earnest in my breast,  
A gracious heart to see:  
Let me but know thou dost me love,  
And I shall quiet be.  
Can I have peace whilst that I fear  
Thy curse hangs o'er my head?  
It makes my heart to ache to think,  
What now if I were dead?   

Pardon, O Lord: it i''nt that I  
Do fear thou canst not save;  
Nothing can hinder if thou please,  
Nor Devil, Hell, nor Grave.  
Nor do I doubt, but 'tis thy will  
To save some such as I:  
For as vile wretches as I am  
Thy Son did freely die.   

In the deep Seas of thy rich love,  
Blaspheming Paul did swim;  
He, though thy Saints he sought to kill,  
Yet thou didst pardon him.  
The Harlot Mary Magdalen,  
Who deeply ran on score,  
Who did ten thousand talents own,  
Yet that debt-bond was tore.   

A swearing cursing Peter thou  
Didst to thy mercy take,  
That Son whom he did fear to own,  
Thou pardon'st for his sake.  
This makes me confident, my God,  
That Heaven may be my place,  
If thou wouldst please to grant to me  
Maries or Peter's Grace.   

Give me, O God, to go aside,  
And in some corner creep,  
That there with Peter bitterly  
In dolours I may weep.  
Give me but sinful Mary's love,  
Love shall my ointment be,  
Which I upon my Lords feet will  
Pour out as well as she.   

But ah, my God this is my fear,  
Their faith and love I want;  
My carnal, proud, and sensual heart  
Speaks me no penitent.  
This only, Lord, I have to plead,  
Those lusts my heart doth hate;  
I long, I wish to be set free  
From this sad sinful state.   

Sure, Lord, I am no enemy  
To holiness within!  
Thou seest my soul contend and strive  
To beat down every sin.  
When that perchance my foot doth slip,  
And thee I do offend,  
Doth not my sin make me to mourn  
And done't I strive to mend?   

Had not I faith, why should I fear  
The threaten of thy Law?  
Why should I dread thy Majesty,  
And of thee stand in awe?  
Had I not faith, why should I long  
Thy face above to see?  
Why should I praying sue so hard  
To get my liberty?   

Did not I love thee, why should I  
My loved self forsake?  
Why should I loathe my loved sins,  
For thy beloved's sake?  
Did I not love, why done't the shell  
Of duties me suffice?  
In Sacraments and prayers why do  
I thus thy presence prize.   

Did I dissemble to be seen  
Of men; why doth my sin  
(Which none knows but myself alone)  
Me trouble, that's within?  
Did I dissemble, than my tears,  
My sighs in company  
Would more be heard, and seen then when  
My God alone stands by.   

It's true, I love thee not enough;  
Nor is my faith so strong,  
But that with grief I do confess,  
Thy faithfulness I wrong:  
But, Lord, remember, I'm but dust,  
In weakness here I live:  
That little which I have, thou gav'st;  
The rest above shalt give.   

Did not those Stars that now do shine  
With thee in Heaven above,  
While living on the earth, complain  
Of want of faith and love?  
Nay, Lord, do not I read that thou  
The hungry soul didst bless,  
And it that thirsts for righteousness:  
Such am I, I confess.   

But Lord, remember, he that thirsts  
And hungry is for grace,  
He some degree of grace must want,  
And I am in that case.  
If he is blessed, why not I?  
My hung'rings thou dost see:  
If thou hast said, he shall be full,  
Why shan't that word reach me?   

I sin, I sin, but thou hast placed  
The righteous Christ on high,  
To advocate and plead his cause  
That at his feet doth lie.  
Lord! there a sinner I do lie,  
Thy promise I will trust  
For pardon, and for love will hope,  
Till I fall to the dust.     

The Welcome.  

I.  
WElcome my child on high;  
Heaven joys to see thee here.  
Be not afraid, it is thy Father's house,  
And thy Saviour bought it dear.  
It was for this he bled,  
And his soul ' n offering did make.  
When my Son thou didst accept, this Jointure he thee made,  
Now possess it for his sake.  
Whyart thou ashamed? come behold me! behold me!  
I have forgot thy sin,  
And made thee clean within:  
Now thou'rt arrived here above,  
Of nought think but of love,  
I shall ne'er be angry with thee again.   

II.  
My servants that attend,  
Put on his best attire,  
Set a Crown on his brow, in brightness that outshines  
The clearest flames of fire.  
Spread out that cloth of Gold,  
His foot-cloth it must be.  
If you have him dressed, come bring him, set him here,  
He must keep me company.  
Have you done? if you have, bid him welcome, bid him welcome,  
He was our friend on earth,  
And royal in his birth.  
For whilst he lived, I saw he  
Forsook all to love me,  
And did truly serve me to his his death.   

III.  
A child! a bride! a wife!  
Ragged and adorned so soon!  
From the Dungeon to the Throne how quickly am I raised,  
And my midnight turned to noon!  
Even now on my deathbed,  
I sighed, I sobbed, I groaned;  
I weeping cried, my God hath me forgot,  
And by all my friends was moaned.  
What they think now on earth, I do not know, I do not know,  
Nor fort do I much care;  
What a weeping though they are,  
Of little do they think I  
Do possess such glory,  
That I'm made so much-of here above.   

iv  
This is Jerusalem,  
Paved o'er with slates of Gold;  
Her rows of houses like to towers stand,  
It's more stately than was told:  
Here's not a street but's strowed  
With flowers of Paradise:  
Not a step that I tread, but such sweetnesses I pound,  
More rich than Arabian spice:  
Walls that her enclose are far brighter, far brighter  
Than th' oriental flame,  
Or a thing that wants a name.  
Her sparkling gates are well known  
To be made up of such stone  
That the richest Diamonds doth excel.   

V  
Blessed shades that here do dwell!  
These mansions that possess:  
I never till now a place or people saw  
That the God of Heaven doth bless.  
Here's not a look speaks care,  
No sign of tear or grief,  
Not a sigh, or a groan through all the streets I hear,  
Nor a beggar that wants relief.  
All yet that I've met, are like Angels, like Angels;  
In clearness they surpass  
A Star or chrystal-glass;  
Whose unsoiled beauty doth seem  
To outvie a Sunbeam,  
Far, Oh far more splendid than all these.   

VI  
Their locks like curls of light,  
Their Lilly-necks hang o'er,  
Bedecked with Ribbons richer than of Gold,  
I ne'er saw such before.  
Sweetness of spirit blooms  
And blossoms all the week,  
In smiles of joy and love that do adorn  
In their flowerings on each cheek.  
In mantles as white as the fair Moon, the fair Moon,  
They walk about each street,  
And embrace all that they meet:  
I never saw friends so love,  
As they do here above.  
Oh! I could lie at any of their feet.   

VII.  
I am where I would be,  
In the City of my King:  
This is the place I have desired to see,  
And to hear the cherubs sing.  
What lofty strains are these!  
I ne'er heard voice so lavish!  
Not a note that I hear but melts me into joy,  
And my heart doth in me ravish!  
In the close when they shout, Hallelujah, Hallelujah,  
Glory to God on high,  
And the Lamb that below did die.  
There's warmth methinks in these names,  
That melts me into love-flames:  
Those! Oh those are names make melody.   

VIII.  
But see what is't there stands,  
A tablet all of Gold,  
Spread with a cloth of threads as fine as light,  
Oh its pity it should be fouled.  
What dainty Fare is that?  
How richly is it presumed!  
Oh it smells and it looks as dressed of fires of love,  
Meat that's eat, yet ne'er consumed.  
May I taste! may I taste! yea, & welcome, & welcome,  
Thy Lord did it prepare,  
That thou mightest have a share:  
Now he hath got thee above,  
He will feast thee with love:  
Thou must now forget all grief and care.   

IX.  
Here's honey-combs indeed,  
Sweets that will ne'er annoy:  
I scarcely could think that Heaven itself could yield  
Such delights that could not cloy.  
This wine I have but sipped,  
It will make a sick soul well.  
One drop it would fetch a soul to life again,  
That with grief were sunk to Hell.  
Will this life always last? yea, for ever, for ever:  
Of want there can't be fear,  
When God will make the cheer,  
And that provision must last,  
That with eating can't waste,  
Such is all the food that we have here.   

X.  
What lulling murmur's this  
That thus salutes mine ear!  
It's pleasant muttering accents almost made  
Me quite forget my cheer.  
These are the silver streams  
Of joys sprung from the Throne,  
Of which each drop's more beautiful than pearl,  
And more rich than th' Onyx stone.  
Transparent it is as the Crystal, the Crystal;  
Of taste and smell more sweet  
Than th' ointment on his feet.  
Here souls and angels leap in,  
And together all swim,  
Who along her banks like arrows fleet.   

XI.  
These dainty curling streams,  
About her shores that twine,  
Is sweetly shaded with a tree of life,  
Yielding juice more rich than th'vine;  
It's roots spreads in th'clouds,  
As old as th' night and day.  
Twelve sorts of fruits, twelve times each several year  
It doth yield, yet don't decay.  
The Pomegranate or the grape ant so pleasant, so pleasant,  
Compared to th'worst of these,  
Never fruit did half so please:  
Besides who tastes but one bit,  
Is made immortal by it:  
For its juice is clean from dregs or lees.   

XII.  
Here always it is spring,  
A long continued May;  
Our Sun standing still makes Summer ever last,  
And an everlasting day;  
For my heart I cannot sleep;  
No, though I were to die:  
Those ravishing Sunbeams keep me broad-awake,  
Yea, and will eternally,  
It's God and the Lamb that thus glissen, thus glissen,  
Whose faces blush with light;  
If I wink, it strait were night:  
Whilst with these beams I'm then blest,  
I'll never think upon rest,  
But conclude that wakings always best.    

MORTALITY.  

I.  
FRom the womb,  
From the womb,  
Do I pass to my tomb:  
For my passage is quick in the cast of an eye;  
I here that am living, you'll strait see me die:  
This warm breathing dust to a clod of cold clay  
In a trice will be turned, than molder away.  
Hark you but a while, you'll soon hear the bell  
Toul out my Funeral-knel;  
My thread is even spun,  
My glass almost run,  
That on earth I here cannot long dwell.   

II.  
Every breath, every breath,  
Is a step to my death.  
My flesh is consuming each thought that I think;  
Each minute that passeth, to my grave I do sink.  
The hungry worms my neighbours will be,  
And my guests too that shortly will feed upon me.  
I was born of corruption, a cruel stepmother  
That brought me but forth to smother:  
No sooner in th' world,  
But out I am hurled,  
So I'm shuffled from th' one to th' other.   

III.  
What is death? what is death?  
But a stop of th'breath:  
Some small puff of wind that will blow a flame out;  
Or the turn of a door for a soul to step out?  
It's no more than the wreck of a Ship that hath crossed  
A Sea that's tempestuous, where no passenger's lost:  
The planks of my body may be tombed in a wave,  
But my God will my spirit save:  
It's but to step in,  
At most to unpin  
My rags that are fit for a grave.   

iv  
What's a groan?  
What's a groan?  
That our friends thus bemoan:  
When they by our bed's side sit to close up our eyes?  
It's no more than a crack from the Heaven that flies:  
Our souls then like lightning are breaking their way  
From the clods of our bodies, and why should they stay?  
It's a pang of corruption, our mother that brings  
Forth souls that she breeds to be Kings:  
For no sooner I'm dead,  
But a Crown's on my head,  
And Hosannah in Heaven I sing.   

V  
Not a day, Not a day,  
That doth pass, but I pray  
That my work were dispatched, that I might hence but go,  
Though the first Inn I lodge at, is the grave I do know:  
Those chambers of darkness my soul don't affright,  
It is but mine Inn, I dare lodge there one night:  
In my Coffin I'll creep as into my bed,  
And my winding-sheet I'll not dread:  
There sound I'll sleep  
Till the morning doth peep,  
From the dust then I'll raise up my head.    

Self-Estimation.  

MOunt up my soul! and stroke into a calm,  
The surges of proud passions with a Psalm:  
Stretched out on either side; tower up thy head,  
O'retop the waves, steer on, let reason lead.  
Be't as thy Polar-star, while thou art tossed,  
Lest 'mong perplexing billows thou be lost.  
Look how the first fiercely comes rolling on,  
Which reason calls Self-Estimation!  
A sporting-wave turns visage, now bold, now ,  
How fond, as if in love with thy Egoifie.  
She fawns, and with her circling arms  
Embraceth that, which quickly feels her charms.  
See how she soars aloft! and on her wing  
Mounts self, yet all this while but flattering.  
When at the height, her sleiked face turns glass,  
Which represents self's virtues in a mass,  
Thrice double to their proper magnitude.  
Take heed, don't look, my soul, it doth delude;  
Think, what's but a wave will quickly sink,  
And mounts so weak, in valleys sooner shrink.  
Waves quickly fall, they cannot stand so fast,  
Their weight will press their fainting knees at last.  
Thus with her higher gusts of flattery  
She turns thy brain, then turns thine enemy.  
Strange metamorphized passion! glass just now,  
Fit for reflection of an amorous brow!  
Now in a cup she's turned, bowed fit for th'lip,  
Presents thee with a Nectar, bids thee sip.  
Sip not, my soul, waters that brackish are,  
Are much too strong for weaker heads to bear;  
Their duller spirits they will soon convey,  
And chill thy brains to ice: for, as they say,  
Salt will freeze hard, though in a thawing day.    

CONTEMPT. A Dialogue betwixt Flesh and Spirit.  Flesh. 
WHat all to small! Nothing seems big enough  
To entertain thee, yet doth th'householdstuff  
Of this  Microcosm prove now too small  
To dress and trim thy swoln-big heart withal!  Sp. 
Her gusts to great contraction cannot bond  
That which infinite can scarce surround;  
Contentment she must have, which cannot be  
Found cloistered in the cells of poverty.  F. 
Won't world heaped upon world, and all made one,  
Prove palace large enough for her alone?  
If we sucked dry ten thousand more, of joys  
And drain them in one torernt.  Sp. 
Yet all toys.  F. 
What if we wreathe a chaplet, and then steeped  
In Stars, then crown her brow?  Sp. 
She'll yet defy't,  
Nor wont your dusky tapers yet suffice  
To grace the room where fair 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 lies.  
Nature's bright flames of reason are but clouds,  
As fainter lights when in the socket shrouds;  
All glough too weak; light all thy graces up,  
Yet all too small, for with one glance she'll sup  
That liquid fire quite dry, then with craving eyes  
Seek out for more; not found, will thee despise.  F. 
Then it i''nt in me to satisfy the womb,  
Which with a gust such pleasures can entomb.  
My flowers distilled to sweets can't pleasures yield  
Flagrant enough; nor though I hunt my field  
With pretty winged beagles for to take  
Light-footed odours, and all for her sake,  
To honey her delights; no melody will serve,  
Her famished ear craving more than I have.  
I'll ease my hands sure then of such a guest,  
And let her seek her somewhere else a rest.   

The ALARM.  

I.  
RISE, Rise,  
Hark! the Heavenly cries,  
That Echo from the Skies!  
From our slumbers to awake,  
The Alarm doth sound,  
Bids us rise from the ground:  
For the Devil hath us found,  
And to death will us wound,  
But our God would have us crowned:  
Oh why then should we lie,  
Sleeping out till we die!   

II.  
What! What!  
Is it that you have got,  
Which your brains thus besot,  
That you care not to stir?  
Why drank you so deep  
Of that cup, where did steep  
Venomed joys, whence did creep  
Fumes that have rocked asleep,  
At which waking you may weep!  
When the danger you espy,  
I was ' witched, you will cry.   

III.  
See! see!  
Yonder Prince, that is he  
That did deliver me,  
When an enemy I was,  
Though I have him forsook,  
Yet a smile from his look,  
My soul a captive took;  
When for fear of death I shook,  
Gave me Clergy on the book:  
Oh why then will you die,  
When a Saviour is so nigh?   

iv  
Wake! Wake!  
Your slumberings off shake,  
And to Jesus betake;  
The General of Souls,  
Heaven him a Captain made,  
That 'gainst banners displayed,  
In wounds through blood dare wade,  
And of Devils not afraid,  
For a Crown that ne'er decayed;  
If he can but it win,  
We shall all have't of him.   

V  
Fight! Fight!  
While the day yields you light,  
That as Conquerors by night  
In triumphs you may dwell;  
I'nt it better to ride,  
With victory by your side,  
Then as slaves to abide  
With the Devil your guide,  
Who at length will you deride?  
Let us arm then and on,  
We shall lose not a man.   

VI  
Turn! Turn!  
You whose souls that must burn,  
If you thus from him run;  
Stay but a while and think,  
What harm will he do,  
If that he saveth you  
From amidst the damned crew,  
That in glowing flames will rue  
Those sins that will undo:  
Oh do not you refuse  
While he gives time to choose.    

A SONG.  

I.  
WHither, Oh wand'ring wight!  
Art thou thy jourey taking?  
Why amidst these caves and dens of wolves dost walk  
As Pilgrim quite forsaken!  
What is thy Country's name?  
Thy Parents are they living?  
What is the cause thou stray'st so far from home,  
And art thus pined with grieving?  
Why still dost thou cry, Oh my Jesus! my Jesus!  
What is that name I trow?  
I would its meaning know:  
For each time that thou namest him  
Thy eyes fill to the brim,  
And thy heart with throbbing almost bursts.   

II.  
A stranger I am here,  
And so was all my kin;  
Who in tents or caves like Hermit's here did dwell,  
Such have their poor cots been.  
My off-spring's from on high,  
A beam dropped from the Sun.  
I call him Father that the heavens made,  
And he doth call me Son.  
I am akin to that Jesus! that Jesus!  
Who in tears so long 've sought,  
That from Hell with blood me bought:  
For through this wilderness he,  
Bleeding ran to seek me;  
Whom when found, to Heaven in clouds was caught.   

III.  
To Heaven I said he's gone,  
And that's my Country's name:  
Where breathes the sweetest freshest gales of grace,  
Which will augment my flame.  
This Country lies on high,  
Far distant from my sight:  
Beyond you hills and globes of fire that burn,  
Stands a Palace wrapped in light,  
Within which gilded roof dwells my Father, my Father,  
With him my Prince of Peace;  
Where of glory's no decrease.  
Where Chores of Angels sing round,  
And my breth'rens sit Crowned;  
Who would joy to see me arrive at last.   

iv  
The desert when I've crossed,  
I do expect to find  
A black and dismal grove of Cypress-trees,  
Where doth breathe a numbing wind;  
There wearied mortals rest,  
Their languid limbs lay down.  
Here Crown-tired Kings and leprous beggars lie;  
All a gasping on the ground.  
In th' belly of which grove there a cave lies, a cave lies,  
The Mansion-house of death,  
Where I must lose my breath;  
In which black shades my Ghost must  
shake off all her cold dust,  
Where do Angels wait to fetch me home.    

A Spiritual Song.  

YOU Rabshekahs 'mong whom I dwell,  
That pass me and my cause to hell.  
Don't me condemn and pass your doom,  
Till I am raised from my Tomb.   

Gaze not upon my threadbare skin,  
Stuffed with a slimy mud within.  
Nor on the thatch upon my back,  
Nor bread which I perhaps may lack.   

Gaze not upon my watery eye,  
Wherein a shower of tears do lie;  
Nor on the clouds of looks that dim  
The light of Heaven that's within.   

Gaze not upon my blubbered cheek,  
Which lies in puddles all the week;  
Nor mind the throbbings of my breast,  
Wherein I scarce find any rest.   

Gaze not upon my purblind mind,  
That gropes in light its way to find:  
Do not my words so strictly mark;  
My tongue walks sometimes in the dark.   

Gaze not upon my bleeding heart,  
When God it wounds and makes to smart;  
Or on me when you hear that I  
For sin do groan and wish to die.   

Gaze not upon me in my race,  
When stumbling I fall on my face:  
Nor while in blood and wounds I fight  
With hell, self, world, till it be night.   

For when my Jesus once doth come,  
My skin shall turn complexion:  
My watery eye dries up and clears,  
Which was besprinkled all with tears.   

My woollen thatch turns robes of light,  
Whose Sun-shine-dims the strongest sight:  
My barley-bread turns Manna sweet,  
And I shall with the Angels eat.   

My sullied cheeks shall then disclose,  
Their full-blown beauty in a rose:  
My Lord shall brood within my breast,  
And hatch up glory in that nest.   

On this benighted mind of mine,  
A sevenfold Sun shall cast its shine;  
The morning of another day  
Shall scatter those night-fogs away.   

These gaping wounds my heart doth feel,  
My God with balmy smiles shall heal;  
He shall me melt in flames of love,  
And shall this sin and dross remove.   

The race will end which now I run,  
The flowery garland will be won;  
The conquest which I get by wounds,  
Shall joad my head with splendid crowns.    

A Description of Paul 's Shipwreck. Act. xxvij.  

WEll rig'd Paul in a various tempest's tossed,  
Yet ne'er by shipwreck faith or conscience lost.  
When boisterous winds broke from the hollow caves  
Of hellish breasts 'gainst Paul, himself he saves,  
Taking occasion by appeal to God,  
To Rome's great Caesar, and it must be so.  
Passing by various Islands it length they came  
To the Fair Havens, so they had their name.  
But the Sun's spirit's spent, his languid cares  
Shortens their work by shortening of the days,  
Now the cold damps like rebel subjects plays  
Their rackets in the skies, (a Prince though wise,  
In age may have his subjects mutinise.)  
They gather head, white round bullets form,  
Wherewith they pelt us in a furious storm;  
Their pointed spears in Icicles they make,  
Which they against our trembling bodies shake:  
Then they contract winds into skins of clouds,  
Which breaking like to drums they rattle loud.  
Thus in a mutiny they tumults raise  
In woods, in groves, in sea amongst her waves.  
This grave sage Paul well weighing, did advise  
To Sea they would not set in any wise.  
But the bold Captain otherwise inspired,  
The owners bad; gain had his spirits fired:  
Wind, wave, or billow could not now allay  
His heats, he must launch out that very day.  
Untie her cables, to his men doth cry,  
Unpinion all her wings, and let her fly.  
Thetis' her strait did in her mantles wrap,  
And kindly seemed to dandleed in her lap;  
Ploughing the waves, look how she on doth haste,  
Like to a nimble-steed that is well paced!  
Or like a nimble Hind doth jump away  
O'er tops of hills, low dales, without all stay.  
Thus wantonly she had not posted far,  
There risen a wind that all the sport did mar;  
Wide-jawed Boreas out his cheeks doth stretch,  
And from his lungs a long-breathed blast doth fetch;  
Which beating full upon the teeming sails,  
Makes them miscarry, so the journey fails.  
Lank-bellied Canvas now no longer could  
Help for to waft them where the Captain would:  
When men despair, the next means seems the best,  
They throw her reins, so wish the voyage blest.  
The Ship being Master Pilot to herself,  
Had almost run them all upon a shelf;  
A little embryo of a Ship that played  
By the Dams-side, the Cockboat was fast laid;  
Fear wings their hands and arms, their sinews stout,  
With much ado at length they pulled it out;  
Which drawing up, they laid it in the breast  
Of her big mother, there to lie at rest.  
Just like the Possive when she danger spies,  
Her young in belly laps, and ' way she flies.  
But lest her wieldy body which yet safe did ride,  
Or moves, should stick, they undergird her side;  
At their wits ends, and almost of their lives,  
They do unplume the Ship, and on she drives,  
Daring not trust her winged as before;  
Once they did trust her, but will trust no more.  
The churlish winds, and now the grumbling waves  
They do petition, and their mercy craves.  
Their saileless Ship now helped with wind and tide,  
More slow, yet with more jolting trots doth ride;  
Like pampered steeds now great curvets doth take,  
Yet no great riddance in their journey make.  
Now you might see a billow stooping low  
To take its burden on its back below,  
Which strait with swift career she lifts on high  
With such a noise, as if 'twould storm the sky.  
The ancient Giants once a war would wage  
With God, 'gainst whom a Babel in their rage  
They raised; if they this way had found  
By Sea, their war they'd managed none on ground:  
But soon the billow with Ship both fall down,  
Like horse and rider, tumbling, shake the ground.  
Now you would think in some deep pit they lay,  
And that they ne'er again should see the day:  
Or that the watery walls whose tops past sight  
Would have confined them to eternal night.  
Thus in their swimming prison up they're tossed,  
Then down, so in a wood of waves they're lost.  
Thus lay the Ship a tippling night and day  
Up Neptune's Nectar, reeling every way;  
Both sides and stern, and keel do drink amain,  
And out by pumps they spew it up again.  
The Mariners to know each others minds,  
With shouts do mingle voices with the winds;  
Now under deck, now up again, they call  
Now for this thing, and then for that they bawl;  
Such great confusions in their voices seem,  
That th' Ship a Babel one would truly deem.  
At length by signs they do at once agree,  
T' unlade the Ship of all its trumpery;  
Out fly the Trunks, the Chests, the Featherbeds,  
The Bolsters, Pillows where they laid their heads.  
Though they had boxes stust with massy Gold,  
Or Pearls, or Diamonds, out they must be rolled:  
Sweet life! sweet life! nothing is thought too brave  
For to redeem thee from a loathed grave.  
Thus like a scattered troop that's put to flight,  
They throw down all to make themselves more light:  
Down falls the Musket, ' way the Pike is twirled;  
Off goes the Scabbard, ' way the Sword is hurled;  
Here flies their Hats, there their shoes do lie;  
Nothing they care or fear, but lest they die.  
Or like a bird with prey, when in a fright,  
Let's fall the prey, and takes herself to flight.  
The Ship far lighter than she was before,  
For one curvet she now doth take a score,  
To the winds whistling she doth dance apace,  
Till th' briny sweats run down her wooden face.  
Yet for all this the Ship a burden feels,  
That hung as clogs about her nimble heels:  
The heedful Captain this observing well,  
That her stretcht-side with burden yet did swell,  
Gave in command that all the Tackling should  
Be thrown o'er board, to swim where  it would.  
The wire-sinewed Mariners distressed, with hands  
Hardened to steel, obey their Roy's commands.  
This anchor some, and that do others heave,  
And all their anchors in the Sea they leave:  
Some on the Tarry-cables hands do fasten,  
And through the Portholes do with speed them hasten,  
One cuts the Tackling, others th' Masts do mow,  
And them with sailyards in the Sea they throw.  
Fourteen long tedious nights, as many days,  
Nor Sun, nor Stars, did yield them any rays;  
Black reaking smokes from th' boiling Seas did rise,  
Which the bright Heavens with sad fables dies:  
Those damping vapours that in fleeces flew,  
Made the skies flaming tapers burn but blue;  
Just as where scalding liquors fume 've been,  
Candles go out, and nothing can be seen.  
In this black dungeon, hark! the Prisoners cry,  
Who now on heaps, and now asunder lie  
As the Ship tossed them; some like statues stand,  
As pale as those carved by the Artists hand:  
Others with drooping heads and arms a crossed,  
Bewail their Gold and Silver they have lost.  
Fool that I was! I could not be content  
To stay at home with that which God had sent:  
Others their rashness, that they dared to venture  
Their lives with Seas thus in the depth of winter.  
But Divine Paul did nothing thus complain,  
Knowing such speeches were but fond vain;  
He winged his prayers, and out the ark he sent  
This winged Dove ' fore, whom the clouds did rend,  
And gave her way, it length to th' Mercy-throne  
She came and light, and there did vent a groan;  
When all-eyed mercy there her once did spy,  
He gave an Olive-branch, and bade her high  
Home to her Master, bid her speak him peace,  
That out of prison he would all release:  
But that in chief his servant Paul should know,  
Before great Caesar he's reserved to go.  
The Dove returning, o'er his breast did hover,  
And there this message to him did discover:  
Good news received, Paul he doth impart  
It to them all, which did revive each heart.  
Courage my friends! the God of Wind hath said  
He will deliver, be not you afraid;  
Fear not the wide mouthed yawnings of the deep,  
It shan't you swallow, for he will you keep:  
We have long fasted, filled with grief ye know,  
Eat somewhat now, then take the rest and throw  
To th' greedy Ocean, whose hot stomach may  
Concoct, digest the rest without delay.  
With much ado, each down he gets a bit,  
Standing or tumbling, none could hardly sit:  
Besides, their fears and unbelief together  
Spoke in their stomaches, 'twas but windy weather;  
A poor small morsel served, as little beer,  
A little serves the stomach filled with fear.  
Some joy they had, in that they did discover,  
That near some Island their tost-Ship did hover;  
Some anxiously looked on the little boat,  
And wished with all their hearts it were afloat;  
Hoping thereby their dying lives to save:  
But that told, it would but prove their grave.  
At length they all content themselves to stay,  
Longingly waiting when it would be day.  
Time paid their waitings, night-shades did begin  
To fleet away, while the thick fogs grew thin;  
The huge black raven of the blackest night  
Draws up her wings, and yieldeth to the light;  
Great Holypheer awaking, lent his eye,  
By which a creek and shore they did espy:  
Weary of waters, thither they would fain  
Have thrust their Ship, to leave the cruel Main;  
One plies the rudder, others anchors tug,  
Which with main force they into Ship do hug;  
Others hoist up their titter'd-tattered fails,  
Struggling for shore, yet all their labour fails.  
Two Seas had meeting struggled thereabout,  
Which in contention and a furious rout,  
Casting up gravel at each others face,  
Had piled a huge mount upon that place;  
Thither their Ship they fearless drew in haste,  
Which ran a ground, and in her keel stuck fast:  
One part did swim, another sands stuck in,  
And so another contest did begin.  
Both land and water doth a little plead  
Whose is the Ship, they neither are agreed;  
One says she's mine, th' other doth deny,  
And so the wrangling contest doth grow high:  
Neptune pleads title from the end she's made,  
And that her back doth fit his back he said:  
But the Land says th' materials are hisn,  
But one to th' other would not yield to listen;  
They both conclude no longer to contend,  
But by main force the hot dispute to end:  
One tugs behind, the other holds before,  
And ne'er left tugging till they had her tore;  
One snatched a rib, th' other held the skin;  
One broke a piece without, th' other one within.  
Th' trembling Passengers this fray did see,  
They did conclude on either side to be;  
They court the waves for parcels of her prey,  
And o'er those planks their shivering bodies lay,  
Making for land as fast as they could carry,  
Which if they touched, would kiss, and ever tarry.    

A Sinners unregenerate inside turned outside: Or the language of the Kingdom of Darkness.  

SUrely the fool hath said,  
'Twas not God the heavens made,  
If he be, he must be blind,  
That our actions cannot mind;  
Whether we do ill or well,  
He in Heaven cannot tell.  
When one dies, who doth know  
Wither doth his spirit go?  
Heaven's glory is a toy,  
So are all the tales of joy.  
Hell is but a child's bugbear,  
Only silly fools can scare.  
Him I count a fool that saith,  
I do live a life of faith.  
He talks idly that doth say,  
I got bread by prayer to day:  
Thou mayst have as full a purse,  
Whether pray, or whether curse:  
He shall prove the richest man  
That both cheat and cousin can.   

But thou blind fool! if Heaven and Hell prove true,  
Thou these black speeches shalt most sadly rue.  
How if they do? thou blinded muffled buzzard,  
Thou art a fool such weighty things to hazard.  
Grace is but a fancied dream,  
Nothing, yet doth something seem,  
A conceit of melancholy,  
There is nothing that is holy.  
Drunkards do more joys inherit  
Than those that do pray by the Spirit.  
I am proud, and that's a sin,  
I will then be proud again:  
I do swell in ostentation,  
That is my sweet recreation.  
I ambitious am of place,  
That I count my sweetest grace.  
But contentious I am,  
I have always loved the same.  
I a hater am of men,  
I profess it, well what then?  
I speak to men's faces fair,  
When for them I do not care.  
He that takes from me a pin,  
To strive to hang him is no sin.  
Those that the world above me prize,  
I will spatter them with lies.  
If an action I do well,  
I love those that will me tell;  
It doth much delight my soul,  
When I hear my neighbours scowl.  
It my joy doth much enhance  
To put my friends at variance.  
I matter not who th' loser be,  
So the gain doth come to me.  
So much for my Father care,  
That I wish in Heaven he were:  
For I think his money can  
When he's dead make me a man.  
Yet what were this mother of rust,  
If it w'ant to serve my lust.  
If the Harlot doth command,  
It commandeth Sea and Land,  
Spreads my table, fills my pot,  
Then destroyeth all the shot.  
If a God I would adore,  
Gold it should be to pay my score.  
Fiddlers, Tapster's company,  
Love I more than th' Pageantry  
Of the holy brotherhood,  
And I think my judgement's good.   

This talking beast, what he doth plainly utter,  
Sinner! but think thy heart doth only mutter.  
The foul beast that I describe:  
Is of the Pharontick tribe,  
Where the Babylonian King  
Grazed, we must put him in:  
Let them lie out both together,  
Both exposed to wind and weather;  
Let them in the fields abide,  
While night-dews do wet their hide:  
When they do lament their sin,  
Turn them into men again.    

The Rout. Demetrius, Act. 19.23, etc.  

HEroick Paul, in this thy soul was brave,  
That wouldst a Crown though gotten by the grave!  
Undaunted spirit! that could face a King,  
And count great Caesar but a common thing;  
Couldst speak thy message with a stately grace,  
In all things acted as became thy place.  
God's spokesman should be stout, where e'er he stands,  
When 'tis to utter what his God commands.  
If God to Athens will with message send,  
He dare with wife men there for God contend.  
Their Temples, Golden altars, gods, and all  
Their Goddesses he vanities dare call.  
Some him deride, but others what he said,  
Take him an Oracle, and's word obeyed.  
Among the people hence divisions came,  
All do each others gods contend to shame;  
Some cry for crutches for their gods of wood,  
And say, they're neither wise, nor just, nor good:  
Room in the hospital! Oh let them come,  
Your gods are blind, lame, senseless, deaf and dumb.  
What is Diana but a lump of Gold?  
‛ Way with her Shrines that every where are sold.  
The Silver and the Copper-smiths did hear  
These upstart Heretics with no small fear:  
One 'mong the rest, Demetrius by name,  
Unto his brethren he in fury came;  
A man of upright stature as I guess,  
But five foot high, I judge, no more nor less;  
Of a pale face, and of a long stretched nose,  
Yet of a sprightful eye, as I suppose.  
The last activity, th' other envy notes,  
But the long snout one that on money dotes.  
And if you'll add the tufts of hair that lie  
About his lips of a deep carrot-die.  
The end of is whiskers sinically ' risen  
Up strait t' guard his promontorial nose.  
His garments such that Greekwise swept the ground,  
With a muff-cap hanging on side his crown.  
Thus with grave countenance, as it was fit,  
He fetched a hum, and then most gravely spit,  
Nodding his head on one side, then on t'other,  
He thus began to speak unto each brother:  
Genteels, you know, Ephesians were your Sires,  
And that you had your breeding 'mong the fires;  
Your spirits should be warm, to see th' foundation  
Of your divine and noble occupation  
Raceed to the ground; do you not all well know,  
If this Sect do increase, it will be so?  
If that Diana men no Goddess take,  
No man her shrine will buy, which we do make:  
That she a Goddess be, is it not fit?  
When we by her our wealth and substance get.  
Did not our ancestors her  adore?  
Must she be changed for gods ne'er known before!  
Doth not all Asia and the world allow  
That she be worshipped, and before her bow?  
That her rich Temple (is it not much pity!)  
Should now at length be slighted by this City!  
Now brave Ephesian Coppersmiths, I call  
You such, that you prevent your Goddess fall.  
Shall this one fellow with his witless crown,  
Be let to turn the great world upside down!  
The only feeble argument that he  
Doth urge to us, is that no Deity  
Is made by hands of man; you see  
How he brings hither new Philosophy:  
I am no Sophy, yet an answer I  
Will give to this poor silly fallacy.  
Diana is a Deity you know,  
And man's hands made her, tell me, i''nt it so?  
Ergo, he lies: But yet he further sings,  
Can any make them that have made all things?  
To this I answer him, I never yet  
Studied the point. But I will never let  
My Goddess and my trade go down together;  
But right or wrong, I do not much care whether.  
That you are of the very selfsame mind,  
I hope this day by your warm zeal to find.  
When this long speech he sweetly forth had stuttered,  
He paused, then made a stop, then no more uttered.  
These things thus spoken by Demetrius,  
Great is Diana of brave Ephesus;  
They all with one continued voice did shout,  
Throw down their hammers, so they all run out.  
Tuck up their aprons, and do shrug the shoulder,  
Run from their Masters, whither, never told her:  
Throwing their arms, and moving legs apace,  
All seemed as if they were to run a race;  
With red-coats, blue-coats, and add to them yellow,  
The streets do swarm, and each the other follow.  
Some with fallen stockings, others with one ,  
Yet all resolve the race to hobble through;  
One up Diana shouted; th' other cries,  
Down with all Taxes and Monopolies.  
A third with loud and fearful far-fetched Oaths  
Cursed the Senators as th' public foes.  
A fourth steps out, ask what all this meant?  
'Twas said, because a good man's cloak was rend.  
Others more gravely would the cause unfold,  
Telling demurely that two women scold,  
Began the fray; that first by words, than blows,  
They pulled and tugged, and nimbly in they close;  
Down they both fell: to whom a stander-by  
Said, it was no such matter, he did lie.  
He would have told his story, but the rout  
All on a sudden up the streets they scout,  
Yelping and yawling what each thought the best,  
Though all did strangely differ from the rest.  
As they were running, it happened that a Lad  
In a black shirt, and a long apron clad;  
I guest him Apprentice to some Coppersmith:  
In galloping his legs being tangled with  
His longer apron, which did hang before him,  
Tripped up his heels, another strait fell o'er him;  
A third o'er him, and so in heaps they lay;  
All changed their notes to cry, Oh stay! stay! stay!  
My arm! my leg! another, Oh my thigh!  
You are too heavy on my back that lie.  
Oh where's my 's? you-sir have torn my shirt.  
Another, You-sir 'twas that did me hurt.  
Oh where's my cap? look there in kennel 'tis:  
Oh that's not mine, but that Fur'd cap is his.  
As they got up one cries unto the other,  
I prithee take thy knife and scrape me, brother.  
One toting fellow, street-yarn oft that reels,  
Came crawling out with breeches 'bout his heels;  
When the rest saw that pitiful disaster,  
They held their sides, and fell to a loud laughter;  
This stopped the rout a while in their swift race,  
But up they get, away they run apace.  
Now up their throats they raise, and do begin  
Again to fill the City with a din.  
For two hours' time this mad rout thus did hold,  
Till that the Town-Clark came and it controlled,  
Telling Demetrius and the rest, that they  
To right all wrongs by justice had their way;  
And that their foul fault to such height did mount,  
Of which he's sure they could give no account:  
So he dismissed them, and they went their way,  
Most knowing not for what they met that day.    

The FLINT.  

THey say my soul's a Flint,  
My thoughts are sparks of reason,  
Which her small cells do stint  
Unto an atoms prison.   

They say this fire's divine  
That from this flint doth flow,  
Which will our eyes refine,  
And God and nature show.   

This most mysterious flame  
I did desire to know;  
I to this flint strait came,  
To see if it were so.   

For heat I gropeed about,  
The Prison-walls felt cold,  
Then I began to doubt  
The truth of what was told.   

At length I did begin  
Their gates with strokes to shake,  
I found then fire within;  
For th' prison-doors I broke.   

I struck again and placed  
My breast, the tinderbox  
Under which soon embraceed  
The fire that fell with knocks.   

The candle of the Lord  
I then took up to light,  
Which flame it did afford  
That it did burn out bright.   

On this pure stream of flame  
Mine eye rowed to and fro,  
And at the length I came  
Of fuel within to know.   

Within my breast I found  
Love's taper without fire,  
I soon with beams it crowned,  
So now my flame grew higher.   

O what a warmth I felt!  
Each power about did glow,  
My soul began to melt,  
And round my body flow.   

Lord! cried I, what a bliss!  
What lavish glory's this,  
We feel when thou dost shake,  
And dost our hearts to fitters break!    

A Divine SONG.  

I.  
COME, O ye winged Angels from above,  
Can you not tell me news of him I love!  
Where he ascended  
When the Clouds him took,  
And wafted him  
Beyond what we could look?  
Did he not pass the Sun, and pierce the sky!  
Tell me:  
Tell me:  
For it's the same that here did die.   

II.  
What did he when within your gates he came?  
Did he strip off his rags, or wear the same?  
Yea, but much mended:  
Each jag glory wore:  
They are the same;  
But brighter than before.  
That very torn flesh now wears Majesty:  
And shall,  
And shall,  
When time yields to eternity.   

III.  
Go search the Thrones, and tell me where's his place:  
You may him know by th' shinings of his face.  
isn't he set higher  
Than all your degrees  
Of Seraphims,  
Or Cherubs, if you please?  
Doth not his brightness  
Put your glory out?  
And you,  
And you,  
Fall down to worship round about.   

iv  
Can you inform me what's his business there?  
Whether of us he taketh any care?  
Doth there burn incense?  
Are perfumes there sweet?  
Are there the prayers  
Which we lay at his feet?  
Doth he accept them? and his Father too?  
Tell me,  
Tell me,  
But nought but what you know is true.   

V  
You flaming fires that attend his will,  
Can you inform how long 'twill be until  
The winged winds shall  
Bring their Royal load?  
Or how long he  
Will make with you his ' bode?  
Are you preparing clouds whereon to ride?  
Oh when,  
Oh when,  
Will you come flaming by his side?   

VI  
If you him see, pray tell, his longing bride  
Begs that he comes, the world his stay deride:  
We groan for freedom,  
Their sins vengeance cries:  
Since we are fit,  
O will the Lord arise?  
Will he come crown us, and the wicked bourn,  
Or stay,  
Or stay,  
Till more stray-souls unto him turn?   

VII.  
If thats his meaning, tell him then that we  
Wait still believing, and will patiented be.  
We know he will not  
Quite forget us here:  
We are beloved,  
Which will at length appear.  
Let him but purge us, scour off our rust,  
And then,  
And then  
Let him but haste us to the dust.    

A wounded Conscience.  

I.  
CHide, chide no longer, I do smart,  
Thy words, my Sovereign! they are keen,  
They blow deep furrows in my heart,  
And scatter seeds of wrath between.  
Oh! what an harvest is here like to be!  
Thou mayst reap glory, but I misery.   

II.  
My sin is poison rank enough:  
Do not with it thine anger blend,  
If thou wilt force me drink it up,  
It will itself work out my end.  
If thou wouldst have me die, thou needest not go  
But to my Conscience, whence doth venom flow,   

III.  
If thou intendest to torment,  
Thou needest not send me down to hell;  
Keep thou but up an angry look,  
It's pain enough where e'er I dwell.  
Where thy beams shine not, but keen angers flame,  
Must make hell-torment, or a pain wants name.   

iv  
Guns, fire, nor sword, doth Soldier fright;  
The Mariner laughs in a storm;  
The Shepherd fearless is by night,  
The Martyr counts his fire but warm.  
If thou but cast'st a frown, my spirits fail,  
My heart it panteth, and my looks wax pale.   

V  
Though my Spirit doth rocky seem,  
If thou in anger dost it smite,  
It gusheth forth in briny stream,  
That even suffocates my light.  
Thy frowns may well cause dews in flinty mind,  
When at thy blows hard marble tears can find.    

A Petition for a prospect of Immortalities.  

HUmbly, my God I beg of thee I might  
Discharged a while from prison take my flight  
Into those regions where I may converse  
With naked Spirits; let my conceptions dress,  
Sat close and comely to each thing, that I  
With a clean mind shall venture to descry;  
While Earth's dull off spring, children of the night,  
To coop their thoughts in shades of sense delight:  
While Owls and Bats are flut'ring with their wings  
About this gross dark world for earthly things.  
Oh! let me snatch a glimpse of that above,  
And steal a glance of thee, thou God of love!  
Why is my half a spirit, if that I  
May not converse with Spirits till I die?  
May I converse with thee, thou dazzling Sun!  
Father of Spirits, why not, when I've done,  
May not I look upon the Stars and take  
A view of their less brightness? while I 'wake  
Why should my Taper sweal away for nought,  
But me to gaze on things scarce worth a thought?  
Scarce worth a thought, if but compared to thee,  
And that retinue that in Heaven be.  
O charge me not of niceness that I fain  
Of other worlds would some small knowledge gain.  
Pass me not home, if thou a Pilgrim find  
Me in my travels, alas! my wearied mind  
Is tired with this world; this muddy smoke  
From Earth doth even my languid spirits choke:  
Let me but take a little air, that I  
May be refreshed, than home again I'll high.  
I do conceive a vast extended Sphere,  
Farther above the Stars than we are here  
 with matter; some thick, some thin and light,  
In which are bodies, some opake and bright,  
Tumbling about; so doth our earth where we  
As on a float swim round the world we see.  
In th' centre of which orb, as in a Throne,  
Sits the adored Triad all alone,  
Shooting their Omnipresent beams about,  
Filling the Sphere within, and space without:  
Without I dare not say, they idle are,  
For God is pleased not only here but there,  
Yet we are sure throughout this golden ring  
His beams have been faecund in every thing.  
And do continue cheering as a Hen  
Her Chicks does nourish in her fathered den;  
But their productions vary, some opake,  
That eyes may see, nose smell, and hands may take;  
Others so fine, so rare, that no sense can  
Grope out a touch; such is the spirit in man  
Such are the Angels, spirits more refined  
From earthly tincture than the humane mind.  
Such that no razor, knife, or sword can wound.  
Where was the carcase of an Angel found?  
As glassy Scissors would clip off a ray,  
Just so keen steel may cut a spirit in twain.  
Spirits through steel can freelier pass than light,  
Can through that Scisser that it takes its flight.  
In fire they burn not, having no flesh to fry,  
Where did you see an Angel Martyr die?  
They sport about the belly of the deep,  
And yet their sides no briny-tears do weep.  
Just as I've seen the Sun pass through her beams,  
And pierce the bosom of clear crystal streams,  
Yet have they lived unquenched, nor have they been  
Moistened with th' cold dampy parts within.  
Cast them in pits, ram them up fast with earth,  
From these dark wombs they'll find a pass for birth.  
Clap them in dungeons, lock them up in chest,  
Stop up each chink, or cranny, you had best:  
Yet that is vain, through brazen walls they'll pass  
As easy as a Sunbeam through a glass.  
Thus when proud Pharaoh scorned his sail to strike  
To th' Crown of Heaven, proudly did dislike  
To own an equal; God his warrant gave  
To bring th' Egyptians firstborn to the grave.  
In th' dead or night when all their doors were fast,  
Fast locked and bolted, through his Angel's past,  
Stifles them round, no bars, bolts, doors could keep  
The infant safe in th' mother's arms asleep.  
Thus when sweet slumber seized the prisoners eyes,  
Whilst Peter 'twixt two Soldiers fleeping lies;  
Closely confined within close prison walls,  
Angels whip in, and up the prisoner calls,  
Opens the doors, sets free the shackled man;  
Thus walls, doors, windows, penetrate they can.  
Amazing Natures! somewhere you exist,  
Now here, now there, yea where so  you list;  
Yet in no place, no circumscribing air  
Can fit you with a garb that you can wear:  
Your spongy parts sometimes so puff and swell,  
That what would shroud a mountain, can't you well.  
Again you bend and fold up every joint  
Into the compass of a Needle's point.  
Like to the candle beams that can emit.  
Yet can again themselves so closely crowd,  
That in dark lantern they themselves can shroud,  
Or like a silken robe we can command,  
Into the hollow of a Lady's hand:  
Yet long and wide enough to cover o'er  
The body of that she I named before.  
Or take a shadow from another thing,  
The glove that 〈…〉 ●●ine hand can pass my ring.  
Witness the various Spectres that have been  
The sport and maygame of the Magic sin:  
Sometimes they flirt and caper here and there  
In shapes of flies about the flexile air:  
Then shifting coats, they make a mouse's skin  
The utmost confines of their room within;  
Dislodging thence, the next-made rendezvous  
Is in a figured Hog, a wanton Goat, or Cow:  
Or else that spirit within a Fly contract,  
Can the dimension of Giant act,  
And turn a weavers-beam about the sky,  
As nimbly as it did the wings of th' fly.  
Speak Holy Penman! how many spirits can  
Crowd in the body of one living man:  
More than six thousand as his name doth tell,  
Being called Legion; that sums known full well.  
Thus they contract and squeeze themselves together,  
Thus they dilate and spread I know not whither.  
Now for selfmotion to them propriate,  
My winged quill doth fly to explicate.  
Source of all action! and the genuine spring  
Of motion lodged in th' centre of each thing!  
Matter's too dull, too lumpish for to raise  
Itself, or stir. When I with wonder gaze  
On th' foaming Planets, that do swiftly fly,  
Prancing their rounds on th' pavement of the sky.  
My thoughts do rise, and inly ask my mind,  
Whence is that motion that outstrips the wind?  
When I a stone, mountain, or rock behold,  
I find them to all motion stark and cold.  
Yet have they limbs as able for to move  
As Luna, Mars, or else triumphant Jove.  
Whence should it come? surely it cannot be  
That from themselves comes that ability:  
Then from some other it must, but tell what is't?  
Not other matter; that h'as little list  
To move as they; what then may we it call?  
What is the spring, or the original  
Of all this swiftness? sure it was some sprite,  
That put this world first in this moving plight.  
Casting mine eye now downward, I behold  
Mine animate flesh, strange motions t' enfold.  
Whence so spontaneously have I the skill,  
To move my flexile members where I will?  
Whence move my sinews, muscles? I command  
My joints to bend, and then again to stand.  
Is't from my spirits that in purple-flood  
Now ebbs, now flows in them as they think good?  
But what moves them? is it from Chance, or is't  
From deep consults? Or tell me do they witted  
What they are doing? By Chance! fain I'd know  
Why only when I need them, they do flow?  
Is chance so constant? can it their forces bend,  
And steadyly direct to th' thing I intent?  
The Clock may well count th' hours of the day;  
But can I think that sturdy iron may  
Direct itself? or else by chance may strike  
This hour one, next two? our case is like.  
When I believe I run, when I do set;  
That water dries, and the fire it is wet;  
That with mine eyes I hear, or with my Toes  
〈◊〉 see, and that my taste lies in my nose;  
Then I'll conceive that less than a sprite can  
Point out the motion that I see in man.  
But how can that which is without extension,  
As spirits are, perform the thing I mention?  
Having no parts but such are penetrable,  
How to unite with matter are they able?  
How can they thrust or force dull matter on,  
And yet themselves want parts to fasten 'pon  
The parts they move! who can then this avouch,  
That this move that, yet neither of them touch?  
Answer me this, and I will that, What sight  
So pierceth, that sees matter to unite  
With matter? how do they cleave together,  
That hammers, chissels, axes, cannot sever?  
How do they fasten? is't by certain glue?  
But that hath parts. What then? why fain I knew.  
Is't from their rest or stillness as they lie?  
Why doth not then each stick or stone fast tie  
Itself to th' ground, when there it's cast?  
Would not all things incrustate hard at last?  
Should not we need a Chissel for to pick  
Up what with ease we take, be't stone or stick?  
Yet this we know that parts of bodies bind  
And tie themselves most fast, and yet our mind  
Spies not the manner how: what if then  
Union of spirits to bodies hard to men?  
Oh! my brains sweat some gentle breathing wind  
Of finer fancies, cheer up a tired mind!  
Polish this ruged discourse, make it so bright,  
That it may sparkle in the darkest night.  
I know no motion but from spirits arise,  
And mostly from their presence lives or dies:  
The wheels of Heaven now working, we'd seen stand  
If not been turned first by th' Almighty's hand.  
What is't that hoists the feathered sails of birds,  
And nimbly wastes them through the airy floods?  
What rudder turns those Pinnaces around,  
Steers them now upwards, than slopes to the ground?  
What can it be that sports and plays within  
The centre of the scaly people's skin,  
With bended tails, when they do skip above  
Their glassy ceiling that they mostly love?  
The Fox, Horse, Hare, and Greyhound, see them run,  
Observe their jerks how they proceed and turn:  
Tell me if sluggish matter could produce,  
Such pretty freaks, or any purple sluice  
Of blood that opens, and now shuts again,  
Can make these machines post the way amain  
O'er hedge and ditch, bushes of briar and thorn,  
And mend their pace by switch or wind of horn?  
Tell me in July it doth fiercely freeze,  
I will believe't as soon as I can these.  
Yet more prodigious motions I can tell,  
Acted by spirits on matter sprung from Hell.  
A cloud is seen by many to arise  
Out of a pit by which a Beldame lies,  
Stirring her urine, thence doth darkness fleet,  
Baffling the light, making the day retreat;  
Clouds in the air engender, double charge  
Themselves with thunder, than themselves enlarge  
In sheets of flame, thence follow winds  
That strike amazement to the hearer's minds.  
What shall I say of Wizards that are whirled,  
In cloudy chariots round the airy world;  
What of Amantius and Rotarius set  
Perched on tops of Oaks bemired and wet,  
Whence in a trice from out the shepherd's sight;  
A wind them snatches, and then take their flight,  
Like two cock-sparrows it length were seen to hop  
Upon a towering lofty houses top,  
One trembling, th' other laughing bid him cheer,  
It was as safe to be in th' air as there.  
Thus was Mag. Warrin hackned on the back  
Of some foul Fien that made the welkin crack  
With storms and tempests, as he her did rear  
A loft jolting along, yet void of fear,  
Lighting at last on th' top of a tall oak,  
Was seen condemned, and in a rope did choke.  
Wondrous! is't easy, tell me, to conceive,  
That air should thus condense itself, then heave  
Such weighty bodies upward, or bare words,  
Or ceremonious charms make them as birds  
To course about the air? ma'ned we with ease  
Rather imagine spirits t' produce all these?  
Strike sail my muse! thou 'rt now in sight of shore,  
Laden with traffic hath enriched me more  
Than Indian voyage, knowledge of spirits to me  
Is far more sweet than Arab spices be.  
They may embalm the body, what care I?  
Let body rot and stink, my soul can't die.  
Spirits are all immortal, so's my soul,  
It cannot waste nor die: Bells they may toul  
Their mortal knells for Bodies, but I have  
What the Father of Spirits alive will save.  
Welcome ye Angels then, 'tis for your sake  
That I in part this tedious voyage make;  
My undisturbed reason free from doubt,  
Spirits hath seen in flesh, and some without.  
Lord! when this prison falls, and I am free,  
Let me i'th' number of just spirits be.    
FINIS.   

The TABLE.  

A Preface of the Author's Life and Death.  
An Elegy on the Author's death, Octob. 29. 1676.  
Verses on the Picture and Book.   

The Contents of the Book, viz.  
Three Preparatory Questions about the Sacrament Pag. 1  
An example of Meditation about the sufferings of Christ Pag. 2, etc.  
The causes of Christ's death, considered in that Meditation Pag. 6, etc.  
A Colloquy 'twixt the Judge, Sinner and Saviour, Pag. 14, etc.  
Objections about God's love, etc. answered Pag. 20, etc.  
The Sacrament; particularly, the Dress Pag. 31, etc.  
The Presence-chamber Pag. 33  
The Communion plate and the Bread Pag. 35  
The Wine Pag. 37  
The Conclusion Pag. 40  
A Meditation on Christ's death preparatory to the Sacrament, for private use Pag. 42  
Three pious Letters to his Sister when he was but a young Student at Christ's College Pag. 50  
A Sermon on Rev. 12.1. Of the Church compared to a Woman Pag. 58  
A Sermon on Amos 3.6. Preached Sept. 2. 1673. Pag. 81  
A Meditation for raising his heart under slight Pag. 123   

POEMS.  
Hymn 1. On the Souls Love-sickness Pag. 126  
Hymn 2. The Souls Farewell to her Body Pag. 128  
Hymn 3. The Resurrection of our Blessed Lord Pag. 130  
Hymn 4. Of our Lord's Ascension into Heaven Pag. 132  
Hymn 5. The Souls Access Pag. 133  
Hymn 6. The descent of the Spirit Pag. 135  
Hymn 7. Of God's Providence and Judgement Pag. 137  
Hymn 8. The vanity of created enjoyments Pag. 142  
Hymn 9 On Isaiah 53. Pag. 144  
Hymn 10. A Consolatory against the fear of Death Pag. 146  
Hymn 11. Comfortable at the death of a dear friend Pag. 150  
Hymn 12. Of Thanksgiving for the restoration of health Pag. 153  
Hymn 13. Remedies against discontentments in four Parts Pag. 156  
Hymn 14. The desire of Assurance Pag. 161  
The Welcome Pag. 166  
Mortality Pag. 172  
Self-estimation Pag. 174  
Contempt. A Dialogue 'twixt Flesh and Spirit Pag. 176  
The Alarm Pag. 177  
A Song of the Pilgrim Pag. 181  
A Spiritual Song of Triumph Pag. 182  
A description of Paul 's Shipwreck, Act. 27. Pag. 184  
A sinners unregenerate inside turned outside; or the language of the Kingdom of darkness. Pag. 192  
The Rout of Demetrius Pag. 195  
The Flint Pag. 200  
A Divine Song, of the Brides stay for her Beloved Pag. 202  
A wounded Conscience Pag. 205  
The Petition for a Prospect of Immortalities Pag. 207