Chymia Coelestis. DROPS FROM HEAVEN; OR, PIOUS MEDITATIONS AND PRAYERS On several places of Scripture.  
By Ben. Parry, Gent.  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Prince's Arms in Saint Paul's Churchyard. 1659.   

To His Highly Honoured Friend WILLIAM GLYNNE, Esquire.  
Dear Sir,  
GIve me leave to present you with a few meditations, which own their birth to that place wherein your Honourable Father received his; and therefore by a kind of Alliance may seem to challenge your acceptance. The solemn retirements of those silent walks, gave life to these thoughts; which now under your name dare show themselves abroad, and from the society of Groves and Echoes take the liberty of a more open view: They are not that which the world usually calls by the name of study (though heaven cannot be too much studied on) but the exercise only of a few spare thoughts sometimes, on a pious subject; a tribute, which no Godly mind can pay too often. And I was the more ambitious, they should receive the honour of their Dedication from your hand as being so well acquainted with your virtue, and the nobleness of your spirit; which is already become its own Herald, beyond the loudest Encomium my pen can give. Let Philosophers count the orbs and reckon up the stars, none can speak so feelingly of Heaven as he that loves it best. Of all Knowledge, experimental is the noblest; and of all Meditation, that which informs not only the mind, but the manners too. The end of Divine Contemplation is reformation, and he is but a dry Christian whose life consists more in speculation then in practice: and though I am no Preacher, yet I hope, without putting me to the trouble of a Complemental excuse for being in print, you will pardon my ambition, if, desirous to acknowledge my engagements to your Noble Relations (as a testimony of my respects to yourself) I have made choice of this, having no other way to manifest how much I desire to be esteemed,  
SIR, Your affectionate servant. BEN. PARRY. Oxford Novemb. 1658.   

The Epistle to the READER.  
READER,  
PErhaps the Title may Invite thy Eye, though the meanness of the Comment may not merit thy Perusal. They are indeed the experiments of but a very young pen, though the subjects are so divine, they would find work enough for the Gravest in that Profession. And they have so little of any affected or elaborate Curiosity, that I need not tell thee, They are only the sudden effusions of a few pious minutes in my vacancies from other studies. And who can Employ his thoughts better at any time?  
And therefore I took no other pains than not to breathe them to the Air only, but some Noble Conservator that might recall my thoughts; and put me in mind again of That which so equally concerns all Eternity.  
If you wonder at their hasty ambition of being in Print. It was not indeed the Request of Friends, or any such threadbare motive, that stole them out. I knew not well what else to do with them, and therefore thought it as good to let them be lost in the World as in my Trunk: And though I am not so confident, as to think they are so good as to merit thy Applause; yet I hope they are not so bad, but they may be worth the Reading.  
Farewell.   

Chymia Coelestis. Drops from Heaven; OR, Pious Meditations and PRAYERS.  
ECCLES. chap. 12. v. 1. 
Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.  
REmember thy Creator, etc. It is one of the best expressions in the Preacher's Sermon: For who knows whether he shall live to be old? And yet that voice which speaks so loudly to the whole World, and still will tell the end thereof, is scarce audible in the ears of many. 'Tis one of this Divine Singer's most harmonious Lessons; and yet the World is not pleased with the tune: Strange! that the Sweetest of Preachers should have so few followers being his oratory is so Divine: and yet it is a Text, which though they will neither hear nor read, they cannot choose but see; for the whole world is but a Comment on it: Every Creature we do but look on, preaches this Doctrine, which we can so carelessly sleep out, with our eyes open. Nature carries this memento in her forehead; the very Brutes in this can reason with us; and it is strange that Man should forget his Maker, did he but remember himself: But alas, youth loves not to be put in mind of Heaven, it would spoil his memory, and make him think of his Prayers too often. Piety, will but dull his blood, Religion makes him look old; the thoughts of Heaven, and another World will make him graver than becomes his years, his blood tells him he is not yet in a temper to turn Divine, he may serve God time enough, when he can do nothing else; Thus these earthly objects of Pleasure hurry away our thoughts from Heaven and its Purer Joys; we can spend the beauty of our years in vice, and think to please God well enough with the deformities of age: we can revel our piety and time away in vain delights, and think ourselves strong enough to force Heaven, and become religious when we are withered with infirmities, and have nothing left us but repentance and a tomb. We are so well pleased with the sweetness of sense, that we are careless of any other felicity; and so much delighted with the happiness of sinning freely, that we could willingly be of that Religion which tolerates vice most. We place our devotion with the Epicure in the riots of Nature, sportful meetings are our religious Exercises, a Sermon is as troublesome as a Funeral to us; to hear of our end amidst our pleasure sounds like a death's Lecture, the unwelcome echo of the Grave. Let the Preacher lesson us never so well, to remember our Maker, We had rather follow Satan's doctrine to Enjoy the World as long as we can, and think of Heaven at our leisure.  
And shall the Lusts of the World, O Lord, be greater in my Soul then the Love of thee? shall the temporary delights of sin drown the memory of thy glory? My Life is but a Span, and yet I beseech thee shorten that rather than it should be spent in a neglect of Thee: better this Earthly tabernacle should be dissolved, then become a Theatre for sin to revel in; Let me pay Nature the debt I own her, sooner than perhaps she would call for it, rather than run in score with thy Justice: 'tis better I should die and be lost in the memory of the World, than forget Thee: Thou broughtest me from nothing, not to sin, but to serve thee, and hast imprinted in me a ray of Thyself, that I might not seek mine own, but Thy Will, nor pursue the World but Heaven; make me therefore to see the solid and ravishing consolation that is in serving thee; what Joy accompanies thy grace, that so I may no longer follow my sense but my Saviour. It is none of the least sins of our youth that we are careless and forgetful of Thee our Creator: and no wonder we are so insensible of the Joys to Come, that live in such a constant and continued neglect of Heaven.  
Make me therefore, O my God, to consider, that had I the fruition of all that I can wish, or long for here, I should not only not be satisfied but in the end find how miserable he is that setteth his heart on any thing but Thyself: teach me therefore so to enjoy the World that I lose not thee, nor the memory of that Blessed reward thou hast promised to them that Honour Thee.   
GEN. Chap. 2. v. 8. 
And the Lord God planted a Garden Eastward in Eden.  
WHat an airy fancy was it of some then, to place Paradise beyond the middle region? could they transplant the earth at pleasure? or did the clouds, like so many moving walks, become a seminary of vegetables? Was Erasmus of this opinion when he wished himself encaged betwixt heaven and earth? How vain is ambitious frailty in its quest after knowledge! We search for Paradise with more Curiosity than Adam lost it: and when we cannot find it here, yet we will fancy it a place, though above our reach. That there was a Paradise, we need not doubt; He that made it tells us so: but where to find it, he that lost it, knows not. So suddenly doth sin blast our most innocent pleasures. Scarce had Man taken a view or walk in Paradise, but this expelled him: the earth was but in its youth, scarce warmed by the new born Sun, when this withered it into a sterile and decrepit Complexion: nay the heavens, scarce seated in their orbs, were shaken by it, and interrupted almost in their Motions by the pride and fall of Angels. No sooner had the Serpent breathed out his Contagion, but Paradise changed its vordure. The Creatures fly from the Garden of the world; and infected Man is shut out from his beautiful enclosure: he that was an Inhabitant of pleasure itself, for whom the most choice and various fragrancies of the New Created earth were epitomised together, is stripped and cheated of his happiness by the Spirit of lies, and is glad to be beholding to a Figtree for his first vestment. How perfectly hath his naked Issue inherited his fortune? how many of his wretched sons have been ever since selling their Paradise for an Apple? How does the Covetous wretch adore his Mammon, his yellow God, and Coins heaven and his Salvation into Money, though the stamp be Hell, or the image of the beast? how readily will ambition Court Hell itself to serve his interest, make no scruple to sell his Soul for a Glorious vanity, and worship Satan for a kingdom? how does the Sensualist make his life an interlude, leaving Paradise for Tantalus his Garden, and makes wantonness his heaven, pleasure his Divinity, and never thinks of a better or another life, but when he is in danger of losing this? How many upstart lights hath Satan sprung to darken Religion, and eclipse the Gospel? how many eyes hath he put out by opening; pretending to clothe us with more Knowledge and Sanctity, that he might dismantle us of heaven and happiness? I had rather be for ever blind then use an eyesalve of the Devil's prescribing; and be for ever ignorant then learn Satan's lesson, to belie heaven and distrust my Maker.  
So miserable hath sin made us, O Lord, that by it we have lost not only Paradise but heaven too; forfeited not only the pleasures of this life, but also the joys to Come, and with the true Comforts of the world are stripped of thy favour too. He whom thou madest the Monarch of the Creatures, groans under the bondage of sin; and by the Misery of his Crimes, hath cancelled almost the glory and miracles of thy work. And now might we have been extinguished in our guilt, had not He, who is the brightness of thy Glory dropped a new life into our eclipsed natures by the power of his Blood and Merits; and, by reconciling us to thyself, given us an admission to better and more enduring pleasures. Grant therefore that having obtained mercy, we may walk accordingly; that being bought for heaven, we may no more sell ourselves to sin, nor vainly prefer a few moments of pleasure before an eternity of joy; that so, when our souls shall expire with our breath, they may be transplanted to that Paradise that never fades, and enjoy the pleasures of eternity in the bosom of thy Glory.   
1 King. Chap. 10. v. 18. 
Moreover the King made a great Throne of Ivory, and overlayed it with the best Gold.  
'twas fit that the best of Kings should be suitably served; and now he sees himself in so glorious a condition, he need not repent of that happy and eternal election he made in Gibeon: where amongst all his Sacrifices there was none so pleasing as that which he made of himself to the disposal of his God. Did the Princes of the world but make Solomon their Pattern, they might participate of his fortune, and find a more Glorious Hand supporting their Sceptres, beyond the reach of the most admired Achitophel. 'Tis not the paint but the piety of a Throne that both secures and adorns it. He must needs be the greatest of Princes whom God Crowns; the richest Monarch, that, besides the enjoyments of the world, receives even a Treasure from heaven. Piety never went unrewarded. God can bestow on his, as well the felicities of this life, as that which is hereafter. But if Solomon bow down to Harlots, his Crown must fall; and if he forsakes God, sin dethrones him. Greatness cannot privilege from punishment, nor the eminency of a Throne excuse the guilt thereof. He that breathed out so many Divine Songs, is struck dumb at the airs of a female tongue, and those Ivory steps the seat of Honour grow black with sin. Had his Guard of Lions proved true, they would have quickly dismembered those Sirens, that having lost their virtue had nothing but their vices left to charm their fury with. Solomon's youthfulness in his old age, precipitated him the sooner to his end, the end both of his life and Glory.  
O Lord, if Solomon's Throne was so glorious, how infinitely transcendent must Thine be, from whom Solomon received his: that under which the pillars of the earth tremble and in comparison of which the lustre of the heavens is but a spark. Though thou hast many thrones, yet the most glorious one is that of thy Mercy, which thou art pleased to open to the penitent Sinner. I will look upon the glittering guilded eminencies of the world with more delight, because I see the footsteps of thy Glory in them: and the royalties of the earth shall make me but with the greater reflection aspire after the enjoyment of that Throne, whose beauty and holiness ravishes the Seraphic Attendants with joy unspeakable and full of Glory.   
1 King. ch. 19 v. 9 
And he came thither unto a Cave and lodged there.  
SEe how malice hath forced Eliah to a Cave, and he that could not have the Liberty either of Life or Conscience amongst the Children of his People, was glad to find out a narrower Enclosure to save both. The Prophet that spoke so many Wonders is for the time become an Hermit; it was but a kind of a type and praeludium of after-Ages. For, when, through him, I look on those famous Votaries of the Church, who, to overcome the World relinquished it, turning Caves into Oratories, Caverns into Chapels, and filling the hollowness of a silent Grot, with diviner Echoes, than nature knew; I cannot choose but admire the purity of that zeal, which made solitude its mirth and the freedom of a melancholy devotion the only object of their Glory; sequestering themselves from men that they might be fit companions for Angels; and leaving all other Employments that they might exercise their Graces: These divine Retirers put Satan to the trouble of coming out of his way to tempt them; and so well obeyed their Master's rule, Fast and pray, that their whole Lives were a Lent. When they could not die, they lived his Martyrs.  
If these Pious Exiles, whose Virtue hath more Praises than Practices (men loving now the World too well to leave it) have by so noble a Confinement made their memory as sacred as their Lives. How great a miracle must he be, that lives a religious and devout recluse among the crowd of sinners? and when the objects of the World face him, Conquers more nobly, by opposing than retreating? He was a true Soldier that spatt his tongue into the Harlot's face, lest it should comply with the wantonness of hers; and taught his Blood by nobler motions to obey his Virtue, not his Nature. And he is the divine Hermit, who by not Loving the World leaves it, whilst he lives in it; and excluding himself more from the sin than the society of men, shows, he would not be beholding to solitude for the Glory his Virtue can acquire. Happy he, that by thus Enjoying, both Conquers, and Deserts the World, and makes his way to felicity through those Sirens that Salute him!  
O My Saviour, if I cannot follow Thee in the Wilderness, yet I will Worship thee in the Garden, where those Divine accents of thy Voice thrice subdued thy Murderers. Teach me to conform myself to that life which hath so astonished the World, those sufferings that made the highest Horror a pleasure, and the Loss of Life a Satisfaction in saving mine. Thou hast taught me that the noblest way to Conquer, is in the midst of Enemies.   
Job ch. 11. v. 10. 
In all this did not Job sin with his lips.  
BEhold this Miracle of patience from whom Hell itself could not extort one misbecoming accent! One that could turn his sighs into Music, breathe Divinity in Groans, and Conquer Satan in his tortures, that could turn his Sorrows into Sermons, his Pains into pious Lectures; and in all his Misery not vent the least Invective that might stain the purity of his Maker. What an admirable Creature is the valiant, though afflicted, Soul; whose hopes are mounted above the World, that makes his Cross his Triumph, and bears his Sufferings with so much patience, you would think he felt them not, as if Piety had made him insensible: his Humility hath taught him to entertain his pressures with so much pleasure, you would think he were in love with Misery; so nobly, that he becomes his very misfortunes, and makes them amiable his Devotion, like the Philosopher's Stone, turns all into Gold, and though he live never so poor, yet he is sure to die rich. His very grave becomes a Cabinet of Precious dust, and his reward is Heaven; to compare him to a Rock that out-braves the waves and lies fixed when 'tis overwhelmed; to say, that his Piety, like the Sun, becomes more transparent by being clouded; or that; like the Palm, he Conquers the very clogs that load him: these are but poor Encomiums for so Divine a Spirit: like the lower Spheres, that, carried about by a higher Orb, yet have a motion of their own. Though he be surrounded and hurried away with storms, yet still his heart is the true Loadstone that points at Heaven. Tell me of Stones that expel poison, herbs that fright away Thunder-spels, or incantations; these are but poor Virtues, Compared with his. Like a Diamond, his afflictions do but shape and point him to a Lustre fit to be enchaste among Saints, and Rings of Seraphins: his flames do but purify and make his stamp the brighter, and he is not ashamed of his misery because he thinks it as much glory to live as to die a Martyr. How often did Satan call Job Coward for his patience, in hopes at least to make him rail against Heaven? He knew he had no other way to conquer him but by himself: indeed, God is then best pleased when he seems to frown at us, and He makes us Sufferers that he might make us Saints. The Israelites must pass through a breast of Enemies, if they would come to Canaan. He deserves not to win Heaven, whose piety is such a coward that he dares not fight for it.  
And shall the leight afflictions of this present World, O Lord, discourage us from thy Service, and drive us from the Joys to come. Thou discoverest thy Love even in our punishments, and thy Goodness in the midst of our Misfortunes: Whilst we profanely question thy Providence, and grumble to entertain the smallest trouble for thy Sake. Were we sensible of thy Glory and the brightness of our reward, we should not only submit in a comely obedience to thy Will, but also triumph in our Sufferings; and rejoice even in the meanest Condition, that we might show how much we value thy favour, beyond the interests of the World.   
Cant. Ch. 11. V 1. 
I am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the Valleys.  
NAture's perfume, the Rose, displays its treasures through the air, enveigling our senses at once both with its Beauty and Odours. Other flowers like Hypocrates have more Colour than smell; but this grows Lovely in its witherings, and retains a sweetness even in its dust: and when it leaves to be a poesy may be turned into a Cordial; as if Nature had Epitomised the virtues as well as the beauties of other Vegetals into one, and made its Paradise in a Rose. I see, I can cull not only Physic but Divinity from it, and discover the wonders of Creation in the blushing enclosures of a flower. The smallest Violet, as the poet sings, breathes a Deity, and every Plant wears the Livery of Heaven: but in the Crimson attire of a Rose, I find a more Lovely Emblem of Him, who is the Rose of Sharon. A Rose in his immaculate Conception, in the beauty and purity of the Divinest Life that ever was or can be, A Rose in his Crown Crown of thorns, the perfume of his prayers, and the fragancy of his miracles. Were the whole earth turned into an Arabia, and it's richest odours sublimed to a perfume; were nature rifled of all its sweets, and it's most ravishing vegetables, crowded to a posy; yet were they infinitely below the sweetness of this Rose. Not that Centinel of nature, the Marigold, the early nymph of the goddess of the morn, that rises from its golden bed at the first appearance of its Lover; not the Sun's wooer, the Heliotrope, that strives to kiss and Circulate with that beaming Mover, as if nature had flowerd the earth with Stars or made its Coloured progeny idolaters of the Sky; nor all those growing Prodigies that enamour both our eye and thoughts to admiration, are not worthy to be Compared to this Heavenly Mirror, the Rose Sharon.  
O my Saviour, I will run after the odour of thy perfumes, and pant after those spiritual delights that stream from thy Throne. Thou art infinitely amiable; O imprint on my soul a purity that makes men capable of thy heavenly infusions, the Divine irradiations of thy Grace and Love. What is the Comeliness of the Creatures but a drop of that transcendent excellency that is in thee? O let it be my delight, as it is my felicity, to imitate the perfect innocency of thy life, that through the sweetness of thy merits my Sacrifices may be found pleasing; and that, when this corruptible shall be changed, and this mortal put on immortality, I may receive the reward of the faithful, the inheritance of the just, and be made partaker of everlasting Glory in thy presence for evermore.   
Genes. Chap. 28. v. 12. 
And he dreamt, and behold a Ladder set upon the earth, and the top of it reached unto heaven; and behold the Angels of God ascending and descending on it.  
NO sooner had Jacob made a stone his pillow (such is the happiness of contented humility) but a glorious Vision salutes his eye: that obedience which brought him from, his father on a journey to Syria, became a nobler guide, and shown him the way to heaven; those divine Travellers, the Angels, ascending and descending before him. Happy solitude, that met with such heavenly company! the hardship of his lodging was abundantly recompensed by this blessed interview, when the God of his father, the Lord of all creatures, appeared unto him, reviving him with the gracious supports of his promises and providence. When I look upon the posture of this happy sleeper, I cannot choose but wonder at the vanity of those, that expect visions from heaven on their beds of down, and look for revelations amidst their pleasures; their tender spirits would grow sick, and out of love with piety, should it disturb or contradict their ease: How quickly would their devotion catch cold, should they, with David, get up at midnight to pray? God drops not his miracles into the lap of the wanton, nor communicates the riches of his glory, but to those who are resigned to him. John must be an Exile, before he can be the Divine; and have conference with none but Angels, if he would be a fit Notary for heaven. Those holy men, that had no other company than solitude and their prayers, could not have trafficked so purely with heaven, had they not disclaimed all commerce with the world; and disroabing themselves of all secular interests, obtained a nobler furniture of grace, and became vessels of honour.  
Jacob here had no other Canopy, but the air; no other lights to his bed, than the lamps of heaven; and the Angels pass too and fro, as it were a guard to secure him. How securely doth he rest, that leans on Providence, and makes That the depository of his soul! Repose thus blest becomes a Sanctuary, nor need he fear to be disturbed in his sleep, that makes God his keeper; or that his pious night-thoughts shall have any other dreams, than those of peace.  
Jacob had no sooner closed his eyes, but those holy Porters unlock the Heavens, and invite him up; but 'tis by a ladder: We cannot climb heaven in a moment; the way to happiness is but by degrees, and, as our Saviour tells us, 'tis narrow too. Every virtue is a step to eternity, and he is so much nearer heaven, that daily treads his vices under. We cannot be too good proficients in a holy life, or think that in the smallest acts of piety we have enough to carry us to happiness: 'tis not a few steps, but a constant progress that mounts us thither. O how bad is he that thinks himself too good to be made better.  
The Promises of thy Glory are infinite, O Lord, and yet how carelessly do we embrace them? Thou hast shown us the way unto thyself, and yet we are not only unwilling but even weary of walking to thee. Alas, Are the joys of thy kingdom not worth the coming to? can we think to climb up unto thy Throne by a lame & idle Devotion? how nimbly do we pursue the vanities of the world, but pretend a faintness in thy service? We can run after the perishing concernments of this life, but make little or no progress in the race, which Thou hast set before us; Quicken us, O Lord, and make us more earnest and zealous in thy service; and as thou hast sent thy son to bring us to thyself, do thou likewise send thy Spirit to sanctify us for. Thyself; and then we, who of ourselves can scarce move unto thine Altar, will, by the assistance of thy Grace, run the way of thy Commandments.   
Proverbs 18. v. 14. 
But a Wounded Spirit who can bear?  
NOt the purest temper, not the vastest Bulk, the world itself, that hospital of sinners, cannot; for it groans and travails, itself, to be delivered. Heaven was no longer a place for those ambitious spirits, who exchanged their glory for those flames, which torture them not so much as that infinite despair, which for ever secludes, and sequesters them from it. No wonder some think, there is no other hell than this, for its torments are not to be matched: Stakes or Gridirons are but fleabites to this vulture: tortures of the newest fashion, are pleasant Martyrdoms, easy pains, compared to this. Those dying miseries, do but storm, and affright sense; whilst this living death, this kill Life, displays its cruelties on a more heavenly object; and striving to destroy and rifle an Immortal part, makes death itself a gentle murderer to it. Skreeks of Owls that add blackness to the very night itself, groans of parting souls that fill the ear, and room, with trembling Epitaphs, writ in characters mournful as the grave & silence; are harmonies to the dying Elegies of a wounded spirit, that breathes nothing but bleeding Satyrs against itself. See how with David it goes mourning all the day, and all the night too, surrounded with black and fatal Ideas, and turns his bed into a bath, which those weeping springs, his eyes, have made; and instead of bright and gentle airs, breathes nothing but dark & trembling accents, which the buisy Devil labours to refound back in doleful and despairing Echoes. How sadly doth it expostulate with heaven, My dearest God, what is become of that Lovely attribute, thy Mercy? are the treasures of it shut up from a poor sinner? and wilt thou be a God of mercy to the whole world, and wilt not to me!  
O let me for ever dwell in dungeons deep beyond the reach and sight of man, so I may but enjoy the brightness of thy face. Let me live more poor and disconsolate than Job upon his Dunghill in a naked and forsaken deformity, so I may but hid my spots, and put on a Beauty in my soul, which may invite thine eye again.  
Who ever thou art that now riots it in the world, and dalliest with damnation, didst thou but know the agonies of guilt, the cruelties of a Murdering sin, and the stings thy pleasures leave behind them, how quickly wouldst thou sacrifice thy life to nobler services, and employ thy time in sweeter thoughts; Wert thou now to die, how would the terrors of an evil Life affright thee, when every sin would appear a Messenger of horror, and the flattering world prove but an infernal Comforter.  
Show me that Gyant-Conscience this would not at length Master, that frozen soul these flashes would not melt and blast again, that Steel-backt sinner whom gentle loads will not at length numerously over-burden.  
The world knows not a misery like it, the terrors of the Grave are trifles to it, which could it but shroud the Guilty soul, and in its dark and solitary regions promise a freedom from future Misery, how willingly will it buy its peace with death, and beg its sharpest Dart for a speedier passage: loss of friends or fortune, Crosses to the very bone are but Scratches to these wounds: give me a Catalogue of afflictions and there is none I think, except this, which is not tolerable: But a wounded spirit who can bear?  
How unsupportable, O Lord, is the burden of a Wounded Spirit? how terrible are the Stings of Conscience, and the apprehensions of thy wrath? how miserable is he that securely wraps himself in Sin, and grows insensible of his guilt till the memory of his Crimes revive it; and when death puts him in mind of the World to come, hath nothing but the horrors of his Life before him. Thou hast placed an impartial Register in our bosoms which no flattery can bribe, nor tears Silence, from reminding us of thy Justice; and yet how many are there whose Leviathan-consciences, break the Silver Cords of thy Law like threads of Tow; and are so fare from acknowledging their guilt, that they are hardened in impenitence? But teach me, O Lord, as I sinne so to sorrow daily; that so when I shall come and appear before Thee, I may find no other terrors, no other sins my accusers, than those which I have, if not throughly crucified, yet at least seriously repent of in myself before.   
Eccles. Chap. 12. v. 13. 
Fear God and Keep his Commandments: for this is the whole Duty of Man.  
ANd yet how few are there that perform it, which yet is not so much our duty, as it ought to be our delight. He that hath but once got the habit of adoring his Maker, will quickly find Religion but a pleasure; and that Law which seems so hard and unpleasing to the World, will be but a recreation to his Soul.  
But alas, How little is there of David's piety amongst us now, when instead of delighting in God's Law, we deface it more; & are so far from meditating in it either day or night, that we never think upon it at all: 'Tis the duty of the world now to sin confidently, and an argument of much valour, to banish this timorous religion of fearing either God or his Law. The Preachers doctrine is now grown worse than a paradox, mere Apocrypha, 'tis heresy to revive it. To tell us of our duty, is to scandalise the times, that so officiously break the Law.  
And no wonder there are so many Atheists; there was never such a time to engender them as now. Track Antiquity to its first rise, and you cannot match this age again. The world never multiplied so fast in sin; abominable Sects, like Colonies, new plant the earth; profaneness is grown hereditary, and sprouts out by propagation: so that, in time, posterity may perhaps become Heathens. Were God and his promise mutable, a deluge would be but a sleight punishment. We do not only sin, but glory in it more, whilst some, not content to be private and silent Atheists, proclaim it loud, and are mad to have the credit of being known so; as if we could not be ingenious enough, unless we denied our Maker. No wonder, religion is out of tune, when there is no harmony of a Church; of that Christianity sounds low, when common Morality is not heard.  
And yet it is a lesson we cannot learn too well, a tribute we cannot pay too much, too often. We own our beings to the bounty of his hand, what homage then can we better pay, then that, which by glorifying of him, purchaseth a Crown for ourselves.  
Tell me, ye blind followers of the world, what's the glory ye pretend to? Ye that laugh at heaven, and make divinity a mantle for unrighteousness, that, with the Pharisee, count formality your religion, and make an outside-piety your duty. Alas, Heaven is not got by pious frauds, guilded crimes, or fortunate transgressions; nor the divine Eye to be deluded with a painted zeal. 'Tis not a pretended sanctity that can clothe us with immortality, nor a fashionable devotion only, that will carry us to heaven. How miserable is he, whose god is the world, and makes it his religion to neglect his Maker.  
What didst Thou bestow our reason on us for (O Lord,) but to hearken unto the voice of thy Law, that the Celestial Oratory of thy Word, might at least win us from an ignorant profaneness? Shall Heathens that had no other end no other reward for their piety, than some temporary applause or the inward triumphs of their Spirits for doing well, outstrip us in the beauties of a Moral life; and we that have higher and purer hopes, be scarce honest for thy sake? Shall they that knew Thee not be more passionately Good, than we that have found out Heaven and expect eternity to succeed? Though it was not in the power of Man to find Thee, till Thou didst reveal thyself in Christ, yet now having so richly and fully shown us the Treasures of thy Love, shall we not strive to do something for thy Glory? Make us, we beseech Thee, to consider the advantages that are in thy Service, the happiness that attends obedience, and that Crown which is the reward of Faith, that so out affections being mortified unto these perishing objects here below, may be enlivened only with desires after those Eternal Excellencyes that are in Thee.   
Luke Chap. X. v. 25. 
And a certain Lawyer stood up and tempted him, Saying, Master what shall I do to Inherit Eternal Life?  
IT was the best Question that ever he put, and gained him more than all his Pleading ever did besides; nor could it be any dishonour to him, from a Lawyer to turn Solicitor in such a suit.  
This was the highest Case he ever met with; for 'twas his Soul's; and where he could better be his own Client, than Counsellor. All his Law could never have divided it, had He not so fortunately met with Divinity itself to resolve him.  
How blind are they that think to find out the hidden Mysteries of Salvation, by their own shallow brain; that grope for happiness and eternity in Nature's bosom only; that make Aristotle their Bible, and go no further than his Ethics to learn Divinity, whose curiosity is their Religion, and triflingly pour out the happiness of their time; on some Learned Manuscript, Sacrificing their Nobler Meditations to Nature only; They study the World so long that they forget Heaven, and are so taken with the Pen of some Witty Mortal, that they seldom peruse Scripture, that Language of Life, the Celestial Oratory of the Spirit.  
The good Lawyer hath so long laboured in other men's business, he had almost forgot his own; his many motions had well nigh talked away his better part: 'twas now time to speak for himself; and, after all his wrangling, think of a Writ of Ease.  
How natural are the Thoughts and Inquiries after happiness in every one? The very Pagans would have a Paradise, as well as gods, of their own making; and rather than want a felicity, they would fancy an Elysium.  
'Tis the genuine Ambition of the Soul to thirst for something beyond the World: how vain are they, then, that make the World their happiness, and place Heaven in their Enjoyments here? how Inquisitive are some Lawyers of the World, whose question it is, How they may grow Rich, whose Divinity it is to become wealthy, and count a good purchase the best inheritance. See how the Ambitious man gapes after preferment, and places his felicity in his fortune, making honour his Heaven, worshipping the Glittering world, and sells Eternity for a title.  
See how the Covetous wretch locks up Heaven in his Chest, and ties his happiness in a bag: whose Deity is his Money, and still his Question is, how to get more. See how the sensualist Courts the world and makes pleasure his happiness, that spends a good inheritance on his lusts, but never seeks how to get a better.  
So sadly do our vices drown Religion that we are inquisitive after any thing but Heaven: we all run after happiness, but cannot overtake it, because it is not to be grasped within the arms of Mortality. 'Tis not all the flattering honours and guilded frailties of the World, that can match Eternity, and bring us to a never dying Mansion: we must look for somewhat that is as immortal as our Souls, more durable than time, and cannot receive a period with our breath. 'Tis every Man's Case as well as the Lawyer's; and every Lawyer's as well as his: 'tis a Question that will become any Profession, for it concerns all to inquire betimes what shall they do to inherit Eternal Life?  
With what pleasure, O Lord, do we embrace and run after our earthly advantages; but seldom reflect upon that time when we and all things with us shall receive a period? We can entertain any thing with more delight, then that which concerns us most, the happiness of the World to Come.  
We are more earnest after the perishing interests of this Life then in laying up a treasure for eternity, and making provision for our inheritance above: We beseech thee, make us to see the little use, but the great vanity that is in this World; that so the pleasures of it may not steal away our thoughts from the Contemplation of a Better.   
Matthew Chap. 15. v. 28. 
And he said unto her, O Woman, Great is thy faith.  
HAppy she, that was found worthy so great an expression! her female tongue made amends for all its former follies, having now by its pious answers merited so divine an encomium. Poor woman, how rich was she, in whose breast was minted a treasure which Kings and Princes compared, are beggars to. All Palestine with its balm and spices, could not furnish her with an antidote to revive her child and charm away the Devil. See the miracles of Faith, that could save two souls the, Mother's and the Daughter's!  
So miraculous that even a grain of it can remove Mountains, level Hills, and plain the most rugged and lofty Soul into an humble and fruitful valley.  
'Twas this that smoothed the surface of the Ocean, that made the waves a walk, and turned their furious curls into a pavement for Peter's feet. 'Twas the Centurion's faith that staved death away from his servant, which all his Guard could never have kept off; that restored the blind man's eyes again, and made him see better than nature could have done. All the wonders of the Gospel were still closed up with, Thy faith hath healed thee. And yet that Faith; which then wrought so many miracles, is now become the greatest miracle itself, whilst some take the sign for the thing; they place the greatness of their faith in the greatness of their works, and have so good an opinion of themselves, that they think it faith enough merely to do well. Others hope, to be canonised for their doctrines, though not for their lives, scorn the company of all religious duties, and think to travel to heaven by their faith, which is alone. Obedience, true sorrow for sin, that lovely robe of a mourning soul, and the nobler ornaments of our spiritual warfare, are but empty ceremonies, & both these men's Creeds are of their own making: but heaven is not got by speculation only; He that placeth his faith in his brain, and thinks religion hath not its agenda too, may like Moses view and talk of Canaan a fare off; but never enter it. Our Obedience must be louder than our Pretensions; 'tis not a noise that will Saint us, 'tis not our Professions only but our Practices too, that proclaim our faith.  
Though our Merits cannot reach heaven, yet our endeavours may, if unfeigned; because there is a mercy that will pardon our defects: all the blossoms of our Piety sprout out from this stem, and he that either believes or loves his Saviour, cannot think he strives too much to live well.  
This was the woman's Faith here, and she had scarce poured it out with her Tears, when Satan all affrighted forsakes his hold, not able to abide the Echo of its sound, seconded by the diviner accent of our Saviour's Lips. And this faith must be our Amulet against sin, and by its diviner charms drive Satan to his chain: 'Tis this that prepares heaven for us, that makes us survive our tombs, become Immortal in our graves, and promises eternity to our dust; 'tis this that seals our happiness and brings us there where the same Jesus shall receive us with an Euge to his Glory,  
Thou sentest thy Son, O Lord, to die for us that by believing in him we might have life. He under whom thou hast put all things, was pleased to put himself under them and left his Throne to be Crucified for our souls, that we might receive the Triumphs of his passion, and be partakers of his Glory. O let not those miseries of our natures which first invited thy mercy, make us uncapable of it: let not those that knew Thee not but by thy miracles, be more zealous in their acknowledging thy goodness, than we who by the manifestation of thy love plead an interest in thy blood. But grant that we may live in a perpetual Gratulation to thy merits, who camest from the Bosom of thy Father to save our souls. To this end do thou give unto us that faith without which it is impossible to please thee, and with which thou givest every other grace: teach us so to rely on thy mercy that we may not neglect the means, or think that a Dead faith will carry us to that life, which Thou hast promised to none but such as work out their salvation with fear and trembling.   
john: Chap. 20. v. 11 
And she stopped down, and looked into the Sepulchre.  
SEe how religiously Mary stoops to behold her Saviour in his Toomb, whilst her younger Sisters that spend more time on their dress then their devotion will scarce kneel to their prayers. 'Twas not an apparition of Angels in the shape of Ghosts, nor the mournful silence of a toomb, where dwelled no other object then death, clothed all in horror, that could fright her from her contemplation.  
See the power of Divine love that can even with pleasure look that in the face, whose very aspect only strikes the world to paleness; and stand not only at its door, but enter into its chamber to meet heaven; and without fear in the sad and solitatry vault, repose itself among the bones and carcases of the Dead, and make a Coffin its pillow till the morn. Thus the martyrs triumphed in their flames, and were charioted up in raptures by fire; as if the greedy element had warmed them only. How nobly did they meet death, and sang Anthems to the music of their Chains, as if they had been rather Priests than sacrifices in that cruel solemnity!  
How sweetly did Stephen close his eyes after he had seen Jesus, and heaven opened; and then cheerfully expired under an heap of stones; a monument richer than the proudest marble, having with his own blood writ himself this Epitaph, the best of any; I am the first Martyr.  
Thus the Saints made their torments their pleasure, and turned death with all its terrors into a scene of mirth. 'Twas not the rage of Tyrants, nor the fury of the most ingenious kinds of torture, that could force them from the love of Jesus.  
He that loves his Saviour will with Mary not only stoop, but step into a Toomb, and passionately embrace even a Coffin for his sake, he will look on death but as the Messenger of his Glory the Harbinger of his happiness; and therefore with St. Paul all in raptures, all in flames, beg a dissolution; whilst his soul full of nothing but approaching heaven is all in ecstasies transported thither.  
How hardly can we be persuaded, O Lord, to forsake the vanishing pleasures of this life for thy glory and our own happiness? How unwillingly should we lay down our lives for thy sake or the Gospels, that can so hardly part with one sin in obedience to thy Law? Thy yoke is easy, and thy service a perfect freedom; and yet we count thy sanctuary a prison, thy law a trouble, and can scarce sacrifice so much time to our devotions as to pay unto Thee the honour due unto thy name. Pardon and pity this Corruption of our frames; and teach us whether we live or die; to delight in that for which thou mad'st us; even to glorify Thee: that so whensoever this earthly tabernacle shall be dissolved we may receive our change with joy and be carried by Angels to an everlasting inheritance.   
Joh. Chap. 11. v. 25. 
Jesus wept.  
O Who can hear this and not dissolve all in pious showers? Can the most most frozen eye read this and not thaw its self all in streams? He that hath not so much piety as to weep for himself or his sins, yet let him have so much humanity as to accompany his Saviour's tears.  
And yet see how the marble Jew's, instead of seconding, censure his grief with a, Can not he that restored the eyes of the Blind, have kept Lazarus' open?  
No wonder they would not be mourners with him, who were to be murderers of him, and be but little sensible or compassionate of his tears whose cruelty was scarce satisfied with dearer drops, when his whole body became an eye that wept blood.  
And yet, Divinest Saviour, how many are there that bear thy title, but indeed are Jews, that pretend to wear the livery of thy name, but blot out the golden characters of thy cross. How coldly must they needs be affected with thy tears, that are scarce sensible of thy sufferings; and be but careless of thy life, who are so forgetful of thy death?  
O Mary, how richly are thy tears now required, those eyes that became moving baths for thy Saviour's feet, did sure now run over to see His brimful and distil drops, whose very inbalming revived thy Brother.  
O Lazarus! didst thou but know thy glory, thou wouldst die still, to be so lamented, and willingly be buried in thy grave again to be so honourably bedewed.  
No question, when thou wert a spectator of his sufferings, but thou didst exceed the women in their tears, and sacrifice thy Eyes in showers to thy divine Restorer.  
This was indeed the greatest funeral that ever the world saw, or is like to see; for the Lord himself was a Mourner here.  
Divinest Saviour, thou wept'st so those that could not, and for many that would not weep for themselves, and wouldst not deny thy tears who pouredst out thy life: thou art so in initly good, thou desirest but unfeigned sorrow for sin to excuse the gilt thereof; and yet so fare are we (such is our misery) from accompanying thy tears, that we can scarce weep for our own sins. O teach us, in a pious gratitude to do something for thy sake, who hast done so much for ours; that as thou hast glorified thyself by our redemption, we may also glorify thee by a constant thanksgiving; and may no more sell ourselves to sin, that have been so dearly bought for heaven and the joys of thy kingdom.   
John: 12. v. 2. 
But Lazarus was one of those, that sat at the table with him.  
CAn the dead eat then? was not Lazarus but new wound up in his grave, and is he set at meal? Is his tomb turned into a table? and does he wipe his hands in the napkin that bond up his head? He that was ready to have feasted worms now feasts himself, and is risen from his dead companions a guest amongst the living.  
We read indeed of some that all pale and liveless, were stretched out for a coffin but revived again, when that little spark of life, that lay glimmering in the expiring embers, in a corner of the panting heart recovered its flames. But here death and Lazarus had embraced too closely to be so parted. His soul had likely taken its flight before, and his body lay so long in his mother's arms, 'twas just dissolving into its principles again: and behold him now above, ground, as if but newly risen from his bed, all fresh with life and vigour: he hath changed his chamber, and from the lower regions of the other world is returned to his old lodgings, where he is now at supper thronged with multitudes of people that come not for alms, but to be spectators of this wonder. Had the end of the world been then, or a resurrection of others for company, Lazarus at his arrival to the world again, might well have fancied with his countrymen, that the second life should be on earth, and heaven kept in pleasures here.  
No, Lazarus, though now alive thou must die again to live for ever; nor must thy revival now, con ummate thine, but manifest God's glory; though it be thine too, above expression, to have been thus the subject of it. Thou needst not fear to die again having done it once, nor doubt but that he who raised thee now, will do it hereafter too. Didst thou ever think to have enjoyed this world again; or to have been freed from thy imprisonment, till the great and general delivery? 'Twas beyond thy Sister's faith till she saw it; and now having had two lives, if thou spentest the former on thyself, or the world, thou didst wholly sacrifice the latter to thy divine Restorer.  
How many expiring souls, all frighted with the horror of their crimes, could they but have their span a little lengthened; or, after an age's durance in their graves, but revive a little before their doom; how gladly would they turn their songs of pleasure into penitential anthems, their profane notes into diviner airs; and tune out their lives in pious strains.  
But alas! he that cannot employ this life well, in vain expects to do it in another, which he is not worthy of might it be obtained. He whose piety here hath reached him a taste of heaven, a glimpse of happiness, will be so little in love with the vanities of this world, that instead of desiring a longer or another life here, he will be but ambitious of leaving This.  
It was by thy power, O Lord, That Lazarus, carried out to his grave, should return alive. That Mournful expression (thy friend is dead) drew thee to the discovery of thy love and power, in his resurrection. O let there be the same concurrence of thy Grace and spiit, to the raising and reforming of my soul to a new and holy life; it was the misery of expiring man that drew thee from the bosom of thy Father to redeem him. O let the Sceptre of thy word and truth be as powerful in its heavenly influence upon my soul, as the Prophet's staff that revived the dead; that so dying daily I may live for ever, and being prepared for my death, may enter into that life from which nothing but sin can exclude me.   
Joh. Chap. 13. v. 23. 
Now there was leaning on Jesus bosom one of his Disciples whom he loved.  
SEe how sweetly is the Disciple Couched? how boldly doth he make his Master's breast his pillow, loading him with a double burden, his sins, and himself?  
Blessed familiarity! Would not Kings leave their thrones to have been in his room, and ambitiously forsake their Golden Canopies, for su●h a teposure? Here might the vastest ambition both seat and satiate itself without aspiring higher: the greatest Avarice might here have found a treasure beyond which it could not cover. What Lover would not scorn the lap of the most admired female, for such an enjoyment, and become a Diviner Amorist.  
Was not this Disciple above the rest? If this be not a precedency, what is? a dignity which none besides himself succeeded in.  
Happy Favourite! Who would not have trampled Crowns and Sceptres for such preferment? Had Mary, in whose bosom (once Love's Cradle) so many wantoness lulled themselves, that turned her eyes into Living Minerals, and her hair into a towel of the newest fashion, been graced with such a privilege, not her eyes only but the noblest rivulets of her blood would have overflown, all transported out in grateful streams. How pleasingly doth the Disciple lay his ear to that Heart which was the life of the world, as if he would count its motions, and by its Divine pulse be rocked asleep in raptures?  
Behold, O my soul, and see in the posture of this happy man, the Emblem of thy own felicity, the place of thy reception and future Glory. Art thou ambitious of it here, then behold him on his Cross with his arms extended to receive thee: O run and roll thyself on that Breast, the fear of Love, wherein lies all the treasures of thy happiness. Thou hast a privilege even beyond the Disciple, for thou mayst not only lean and depend, but embrace him too: Encircle him now then with the choicest endearments of thy soul, the most passionate raptures of a Lively faith; and so the same Jesus that permitted the Disciple here to lean on his breast, will receive thee likewise in his arms hereafter, and place thee for ever in the bosom of his Glory.   
Math. Chap. 16. v. 26. 
For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?  
ANd yet men had rather lose their souls than the world. He for whom the world was made, makes himself for the world, disappointing himself of all his Glory, and by a more than brutish transmutation, buries the Divinity of his soul all in earth.  
Hear this than ye, Inhabitants of the world, ye that fowl all in sense, and climb no higher than the elements for Heaven; that can pawn your souls for a fading pleasure, and count a delightful misery your felicity.  
Hear this, thou aspiring Vapour, whose ambition elevates thee to consume thyself; thou that wilt worship Satan for a Kingdom, and do him homage for a Crown, paying him a revenue worth a thousand worlds, the immortal tribute of a soul; till thy triumphs be turned to torments, thy revel of honour into regrets of horror, and thy Chair of state into a bed of flames.  
Hear this, thou Sensualist, whose soul is as unconfined as Brutes, that pantest for pleasure more than ever the Camaelion did after air, thou that wadest all in sin, and overwhelmest Morality in floods of vice, bathing thyself in those wanton streams that drown thee, that countest religion but a fable, the lives of Saints a melancholy Romance, and laughest at heaven as if eternity were but a fancy.  
Hear this, O thou Miser, whom the Silver Rhetoric of a bag can court to Hell, and art greedily won to damn thyself at the Music of a purse; that canst gaze thyself blind at the splendour of a Gem and cursest Geography for describing riches beyond thy reach; wishing thyself an Indian that thou mightest dwell among Treasures, and inhabit Mines, till thy very hair became silver indeed, till thou thyself went all turned to Ore, and and every Bone into a wedge of Gold.  
Hear this, ye Gallants, that are so enamounted with the fashions of this world, that ye have lost all Idaea's of a better ye that live merely to please your sense, and feed your luxury with the curious martyrdom of a thousand creatures. As ye have purer veins, have purer passions too, and have nobler inclinations for heaven: the riches of your attire will not clothe you with immortality: should you sell your estates when ye die, 'twould not purchase paradise. It was the best speech the old Orator ever uttered when he said, he would not buy repentance so dear. 'Twas but an extemporary expression, and yet all his Rhetoric could never match it: that one strain was worth all his Orations and will outfame the labours of his pen.  
Can we triple the lives of Patriarches, and with them the pleasures of the grandest Epicures; Can we, like Cleopatra, in a dissolved pearl swallow the treasure and pleasure of a kingdom at a draught; or command the Creatures as peremptorily as ever the Centurion did his servants; had we all the enjoyments we can either wish or fancy, what ever the ambition of the most vain and carnal appetite can long for; were the whole earth turned into a paradise, or a constant spring beautifying its face. Can we live and not grow old, or being old not feel the miseries of age; could we unwind time again and reverse its wheels, stop the celestial Mercuries, the posts of heaven, in their course and set the Great Clock of the world backward again; nay, were our bodies as durable as our souls, that we could out live Time itself, and be above ground, even when the world shall receive its period: yet what shall we get, if after all our imaginary felicities and sliding contentments, we become a sacrifice for hell, enlisted in the cursed catalogue of the damned crew, a victim for eternal flames, lost for ever from God and Heaven. Then tell me who ever thou art and ask Dives himself, What is man profited though he should gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?  
What is there in the world, O Lord, that we should love it thus, weary ourselves in vain desires and make the pleasures of this life our felicity? How hard is it for him that is a stranger to thy law to perceive the emptiness of those enjoyments he hath so long rolled himself in, to resist the tempting advantages of sin, and undervalue the flashes of this life for that glory Thou wilt impart. My God, teach me so to enjoy the world that I lose not Thee, let the blessings thou bestowest quicken and increase, not dull my devotion; raise up my obedience not drown my gratitude: that so the vanities of the world may be my scorn, and the joys of heaven my only ambition; that I may never for a perishing fruition in this life lose both my soul, and thy grace, together.   
Matth. Chap. 5. v. 8. 
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.  
WHo then would not strive to become pure? No wonder David, was so earnest for a clean heart, and a right Spirit: if this be the reward of Piety who would not become religious? Blessed Spirits! how happy, how pure are ye, that behold the face of your Heavenly Father, who would not labour to imitate you here, that he might be like you there, and possess joys such as raptures never knew. Shall the false and treacherous vanities of the World steal away our hearts, and rob us of the hopes of this Glory, the fruition of this Sight?  
A Sight, in Comparison whereof the royalties of the World, the triumphs and splendours of the eye, and the beauty of the whole Creation is not worth the looking at. A sight, which no eye ever saw, but may, if it do not blindly lose itself on objects here. No Ear ever heard its perfect description; but may the Harmony and hallelujahs of it, if it bow not to the charms of sin and the music of the flesh.  
'Tis a sight, whose Ideae cannot be drawn by the most lively, and subtle Speculations of any Scholastic brain though never so Angelical; 'tis not fancy but piety can reach it.  
The Divine Traveller St. Paul himself, though newly there, could not give us a Copy of it; and Scripture Characters it out but in Similitudes, to show how infinitely transcendent is that Glory which is so much above expression, so much above all comprehension. Were all the Diamonds the earth is mother of, mustered to a Splendour they would not match the smallest glance of the Sun's eye: and yet that noble Luminary surrounded with so many waiting Stars, that beg their lustre from him, is but a spark to the Brightness of of His face.  
Who then would sacrifice that part to the World, which may become the instrument of so much happiness? and suffer the extravagancies of his blood to revel there, where nobler passions and flames should triumph?  
He that would dwell among the Spirits of the just, must teach his own to become so; and turn his body to a Temple, wherein his heart must be the the Altar and Sacrifice too; or rather a kind of Sanctum Sanctforum, for the choicest Gifts of the Spirit, to inhabit.  
The Seat of Life must be turned into the Seat of Love, and the palace of the Spirits into a Court of Graces, and then that part which (as Naturalists observe) is the first that lives, and the last that dies, shall become purely vital, and not die at all.  
Nothing but a Trinity can fill this Triangle, which we must therefore shape to the purest form, and teach it in all its pulses, to beat nothing but Heaven and Sanctity. Our breasts must become Closets of Devotion and our hearts the Cabinets of innocency and prayer, enriched with that great diamond, a lively faith, the Lamp at which all our smaller Graces as Candles light themselves, and like Stars borrow their Lustre from this Luminary.  
'Tis not a heart that can dance to the Tune of any Religion, and pretend a Sanctity which it wears only in its face, that makes Fancy its Conscience, and stiffness of humour tenderness of Spirit.  
No, 'tis a heart robed with Humility and Crowned all with Love, perfumed by Prayers, the odours of Charity, and the fragancies of a pious life, that couches itself within the arms of our Saviour's Spouse, and becomes a mourner in its perfections, that looks upon the World as the Enemy of its Glory, and had rather die then be a Rebel against Heaven. 'Tis such a Heart that prepares us for this Vision; and happy is he, that's such a Puritan.  
Strengthen us therefore, O Lord, against the vanities of the World, and raise up our thoughts to the Contemplation of thy Glory. Level in us every proud thought that dares exalt itself against the power and purity of thy Law: and Sanctify us for thyself and thy Service more, that the practice of a Holy life may be, as it ought, our chiefest employment, that so when we depart from hence we may be received to Thee, and being seen no more here may for ever see there, what before, neither eye hath seen, nor ear heard, nor heart conceived, the Glory thou wilt impart in the fruition of Thyself.   
Matth. Chap. 8. Verse. 2. 
Lord, if thou wilt Thou canst make me clean.  
IS not sin a Leprosy! Then the Lepers Prayer, is every Sinners too. He that had seen the Leper's body, would not have wondered at his Prayer: and yet could he but have viewed his Soul, he might perhaps have seen objects of more prodigy and Horror: the miseries of his blood which had lost its verdure, and become but an unprofitable friend to Nature, every part being as it were dead-alive, by so unnatural a Nutrition, taught his tongue this Necesary though Mournful kind of Confidence, Lord, if thou wilt.  
And He, whose Compassion never fails, to show that his Goodness was as great as his power, would not reject a Suit wherein his Mercy was concerned; and those limbs which might have been sooner drowned then bathed into a Cure, reassume new life and beauty by the bounty of a Touch.  
Thus the Leper is new bodied again: but we read not of any Cure wrought upon his better part, and that perhaps had more need. The bedrid Man his Successor was fare happier, whose sin and disease were both taken away together.  
How many are there that, like the Leper, look no higher than their bodies, whose Superficies is all their religion; whilst the nobler piece that gives them life, lies all neglected under some chronical infection?  
Our blood shall have all the delicacies, that Art or the most Chemical Luxury can invent to feed its flames; whilst our brighter part, the Divine and Celestial fire which inspires us, lies all quenched and robbed of its immortal aliment, and can carry back nothing but a dim and Hectic lustre to it Maker.  
The torment of Limb shall teach us more devotion in an hour then all the concernments of our Souls could do in a year before, and the deformity of the meanest part will be an object of more shame and sorrow to us, than those pale and infernal shapes that attend sin and disfigure Heaven in us.  
Of all plagues this is the greatest and yet least feared, as if Hell were but a Toy, Damnation a Pleasure, and the miseries of our Souls a Recreation to us.  
Show me that beauty that's not a Leper, that innocence which carries not a guilt to blush at; that Saint, that infant man, that knows not what it is to sin.  
Were our veins purer than the lips of Violets that perfume the Chemistry of the air, the drops of the Morn; were Adam's sin a stranger to our blood, and our birth clear, as the Morn, innocent as the newblown Rose: yet the deformity of our lives would soon teach us this prayer, and the blackness of our very thoughts would silently proclaim our ugliness.  
And yet, was not there not in those days a Generation that were clean in their own eyes, that justified themselves even in their impurity and counted all the World but Lepers to them? Was not the Pharisee a greater Leper than the Publican, though so proudly he displayed his best plumes? His very Pride carried more Contagion with it, than the other Man's Sins all put together.  
He that trusts to the merit of his own paint, may lose Heaven and those joys which an humbler Confidence secures.  
O Lord, though I am not so bad perhaps as some, yet am I so b●d in myself, that the Leper here is a beauty to my Soul, Lazarusse's Corpse a comeliness to my sores: yet were I more impotent than the Cripple of Bethesda, more Leprous than the Nine, whose ingratitude was more loathsome than their disease; were those Legions, ejected by thy word, received in me; were I as bad as Satan could wish to make me; yet I know thy Goodness and I do not doubt thy power. For, Lord if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean.   
Matth. Chap. 24. v. 39 
And knew not, until the Flood came and took them all away.  
HOw securely did these sinners cram themselves for destruction? or, as if overseeing their inundation, they would by full stomaches labour to prevent an entrance. Life and luxury were such inseparable companions here, that nothing but Death could part them. They had waded so long in an Ocean of sin, it was impossible to escape drowning, and not be surrounded with the depths of a quick and overflowing judgement.  
Noah might have preached himself dumb, and have sooner talked himself asleep in mild and fluent admonitions, than awake these drunkards; had not the waves made use of a rougher language; and, in their own swelling dialect, the prodigious roaring of the depths buried them and their riots in silence together.  
Had not God otherwise promised the world how often had it since been deluged? They were but eating & drinking; but we do even glut and carouse it in sin, commit riots upon Hell, and can teach the Epicure himself to revel.  
Our forefathers were but dwarves to us in sin, whose transgressions have to far transcended theirs in bulk, that we are become greater Giants in iniquity then those of the first age.  
So monstrous is Sin still in its productions, that the whole earth like an infernal afric brings forth new prodigies of vice daily, that (were the world in a consumption as some think 'tis, in virtue only, and the iniquities of the times) when they seem to be quite full, are but increasing still.  
They were but cold phlegmatic crimes that drowned the world, to the fiery sins of this hotter age, that shall (and have already almost) set it in a combustion. 'Tis another element then that of water, must punish the feared Consciences of this age; and chains of darkness must fetter those that run after new lights, the meteors of their own invention.  
The world was already drowned in sin, when the waters, to complete its excess, came and carried away these living-dead men, and buried them in the same grave together.  
Such is the fruit of a careless life, the miseries of a reckless impenitency; they were revelling in their feasts when the greedy element devoured them, and they that drank iniquity like water, had a fit punishment for their iniquity. The waves grow high and mount up to a tomb, the sea becomes a spacious monnument both to hid and wash away their sin, and they that swum in mirth, are now swallowed up in streams, and little dreaming of their deaths, are shipwrackt in their very houses in the midst of their pleasures, being fatally suprized by a terrible and unwelcome guest.  
So righteous art Thou, O Lord, and infinitely pure, that thy Justice, though it may seem to wink at, yet will not pardon impenitence, nor pass by the resolved impieties of wilful transgressors: and yet so infinitely good that thou never heightenest thy punishments but when men do their iniquities; nor are thy judgements epidemical but when sin is so. Thou that desirest not the death of a sinner, wouldst not have destroyed so many even all, had not their transgressions been so universally prodigious, that they came up in a cry together to pull down thy justice. And though thou hast since out of the greatness of thy love and compassion promised a security from the same, yet not from all punishment. Let the memory therefore of those that perished by thy wrath for their neglect, remind us of our duty and thy glory; that so the examples of thy judgements upon others, may teach us, by a lively repentance to prevent our own.   
Luke Chap. 7. v. 5. 
For he loveth our nation, and hath built us a Synagogue.  
BEhold the character of a good Magistrate! one that might well be styled the father of his country though a Roman, whose patronage so eminently extended itself over both, and the best part of their commonwealth.  
This man was Chief not only in place but in piety too, all Judea could not match him, which since it lost its freedom, was not wont to find or enjoy the happiness of such Rulers: and had they not hated Idolatry they would have worshipped this lover of their nation.  
Herod indeed, did rebuild their Temple, but it was more for fear then love; 'twas not out of piety but policy, the better to get the crown; 'twas his ambition not his devotion, that founded that stately edifice; not somuch out of zeal to God or his country, as out of pure religion of becoming King.  
Such is the Sanctity of the world; which makes God's Honour, not the foundation, but a passage to their own; turns religion into a footstool for ambition, and makes heavenly pretensions a staircase to iniquity.  
The Centurion here was a benefactor to the Nation out of pure zeal; and if not of their religion, yet a great friend to it; whose charity, not content to show itself in the management of their civil interests only, so nobly employed its power for the good of their souls and Church.  
Unlike the Rulers of the world, whose Religion it is to have none at all, and are such lovers of sacred Foundations, that instead of laying new, they are the only new fashion Templars, that dare fight for to ruin the old, and defend their pulling down. Piety is lovely even in the meanest, but in Kings and governor's it carries a splendour like those rays that surround the head of a pictured Saint.  
Pyramids, whose proud-reach dares justle the clouds and make them stumble in their race; Piles of Alabaster carved to various shapes and pictures, lively as the dead, and the more like because both breathless; Tombs of marble; Vaults of brass, are but poor monuments, worthless conservators, to that building without hands, wherein deceased Piety eternally shall live.  
The Centurion here by building Synagogues, raised a structure to his own memory that hath out lasted them; and the Jews, ravished with such unwonted favours in a Ruler, to express their Gratitude, run in streams to Jesus, and petition him to heal his Son, pressing him with an argument of great force with them; for, He hath loved our Nation, and built us a Synagogue.  
Such honour have all they that Honour Thee, O Lord, whose zeal for thy Glory, seldom returns empty to themselves: the meanest offering to thy Altar, is not only accepted, but rewarded too; and they that make it their Ambition to exalt thy Name, shall not have theirs forgotten.  
Let not those that knew Thee not, be more passionate for thy Glory than we, whose very Profession ought to adorn our Religion; whose bodies ought to become Temples, fit to entertain thy Spirit, the spirit of Holiness of Love.  
Thou wilt now no more be worshipped in Synagogues, but more spiritual Assemblies: Teach us therefore, to turn our souls into Sanctuaries, and to raise up our thoughts in more lively addresses that we may not so much endeavour, to obtain the world's time by a moral fame as by the Sacrifice of obedience, the Righteousness of eternity.   
Luke Chap. 9 v. 57 
Lord I will follow Thee, whithersoever Thou goest.  
IT was the best resolution he ever made: nor can any blame him for his boldness, when it was his glory to have been an intruder; he might have gone on long and fare enough, and not have met with such heavenly Company. Was it his Confidence, or his Love to Jesus, that put him on?  
See with how pious an importunity he accosts him, whom perhaps, he had never seen, nor known before but by his Miracles only; and that life which so astonished the eyes of the world, could not but attract his and his heart too; and therefore thinking it no presumption to use all means of bettering himself, nor willing to lose so fair an opportunity of becoming happy, ambitious of an admission, all in raptures without any other Compliment then an humble earnestness, salutes Him. Lord, etc.  
Nor could our Saviour's poverty stop or weaken his resolve, or discourage his intention; being not only Content, but Ambitious to share even in the miseries of so good a Master, in whose very wants he should find a felicity beyond all the enjoyments of the earth.  
Is not this Man a precedent for the whole world? He that will not follow Jesus out of love, yet let him not for shame suffer a Jew or Publican to out-step and strip him too. Are the joys of an everlasting Bliss, of so poor a value; that they are not worth the coming to? or shall we think any step too weary that brings us to happiness?  
Were the way to heaven but strewed with roses or a thousand pleasures to revive the flesh, the sensualist would turn a constant walker there, and be the foremost in those paths; the rich Man cannot follow Jesus for his precious Luggage: with which, because he cannot; without it, he will not stir.  
The Epicure will not be of a Religion that prescribes him temperance; for although perhaps he might make a shift to pray, he cannot tell how to fast.  
The way to heaven is too narrow for Ambition, whose lofty port loves not to be strained in its passage, but must have a road wide as the world or Hell can make him, wherein his train of sinful glories may follow him in a breast together.  
So difficult a thing it is, to leave the world even for heaven, and strive against the blandishments of sense for an invaluable bliss; as if all our hopes, all our happiness were laped and tied up in the Concernments of this life only, and no other expectation for us besides the pleasures of Mortality.  
And yet how many are there that pretend to follow Jesus but are mere strangers to his footsteps, that pursue tracks not of his making, but their own finding. That path which so many holy men have footed before us, is too common, too profane for them to tread in; they have found out a nearer Cut of their own, and think they shall come to Heaven the sooner by turning out of the way. So unfortunate is that zeal which will needs be wand'ring after spurious and impostured Lights; and scorning the usual footsteps of the Church, loses itself in the blind and dark Meanders of Enthusiasm.  
The way to heaven is not in a Corner, and however narrow, is open still: 'tis a path whose prospect is happiness; nor need he fear to lose his way, that doth not wilfully turn out of it, the poor Man here, all transported, runs to Jesus, and mixing Humility with Resolution, because he will not be denied, in a begging kind of Confidence tells him, Lord etc.  
Who would not foot it even through wants and wildernesses, to come to Canaan? He that follows Jesus shall have no Cause to repent his journey. He shall find such treasures even in the poverties of religion, so much of Heaven and Contentment in the seeming miseries of a pious life, that he will not need much persuasion to make it his own resolution here, and cheerfully leave all to follow Jesus.  
Do thou therefore elevate our souls from the world, O Lord, and make them covetous of seeking thee and the things that are above: Thou art ascended to thy Throne in the rapture of Glory, draw our souls after thee in the raptures of Love and spiritual exaltation, that we may make the virtues and perfection of thy Life the rule of ours, and grant that we may not be so affected with the things of this world, that we should have no passion for thy Glory: but make us to walk Cheerfully in that way which thou hast gone and set before us, that as we live by thy Goodness, we may live to thy Glory; and as we move in Thee, we may be ever moving towards Thee, till we enjoy the Happiness of an eternal rest in thy Kingdom.   
Matth. Chap. 9 v. 38. 
Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the Harvest, that He would send forth more labourers into his harvest.  
NO Prayer more necessary than this, nor this ever so much as now. Who would not burn and labour in his devotions, and earnestly press heaven with restless and religious votes to Compassionate our want?  
Every one may well make it his vocation now, without encroaching on another's office, and turn labourers in so pious a work as this, to pray for the prosperity of the Gospel.  
Who can see the Garden of the Lord become a desert, folds of Lambs inhabited by foxes, the House of prayer turned into the ruins of Sacrilege, and the Messengers of our peace glad to become the objects of our pity, without mournful and Compassionate reflections? How vainly do they pretend affection that strip their Mother, and count the exorbitances of their Fancies, the decencies of the Gospel.  
Can there be any want of Labourers where so many are, where every man becomes one himself? when sheep become shepherds, and Flocks are Metamorphosed into Pastors. Every one can now handle the religious sickle; he that can but talk or smatter Scripture, thinks himself divinely called, sufficiently inspired for a Sermon; and out of the simplicity of his zeal will needs be climbing up a pulpit.  
Thus multitudes of teachers produce a scarcity, and we want the more by having so many. We may well pray then for a new Mission, or the taking away of those, that do not hedge, but devour the vineyard.  
He that loves his Saviour will delight and triumph in the felicity of his spouse, in whose arms alone we can mount to happiness, and ever beg a perpetuity of its Glory. He deserves not to reap or share in the bliss of an immortal harvest that will neither labour himself nor pray for the prosperity and increase of them that do.  
And who, O Lord, can cast his Eye upon thy bleeding Spouse without a tear? or upon its unruly Adversaries without a Sigh for its protection? O let thy accustomed mercy stop the wildest Boar, and root out the most mischievous foxes that may destroy it. Thou hast founded It upon a Rock, no storms shall ruin it, and hast placed it on high to be seen and approached by all; let us not blindly turn out of the Way, or fall into praecipices for want of knowing guides. Let not thy Oracles become dumb for want of Priests; or the Glad tidings of our Peace, be turned to silence, for want of faithful messengers; but thou, O Lord, both supply defects, and reform abuses that sensibly creep in: forgive the Zeal of those, they know not what they do.  
Let the Light of thy countenance graciously dispel that darkness and confusion wherein we lie Eclipsed. Then shall we sing and Praise Thy Power.   
Matth. 2. Vers. 10. 
And when they saw the Star, they rejoiced with exceeding great Joy.  
COuld a Star become such a welcome object to Astrologers, whose eyes had contracted an acquaintance with the Spheres and taught the Planets to become familiar? Or was it the appearance of a new born Light that crowned their Joy. That Stars should become guides, and not only light but Lead me too; 'twas indeed a wonder they never saw before, and which no Astronomer besides themselves, though never so celestial, could yet Parallel.  
Had Aristot●e known this, he would have made the Stars the Deities of the Spheres, and not perched Intelligences at their backs to roll them. This was some living splendour, sure, that could both shine, and show the way. A luminary more quicking then that Giant one, that spreads the Morn, and carries Time within his arms. And they whose ruder devotion, whose Idolatry taught them to adore the Sun, could not but religiously salute the Herald of a brighter One they came to worship.  
See how Pagans foot it from the East, and cheerfully make it but a walk from the remotest Climate to come and worship a Redeemer; while some will scarce travel from their chambers to present a cheaper offering of gratitude than this. They counted it the best journey they ever made, and for a testimony of their joy presented offerings, the richest their Countries yielded, and made the Inn their Temple, to pay the tribute of their adoration in, to the Lord of Glory; whilst some sacrilegiously strip him of his Divinity for the greater honour of his name.  
They had but a single star to guide them, but we can show multitudes of new lights to darken the Gospel, troops of Quaking comets, the Apparition of whose zealous and fiery aspects, would rather fright then lead the way.  
Thus pretended Illuminations of our own making, do not embrighten but eclipse religion; and instead of opening blind us more; It was a real not affrighted luminary that steered the Wisemen here, who triumphed to behold that day which we study to forget. If they were not Kings, yet their very fortunes would have made them Illustrious: Never had Travellours before, so splendid a Convoy, so bright a Guid.  
The heavens proclaim thy glory, O Lord, and the firmament reveals the excellence of thy wisdom. 'Twas fit that thou who hast clothed the world with light and enriched it with so many rolling mirrors, shouldst have one to be the herald of thy nativity. All the creatures, even with delight obey thy will, whilst we rebelliously stop our ears to the harmony of thy law. The wise men had no sooner notice of thy birth, but they grew angry with time itself, till they began their journey; and, that they might be sure not to lose their way, thou sentest out a Convoy; a Star becomes an Evangelist and runs post to guide them. So fortunate are good motions when they are put in practice, they that would seek thee, shall not want means to find thee though it be by miracle. Thou canst steer us by a brighter lustre than that of a Star, even the illuminations of thy grace and Spirit.   
Philip. Chap. 4. v. 12. 
I know both how to abound and to suffer need.  
DIvinest Saint! how few besides thyself have learned it? 'Tis a Lesson the world hath long ago put by; not so much because 'tis so hard, as because its unpleasant.  
Were the way to heaven but set with pleasures for sense to revel in, 'twould quickly become an open and an easy walk: were there no rubs, no trials to to be passed through, who would not become a Saint? The Crown of Glory would be as Common as a Garland; were there not one of Thorns to be worn first.  
The world cares not for a Religion that carries neither pomp nor pleasure with it, but instead of rich and high enjoyments preaches temperance and patience only. Even some of them that pretend heaven most, would not willingly learn this, but abundantly provide for their better fortunes: and those wants our Apostle learned so nobly to sustain, too many out of better devotion labour, not to know.  
He that bids us seek heaven first, tells us, that to long for earthly enjoyments is a Heathens wish: For after all these things do the Gentiles seek. And shall Christians live like heathens still, and look no higher than the world? shall they that make eternity their sphere sit and roll themselves in the bosom of an under element, and poorly make the pleasures of mortality their aim alone?  
Was it for this, He that made the heavens bowed them and came down, leaveing his throne to bring us thither, that we should lie and grovel in our phlegm for ever?  
How vile and vain a Creature is that man, that wraps up his felicity in the dull enjoyments of this life, and still resigns himself to sense alone? Tell me, O thou that swimmest in plenty and drownest heaven in oblivion, should the luminaries put on their purple robe, and changing their lustres, like bleeding Meteors turn their rays into crimson streams; were the air now filled with blasts of the last Trump echoing an approaching judgement; how prodigious would that change look, what vast and horrid affrightments would the memory of thy profane and irreligious fullness then strike and scare thee with? Alas the enjoyments of the world are so poor, that he which places his hopes in their fruition, will quickly find himself but an eternal Beggar, a miserable Dives.  
And yet such is the sanctity of the world, to laugh are religious poverty, and deride the exigences of a pious life as an enemy to nature. He knows not the joys of an expected eternity, that thinks there is no felicity beyond this span.  
Did we but know the reward shall crown that the world calls Misery, the happiness that waits on the most suffering and dejected devotion, we should triumph in our wants, be in love with hardship, and embrace even beggary with delight. We should be content not only to die but to live martyrs, rejoice even in the lowest ebb to win heaven, and cheerfully learn with the Apostle to want here, for that fullness which knows none hereafter.  
And yet how hardly can we endure even the smallest trouble for thy sake O Lord? So insensible are we of thy goodness, so forgetful of thy power, that we do not only in our wants accuse and condemn thy Providence, but are ready even to turn infidels in our misfortunes. Make us therefore, O Lord, to see the vanity both of the world and our own hearts, that the pleasures of it may neither drown, nor the crosses of it deject our hope or discourage our obedience. Let that glory which thou hast promised to those that conquer the world for thy sake, be ever in our eye; that so, in whatsoever condition we are in, we may still be found crowned and triumphing in Faith.   
Luke. c. 19 v. 9 
This day is Salvation come to this House.  
NO wonder Zacheus then made such haste to come down, and quickly forsook the friendly branches at such News. He whose ambition climbed no higher than a Sight of Jesus, was all transported at the Honour of receiving Him. Had he been taller perhaps, he had not been so happy; it was his Littleness exalted him, and he who was not only the Lowest, but, perhaps, the meanest of the Company, for his fortune became the Envy of the Multitude.  
He that dwells in Everlasting splendours, and treads the Heavens under, exposed Himself to the Courtesy of the World, whose Charity was so Cold that he must invite himself, and be beholding to a Sinner for his entertainment. Had the Princes of the World but known Him, they would have quickly sure surrendered up their Thrones, and counted thei● palaces too poor a Lodging for the Lord of Glory. And the Vain Jews whilst they expect a Messiah all in pomp, a Redeemer that should come into the World in Majesty and tr umph, are become not so much the relics as ruins of a Nation, a wand'ring Monument of prodigious impiety throughout the earth.  
Stand still, ye Monarches of the World, and behold your Maker now beneath you: and if ye have not placed all your happiness in a Kingdom here, Learn Humility from so Blest a Precedent. He that came to save Sinners thought it no dishonour to be in their Company; and, as it were to make amends for his entertainment, and to make Zacheus completely happy He tells him, This day is Salvation come to this House.  
A reward which none besides Hims' lfe could give, and which he that hath, need never fear being poor again. Who would not welcome his Saviour on such terms, and Sacrifice even all his fortunes at once to be so infinitely repa'd? We cannot make too much provision for our happiness, nor welcome Heaven at too much charge And yet how many are there of so sparing a zeal; they will be at no Expenses in their Worship, like the thrifty Disciple; they will not go to the Cost of Serving God Handsomely; How happy was Zacheus, whose poor habitation our Saviour picked out beyond the rest to harbour, in and Honour with his presence: nor yet was so Rich a Mercy confined to him alone, but extended to the whole World too; Every family may, if they will, share in the same fortune, This day is Salvation come to every one.  
Hear this then, whoever thou art that Sacrificest thy Soul to any thing but Heaven, that dancest to the Music of the World, and makest Eternity a Stranger to thy thoughts. Canst thou deny thy Saviour an admission, or think it a trouble to leave the foolish interests of the World, and welcome the most Holy Jesus. Behold the Miseries of our Natures which will not be persuaded to become happy, but suffer an immortal joy to be lost for ever in embraces here.  
Thou hast brought us from Nothing, O Lord, that we might see thy Salvation; that we who might have been for ever without Thee, might through the Knowledge of Thyself be made partakers of thy Glory. O Enliven us that we may give up ourselves wholly to thy Service, and perpetually study to do something to the Honour of thy Name, that we may not throw away those Souls on the vanities of the world, which thou hast given us for Thyself, and to be employed in thy Service: but that, Sacrificing our Wills to Thine, and our lives to a perfect Love of Thee, we may find that joy which accompanies thy Grace here, and that Glory which knows no end or change hereafter in Thy presence for evermore.   
Math. Chap. 13. v. 43. 
Then shall the Righteous shine forth as the Sun, in the Kingdom of their Father.  
WHo then would not be ambitious of so bright a change, to become purely Celestial; to have his body turned into a Luminary, and every part transformed to lustre? when man shall become not only a Living soul, but a Living splendour too; and his immortal breath, in its reunion, instead of parts find beams to quicken.  
Hear this, ye blind admirers of the world, that look no higher than a Diadem, a purple robe, or some honourable trifle, and sell your brightest inheritance for a splendid toy.  
Hear this, ye Beauries, that carry charms of Lustre in your faces, and think your eyes are not only spheres but treasuries of Light; whose attire Emulates the stars, and carries splendour with it; that wear your happiness on your back, and count a silver vanity your Glory.  
Hear this, who ever thou art that canst dote on shadows, the flashes of a transitory pomp, and for a glorious Mortality bidst adieu to heaven and an Immortall-blisse. Couldst thou put on a robe of Stars, or pull rays from that Royal luminary that embrightens the world, they would be but gloomy splendours, bright obscurities to that Glory that enwraps a Saint. The lustre of the heavens is but an emblem of our own: the Prince of planets that dishevells his rays, and revels it in splendour, the great Magazine that stocks the world with light, is but a Curtain to that Tabernacle that shall invest us.  
Our tombs are our wardrobes for heaven, and those Chambers of death whose hang are winding sheets overlaid with dust, are the out-rooms that strip us for our robe of immortality; the opening of our Graves is the beginning of our happiness, and we are gathered to our fathers that we may be gathered to eternity.  
If that Glimpse which the Disciples saw in the mount made them wish for three tabernacles or an eternal abode there, how shall the beauty of revealed Heaven, and the glory of an ascended Saviour, ravish us with desires after its enjoyment? It was the Martyr's comfort amidst their tortures, that though their members were in pieces, yet the hairs of their head were numbered. Wert thou bottomed in the seas depth, his power can buoy the up, if crusted into the earth's rubbish, he can abstract and form thee a finer creature than ever thou wert. If Peter's shadow could cure the sick, how powerful must He be who is Peter's Glory? He whose name is in the Book of Life, dies here but to be laid as it were in a Press, to be extracted a purer model for eternity.  
Who then would not only despise the world, but welcome even misery for so invaluable a reward, triumph in his greatest eclipse, and become cheerful in the midst of chains? He that knows the glory of his inheritance, will little value those pleasant trifles, those rich nothings the world admires, the painted joys of an imaginary felicity: but, in nobler and Diviner expectations, prepares himself for that change which knows none; where he shall have nothing else to do but to live forever, and be eternally received as once the Disciple into the Bosom of his Saviour.  
Thou didst make us for thyself, O Lord; and when we by our sins and follies had for ever lost thee, Thou didst restore us to thyself again, that we might not be eternally deprived of Thee, our only Good. O fill us with perpetual meditations of thy Love, let those joys which are so much above our thoughts, be ever in them; let our inability to comprehend the happiness of thy kingdom heighten the piety of our ambition after it more, that we may walk in some measure worthy of so Divine a purchase as heaven, and as thou hast prepared it for us, do thou prepare us for it. Prepare us with all those heavenly graces that may entitle us to it, and with all those spiritual desires that may make us breathe and long after it; that so our hearts being there before, we ourselves may come after, and being transported in our desires may be also in our persons, to everlasting enjoyments.   
Luke 18. v. 11. 
The Pharisee stood up and prayed thus; God I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, etc.  
HOw ungratefully does the Proud Pharisee thank heaven? how strangely hath pride altered him? He that used to make long prayers, intends to be but short now: he stands up. He comes not to pray, but to bray; not to adore God but to commend himself. Here is not in the humour of being very devout, being so taken up and ravished with his own graces, that he had scarce either the time or the patience to remember the divine Author whose goodness he would seem to acknowledge, but 'tis so colldy, 'twere better he were unthankful still. He exceeded other men indeed, for his impudence was superlative.  
Had he known himself better, he would have been more thankful, and less proud.  
How largely doth he urge heaven with his worth, but makes no apology for his Pride: he thanks God indeed, but 'tis in transitu, rather a compliment then a Prayer, though it be a sin to worship images, he thinks it none to be his own idolater; and therefore dares present God with a catalogue of his own merits. How perfectly hath the world learned his lesson? How do the Catholic Pharises pride themselves in a supererogatory devotion and think to climb heaven by a ladder of their own making; glorying in a superabundant piety, and triumphing in a meritorious excess, of doing even more than they need.  
How nimbly do our Trembling Enthusiasts too, follow their leaders steps here, in a sanctimonious pride by a supercilious purity presuming to reform the world, and new model it, again: That saint themselves Stylo novo, and with the Pharisee not only thank but tell God plainly, they are not as other men: That railingly proclaim themselves the great light of the world, and in a pious Lunacy would new gospel it again, extravagantly proscribing all religions but their own. These melancholy Pretenders seclude themselves from others, and by a sullen devotion, are become so strangely divine, that they have almost lost their humanity.  
So that if the Pharisee was not as other men, yet these are as like the Pharisee as may be, having so exactly learned both his nature and religion.  
So natural is it for us, O Lord, to be deluded even in our best Performances; and (whilst we vainly think ourselves not only better than others, but good enough, in Thy Sight) to be carried into presumption. 'Tis humility crownes all our Graces and puts a Beauty on our requests, whilst the confidence of our own merits does not only deform but seclude us from thee.  
Teach us therefore with such gratitude to use thy gifts, that we become not forgetful of ourselves or Thee. Whilst others Pride themselves in a meritorious supererogation, let us endeavour humbly to confess and bewail our imperfections. Let not a spiritual Pride seize upon our souls, so shall we be innocent from the Great Transgression.   
Romans Chap. 6. v. 21. 
For the end of those things is death.  
WHo then would propose that for his happiness which shall perish with himself, whose end is not only death but hell, and will destroy him not only now but hereafter too. Indeed, were there no hope that our remains should revive again, or the ruins of our frame rise up to a finer shape, we might well drown ourselves in enjoyments here, and fix our felicity in pleasures. Every man might then without sin become an Epicure, and he that could invent new fashions of luxury, would not only be more ingenious but more fortunate too. Morality, would be all vice, & yet vice itself no more a crime but our felicity: not to be extravagant then, were a sin against nature, & he that is most Brutish would be most Rational. Law would then become an enemy to Humanity, there could be no society but in confusion; and in spite of policy (were there no heaven no hell) we should pleasantly mingle to a chaos, and obey no other discipline then that of riot. Every one might then turn Atheist without scandal; to be without God in the world would be no misfortune; every man might be his own without blasphemy.  
Can they that live, die like Brutes too, and revive no more, the comfort of not being damned would be greater than the sweets of sin. But alas, he that dies now must live again that his life may be remembered; nor yet is it somuch the fear of Death as the horrors of a guilty conscience, the terrible presages of a future eternity that scares the departing soul: The pangs of expiring nature are nothing to those stings; the memory of our crimes bring with them. The sorrows of the Grave and our being here no more for ever, are joys to the miseries that are to come.  
Tell me thou that hug'st the world then, and gropest for paradise in a grove of sins: thou that makest earth thy treasure, and wrap'st up the riches of thy hopes in time's bosom or the enclosure of a span: when those bright and nimble guides of life, thy eyes, shall grow weak with age, or weary with pain; when every limb shall become an object of sorrow; and those parts that were so officiously employed in sin, shall become instruments of despair. When that delicious frame, that darling edifice, thy Body, shall by its tottering qualms and trembling convulsions affrighten its disconsolate owner, how will the flashes of a future justice and the terrors of thy end confound thee!  
Can those enjoyments that flattered away thy soul restore it now? can those pleasures that stole heaven from thee recover it again? can thy vanities assuage thy sorrows or the memory of thy sins the misery of thy end?  
Where's that music whose airs, like David's harp, might charm the cries of conscience, and by its strains drop a harmony that might still the trouble of thy anguisht soul?  
Where are those trophies, thy ambition purchased at the easy rate as only sinning for that Honour, for which thou hast sold heaven? that sovereignty for which thou becamst a slave thyself and lost the freedom of thy soul? Cannot all thy Greatness raise thee up a little, and by a power once so much feared and applauded reprieve thee from the grave or a more eternal prison?  
Where are those treasures thou soldest thy best inheritance for, whose ravishing splendours took away thy sight and made thee blinder than themselves? Can they neither bribe nor buy thy pardon? or will the grave know no other fee then so rich a misery?  
Where are all those diversions that robbed thee of thy piety, and the thoughts of thy Maker? those pleasing vanities that took away all sense of heaven and foresight of thy end? Are all vanished to a toomb and an unwelcome period? are all thy jollities terminated in a Coffin, and no other object left to keep thee company but thy Crimes, and those terrors thy guilt presents?  
Behold now then, ye Lovers of the world more than of God, and see the picture of your end, those ruins you have so smoothly built on. Try if all your imaginary felicities are proof against this shaft, or can secure you from this intruder, the single Conqueror of the world, whose very prison is but a reserve for a worse, and its execution here but a reprieve for a more lasting and yet living death. He that lived in pleasures, must live in flames, and having revealed it in sin, riot it in tortures; and the misery is, that wishing not to live, he can never die.  
And yet how vain are our desires still after the world, O Lord? how soon, how smoothly are we led by the false and transitory pleasures of this life from Thee? The wages of sin is death, and yet how foolishly do we prefer its service before thine, whose reward is life? The end of profaneness is eternal ruin, and the pleasures of impiety period in confusion; and yet we sadly embrace the proffers of sin, before the promises of thy glory. Pity, O Lord, the frailties of our natures, and forgive the irregularities of our lives: fill us with noble desires after Thee, that the vanities of the world may be our scorn, and thy Glory only our Ambition; that we may not for a present enjoyment in this life, lose the hopes and inheritance of a better.   
Luke Chap. 15. v. 10. 
There is joy in the presence of the Angels of God, over one sinner that repenteth.  
SO great are the Concernments of an immortal Soul, that its recovery from the world sets heaven in a triumph; and it's return to its Maker is welcomed back in Quires: the angels sing his recantation, and rejoice as if they themselves were made happier by his conversion.  
And yet is not the joy of Angels greater than that of the soul itself: when it hath found and regained its Maker, its sighs are turned into songs, and its tears to raptures: each drop is not only counted and kept up, but turned into a stream of joy. His sorrows are turned to consolation, his troubles into peace, and the storms of conscience into calms of love.  
Such are the fruits of a holy penitence, the happiness of a religious contrition. He that went mourning all the day, and turned Anchoret for grief; whose life was a torment and the grave his fear, that desired not to live and yet was afraid to die, is now transformed into sweeter passions, and breathes nothing but the praises of his Deliverer.  
See with what indignation he looks upon the world, whose embraces had so long imprisoned him, to whose false allurements, he had been so much a servant. Those pleasant trifles he once admired are now his contempt, and those shadows of felicity he once so much pursued he hath now exchanged for more celestial enjoyments and enduring pleasures.  
And indeed, Who that hath once truly tasted heaven can well relish the world again? whose choicest feasts are worse than an Egyptian diet to this Manna, and its largest road of pleasure but a precipice to that way whose narrowest path carries freedom and felicity. He that hath once found the goodness of his Maker, and those joys that flow from his service, will sacrifice himself in pious resolves; and grieving that he was so long a stranger to his law, all transported beg both pardon and support.  
Tell me, who can character the pleasures of this new birth, the joys of a converted soul restored to heaven and his maker? He that feels it can express it but in raptures, and silent signs, the echoes of his heart. Even the Angels here can sing it only, not describe it; and in Seraphic consorts give us notice, not a copy, of it.  
Thus the heavens become harmonious, & the frame of nature that groaned under the disorder of man's sin, is again revived and set in tune by pardon. And no wonder if the creation feel a silent music in its limbs, when the Lord our Maker is not only the Author, but a partner in this triumph proclaiming even his delight in such happy renovations, and that he is best pleased when sinners fly to the refuges of his mercy, and humbly beg the riches of that Grace and favour, which he only can give, and which he never refuses to them that seek him.  
So infinitely good art thou, O Lord, that thou dost not only invite but bring us to thyself; and not only call but cause us to return. We know thou desirest not the the death of a sinner, having so freely sacrificed thy Son for sin; and that thou delightest in pardoning it, for thou hast proclaimed thyself so. Though thou didst not spare thine Angels when they fell, yet in the riches of thy mercy thou hast contrived a Redemption for our souls, even by the blood of Jesus. Fill us with perpetual adorations of thy love, that thy goodness which is so ready to pardon sin, may encourage us to beg it; and to continue constant waiters on thee in thy worship here, till we are made companions of those blessed spirits hereafter that rejoice in the recovery and salvation of a sinner.   
Matth. c. 6. v. 33. 
But seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and his, Righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.  
AND He that loved his Saviour would, no Question, do it: but alas, that which ought to be the first is scarce the last of our thoughts, the least and worst of our performances.  
Such Lovers are we of Heaven that we think it no sin to serve ourselves first, and make our Creator wait the leisure of our Devotion. Miserable Creatures, whose Religion reaches no higher than their bodies, for whose very Superfluities we study to provide, whilst our Brighter part lies all naked and unthought of. Such Strangers are we even to our own Souls, so insensible of the joys to come, that we look no higher than the World, and in sphearing all our hopes within Mortality as if we had nothing durable beyond our breath, suffer Eternity to be forgotten. We cannot live without our Maker, and yet how do our lives neglect Him? how eager, how ambitious after an enjoyment here, but carry not the smallest passion for his Glory. The jollities of the World swallow up all thoughts of Heaven, and in the pleasures of sense we can drown Immortality.  
What is that we sacrifice ourselves to, but the hopes of a felicity? The very Pagans rather then want a Bliss would fancy one in lovely shades, and place the triumphs of immortality in those amorous walks, their Ghosts should revel in. And who can hope for Heaven that neglects it, or expect the joys of this Kingdom that looks not after it? Without Holiness no man shall see God, and he cannot be Master of much Sanctity that profanely loses himself in sin, and is a Stranger to that piety which can truly Enrich Him beyond all the treasures of the most splendid and fortunate transgression. How miserable are they then whose pleasures only divert them from their Maker, and have no other Apology for their neglect of Heaven, than what sin can make; that Court the World, and for a fading embrace exchange a Diadem of Bliss, a Crown of Life. Were the whole World turn d into a Seraglio of delight, and every region to an Arabia; could every field become a Paradise, and every object we meet, bring a Magazine of pleasure with it; had we all the enjoyments this Life can triumph in; yet we should quickly find them, without God, but miserable fruitions. Is there any thing dearer than our lives, and yet even these are of no value in respect of a better: the very exigencies of Nature are trifles to the concernments of our Souls. It is better to starve, then die for ever and lose God; 'tis better to go naked then not to be clothed with immortality; 'tis better we should want here, then hereafter that fullness which knows none.  
And yet, How many are there that had rather lose Heaven then the World, pawn their Consciences sooner than want, and for a fortune sell away their very Christianity. How many make sin their study, and think it a credit to invent new methods of impiety; and are such careful providers for Eternity, that they will be laboriously wicked; and for a profitable iniquity think it no loss to be thrivingly damned. Are there not nobler ways of living then by losing our names and Souls at once? Is infidelity a preservative against misery? and must we build our supports on the ruins of our faith? Piety makes no man poorer, nor does religion rob us of our enjoyments but makes them sweeter. Our contentments are not lessened but enlarged and lengthened by adoring the Giver, nor is he the further from, but the nearer to a blessing, that gins with Heaven, and prefers his Saviour before the World. Designs thus founded are not ever unfortunate, and he that plots for his Soul as well as his body, shall learn a policy will baffle the World, and nonplus its wisest Generations; when after all his losses he shall find a reward richer than all the revenues of the Earth together.  
And yet so insensible are we O Lord, both of thy Glory and our own felicity that we can entertain any thing with more pleasure than the thoughts of an eternity, we can spend the allowance of our time in sin, and sacrifice even all our years to vice; but count a moment too long, too much to be employed in thy service: we can dwell and drown ourselves in pleasures, and think a few spare minutes a fair gift of time for our devotion. The treasures of the world are a poor gain for the Mortgage of a Soul, and the loss of thy favour; even the richest enjoyments of this life, are but wretched contentments without Thee. Do thou therefore elevate our Souls, and withdraw them from these beggarly elements to purer and more celestial addresses: let thy Kingdom be, not our refuge only but our choice; and the perfect resolution of our souls to despise the flatteries of the world, for that glory which nothing but our sins can deprive us of: And as thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, enable us to continue so, that as we have received all that we have from thy bounty, we may sacrifice all our desires to thy glory: knowing that as nothing in this life can make us happy without thee, so nothing can make him miserable that hath Thy Kingdom for his Inheritance.    

A Prayer.  
O Lord, who inhabitest Eternity; Thou art Exalted above all Principalities and powers, Saints and Seraphims are ravished with thy Glory, Angels and Archangels adore thy Greatness, Holiness and Honour wait upon Thy Throne, the Sceptre of thy Kingdom is an everlasting Sceptre, Thou lovest Righteousness and hatest iniquity; and therefore they that come before Thee must worship Thee in Spirit and in Truth, if they would be either heard or received of Thee: We confess, we are not worthy to appear in Thy Presence, that can present unto Thee no other offering, than Sinful and deformed Souls, which deserve no longer to be accounted thine; having lost that purity and likeness which made them so.  
We are not worthy to receive any more tenders of Mercy that have so often despised it, nor to see what is the riches of thy Love, that have so unworthily preferred the trifles of this Life before the treasures of thy Grace. Thou mad'st it the end of our Creation, that we should Glorify Thee; but we, of all thy Creatures, have lest performed it. That time which we should have employed in adorning and devoting our lives to thy Worship (which is our most rational and religious service) have we Sacrificed to sin, and the pleasures of the World.  
Thou art so infinitely Good, that thou desirest but unfeigned Sorrow for sin to excuse it; and yet so miserable and deeply guilty are we, that we cannot bring so much as humble and contrite Spirits to plead for ourselves. Thou didst so love the World, that Thou sentest thy Son to die for it: But we have so loved the World, that we have despised Heaven and our Saviour, rejected the Holy One whom. Thou hast sent, and by our unworthy lives dishonoured that happy Name, whereby we are called Thine, and entitled to thy Kingdom.  
But though our sins cry aloud for punishment, yet the voice of thine own mercy, and Our Saviour's blood, begs more powerfully for Pardon. O Let His Sufferings be our reconciliation, his punishment for sin our freedom from it; let the bitterness of thy wrath on Him, be turned into the sweetness of thy love to us, that his cross may be our triumph, and the merits of his passion the purchase of our peace; and grant that having obtained mercy, we may walk accordingly; that being bought for heaven, we may no more sell ourselves to sin, nor prefer a few moments of pleasure before an eternity of joy.  
Make us to consider those Divine ties that bind us to serve Thee, the infinite and abundant testimonies of thy love which invite our gratitude, and that happiness which is the reward of them that seek Thee: O let not the motions of sin be more powerful in us than the obligations of thy grace, nor the pleasures of this life of more value to us than the joys that are to come. But make us to walk cheerfully in that way which thou hast set before us, that our temptations may but strengthen us more; that neither the crosses nor yet the pleasures of this life may be able to deject or drown our piety; but that in whatsoever condition we are, we may be still found crowned and triumphing in faith.  
O thou infinite Goodness, teach us to a door Thee with our whole heart, and to conform our lives unto thy law with a perfect constancy. Make us to consider that exceeding weight of glory which thou hast promised to those that strive to conquer the world for thy sake. O let those joys which are so much above our thoughts be ever in them; let our inability to comprehend the happiness of thy kingdom, heighten the piety of our Ambition after it more: that the greater thy goodness is, the greater may our desire after it be, the greater thy love the greater our obedience, and the lesser our deserts the greater our humility.  
Make us to see the little use, but the great vanity of this world, that so the pleasures of it may not steal away our hearts from the contemplation of a better; but that our lives may be a perfect and perpetual sacrifice of obedience, ever pleasing in thy eyes. O let thy service be ever most delightful to us, that we may labour to improove ourselves before Thee, by our inward and only desires after thee; that whatever defects attend our actions this may be inseparable in us, even to fear thy name. That so leading holy lives here, we may lead happy and heavenly lives hereafter, and being filled with Righteousness, we may be filled with glory and possess joys unspeakable for evermore.   

A Penitential Prayer.  
THe flesh evermore rebelleth against the spirit in me, O my God; and the infirmities of my nature are too strong for me of myself to conquer. Behold how my frailties fight against my soul, and have wounded me before thee. O shall my sins be stronger than thy grace, and the errors of my life more powerful than thy law? The pious incense of a contrite spirit is a sacrifice thou dost not usally despise; and O that I could exhale myself in showers, and drop away my soul in tears, that my iniquities could fly away in sighs, and the guilt of my life be wiped off in religious streams. Pity my irregularities, O Lord, and forgive my crimes: how long shall I groan under the bondage of sin, and weary thee too with the burden of my corruptions. Thou delight'st to pardon sin, and shall mine remain? Thou desirest not the death of thy creatures, and shall I be forsaken? I cannot live without Thee nor enjoy the comfort of my very being till thou revive me: 'tis better I had not been, than that I should lose Thee; and 'tis better I should be no more for ever, than not regain and find Thee. Return, O thou comfort of my soul, and fill me with thy love. Purge the stains and wash away the blemishes of my life by thine own blood, renew & quicken my spirit with the joys of Thine. Sanctify my will with a pleasing obedience unto thine, let the merits of my Saviour's righteousness beautify my soul, clothing me with innocence and purity of heart here, and everlasting immortality in thy kingdom hereafter.   

A Prayer of Thanksgiving.  
MY dear and glorious Maker, what shall I render unto Thee for all thy mercies? There hath not a moment of my life passed by, without being made happy to me by some token of thy love. Thou didst purify my birth by Baptism, I was no sooner come into the world but thou didst seal me for Heaven, taking away the guilt which no innocency but that of Jesus could conceal or pardon; and abolishing those characters of sin and death, which were so inseparably imprinted on my nature, that no law but that of thy spirit could wipe away; and having brought me into the bosom of thine own Spouse, and placed me amongst thy children, hast fed me with continual mercies and means of grace: that I might see there hath been no defect in thy goodness, but my acknowledgements, nor in thy promises but my performances. And indeed, my God, I cannot look upon these obligations without horror for my ingratitude, nor remember these precious testimonies of thy love without a religious confusion of soul for my great neglect and forgetfulness of thee. Nor can I plead an excuse in the weakness of nature only, for those sins I have been too willing a comitter of. And yet my God, behold how thou hast loved me, sending thy son to reconcile me to thyself, that I might find access unto thy Throne, and inherit the joys of thy kingdom. Behold how thou hast loved me in reprieving me from that wrath my sins have long ago deserved, and as if thou didst not or wouldst not take notice of my crimes, hast made me an object of thy care and an example of thy love, abounding in perpetual dispensations of mercy to my soul. I will therefore sacrifice myself, O Lord, in praises to thy name, and in the memory of thy goodness keep an everlasting Jubilee in my soul, thou hast shown me the way unto thyself and that in Thee only are hid all the treasures of my happiness. I will be no longer than a servant to the world, and bestow the nobler addresses of my soul on perishing and empty nothings; and for a poor fugitive drop here below, lose Thee the ocean of bliss and glory. And that I may despise the flatteries of the world, O Lord, do thou inspire me with desires after Thee only, and enable me to do something for thy sake, who hast done somuch to make me happy; that so my life may be a sacrifice of obedience ever pleasing in thy eyes.   

The Index.  
Meditations on 

Eccles. 12. v. 1. Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy Youth. Fol. 1.  
Gen. 12. v. 8. And the Lord God Planted a Garden Eastward in Eden. 5  
1 Kings 10. v. 18. Moreover the King made a great throne of Ivory, and over-laid it with the best Gold. 9  
1 Kings 19.9. And He came thither unto a Cave, and lodged there. 11  
Job 11.10. In all this, did not Job sin with his Lips. 14  
Canticles 2.1. I am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the Valleys. 17  
Gen. 28.12. And he dreamt, and behold a Ladder set upon the Earth, etc. 19  
Prov. 18.14. But a wounded Spirit who can bear? 23  
Eccles. 12.13. Fear God and keep his Commandments, etc. 27  
Luke 10.25. And a certain Lawyer stood up and Tempted him, saying, Master, What shall I do, etc. 31  
Matth. 15.28. And He said unto her, O woman great is thy faith. 35  
Joh. 20.11. And she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre. 39  
John 11.35. Jesus wept. 42  
Joh. 12.2. But Lazarus was one of those that sat at the Table with Him. 45  
Joh. 13.23. Now there was Leaning on Jesus Bosom, one of his Disciples whom Jesus, loved. 48  
Matth. 16.26. For what is a man profited, if he gain the whole world, and lose, etc. 51  
Matth. 5. v. 8. Blessed are the Pure in heart, for they shall see God. 56  
Matth. 8.2. Lord if thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean. 60  
Matth. 24.39. And knew not, until the flood came and took them all away. 64  
Luke 7.5. For He Loved our Nation, and hath built us a Synagogue. 67  
Luke 9.57. Lord I will follow Thee wheresoever Thou goest. 71  
Matth. 9.38. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the Harvest, that he would send forth more labourers into his Harvest. 75  
Matth. 2.10. And when they saw the Star, they rejoiced with exceeding, etc. 78  
Philip. 4.12. I know both how to abound and to suffer need. 81  
Luke. 19.9. This day, is Salvation come to this house. 85  
Matth. 13.43. Then shall the Righteous shine forth as the Sun, etc. 89  
Luke 18.11. The Pharisee stood up and prayed thus, God I thank thee, etc. 93  
Rom. c. 6. v. 21. For the end of those things is Death. 96  
Luke c. 15. v. 10. There is joy in the presence of the Angels of God, over one sinner that repenteth. 101  
Matth. c. 6. v. 33. But seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and his Righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. 104   

A Prayer. 111  
A Penitential Prayer. 114  
A Prayer of Thanksgiving. 119    
FINIS.