CELESTIAL AMITY'S: OR, A SOUL Sighing for the Love of her SAVIOUR.  
BY Edward Reynell, Esq  CANT. 7.10. I am my Beloved's, and his desire is towards me. CANT. 8.6. Set me as a Seal upon thy heart, as a Seal upon thy Arm; for Love is strong as Death. 
LONDON, Printed by J. M. for Abel Roper, and are to be Sold at his Shop at the Sign of the Sun over against S. Dunstan's Church in Fleetstreet, 1660.   

To the LADIES of our Times.  
IT was the passage of an able Pen, That to describe a Holy State, without a virtuous Lady, 
Full. Ho. State. pag. 300.  were to paint out a year without a Spring. And how might I seem guilty of the like neglect, should I tre●t of Love, and not reflect on you (Ladies) who account yourselves (and indeed should be) the chief Ornaments thereof.  
Some there are (I confess) who have an Itch to set down your Crimes, rather than your Virtues. They say you are the Sirens of the Earth, which cause shipwreck without water; and if you but step awry, they look on you [presently] as a Star in Eclipse; they cry out, Omne malum fere ex Gynesio, Women are usually the original of all mischief.  
But the fairest Beauty is not without some Cloud. And I shall no way desire to strike at your Vices, by slandering your Sex; it savouring rather of Passion than Charity, to blame the General, for the defects of Particulars. Though too many there are (indeed) who follow the steps of the first Woman, and abandon themselves to Luxury, vanity, and dissolute Pleasures.  
But what? though Dinah will be gadding abroad, and say it is to visit the Daughters, though it be to entangle and to be taken by the men of the Land? Do we not find three Maries at the foot of the Cross humble and mortified? What though Pride, the eldest Daughter of this fair Mother [Beauty] seldom begets the best Housewives, yet how many Women are there, truly Divine, who shine in their Houses like rising Stars, or the Sun in his Orb. And he that would equal their worth, shall rather find insufficiency in his purpose, then want of merit in the Object.  
Solomon also gives us a large description of a virtuous Woman, Eccles. 6. perpetually exercised on good works, travelling incessantly [like Bees] from their Birth, and losing no time, but to give it unto God; Devotion being the first Portion which he hath granted them; whereas, were they never so well composed, had they all the Beauties which a heart could desire, or the imagination feign, it would be but like some cruel Creature, whom nature had lodged in a painted house, or like a Case covered with precious Stones, to preserve a Dunghill.  
And for your encouragement in the ways of Holiness, how many eminent Patterns could I lay before you, whom Histories have hardly scope enough to commend, and who appear to the world like a blushing Morning, which riseth the more fair after a shower.  
Oh what a wealthy Exchequer of true Beauties, what a spacious Storehouse of heavenly minded Lovers, do we find in the sacred Scriptures? what a rich Mine of costly Jewels may we there behold? Shall I show you the Humility of the Maries, the Faith of Sara, the upright and blameless walking in the commandments of God of Elizabeth? Shall I present you with a Dorcas, fruitful in good works; a Priscilla, heavenly in discourse; a Lidea, whose heart was opened; a Bersheba, Lois, Eunice, careful to teach their Children in the fear of the Lord.  
What shall I tell you of the great Woman of Shunem, 
2 King. 4.9.10. vers. 23. Act. 16.13. Phil. 4.3.  who made preparation for the Prophet, and attended his Ministry? of such as harkened to Paul's Sermon, and were helpers to him? also of a Hanna, an Abigail, a Judah, a Hester, and many others, which are there registered for our imitation, and lie hid like Treasures of great value, in the veins of the Earth.  
And (as if Innocency were never better lodged then at the sign of Labour, Idleness being the source of embroiling the Spirits; do we not find the wisest of men further describing a virtuous woman, by the Oeconomy she holds forth in the Government of her Family. And if we look upon other Histories, we shall find Augustus Caesar [the Founder of Empires] not reputing the working with the Needle, & such kind of employments, unworthy of his Daughters. And the Romans much more preferring (as a Relic) the Distaff of Queen Tanaquilla, than the Lance or Sword of Romulus.  
You (Ladies) then that consume your precious Time, in Painting, Powdering, Perfuming, and adorning yourselves with such other Actings, as if Death and Love had conspired to make their feast in one and the same place; you who complain if the least beam pierce through a little hole of your Fan, or if a Fly chance to light upon it. You (who if a Hair be but amiss) presently call a Council for the reforming thereof. Oh consider! that such vanities conclude not your happiness; But the perfections of your Sex end in wisdom, and the fear of God, which is the first and last Ornament.  
Remember also, how suddenly the Scene in the Masque will be altered; what then will become of your Shops of vanity, those superfluous Ornaments, and that long Inventory of Lady's Gallantry, which made the Gates of the City to lament and mourn, Isai. 3.11. Isai. 3.18.21. and which (since that day) have been increased amongst you by modern Fashion-mongers.  
Time, and Age, will one day whither the Blossoms of your youth, as the Sun davers the freshest Roses and Lilies. Spend some time then, more than for the Body, Pride, and Earth. Let not your thoughts strike sail to Affection, nor your hearts do homage to that which will ensnare and imprison you in the Fetters of sin.  
Do you know how speedily the Storms of an evil Conscience may trouble the serenity of your delights, and the seeming tranquillity of your Affections? the best of our Joys here, being but fires of straw, or flattering Sunshines, which are either suddenly washed away with a shower, or Eclipsed by a Tempest.  
Labour then to supply your natural defects, with the virtues of your mind. Read constant Lectures of your own mortality. Those Flowers are best, and sweetest, which grow in the Garden, and not in the Wilderness. Adam, was never more beautiful than when he was in his Innocency, and free from gaudiness: and we find Solomon's Spouse, all glorious within, and needs no outward Ornaments to make her amiable.  
Oh think not then on Religion, as upon some fearful Apparition, whose visage is so fair and lovely. You say, nothing delights you more, then to love, and to be beloved; and is not a true Christian the best Lover, and beloved of the best? You say nothing is more ravishing then Beauty, and can you he better delighted then in the highest Beauty of your Saviour.  
Briefly, that you may the better behold that precious Ointment which drops down from the head of Jesus, into the Souls of his Saints, you shall there find that there is a Chamber within us, and a bed of Love in that Chamber, wherein Christ meets, and rests with the Soul. O sweet communion! whereby we are also made the Temples of the Comforter himself; and in which communion stands the fullness of joy and beauty. Here the more you love, the more you may. If you love abate, here will it be renewed; If it grow cold, at this Fire may you re-kindle it; if it be lost, here may you find it.  
Here may you confer with the infinite perfections, and (with joy) often repeat the unspeakable Bounties of your Saviour, far beyond all those fabulous Imaginations which Poets feign, and idle wits have framed Errand Ladies to have engaged their Servants in. Here may you retire from the noise, and distraction of the world, and entertain thoughts with the sweet still music of Contemplation. Here may you sit alone, and [excluding even yourself] be chastely ravished with the dear embraces of the divine Spouse of your Soul.  
Ah the pleasantness of such a life of Love! Then only indeed [and not till then] do we live when we enjoy divine Love; Nor can our bosoms breathe out the breath of life, before Christ breathes in us the breath of Love! Alas! what Drones are our highest strained Lovers! what dull bussing of Beetles, are their kindest expressions, to the sweet melting Notes of this Heavenly Harmony!  
Away then with your false Boxes, filled with loathsome trash of sundry kinds of Colours, and compositions for the hiding of your Deformities. Look but in this Glass of perfect Beauty, and you shall have no need to provide Looking-Glasses [embossed with precious Stones] in length and breadth answerable to your Bodies, some whereof stand you dearer than the Dowry of your Ancestors. You will find little time to bestow in Patching and trimming yourselves, whereby to invite all kind of Luxury, and infamous Pleasures.  
And if you but once draw near this perfect object of heavenly Love; if you but fix your eyes upon him, [who is the fairest of men, the perfection of spiritual Beauty, and the treasure of heavenly joy] if your Affections be but once inflamed, and fixed on him, who is the chiefest of Beauties. Oh how will you be sick of Love; how importunate will be your wishes; how unsatisfied your desires; yea, how will ye pant and breathe after him, and never leave until he be brought to rest within the Chambers of your Soul.   

The Epistle to the Reader.  
THat which is most pleasing to the Soul and nature of man [next unto God] is Love; the general subject of this whole Work is Love; and the several parts thereof, tending to the better ordering of a Godly, moral, and civil life.  
To tell many of a Life of Love, beyond what Sense feels, is a Mystery which they can neither perceive, nor believe. Many (indeed) can spend days and weeks in reading the fond Fancies of ilde Lovers, but have not an hour to meditate on the love of God. Oh! how often are we singed in the flames of that late Love, which cannot hold without jealousies, nor break without Repentance!  
It is a strange weakness of judgement, that our eyes should be so inflamed in the violent pursuits of worldly Pleasures, since the world's best Jewels [though followed by a million of Idolaters] are but like the empty Imaginations of a sick Spirit; and he that too eagerly Courts them, it's twenty to one but he perishes in their Embraces. Nay, is it not madness outright, that our eyes should reserve to themselves no other Objects, than such thin colours, which put upon them so many Illusions, to occasion our misery; and (like so many dangerous Snakes) lie lurking under the green leaves of sugared Speeches, and fair persuasions; and which (unless we timely resist their influence) will at last lead us into irrecoverable Precipices.  
Our blessed Lord, met the young man carried to be buried, at the Town of Naim, which [being interpreted, the Town of Beauties] may show us how soon the glory thereof fadeth; and how dangerous it is, passionately to affect the objects of the world (which never giveth us fine Ware, but pincheth it, either in the measure, or continuance) seeing we cannot but with abundance of grief, lose all that which with unlimited Love is possessed. So subtly doth Satan sound our inclinations, and discover our Dispositions, as that he intermeddleth, and layeth snares in all things wherein he observeth us with most fervour and earnestness to be busied.  
And must not every judicious man, needs be in forced to confess (through the sole consideration of nature) that the most noble Loves [yea, the greatest] aught to be employed in things invisible? For what are all the Glories of the World, but Towers, and Columns of Dirt, plastered over with Gold, and the deceitful varnish of fading Pleasures? whose amorous assaults will at last prove but like Rocks of shipwreck, Fountains which send forth poisoned Streams, and Trees whose fruit will be bitter in the stomach, how pleasing soever it be in the mouth.  
Carnal Souls [I confess] have much ado to conceive how any man can become passionate in the love of God. They know no affectation but for temporal and visible things. O blinded spirits! ignorant of the Mysteries of Heaven! a Country wherein you have no commerce. How wretched (alas!) are your loves, which dote on the fading Beauties and vanity of the World? since you Idolise a little exterior skin, which being pulled off, you will take that for a Monster, which you now adore for a Goddess.  
But on the contrary; we find the holy Scripture [speaking of Love] to say, Gen. 34.3. That it causeth one Soul to clasp into another! If once you begin to love Jesus Christ, you will think upon him almost every moment. Every time you fetch breath (saith St. Gregory) there will come a pleasing Idea of God, to fill your Soul with Comfort and Affection.  
Ah! how will you feel distaste, and unsavoriness of heart, against all Earthly things! yea, the most pleasing objects of the world, will then seem mingled with Gall and Wormwood; you will seek for Jesus in all Creatures; you will speak of him in all Companies; yea, you will earnestly desire to see him honoured, esteemed, and acknowledged by all the World. Your Solitude will be in him; your Discourse of him; Jesus will be in your Watch, and in your Sleep, in your Recreations, and all your Affairs; and you will account it your greatest misery, to lose sight of him but for one hour.  
Go then (fond Lover!) and see the Ashes of those who have been burnt in the Flames of the world's love, and thou shalt find nothing answerable to this Love. Here mayst thou silence all thy troublesome Thoughts, all thy inordinate Passions, which so often bereave thee of thy Saviour's presence. Here mayst thou appease the storms, and troubles of a wearied life, and silently speak unto him. Here mayst thou Allegorise all earthly Vanities into heavenly Truths. Here mayst thou find the Pilgrimage of a perfect Christian, following his Saviour home to the Cross.  
Briefly, Here mayst thou be wrapped in the contemplation of his Bounties, and ravished in the consideration of his Beauties; It having been my desire, and endeavour (by setting forth the Vanities of the World, and the Excellencies, and Riches which are in Christ) to draw the heart of his Spouse to be sick of Love to him, and to be inflamed with long to enjoy him, until by the sacred ardours of love, he dive into our hearts, and make us enter with him, into the great Abyss of delights, which he hath reserved for the most purified Souls.   

The CONTENTS.  

THat Love in its self, is not a Vice, but the Soul of all Virtues, when it is tied to its proper Object [which is the Sovereign Good.] Page 6.  
Of the Nature and Qualities of Divine Love, and wherein it exceeds all other Love. p. 10.  
That our love to God ought to precede and exceed all other Loves. p. 16.  
That the Soul can take pleasure in nothing, until it meet with satisfaction from its Maker. p. 24.  
That many may have their eyes Love-proof, and their hearts shut up against all the assaults of Fondlove. p. 30.  
The Misery of those who have yielded to the Passion of Love, and the Glory of Souls which have overcome it. p. 39  
How we may avoid the Snares of Love. p. 44.  
That Outward Ornaments should not invite our Love. p. 53.  
That when all Loves fail, the Love of God remains. p. 55.  
Temporal Goods cannot content the Soul, and therefore deserve not our Love. p. 61.  
The Soul complaineth of her Condition and Misery by reason of the darkness and ignorance of sin. p. 77.  
The Souls solitude and content in her Separation from the great enticements of the world. p. 72.  
The Soul admires the infinite Riches of her Saviour's Love, in taking Humane Nature upon him. p. 83.  
The Soul checks herself for her backwardness, and too much neglect of her Saviour's invitations. p. 92.  
The Soul reputes the time that ever she was Cloistered up in the walls of Clay, and thrown into the Dungeon of that corrupt mass of Flesh. p. 96.  
The Soul calling to mind the infinite Love of her Saviour, bewails her ungratefulness, and the coldness of her returns. p. 104.  
The Soul breaks into Sighs, and dissolves into desires for the presence of God. p. 111.  
The Soul filled with Heavenly Love, sends forth the pure flames of her Affection. p. 117.  
The Soul contemplates, and sets forth her Folly in hazarding Eternal Joys, by preferring Earthly Vanities. p. 124.  
The Soul (being ready to sink under the weight and apprehension of her Sins) bemoanes the weakness of her Faith, and desires help from her Saviour. p. 130.  
The Sinsick Soul can take no rest until she be further reconciled to her Saviour. p. 140.  
The Soul is ravished upon the Return of her Saviour's Presence. p. 150.  
The Soul being re-advanced on the wings of Faith, sends up her choicest Affections towards Heaven. p. 159  
The Soul [in a Frenzy] breaks out into admiration of God's love, in being freed from the misery of everlasting flames. p. 164.  
The Soul [being sensible of its former Mercies] sits weeping under the Cross of her Saviour, and resolves to partake with him in his Sufferings. p. 169.  
In Imitation of our Saviour's great Patience under his Passion; the Soul resolves for ever to yield an humble submission to his Will. p. 181.    

Of LOVE in General.  
IF we go about to describe fond love, what better resemblance may we have, then to that man who is bitten with a Tarantula, or hath eaten a weed which is called Sardoa, and so laughs himself to death, being murdered by that which looks like merriment; or like a mouth wounded with a sting dipped in honey, the Taste enjoying what the Touch suffers: Or may we not compare it to him, who (through too much wantonness) is tickled to his Grave?  
And surely, had we as many eyes opened towards heaven, as heaven openeth towards us, to behold the sleights and danger thereof, we should be strucken with horror, to see a depr●ved soul to change all his abilities, as incentives to sin, and to make su●h delights and pleasure, the true snares to entice it to Eternal misery.  
O God of purity! How many (now adays) do we see, who (through too fond and free a conversation) receive as many wounds, as glances; yea, as many deaths, as Beauty shoots Arrows against them: Solomon (who well knew the effect of this Possion, Prov: 23.33.) said, Thy eyes shall behold strange women, and thy heart shall utter perverse things: And in another place he saith, With much fair spee ch she caused him to yield, with the flattering of her lips she forced him: He goeth after her as an Ox to the slaughter, and as a fool to the correction of the stocks; till a Dart strike thorough his Liver, as a Bird hasteneth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his life, Prov. 7.21, 23.  
See how a senseless soul (like a lazy Pilot, or one fast asleep in the midst of the Sea, being oppressed with drowsiness, and having lost his Helm) deludeth itself! It's true (saith he) I am struck, but I feel no pain; they have drawn me this, and that way, but I am not sensible of it: when shall I be awaked, to be again drunk with love, and to return to my accustomed pleasures? Alas! poor soul! How dost thou (not having well guarded thy senses in the first Assault) deliver thy heart over as a Prey, whereby it sinks into the bottom of misery.  
Our Love, being indiscreetly tied to women, at first presents us shows, which are fair, and specious, seeming bright, with a pleasing serenity, and full of Beauty, whilst all this while we do but consult with Spirits and strange Apparitions, full of obscurity and darkness, and the issues thereof dismal, and hideous; or, as a stone thrown into the water, makes first a small Circle, which causeth many to follow, until it fill up the total superficies; so happeneth it in Love; it falls into our heart not perceived, nor foreseen, giving a slight touch in the beginning, which multiplies, and distends itself over our Soul with Chains and Arrows, which will require much labour to dissolve and unloose.  
The most generous spirit becomes a Captive, when this tempting, and imperious visage, and Commandress comes and knocks at the door of his heart. It exerciseth our discourse, it inflameth our desires, it busieth our thoughts, to go, to speak, to visit, to compliment; yea, it insinuateth into Prayer, and our best Devotions, with distractions pleasingly troublesome.  
Love in the heart, is an exhalation in a cloud: It cannot continue there idle; it formeth a thousand imaginations, it brings forth a thousand cares, and necessarily is accompanied with anxieties and trouble. Yea, fond Love is like the heart of a wicked man, which (saith the Prophet) is a troubled Sea, whose waters cast up mire and dirt, Isa. 57.20.  
And what Hipocrates said (deploring the evil effects of Covetousness) namely, That the life of man was miserable, because Avarice (like a spirit of Storms and Tempests) had poured itself on Mortals; and that it were to be wished, that the best Physicians might meet together to cure the Disease: The same may we say of Love, since it is the fatal Plague among all Passions, and no simple malady, but one composed of all the evils in the world: A Passion which maketh charms and illusions to march before it, and draggeth on Furies, disasters, and rapines after it: Was it not this which sharpened the sword which transfixed Ammon? Which shaved and blinded Samson? Which gave a Halter to Phillis?  
Alas! How many wretched and caitif souls, how many ship-wracked Spectacles may we behold, standing on Promontory tops, who tell us of the ruins which this Passion hath caused? Simon Magus was undone by a Helen, being more bewitched by her love, than he enchanted others by his Sorcery; Apelles was corrupted by Phylumene; Donatus by Lucilia; Montanus by Maximilla: Women having ended amongst all these, what Heresy and Magic had but begun; which made one wittily to say, That Heaven was most happy in having a God, 
In Coelo Angelus & Angela, etc. Tertul. adversus Val.  and Angels, and no Goddesses, since it might be feared, that if there were diversity of Sex, it would alter something of its tranquillity.  
Was it not the love of Women which caused Sampson's, David's, and Solomon's shipwrecks? Hath it not besotted the wise, conquered the strong, deceived the prudent, corrupted Saints, and humbled the mighty? Hath it not trodden down Sceptres and Crowns, blasted the Laurels of the greatest Conquerors, troubled the most flourishing States? Hath it not thrown Schism into Churches, corruption among Judges, and the greatest cruelties into Arms? Hath it not acted Treasons, Furies, firings, poisons, murders, and ransackings?  
And how should it spare its enemy, since it is so cruel to its self? It kills and murders those that have most constantly served it, drinking their blood, and insensibly devouring them, and making many to sink in the twinkling of an eye: It will open a Floodgate to a Deluge of miseries and cares: It will by some invisible hand (as it were) shoot Arrows amidst the Vermilion of Roses, and the whiteness of Lilies: It is the worm which gnaweth all our great actions, the moth which eateth all the vigour of our spirit; the Labyrinth which hindereth our chief designs; yea, it is the true snare of our soul, which too often hides poison, and death, under a seeming sweetness.  
See here the goodly sacrifices of Lust! Behold the transfigurations of sottish Love! What? Nothing but Poison, Gibbets, Massacres, and Precipices? Nothing to be seen but smoke, flames, darkness, despairs, and the sad complaints of unfortunate Lovers? O God What is he who [beholding these Pictures] would ever betray his soul, heaven, and his God, to yield obedience to loathsome lust!  
In time then let us behold the disasters which wait on the experience of this miserable sin, which is so ruinous to our body, soul, estate, and reputation; so full of fetters and snares: It being impossible to write all the Tragedies which arise from this Passion; for which all Pens are too weak, all Wits too dull, and all Tongues would be dried up.  
Neither is it to be wondered at what the Wise man said, That the too free familiarity with Women, was a firebrand in the bosom; Prov. 6.27. and as another said, It was as easy to live among burning coals, as to converse with this Sex, and not to wound the soul. How careful then should we be to avoid whatsoever may endanger the scorching, not only of our Body, but our precious Soul: yea, how should we fear our Relapses, and shun all occasions which may re-enkindle the flame.  
For if vain Love be a Tree, the fruit, flowers, and leaves whereof are nothing but sorrows; if it be a Sea full of Tempests and Storms, where a Haven is not to be hoped for, but with the loss of ourselves; If it be a Passion which causeth a continual drunkenness of Reason; If this Banquet, which seems to be the source of life, brings an Edict of Death with it, and the best sports thereof are ordinarily bloody, why should we embrace such cruelty as is mingled with delights? Or that pleasure which is attended with Funerals? O my Make us to bury all our concupiscences, before we go to the Grave, and so strive to live, as that when death comes, it may find us prepared, and that we may have little other business then to die.  

That Love in its self, is not a Vice, but the Soul of all Virtues, when it is tied to its proper Object [which is the Sovereign Good.]  
NEver shall the soul of man act any thing great in this world, if he retain not holy fire in his veins; since from the beginning of the world, all things are held together by this Divine tye [Concord;] which in its union causeth the happiness of all things; and those sacred influences of Love, have woven eternal chains to tie [indissolubly] all the parts of the Universe. True joy is nothing else but a satisfaction of the soul, in enjoying what it loves; neither is the accomplishment of Pleasure, any thing but the presence, possession, and fruition of the good which is known to us, and which we love.  
We cannot have one silly spark of love for God, unless it be inspired into us by himself: That which the Air is in the Elementary world, the Sun in the Celestial, and the Soul in the Intelligible, the same is he throughout All; He is the Air, which all the afflicted desire to breathe in; the Sun, which dispelleth all our clouds; the Soul, which giveth life to all things: and therefore, he that is thus the Lover of our souls, ought really to be the object with which our soul ought everlastingly to be in love.  
And oh, how happy are they who entertain this chaste and spiritual love for things Divine! who embrace the wisdom of heaven, which is so far beyond all humane Beauties, as the light of the Stars surpass the petty sparklings, and flitting fires of the earth: but miserable are those who mount not above the flatteries, and fading Beauty of the world!  
From hence it was, that the beauties of Solomon's Mistresses were no sooner adored, but that [through the neglect of his former Zeal and Courage] Idols were worshipped: That Samson was no sooner blinded with love, but that Dalilah forthwith blinded the eyes of his reason and body together. Hence was it that David paid so dear for that unhappy cast of his eye on Bathsheba; all which, God is pleased to place as broken masts on the top of a mountain, to make others take heed of the shipwrecks of love.  
And great care surely aught to be taken in the whole course and progress of our life; sin being usually killed by flying the occasions of it: Absence, resistance, coldness, silence, labour, and diversion, have overcome many assaults of the enemy; solitude of heart, fasting, prayer, and the Word of God, are weapons of an excellent force, and which the Word teacheth us to use in our conflicts.  
And sure, it imports us much to fight valiantly, and to bring with us the hearts of Lions: what honour can we expect by yielding to the first Temptation? How many Martyrs have been roasted in burning flames, because they would not speak an ill word. Let us consider also the Crown we shall get at last, by fixing our love aright. If God be the Essence of Essences, why do we please ourselves by making so many nothings? If God be a Spirit, why should we ourselves be perpetually fixed to carnal pleasures, which only flatter, to strangle us? Why should not the day yield up all our thoughts to him? Why should the night, which seemeth made to arrest the agitations of our spirit, any way raze the remembrance of him from our heart?  
Oh the unconquerable fire of holy love, that can neither be quenched with many waters, nor drowned with mighty floods! but (like the Ark in the Deluge) by how much the waters swell higher, by so much the more it ascendeth towards the place of its birth, and first original [the bosom of him who is the Author and Father of it.]  
Did we but behold all humane things from the top of the Palace of eternity, O how would they seem like rotten pieces; yea, alas! How often would the heavens and the elements conspire against thy affections, which thou hast so unworthily, and disasterously placed! Or did we but see the miseries attending us in the violent pursuit of our desires, who (alas!) is it, who would enter into this Hell of torment, to rob himself of the joys of chastity, and to live (like Ixion) on the wheel of Eternal vexation. Were it not much better to throw away this frantic love, this troublesome curiosity, this rashness of judgement, and all that fomenteth and nourisheth so ill a passion?  
O my God Make me from henceforth to enter into the bottom of my soul, and to silence all those tempting and troublesome creatures, these inordinate affections, which so often bereave me of the happiness of thy sight, and my eternal welfare! O thou which canst draw Being out of the Abyss of nothing, and bring the shades of death into light, make me to put a difference between true love, and concupiscence; the which (being once enjoyed) dies, and is ofter resolved into the smoke of disgrace, and the ashes of hate; whereas the other is still more ardent towards the thing beloved, by possessing and enjoying it!  
O unexhaustible Fountain of all Beauty! whither shall I go to quench those violent distempers and wicked thirst (kindled within my soul) but to thee (O Saviour!) who canst show me my stains, and give me water to wash them: to thee who only canst quench those in-lets of sin, with the tears of repentance.  
O then, melt that heart which hath retained so many vain and lustful thoughts, in the sacred Limbeck of thy Love! and distil it out by my eyes! Why should any impure thoughts pollute that soul which thou hast sanctified? Why should any profane words pollute that Tongue, which thou hast commanded to be the Organ of thy Praises? Why should any unchaste action rend the vail of that Temple, wherein thou hast pleased to enter, and choosest for thy habitation?  
And thrice happy shall all those be, who can seal up all their senses from vain objects, and suffer them to be wholly possessed with Religion; fortified with prudence, watchfulness, and mortification; and have bound up their eyes and heart from all strange and disorderly affections; and have so far watered them with the smoke which ariseth from the fire of this world's prosperity, as to find delight in nothing here below, neither to prefer any thing before the hopes and expectation of celestial glory.   

Of the Nature and Qualities of Divine Love, and wherein it exceeds all other Love.  
ALL things here below being transitory and frail, little is the support we can find in them, until God hath poured his holy Love into our heart, which can alone purify our life, and eternize our Souls. It is he which inspireth the love with which he will be loved: It is his gift alone by which we love him above all, and all for him. God in the first place gives us a taste of his Word, and makes us to taste sweetness therein; and he only it is who gives us good resolutions towards the amendment of our life.  
Consider then (O Soul! redeemed with the blood of the Son of God) that thou canst not live without Love; since on what side soever thou turnest, thou must necessarily love; and God (who is the Author of Love, and makes of the lightnings thereof, eruptions, whereby to communicate himself to man) seeing this necessity, would that thou take the object of his love, for the object of thy own, who is altogether lovely, neither is there spot or blemish in him.  
And (O my soul!) when thou hast heedfully contemplated his Beauty, strive to find a reciprocal love enkindled in thy breast towards him, who loved thee, when there was nothing lovely in thee; who made no love to Beauties, to gold, or greatness, but loved thy very poverty and miseries.  
From this Love it is, that we are diligent and assiduous in praying to him; that we endeavour the keeping of our Conscience unspotted, that sin is weakened, his Law observed, our lusts abated; that humane considerations, and all the respects of flesh and blood are trod under foot; yea, that we account all things worse than a Dunghill, to gain Jesus Christ. Hence further it is, that we are patiented in adversities, that we embrace the Cross, that we love our enemies, and do good to those that persecute us.  
Behold the accomplishment also of true love, left us in the pattern of our blessed Saviour, who made himself the highest example thereof, in laying down his life to save us. Few there are, who in an unshaken constancy persevere till death: we read indeed of strange examples of Amity and Affection between 
† Luci. Toxorh.  friends, as of him who left his whole family in a fire, to carry ●ut his dearest Friend on his shoulders; of another, who gave his own eyes for the ransom of him he tenderly affected.  
We find mention also of many Women, tied with the indissoluble chains of virtuous inclinations: As Valeria, who said, Though her husband were dead to others, he was not so to her. Of Sulpitia, who (in spite of her Mother) broke doors and locks to run after her banished Husband. Of Eponina, many years shut up with her Husband in a hollow Tomb. Of Mithridates' Queen, who in the midst of all his Captains, followed him through snows, storms, and wildernesses. But especially of Mary Magdalen [that mirror of Love, and ardent affection] whose soul dissolved and melted with spiritual languor, on the heart of her beloved Saviour.  
We read also of some who have licked whole the envenomed wounds of their Husbands, who have breathed out their last upon the Graves of those who first gave them heart and affections; and of those who have forsaken all their friends, renounced their fortunes, and exposed themselves to the greatest hazards envy or time could bring upon them. But alas! saith the poor soul, what is all this, if heaped together, to the love of my Saviour? How far is it from that beatifical love? How small a drop to that Deluge of his mysterious and adorable love?  
Now those that desire to profit in this love, must by fervent prayer beg it of God, they must value and esteem it above all earthly things, and apply all their actions thereunto, since it will no way be entertained in a soul sullied with worldly and terrestrial affections. They must render him fervency and earnestness in all their meditations and devotion; no hour must pass without some ejaculation; in all companies we must publish his greatness: we must refer all objects, all creatures to his love, and love nothing but in him, and for him; yea, we must engrave all his words, wounds, and actions in the bottom of our hear.  
And O that we could often present unto ourselves (as the principal means whereby we may come to this heavenly obedience) that infinite love of Jesus Christ! Oh that we could here be raised on the highest Region of Grace, and poise ourselves on the wings of Faith, there being no tongue so eloquent, no pen so learned, sufficiently to express it. But oh the deadness and dulness of our spirits! Can we but here reflect, and a little lift up our eyes [surcharged with so many earthly humours and vanities] to behold that precedent which he hath given for the rule of our Love, What secrets? What mysteries of love should we there find? What greatness and purity must we needs conceive therein? And oh how much shame ought we then to have, so to defile our love with the impurities of the earth?  
This, this alone, is it which hath made many forsake the shadows of Diadems, and Sceptres, which so easily deceive the credulity of the most passionately ambitious, by their fond illusions, and have thereby attained Renown on earth, and a Crown in heaven. These are Celestial fires, which ever proceed from God, as being their proper Sphere. It is he that begetteth them, and breedeth them; being no way constrained to descend upon earth, to seek nourishment from perishing creatures.  
Those (indeed) which seek nothing in the world, but sensual pleasures, which are more thin than smoke, and lighter than Wind, cannot imagine how much these fair amities (which are the daughters of Virtues) nourish holy delights. The love of God (saith one) is an influence of Eternity, because coming from an Eternal God. It is rather inspired, then studied: It is given to us by the favour of heaven. Though good Books and Discourses contribute much to this purpose, yet they who think to learn the love of God only by precepts, have little in them that is solid.  
And those Lovers who have the ardours of heaven, who entertain chaste and spiritual love for things divine, partake of those pleasures which the jealous eye cannot espy, the slanderous tongue cannot hite: And when we thus love God, we find him every where, we serve him every where, and every where meet with the recompense of our services: we may Jonah (with Jonah) cry unto him out of the Whales 2.2. Belly, as from a Chapel; and talk with him (with the three children in the midst of flames, Dan. 3.25. Surely, to love truly, is to love aloft, and to love him who made us; when once we are come thus far, we shall find all the greatness of the world lower than our feet.  
Let us not then put a Balm so precious, into an unclean Vessel: Let us retain no Idols, or passions in our hearts, to oppose or withstand this excellent Guest. Let us entertain this Love with all the strength and vigour of our heart and soul, yea, make it our continual practice.  
Shall we set our Affections so eagerly on the despicable and inconsiderable affairs of the world? Shall we slight a matter of so great importance as the love of God? Shall worldly Lovens espouse all occasions, use all ways and diligence, transform themselves into all shapes and humours; pass through fire, ice, tears, blood, fearful Torrents, enraged Seas, inflamed Serpents, to attain their hearts wish, and arrive at the least of their desires, and pretensions; and shall not we with the greatest applications of mind and soul, use all possible industry to profit in a more divine and heavenly Love?  
O shameful reproach! That all this should be done for a vain and worldly love, which ends always in bitterness, and endangers our souls; and there is none but Jesus [who is chief to be loved] for whom we will not stir a hand or a foot! Out alas! Why are we so blind as to love servitude, and to make a Goddess of the World's Beauties? Why should we make it our glory to sacrifice our Liberty, and kiss the Fetters of our slavery?  
Alas! How dear doth it cost us to destroy our poor souls? Did the man of uncleanness but think, that whiles he is in the embraces of his fulsome Mistress, that his soul is waited on by death, and death by eternity? Did he but think that those eyes which did burn in Lust, should in a bottomless Furnace be scorched with Brimstone; That those ears, which here were wont to wanton it with Minstrels, shall there be filled with nothing else but the groans of Devils, and the shrill screetches of the damned; that the Tongue which delighted in the relation of fond and idle Stories, should there cry out for water to cool it; and the whole Body, which was here clothed in rich and fantastic garbs, should be hereafter enwrapped in a mantle (at once of darkness, and yet) of flames; and the Voice, which here was taken up with the Songs and Ditties of Love, should there nothing but complain of Torments: Would he (I say) but consider all this, it were impossible, that he which thus loves pleasure, and cannot endure to be tormented, should delight to thrust himself into the fire; or, that he which fears to lose one drop of blood, should delight in the wounding of his whole Body.  
Stand amazed then (O poor Soul!) and bewail thyself, that thou shouldest not better value so inestimable a favour as thy Saviour's love; and resolve for the remaining part of thy life, to be crucified unto all those Objects of pleasure, profit, and honour, which have heretofore transported thee!  
O sweet Jesus! Thy Beauties are without stain, and shall I be of the number of those souls which are distasted with Manna? Shall I languish after the Onions of Egypt? O make me rather (dear Saviour!) to sanctify all that is esteemed profane! If my Eyes have been the cause to entertain fond love, O let them now become Vessels of Water, to wash away the spots of all unchaste glances: If my Hairs have been Nets to captivate any soul under the yoke of wanton Love, O let them be trampled under feet, as the Ensigns and Standards of wicked Cupid. Let those Embraces which carried nothing but the poison of a luxurious passion, now clasp him, under whose shelter I shall eternally rest secure. Briefly, let me breathe nothing but the delicacies of Chastity, and let those pleasing Odours which were once vowed to sensuality, at last become the sweetest exhalation of odoriferous presume at the Altar of my Saviour; that so I may practise a sanctified revenge on myself, and my Repentance never end but with my life.   

That our love to God ought to precede and exceed all other Loves.  
SO many and great are the delights and enticements of the Flesh, the Devil, and the World, to withdraw man's love from God, as that he hath not only imprinted in his heart, that he was solely to love his Creator; but such was his infinite goodness [to the end man might never forget it] as to leave him his spiritual Law, written in Tables of Stone, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy might, Deut. 6. Neither do we find any Law or Precept so strongly and largely enjoined, as this; binding the heart, tongue, hand, eyes, and the faculties of our soul to love God.  
How then can we answer our own Soul without blushing here, or without confusion or condemnation at the last day? Or, can we render any thing less than love? Can any price be set too high for so infinite a ransom, whereby both soul and body [forfeited by our sins to Satan, and eternal Hell fire] are freed, through the shameful tortures, the disgraceful usage, and cruel murdering of a merciful Saviour?  
Had God (as justly he might) in return of his infinite love, commanded thee to offer unto him all thy Wealth, to sacrifice all thy Children (as some Heathen have done, and) as once he tempted Abraham. Had he required thee with stripes and fastings, to mortify and kill thy body. Had he commanded bounty to the poor, the poor man might have said, I cannot give it: If labour or fasting, the sick and infirm, (or if knowledge, the simple) might have said, I have them not in my power. But if in lieu of all this, he require only that which is the least [thy love] and which without expense, pain, or labour, thou mayest easily afford, O my soul! How canst thou make a better purchase, than (by love) to make God, Heaven, and Earth to be wholly thine?  
All that God Courts and Woos man for, is his Heart; Prov. 23.26. and wilt thou not grant him this desire, O my soul? He might have required all thy substance, all thy actions, to be spent in his immediate service, and worship. He grants thee thy wealth, and the fruits of thy honest labour, and bids thee give only what thou canst best spare of all thy Increase; he takes only a Tenth, and from all thy worldly labours only a sevonth part; Love, and the affection of thy heart being all that he entirely calls for.  
Thy blessed Saviour so highly valued this Treasure of love, as that (even then when he was to departed and leave the world) he left it [as his last Will and Testament] to his Disciples, and that, as he had loved them, so they should love one another, John 13.34. Ah! saith he (being at the last point, as it were before his Possion) to his Disciples [and in them to us] my time is but short, and I find death approaching, before which, I have one only remembrance to give you, That you love one another. It was not long before that he desired them, that, If they did love him, they would keep his Commandments: Love being as it were the Ambassador of God, and hath not only proclaimed the Fulfilling of the Law, (Rom. 13.10.) but (as our Saviour himself pronounced) thereon depends the Law, and the Prophets.  
O then (my God my Jesus!) make me to keep the Law of thy Love, and nothing else: Thy love is a yoke which brings with it more honour than burden: It is a yoke that hath no weariness in it. O my sweet Saviour; My soul is weary, and greatly distasted with all the fading delights of this transitory world, and doth incessantly languish after thee! Show me then my stains, and give me water to wash them out. Let the night cease to cast a dark Veil over my mortal body; but let the Sun be advanced high, and the break of day begin to gild the mountains, where my Soul hovereth, and is ashamed to see its self so dark before light, and smutted over before thy immortal whiteness. Alas! I am altogether but one stain, and thou art all purity; do not [however] writ me on the ground, as a child of the earth, but writ me in heaven, since I am the portion which thou hast purchased with thy precious blood.  
Thy love is the Centre of all our true love, on which our heart (as on the point of a Compass) being set, the other part moves about the Circumference of the World. Is it not the Almighty, whose mercies are without number? Where hath it been well with us without him? Or, How can it be ill with us where he is present? I had rather (saith one) be a Pilgrim here on earth with him, then be in heaven without him. And blessed then sure are they, who delight to attend his service, and cast from him all the fetters and impediments of worldly love.  
For what will all things avail, if we be forsaken of our Creator? Can we live without the Fountain of Life? All places are solitary where he is not; and where he is, there only is fullness of pleasure. O Jesus! the author of all Glories, henceforth be unto me my only Crown! For, oh how vain is the rest and solace of man! who (though nothing brings joy and comfort without God, and that he finds so little entertainment in all worldly treasures, as that the vanity in possession will soon reprove the violence of his appetite) is notwithstanding still sullying himself in the puddles thereof!  
How often do we cry out (with the perverse Jews) not Christ, but Barrabas; not God, but Mammon? How often (with the Idolatrous Israelites) do we say of our Covetousness, Honours, Greatness, and the rest of our Lusts, Ye are our Gods? whereas alas! God cannot endure that one Temple should receive both his Ark and the Idol Dagon. He will not have the Devil, the Flesh, and the World, should come in and lodge in his Bedchamber [thy heart] it being but just with God to require it; But oh! how unreasonable art thou in dividing it between him, and his enemies; between God, and Baal; between Light, and Darkness? 1 Cor. 6.14.  
Fond Worldlings! Can you be so great enemies to your souls, as (being once unloosed from slavery) to sigh, whither, and languish for your fetters? for shame then forsake the love of these poor Cottages, these fading pleasures, these little Ant-hills, which inflame thy heart. Thy Country is no longer Earth, behold the great Globe of Heaven all replenished with glorious Lights; why do we so extremely torment our poor life, running after this world's shadows, which we cannot follow without trouble, nor possess without fear, nor lose without sorrow.  
He that clothes the flowers of the Meadows more gorgeously than Monarches, who lodgeth so many little Fishes in golden and azure shells: He who but openeth his hand, and replenisheth all Nature with his blessings, will never forsake us at our need, if we love him, and keep his Commandments. A man that must die, needs very few worldly things, but whole Kingdoms will not satisfy covetousness. O my God? Shall I always then fly after that which flies from me, and never follow Jesus, who follows me, and even loves me when I am ungrateful? Ah no more let me run after the vanishing Beauties of a deceitful world!  
Our love to Jesus should be like the Needle in the seaman's Chard, which (though it be ever moving and casting about as it were to several parts) yet it still returns and retains its whole settled course to the true Polestar. It should be like the Oak, the Hart, and the Elephant, which (as Naturalists observe, are long lived, and not like Pinks, Roses, and Tulips [flowers of sight and smell, but] delightful only for a few hours.  
If you will examine King David (the man after Gods own heart) he will tell you, he hath conquered the Bear and the Lion, and that great Giant Goliath, yet was not satisfied: He had stepped from a Sheep fold to a Crown, yet was not contented. He had subdued all his Enemies and Rebels, yet had he no rest, until he enjoyed Heaven; I have a goodly Heritage (saith he) but the Lord is the fullness of my Inheritance, in whose presence there is fullness of joy, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore; Psal. 16. And therefore it is that he again saith, Psal. 73.24. There is none O Lord, upon earth, that I desire in comparison of thee.  
We find all sublunary bodies compounded of the four Elements, and all the goods of the Body, reduced to four heads: First, Life, under which we understand health, strength, and beauty of Body. Secondly Honour, under which may be comprised Titles, Offices, Privileges, and Retinue. Thirdly, Wealth, Lands, Money, and Revenues have place. Fourthly, Pleasures, which are as various as there are objects of our senses, pleasing to our taste, sight, touch, hearing, and smell. Now, though all these [ordinately desired, and lawfully used] may be both useful and lawful, yet are they not able to satisfy the soul, longer than a wind or lightning. And therefore man should not, (and indeed truly he cannot) set his love upon them.  
And alas! O poor soul! What canst thou find in all other loves, which prove no other than that of Samson, who paid so dearly for relying on his treacherous Dalilah; or as the Prodigals Lovers in the Gospel, who (like Mice, Whores, and Swallows,) make love, and frequent the house in the Summer of prosperity; or like Lice, who continue no longer then there is sweat to nourish them, but in the end, (like Actaeon's hounds) prove your destroyers. The like we find of Job's friends, and of those the Prophet mentions, Isa. 1.23. Who loved gifts, and followed after Rewards.  
Not much unlike to those, were the seeming friends of King David, of whom he so often complains, and prays against, as being of his Council, and eating his bread, Psal. 54. yet while they had butter and oil on their lips, their hearts and tongues were spears, swords, and very poison: And as these to David were more dangerous than his public enemy [for of those (saith he) I could have taken heed] so are all the false Loves of Delight, Feature, Beauty, or other parts or gifts; Yea, their Loves are like the Apples of Sodom, or like that creature called Acucena, which at twice handling, yields out an ill savour; or as the flowers of the Garden, which long hold neither colour nor scent.  
Ye then which cry, Come and let us crown ourselves with Roses, Let us eat, drink, and take our fill of love, Ah! How suddenly are you and your loves vanished, And your place no where to be found! How do ye starve (like Tantalus) in the midst of all your glory and abundance? How doth that which seemeth so much to increase your felicity, occasion your punishment? Yea, How doth the pain you meet with, mix gall and bitterness with all the sweet appearances of the world?  
What wanted Solomon of all the  things under heaven? He had seven hundred Wives, and three hundred Concubines; He built himself stately Palaces, adorned them with variety of Orchards and Gardens; He had Attendants answerable to his Wealth and Glory; yet when he weighed all together, instead of proclaiming himself happy, he cried out, All is but vanity, and vexation of spirit: Prov. 1.1. How great then, alas! is our folly, to seek and expect our happiness here, in the best enjoyments, and most pleasing delights the world holds forth unto us?  
Sat no longer then, O my Soul! by the fire of earthly comforts, where the cold of carn I fears and sorrows do still afflict thee; Wilt thou house thyself still on worldly thoughts, and confine thyself to worldly dulness? Away with those Soul-tormenting cares and fears! Away with those Heart-vexing worldly sorrows! Stand by a little! O forbear to trouble my aspiring soul, whilst I look up, and see my eternal happiness; whilst I lay aside my mourning robes, and partake the joys of an everlasting Spring!  
Happy change! to leave these clods of earth, and perpetually enjoy the glory of the Sun! Blessed Conquest! to triumph on earth, and enjoy heaven; to conquer death, and enjoy life; to withdraw thy love from a wretched world, and wholly fix it on thy Saviour, the Fountain of all true love and goodness. O that I were able! O that I could feelingly say, I love thee!  
But ah Lord! What is a Feast without an appetite? Thou must give me a stomach as well as meat; Thou mayst set the Dainties of Heaven before me, but alas! I am blind, and cannot see them; I am sick, and cannot relish them; I am benumbed, and cannot receive them: O then [thou Spirit of Life!] breathe thy Graces upon me! Take me by the hand, and lead me up from earth to thyself, that I may see by faith what thou hast laid up for them that love and wait for thee.   

That the Soul can take pleasure in nothing, until it meet with satisfaction from its Maker.  
GOd having concluded our salvation in Love, shows us, that the best and speediest way to be happy, is to love him, who is the Author of our felicity, and the  Sun, about which so many changes, and agitations of all Creatures circumvolve, which continually groan, and aim at this first Beauty, as the true Centre of everlasting repose.  
Oh, this is the most assured way to arrive to tranquillity! It is a Treasure which will be infinitely profitable, if we can tell how to attain it. It taketh hearts which (as yet) are but of earth and clay, and enkindleth them with a divine flame: It beats them under the hammer of Tribulations and sufferings, to make them fit for their Saviour's reception: Yea, it makes fit vessels of them, worthy to be placed above the chiefest of terrene enjoyments.  
We find Love indeed divided into many branches, to wit, Natural love, which consisteth in things inanimate, having their sympathies and antipathies; as the Amber draws the Straw; the Adamant, Iron; and as Trees and Plants bend or decline one from another. Next, Animal Love, is that beginning which giveth motion to the sensitive appetite of Beasts, to see that which is fit for them, and to take pleasure therein. Reasonable Love, is that which seeketh and accepteth the good represented by the Understanding. But alas! What are all these to that Divine and Angelical Love, by whose sides are lodged Beauty, and Goodness, which make up all loves; the soul of man being able no where to fix itself, until it re-ascend to God.  
It is the nature of Quicksilver to tremble up and down, and never leaveth, until it have found Gold, wherewith to mingle itself: so boundeth and leapeth the heart of man, here and there, in all its troubles and disturbances, there being nothing but Ebbs and Floods in it, until such time as it is united to its Creator, as being the Temple of all repose.  
There only it is that the Banished find a Country, the Poor a Patrimony, the Ignorant Knowledge, the Feeble, Support; the Sick, Health; and the Afflicted, Comfort. It is that only which immortalizeth us after death, and gives us light in our darkest affairs. It is that alone which is the sanctity of all humane hearts, the comfort of our souls, the repose of life, and the knot of all felicities.  
And what is the cause that the blessed are never weary of loving, but that they perpetually find in God new Beauties and Perfections. The body of man is finite, and quickly thrusts out all its qualities, which with time doth rather fade then flourish: but our soul, in some sort, tendeth to infinity. Oh what sweetness! Oh what an earnest of the life of the blessed, is that Love which is inviolably grounded upon Virtue and Holiness; upon heaven, and the Beauty thereof?  
Whereas [on the contrary] when we wax cold in the love of God, and in the exercise of Devotion, taking too much liberty in our conversation with such things as we affect, how insensibly do we find ourselves surprised by the eyes, and ears, the heart, the gesture, the smiles, the speech; yea, the whole carriage of any, who lays a Plot with our passion to betray our Reason. How do we dote, wax pale, cry to the woods and mountains, one hour we writ, another we blot, then tear out all; our repast is unpleasant and irksome, and repose (which charmeth all the cares of the world) seems not made for us. So doth the poison of Love spread itself over all our Veins. Absence, unquietness, and disturbance of mind, ever keeps waking the imagination. Still our fair one [still our cruel one] tormenteth us, and God makes a whip for us, of that thing we most affect.  
How wretched then are those poor souls, who seek for pleasure in their affections? As that of Eloquence, of Poesy, of Music, ingenious sports, and witty jests, since these (though for a time sweet to the sense) are subject to the diversity of Ages, Humours Seasons, and Employments. If we consult with History, how many millions of Lovers shall we find, who complain of the infidelity of their Mistresses, and those they seem to adore? But the Love placed upon heavenly objects, never fails to make an answerable return.  
It is from thence that the blood is inflamed, the body weakened, the colour changed; That the eyes grow hollow, the senses stupefied, and the whole body overthrown. And though there be diversities of Love, in some sharp and violent, in others dull and cloudy, in others light and wanton, in others turbulent and perplexed, and in others weak, soppish, fantastic, and inconstant; yet (as if something of Idolatry adhered to it) how do all seem to Deify the creature of whom they are so passionately enamoured, and would willingly place it amongst the Sun, Stars, and Altars; yea, they would die a hundred times for it [chains, and wounds being accounted honourable] so it throw but so much as a handful of Flowers, or distil but one poor Tear on their Tomb.  
And as for affections, purely Conjugal, you shall find them now adays very rare; and for Celestial loves, they are much more scarce: But for the love of Fantasy, the love of sensuality, of servitude, of fury, on what side soever you turn your face, you shall not fail to meet them, though nothing be beautiful, or to be affected in the best of them.  
Surely, a small Circle (since Volumes are not sufficient) will not show you the Essence, the Causes, the Symptoms, sorts, and effects of Love; neither the inconstancy and fickleness thereof. Some feign it to be the Sun of the Wind, to signify (it may be) the wavering and diversified colours thereof, appearing in the beginning all in Rubies, Diamonds, and Emeralds over our heads; but afterwards to cause storms and tempests, discovering itself first with such bright semblances to our senses, whilst it occasions much corruption in our minds.  
Insomuch, that if we do but observe one which is transfixed with violent Love, we shall find he hath all that in his love, which Divines have placed in Hell; namely, Darkness, Flames, the worm of Conscience, an evil savour, and banishment from the presence of God: He sometimes entereth into quakings, sometimes into faintings; one time into fits of fire, and another time into ice.  
If I go about to fetter Love (saith one) it gets out of my hands; if I will judge it, it grows into favour with me; when I intent to punish it, it flatters me; if I will fly from it, it seems tied to me; when I destroy it with one hand, I repair it with the other; if it be too much cherished, it assaults me more violently; if watching withers it, sleep pampereth it; by treating it ill, I endanger my life, by pampering it too much, I incur death.  
Briefly, Love enters into the most secret places, which seem inaccessible, but to Spirits and Lightnings. It bewitcheth the mind, dislocateth the brain, and eclipseth the reason: All that the Lover beholdeth, all that he meditateth on, all he dreameth, all he speaketh of, is the Creature he loveth: He hath her in his head, his heart, he carves her into the most pleasing forms, he fears, he hopes, he despairs, he sighs, he groans and blusheth, yea, he never takes rest.  
If Beauty then, of itself, be so much to be dreaded, when it hath no other companions, how dangerous, think you is it, when Pomp of Apparel, attractives, dalliances, cunning wiles, freedom of conversation, height of diet, courting, music, idleness, night-watching, solitude, and other incitements, are joined to it? Surely, we need require no other charms to work the ruin of a Soul.  
And since fond Love thus sets our reason to sale (if it carefully take not heed) and insensibly draweth it to its side, and thereby fighteth against ourselves, making use of our members, as of the instruments of its battles, and the organ of its wiles; since (without the singular grace of God) it causeth Sedition within, War without, and never any true repose: Since we have all one Domestic Enemy, which is our own Body, that perpetually (almost) opposeth the dispositions of the spirit, how great should be our resistance? how notable our victories?  
Conscience and Honour (indeed) many times make some resistance and glimmering flashes; yet how quickly doth the understanding create to itself many new and evil Lights, and the will too much false fire, did not the fire of God awaken us, and make us even ashamed to tell our own thoughts to our proper heart.  
Oh this Fever! this perpetual Frenzy! this wand'ring of the Soul! this neglect of the true God, and setting up of Idols! How can it be sufficiently deplored? How is reason hereby weakened, shamefacedness banished, passion entertained, good counsel abandoned; yea, at last, how do they impute to the Stars, to Destiny, to Necessity, what is nothing else but their own folly?  
It is thought by some, that in great Storms, evil Spirits shuffle to stir up Lightning-flashes, whereby the Tempests become more dreadful and pernicious: And may we not well suppose, that the Angel of Darkness involveth himself in the great Tempests of Love, and many times maketh use of the abominable help of Magicians: Is it not the Rock which wracketh the greatest Vessels? yea, the Gulf which devoureth our Bodies and Souls?  
Let no man then flatter you in the passion of sensual Love, as if it were a prime virtue of your profession, which is the stain that defileth all the ornaments of your life: Neither, among all the qualities of a virtuous life, is there any sweeter odour, than that Temperance which represseth the voluptuous pleasure of the body.   

That many may have their eyes Love-proof, and their hearts shut up against all the assaults of Fondlove.  
IT is not impossible, but that [the Soul wholly propending to the thing beloved] virtuous and civil Amity's may be between persons of different Sex, who are endowed with singular and excellent Virtues, and who manage their Affections with great discretion; the which, though rarely done, yet if there be any which abuse themselves, by ill placing their Love, through want of discretion, it doth not follow (neither is it fit) by reason of blasted members, we should blame sound parts; there being not a few, who with much prudence and chariness, have therein comported themselves; yea, very many great Souls, who are so powerfully possessed by the love of God (which replenisheth their hearts, and who live a conversation in continual exercises of Prayer and mortification) as by a conversation sweetly grave, and simply prudent, to converse with women, without changing the Love which they bear to the virtue of Chastity.  
And therefore Democritus needed not have voluntarily made himself blind, by looking steadfastly on the Beams of the Sun, to free himself from the importunities of the love of women, who perchance shut up two gates against Love, and opened a thousand to his Imagination; Neither needed Origen to have deprived himself of the distinction of Sex, to rebate the stings of sensuality, which bred him much mischief. It being a better way of repulse given by her, who (being importuned by a young man with all the violent assaults this Passion could suggest) told him, she had resolved to fast forty days with bread and water, desiring him therein also to give a Trial of his Love, which being accepted, in few days, thought more of his death, then precedent folly.  
Neither let us think Chastity to be only found in Cloisters, but every where, where the fear of God is. And though (as Justin Martyr faith) a singular discretion ought to be had to treat with women, and he doth very much, who can love their Virtues without danger; yet we see there is sometimes need, but of a Spider's web, to beat back the Darts of Love, that (at other times) the Ramparts of Semiramis are not strong enough against; and that a well fortified heart is like the Bed of a Phoenix, which takes no fire, but from the beams of the Sun; yea, that Chastity is often times impenetrable by the darts of Love, amidst all the delights and temptations of the World.  
A large precedent whereof we have in pious Joseph, who having opportunities enough to advance himself in the Court of Pharaoh [by satisfying the desires of his Mistress, who had tempted him to sin] accounted it the greatest trial of his Virtues, to have sin in his power, and innocence in his will; neither would raise fortunes of Glass, upon the foundations of Iniquity: But (preferring Reason before Passion, Grace before Nature, and God before any thing else) represented the faithfulness he had promised to his Master, to himself, and (leaving his garment behind him) came out of the Chamber where the snare was laid, as a Ruby out of burning flames, without losing any thing of his integrity.  
And surely, as they who will with profit, make use of the proper instruments of Virtue, must so live, as if they were always under the Physicians hands, so ought we so to live, as if we were still to give an account for every word of our mouth, every thought of our heart, every glance of our eye, every minute of our time, every duty we have omitted, and every sin we have committed.  
Jesus our great Master, hath (by the account of some) abridged six hundred and thirteen Precepts of the Old Testament, within the Law of Love. Do but Love (saith St. Austin) and do what you will, only let your love go to the right Fountain [which is God:] Be not afraid to show him thy heart stark naked, that he may pierce it with his Arrows; His wounds are more precious than Rubies, thou shalt gain all by loving him, and death itself, which comes from his love, is the gate of life.  
Our Love being once thus fixed, we need not fear the extravagancy thereof: With this excellent and holy temper of spirit it was, that Hester changed King Ahasuerus into a Lamb; that Abigal was much stronger than the Arms of David, and that the eye of Judith (triumphing over Holofernes, and with a little Ray of its flames, burning up a whole Army) did more than her hand, which destroyed 100000 men, by cutting off one only head: O what magnificent employments had Love in these Acts! And (to say truth, even consecrating its Arrows) never was it so innocent in its Combats, never was it so glorious in its Triumphs.  
We find in the Ecclesiastical History, that Athanasius being with rage and fury persecuted by the Arrians (who were thirsty for his blood) was beholding to a woman for shelter, and the supply of such necessaries as he wanted. And may we credit the relation of Writers on this Subject, how great do we find the passions of St. Jerome for Paula? as if all the splendour of Rome's greatness, all the riches of the earth, were nothing to him, in comparison of the resplendent virtues of this noble Lady: He is not only very large, when he goes about to praise her, wishing all the members of his body were turned into Tongue, and that he were nothing but voice to chant out her Praises, but even in his old age, makes an Epitaph upon her death.  
St. Chrysostom also, a man austere in his life, and vehement in the matters of virtue, is reported to have written letters to his dear Olimpias, from the place of his banishment; wherein he saluteth her with openness of most ardent Aeffections: He instructs and encourageth her by sublime and grave discourses, he imparteth and recounts his Voyages and adventures, his comforts and discomforts unto her; yea, he descends unto particulars of his own health, habit, and exercises in that ugly place whereunto he was banished; and adviseth her in the like manner, what he thinks to be most necessary for her.  
If we look further into History, we shall find Chastity to be the Trophy of Cyrus, the Triumph of Alexander; nay, if we may believe the Relation of Ju-Julianus apud lian (the worst of Emperors, though re- Arminianum. nouncing his Christian Faith) would would never renounce Chastity, which he had learned among Christians; saying, This Virtue made beautiful Lives, as Painters did fair faces.  
By all which formerly said, we may conclude, Saints have very lively Affections to those they love: And therefore (seeing there is a necessity of Love) vain is the opinion of some Philosophers, who teach indifferency; and say, We must not love any thing.  
And however a severe Censurer may (with a supercilious countenance, and a wrinkled brow) look asquint; yet may we not doubt, there may be love between Sex and Sex, [pure and ardent] as the flames which enlighten stars, though belonging [only] to persons prudent and absolute in Virtue; yea, great circumspection must be used herein, men usually fortifying themselves with much precaution, observing diligently the disposition of their Nature, the causes of Temptations, and the maladies of the Soul, whereby the more successfully, and with better effect, to attain the Cure:  
Love (indeed may be termed the Phronzy of the Understanding, the Poison of the Heart, the Corruption of Manners, and the desolation of the life in some; yet doth it not follow, that women are always fat of the ruin of men: Many indeed resemble those Serpents, which requite them with poison who sing pleasant songs unto them: But what? shall we bring an accusation against Nature in general, and conclude nothing to be good of all that God made, because it may be corrupted by the wickedness of men? Shall we accuse the Sun, because it is said that Phaeton burned himself in those heats; or take away the water from among the Elements, because they say Aristotle was drowned therein.  
Only let it be our greatest care, not to serve two Mistisses [God, and the Beauties of the World] which are so different, as not to agree: When David and Samson endeavoured to accord them, they became Lascivious, instead of being Holy; The one at first, could overthrow a Giant; but had no sooner received the wound from Bathsheba's eye, but Love soon dried up all his Victories; and those eyes which first discovered her at the Fountain's head, had much ado to cure themselves with the waters of many tears: And when the other betook himself to the Comb and Looking-Glass of Dalilah, being formerly like a shining Sun, enlightening his Nation, he became a coal and dark vapour, having no longer eyes, but to deplore the fondness and disafter of his love, with Tears of blood.  
As the best Wine is most subject to degenerate into Vinegar; so we see the chastest Love (if heed be not taken) changeth itself into Flesh. How carefully then should we avoid & reject the first thoughts of such miserable Designs (as being the first sparkles of this fire) lest by giving too great a command to our Passion, we give too great an overture to our unhappiness.  
We find, what the World could not do to Solomon (the wisest of men) a Woman did; and what the Devil could not by himself do to Adam, he did it by a Woman: Neither was it the Devil, but the Daughters of men, which tempted the Sons of God, Gen. 6.2, So did Dinah the son of Shechem; Dalilah, Samson; Bathsheba, David; and millions more have done the like; whose eyes being like burning Lamps, or coals of fire, to kindle their breath, their lips, as lime-twigs to ensnare; and their hands, like Manacles or Bands, to bind and hold fast. How ought we then to make Jobs covenant with our eyes, not to look upon a Maid?  
And oh, Happy are those who are so instructed in the Virtue of Purity, as that they know not the least shadow of those sins which are committed in the world! It being a Fate sadly attending those, who see and smell out so many vain Customs, and entertainments of Countries, since too soon they learn, what too late they will forget; taking so much fire in at the Ears and Eyes, that water enough will not be found to extinguish it; except (with Mary Magdalen) we sit under the feet of Jesus, and bedew them with the crystal Tears of our Repentance:  
O wonder of Women! O most happy of a●l Lovers! How didst thou make profit of Sin, which destroys all? How didst thou sanctify that Love, which so little knew the way to any sanctity? (a work only wrought in thee by the right hand of the Highest) Thou which wert a sinner, wounded with Love, curest thyself by Love. Thou changest the fire of Babylon, into that of Jerusalem; thou pluckest out the venomous Dart of worldly Love off thy Wound, to make way for the Arrows of Jesus to pierce thy heart; and that soul which was before black, and burnt up with the fire of Concupiscence, provideth a Fountain for the King of Heaven, and draweth Tears from its sins, to procure a Pardon.  
And for ever blessed are those, who (with this Pattern of holy Sorrow) considering the evil consequence of sensuality, effeminacy, and the too eager pursuit of carnal pleasure, use severity, denial, and the frustrating of their appetite, when it any way grows unreasonable. For why should we thus offer violence to ourselves? Why should we thus endanger our Estate? Shall we drown those Senses here in a world of pleasure, which will not hereafter be able to procure one bottle of Water to refresh us? O horror! What? Of the Members of Jesus Christ, to make them the members of an unclean Creature! O great indignity! What? To worship and serve our Lusts? to adore our sinful Appetites? O that we would put ourselves any any where into the hands of Innocency, rather than among the imaginary felicities of sin and wickedness!  
Say to thyself (O my Soul!) it will not be long until thy Eyes be shut, and thy body become troublesome to all that come near it, unless speedily yielded up to the Earth: And no sooner will death absent thee from the eyes of thy Friends, but forgetfulness will draw thee off from their heart: Thou art enforced, O my Soul! to inhabit in a sickly body, encountering with all sorts of pains and maladies: O my God What a favour than is it to be banished from so many Gouts, Sciaticks, colics, so many pains of Head, Teeth, and Heart; so much hunger, thirst, and other infirmities which afflict a frail and momentary body.  
And oh that we would but remember this when Temptation comes upon us! When we are tempted to give up our mind to the world, and drown ourselves in earthly cares; when we are tempted to profits, pleasures, and evil company, with the neglect of the Duties of God's Worship! That we would but seriously be-think, whether the world will then be as sweet as now? Whether our unruly Passions and Lusts will then bear the same sway with us? and whether all the Glories, Beauty, Honours, and Preferments of the world, will not then seem needless, vain, and unprofitable?  
Alas! Will any of those things be comfortable to thee at that day of Reckoning? Is this a day to be forgotten? Is not that man worse than mad, that is going to judgement, and never thinks of it? Should we not rather forget to eat, to drink, to sleep, or work, than a matter of so great concernment? What? To forget that we must remember for ever? O poor Souls! How much rather should we (in the midst of all our Temptations and allurements to sin) imitate him, who wheresoever he went, seemed to hear a Voice calling to the World, Arise ye Dead, and come to judgement.  
The Misery of those who have yielded to the Passion of Love, and the Glory of Souls which have overcome it.  
TO mention the sad effects of sensual Love, which hath so many ways of working, will be a Task very hard and difficult, seeing this Fury hath a thousand hands, and a thousand attractives; yea, for the most part different, and quite opposite: It takes by the eyes, by the ears, by the Imagination, by change of purpose, by flying, pursuing, honouring, and insulting by complacency, and by disdain.  
Sometimes it lays hold by Tears, by laughing, by modesty, by boldness, by confidence, by subtlety, by simplicity, by speech, and by silence. It assaileth us sometimes in company, sometimes in solitude; at windows, in grates, in theatres, at Feasts, at Sports; yea, oftentimes at the Church, and in Duties of Devotion. Briefly, if we behold one transfixed with violent Love, we shall find, he hath all that in his love, which Divines have placed in Hell; viz. Darkness, flames, an evil Conscience, an ill savour, and banishment from the presence of God.  
Sin will not at first discover its dreadful events, and Tragedies; It will perchance show you a chamber wherein Beauty is presented, which hideth gross infirmities: It presents you with smiles, glances, Courtships, and flatteries, which yet carry nothing with them but ruin; yea, it shows you Sports and Banquets, Tears, and Funerals in one day.  
Alas! How many millions of men are there in the world, who would be most fortunate and flourishing, if they knew how to avoid the mischievous power of this Passion? Hence is it that so many Virgins are stolen away, so many Families desolated, and Parents precipitated [often times] into their Tombs, by their ungrateful children: That so many little Innocents' are made away by death, whose birth also is often prevented: Hence is it, that so many Widows are dishonoured, that chaste Wedlocks are disturbed, and so many Rapes committed.  
Is it not hence that so many are abandoned to dishonour, their Estates to pillage and poverty, their Reputation to infamy, and their whole lives to continual disturbances? Is it not hence that poisons are mingled, that Halters are noozed, that Swords are sharpened, and those Tragedies begun in the Night, are executed upon the Scaffold in full daylight?  
Good God What heavy scourges do always fall on sin? and what a pleasing spectacle (among so many confusions) is it to see any Victory gained over evil Love? It were easy to enlarge the History of Love's power, which would require a Volumn greater than hath yet been seen, if I should tell you, how Love oftentimes rejecteth the greatest commands, wisest Edicts, and best Laws: How it despiseth Honour, neglects Fame, Wealth, Health, Life, Soul, and all.  
It is compared also by some to Fire (the most active and strongest worker of all the Elements) which destroyeth Castles, Houses, and Cities, which melts and consumes the hardest Metals; and if our contemplation dive into former Times, or if we turn over the variety, as well of Modern as Ancient Histories [not only Divine but Humane] we shall find the sad effects of our evil Love; how Ambition, Revenge, and Murder [vices which not only eclipse our judgements, but darken our understandings] have ever proved fatal to the Undertakers thereof, and that we shall not only see with grief, but find with repentance, how this Passion of fond Love hath brought shame instead of glory, misery for felicity, and affliction for content, where affection hath not had reason for its guide, nor virtue for its object.  
I shall spare to insist on those infamous Ladies, whose memory (purchased by odious Lust) will survive the course of time; as Cleopatra, Faustina, Clytaemnestra, with the last whereof, Aegistus lost his honour, through too great a familiarity; and we find not a few to suffer a great eclipse of their credit, through their too much effeminacy; whence it was, that Demosthenes being demanded a great price for a little pleasure, by the Courtesan Lais, answered, I will not buy repentance at so dear a rate: well, considering that the fairest flowers do as well serve for a shelter to hid Asps and Serpents, as to beautify Garlands and Chaplets; neither would desire the fruit of that Tree, nor the kernel of that Apple, which was at first of that fatal and dreadful consequence to the Taster.  
The things we find commended in Mary Magdalen by our blessed Saviour, was her humility, and the Office she performed to his feet, and no way admiring her comely countenance, and the pleasant flower of her youth, which she had too often made as a snare to betrey her Lovers; and all to let us see how loathsome, disrelishing, and unsavoury are the husks of vain and empty Beauty; and how irksome the taste of sinful pleasures are, (which like deep laughing, still carries a deep sigh in the end) in respect of those inward virtues of the soul, to be preferred beyond the fair and ruddy fruit of Earthly Beauty.  
But then again on the contrary, how large do we find History in setting forth the admirable command which some have had over themselves, who would not make Beauty their Object, nor be surprised with amorous folly. Joseph would not be tempted by his Mistress. Holy Job, Made a Covenant with his eyes, not to look upon a Maid; with many other the like Examples we read of in the holy Scripture.  
Besides, Do we not read of the Roman Stilpo, who notwithstanding he were naturally addicted to Incontinency, became absolute Commander of his affections, by reading only certain Precepts of Moral Philosophy? What admirable Continency also do we find mentioned of Alexander, in sparing the Wife of Darius, and his three Daughters? Scipio (after many years prosperous exploits) purchased not more glory, then by overcoming himself, when a beautiful maid was brought unto him, whom he returned (with a great reward) unto him to whom she was espoused.  
No less worthy to be noted (not to mention those Noble Matrons, whose Virtue and Chastity will transcend the Period of all Ages; as Porcia, Octavia, Caecilia, Cornelia, etc.) were Marius, Solyman the Magnificent, and many others, recorded for their Princely command over themselves and their affections:  
If Beauty then chance to show thee a fair Visage, remember the Sirens do the same; if she allure thee by her Caresses, so doth the Panther; if her amorous plaints invite thee, let the sighs of the Crocodile be thy Instruction: Her greatest brightness is (at best) but a false and fading Meteor: And seldom (saith Plutarch) doth Beauty and Honesty dwell together.  
Thou then that art beautified with an Angelical Feature, Why shouldest thou participate of any inferior Creature? Why wilt thou suffer so great an Eclipse for a minute's pleasure, since this Vice above all others, derogates so much from thy Honour.  
It was ill Physic, and only fit for so luxurious a a Physician, which Epicurus used to one of his Patients, viz. To lay him on a Down bed, in a perfumed chamber, crowning him with a Garland of sweet smelling Flowers, and (after a Potion or two of good Drink) to bring him a beautiful young Wench, which could play, sing, and dance. And was it not as great a vanity which Ctesias relates of a Persian King, that had an hundred and fifty Maids attending his Table, to play, sing, and dance by turns. The like whereof another reports of an Egyptian Prince, who still kept nine Virgins of most excellent Feature, and sweet Voices, to wait on him.  
But were these things well considered by those who are surprised with an amorous folly, their desires would not be so much bend to sensuality, nor their delights wholly engaged to fleshly Liberty: Beauty would not so often be their Object, nor Vanity the subject of their discourse; they would not be so often fienged in the flames of that Love, which cannot hold without jealousy, nor break without repentance. Neither would Complexion take up so much room in their thoughts, who should rather give themselves to Diviner Meditations.   

How we may avoid the Snares of Love.  
IF we desire to know the way, how to banish this Passion, for our more quiet and comfortable living; let us in the first place consider, That we cannot do it, without having this singular gift of God, who is only able to banish this Fury, which plungeth our whole life in such great acerbities, and horrible calamities, and against which we ought to bend our utmost endeavours.  
Presume not too much on thy own strength and integrity, and take heed of the pride of thy heart, arrogant spirits being usually subject to fall into such sins; and God often makes it a counter-poise [as we see in St. Paul, who in the height of Revelation, 2 Cor. 12. had a sting in the flesh] to abate the fierceness of the courage, and to quell the exorbitancy of humane arrogancy.  
Let us take heed also, of serving, soothing, frequenting, or spying out occasions: For as Love takes most, and works by idleness and converse; so is it best resisted, by the contrary, [good employment, and the shunning of wanton company:] Flight of occasions, is the most assured remedy and rampire for Chastity; and whosoever [this way] carries himself well, shall appear stronger in flying, than Conquerors in their bravest Battles; a Retreat in Love, being as honourable as a Victory.  
Take heed of fondness in apparel, behaviour, compliment, books, songs, banquet, and unlawful recreations. Many things (indeed) at first seem innocent enough, but it too often happeneth, that as drops of water (incessantly falling) do hollow rocks, so continual, and ceaseless allurements, soften and betray the most impregnable Natures.  
Art thou weak, then fear thy infirmity; if strong, suspect even thy own safety: Be not too forward in beginning the Combat, until you know what will be the end. Love at first will beset thee with the visage of a Virgin, but leave thee with the body of a Serpent: If you look on it upon one side, you shall find it infinitely sweet and charming; but on the other a Hideous Fury, a Specious Bait, a Pleasing Witch, a Living Death, a Fair Disease, a Specious Plague, a Fresh (but infectious) Air, a satire sweetly drawn, and a Wildfire finely covered with Lawn.  
Besides, false opinion is ever at the gates of this soft, fly, tempting Slut, which deceiveth and bewitcheth all those that come near her: It discovers not at first the dreadful events and Tragedies of this Passion; it shows them chambers, wherein Beauty is presented under white and vermilion skin, which hideth a Sepulchre of rottenness; it is attended with smiles, glances, flatteries, and courtships, which for the most part end in care, terror, folly, distrust, tears, sighs, falsehood, jealousies, and dolours.  
Hence was it, that one wittily compared the heart of a Lover to a Stage, whereon (at the same time) were seen Sports and Banquets, Battles and Funerals; yea, this delicate admired Enchantress, will prove but a very sad bargain, even to those that enjoy her after their own lusts, and at their own rate, she being no better than a Canker-rose full of deception and sorrow.  
Oh, what a miserable thing than is it, to love a Beauty, which is only fair in the fantasy of a feverish Brain, and of which (in a short time) the most liquorish worms will scorn to make a Dunghill! O weakness! O false Idea! O remissness of heart! Is not this to betray our own manhood? to embrace a Cloud (which vanisheth) for a Bright day, which neither admitteth end nor darkness? and to neglect that Love, which will at last wipe away our Tears, every our Poverty, and Beautify our Chains?  
What delight (alas) can we take to seek out, a felicity which we shall never find? Shall we then seek to be roasted in ashes? shall we prefer a blast of smoke, and a glittering chain, before perpetual Liberty? shall we desire to sleep on Thorns, and feed on gaul's? Oh mere madness! to live a slave to the world, and not enjoy the Love of the Creator! to seek rest in the Creature, and neglect the love of the Maker! Oh, let us better employ that time, which heretofore we have dedicated to the Fantasies of our Spirits: Let Reason get the upperhand of our Passion; let our eyes be fast settled upon the Law of God; which tells us, that there is never any thing lost by being faithful unto him: And let us still represent to ourselves, the short pleasure which accompanies sin, and the remorse of Conscience which follows it, and it will tend much towards the extinguishing of the Flames of Love, to break all its Darts, and to make us sole master of our captivating Lusts.  
Neither is dissoluteness of habit, the least sign and forerunner of the Adulteries of the mind; many having (this way) made so proud a monument of their vanity, as to erect an Eternal Reproach of their punishment: Heaven and Earth must be turned over, Nature must be forced, and all Arts wearied out, to serve as instruments to Pride and Luxury; and to what end serves those false Guiess, those costly Jewels, those shameless Flies, patchings and paint wherewith women daub and besmear their Faces, unless to destroy Chastity? To what end serves the nakedness of their Neck and Breasts? How little do these things speak or breathe the odour of Virtue? but much rather expose shame to their Sex, and scandal to civil decency.  
Surely, whosoever thus appears too acquaint before the world, can hardly carry a sound heart before God. And Tertullian (bewailing the furniture and equipage of such a Woman) saith, 
Quasi ad pompam funeris constitutam. Tert. de Hab. Mulieris.  It would be more fit for the setting forth of her Funerals, than the ornament of her body; which (indeed) would seem better adorned, if clothed (like Eve) with simple skins, then in such vain and worldly Pomp's.  
Our Affections and services can no longer be pleasing to the Saviour of the world, when we are thus engaged to false Divinities. Poor Creatures then as we are! to love rather to measure the world in its vanity, then to possess it in the love of God To prefer darkness, before the Sun; Thorns, before Grapes; Acorns, before good Corn, and not to place our affections on our Jesus, who was crucified for us! Proud dust and ashes as we are! since born with supereminency of body, and seeming the goodliest Creatures of the world, why should we go about to beg glory from poisons of the Earth, from worms, and spoils of the dead?  
You then that have no other Idol, but Beauty; who worship no other Deities, but pleasure and Ambition; O consider, that as a Rose adorned with its own leaves, obscures the Beauty of all other Flowers; so the best Art, is to have no Art; to take whatever Nature hath given, and to render all to God: Let not your thoughts strike sail to Affection, let not your hearts do homage to that Beauty, which will ensnare and imprison you in the Fetters of sin; but rather timely resist the influence of your amorous assaults, being the Rocks whereon many have sadly suffered shipwreck, the Fountain which sends forth many poisoned streams; and the Tree, whose fruit is bitter to the stomach, how pleasing soever it be to the palate.  
Consider further, how that in an instant God can turn your vessel of gold into an earthern Pot. For alas, what a short life have we here? Love (saith one) may be compared to the Punais Worm, which bites while she liveth, and after death maketh her infection to be felt. The sin of the body, too often gins in that of the face, which is insensibly eaten with painting and poison, and too often do we derive Beauty from corruption.  
Neither do I know a better way to stop the beginnings of Lust, then to think of the end thereof. Those that in the first Temptation will but take the pains to draw the Curtain, shall behold such a huge Gulf of scandals, injuries, rages, lothsomness, and despairs, as that they would as willingly almost descend into hell alive, as consent to this brutish Passion.  
Who would not account him mad, who always walks in solitude; who courts a shadow, who sigheth, laugheth, feareth, waxeth pale, blusheth, desireth, hateth, dieth, riseth again, is now in earth, and straightway in heaven, in one hour acteth a Comedy of a dozen Personages, and every minute changeth and metamorphoseth himself? What a silly thing is it to see any one thus to trouble and vex himself in pursuit of a wily Wench, that delights to exercise Her most infamous Tyranny?  
Is it not a pitiful thing to see a man burn in Ice, and congeal in Fire? Having the colour won, the Visage meager, the eyes hollow, the cheeks sunk, the spirits giddy, the reason uncollected, and the whole Body Feverish and distempered, for a creature that will soon fail his expectation? Who is there that will not condemn that King, who suffered his Minion to take off his Crown, and set her Slippers on his head? That Dionysius (the Tyrant) should write the expeditions of his Kingdom, and that Myrrha (his Wife) should Cancel, or Sign them at her pleasure? Who would not be astonished at the Roman Macarius, who having conquered Love in the world, was surprised in the Wilderness, by finding a Woman's Shoe? And yet may we daily observe an infinite number of matters much more strange.  
Why go we then about to Idolise a Woman? Have we not slavery enough at home, but we must needs seek it abroad? O let us consider, that they which thus suffer their heads to run at liberty after such sottish Loves, die a thousand times a day in following of scornful Beauty; and have little cause to brag, yea, though they attain the end of their pretensions; their Passions being most violent for things that must quickly be taken from them.  
What a shame is it to observe many, who waste so much of their precious time for the kiss of a Hand, the touch of a Lip, the glance of an Eye, the untying of a Shooe-string, and the like? That they should thus make a Goddess of a piece of Flesh, and kiss the Fetters of their slavery, instead of breaking them! That they should take a glory to sacrifice their Liberty to that Idol, whereby at last they suffer a shameful servitude!  
And as for the cruelties attending this Passion; What Furies, what Poisons, what Racks, what Swords, and Gibbets belong to the violence of enraged Lovers? And shall we still rejoice in the sense-pleasing flatteries of our sensual Desires? What? Nothing to be seen but Tears, Horror, Grief, Astonishment, and other representations of death? And shall we thus Court those flames? Shall we embrace that Stake to which we shall be a Martyr? Ah! Were we but well awaked, with what horror should we behold the precipices whereinto we are falling? How plain should we behold these golden snares, which (like the Carcanet of Medea, or the Trojan Horse) will at last bear Arms against us?  
And to the end then, that we may not turmoil and weary ourselves in the By-paths which directly lead us into the mire of violent affection, neither wholly resign ourselves over to such a gross indiscretion, I shall show you the Medea's we often Court, under the Story of One, who had almost lost his Wits, as well as Reputation, through the violent pursuit of a Lady he much adored, who finding no other slight or stratagem to vanquish the importunate extravagancies of this passionate Lover, shown him her Neck, and uncovered her Bosom, all gnawn and eaten with a malign Cancer; Behold, fond Lover (said she) what thou so eagerly Courtest! and so instantly made the Cancer of her body, to cure the Cancer of his mind: vitae Patrum Occid. l. 6.  
Is it not a shame to entertain such worldly Amity's, and petty Loves, only to please flesh and blood, and which are no sooner disliked by the Eye, but distasted by the heart? We read of some, who have fought with it on Thorns, Hair-clothes, and other austerities; and we find mention of One, who being bound to a Bed of Roses with silken Cords, to resign himself to the love of a Courtesan, spit out his Tongue in her Face. Some have also assuaged their Passion by flames; Others have quenched the heat of their desires in snows; Others, by living in rocks, and solitary wildernesses; as if nothing were so invincible, and hardly attained, as this Virtue of Chastity; Nothing so difficult as to see all the follies of entranced Lovers.  
But the chiefest way amongst many humane Industries, which tend to the curing of Love [it being to no end to hold long Discourses, and to appoint many Meditations to a sharp Fever, which is full of rave, and furious symptoms] is to owe all our health this way to the fear of God, to Prayer, Fasting, and Devotion, which is far better than all other inventions.  
Make use also often of the memory of death. Set an assiduous watch over thy eyes, ears, heart, and senses. Avoid anger, since anger and love work upon one subject. Absent yourself from that Presence which is the nourishment of your Flames. Those Comets which are said to be fed by the vapours of the Earth, are no longer maintained, than nourishment is afforded; and that Love, which burns and shines like a false Star in our heart, will soon go out, if you refuse sustenance from the face you admire, and the company which entertains you in an enchanted Palace, full of chains and charms.  
Withdraw yourself then betime from this captivity; gain the Haven, before the storm surprise you; for if you be once engaged, there is neither Arm nor Oar can bring you safe. Let us enter seriously into ourselves, and daily consider what passeth there, cutting off this Passion which raiseth such a Storm within us. Let us ever keep a vigilant Guard, lest Satan betray us and our lusts (like expert Enemies, who politicly strengthen themselves with all advantages) make head against us. And lastly, Let us throw out this Jesabel, who with her Natural cruelty hath slain so many Innocents', ruined so many Cities, disturbed States, and let us come out of that servitude in which (like a Mill-wheel) we labour much, and get little; and which hath always folly for guide; Poverty for Dowry, and Misery for recompense.   

That Outward Ornaments should not invite our Love.  
HE that loves the World, and the Glories thereof, entertains a thousand businesses, and every business hath a world of employments, and those so multiplied by variety of circumstances, as that it is troublesome to understand them, and much more to encounter with them: whereas sweet are the sleeps of those, who prefer heaven before earth, and Chastity and Temperance, before the wantonness and impurities of a debauched conversation.  
Why (alas!) then should we ruin our certainties in the fruitless expectation of vanity and shadows? What slender footing will these accessary commodities have, when death, deformity, poverty, contempt, and sickness are at our heels? Let us timely consider then, how many boxes full of Pills the fairest Beauties have at home in their Chests, to take when the Rheum and other infirmities assail them: Since God gives us leave to dispose of our dislodging from these fading Tabernacles, shall we not prepare ourselves unto it? O let us seasonably bid farewell to our company, and let us shake off those violent Hold-fasts, which estrange us from our future happiness.  
As those eyes seldom burn with Lust, which are bedewed with Tears; so those who prefer the light of God's presence before all corporal Beauty, do easily perceive how little it is to be regarded. They will not exchange the glorious Sun, for the light of a candle. Here they can have no Lightning without the Thunder, that makes it seems more dreadful than delightful; and therefore will prefer a silent night before a tempestuous day; and the everlasting views of the face of God, before the false Lights of the world.  
The light of the Sun (indeed) lighteth all the world, but how useless will it be, when Jesus [who is the true light of the world] shall appear in the glory of heaven. The Rose looks fair (indeed) but is not the Beauty faded, and the sweetness expired, oftentimes, before the scars in gathering of it be healed? The honey seems pleasant to the taste, but alas! Who would have it with so many smarting stings?  
Thou (then) that art taken with a pleasing smile; thou whom a sigh, a glance, or tears beguile; oh, turn thine eyes aside! Forbear to Sail in so dangerous a Tide, lest Siren's assail, or shipwreck attend thee; few attaining their desired harbour with such a wind of vanity; all thy labour and rowing in so leaking and weatherbeaten a Vessel, will prove at last but as a handful of waters to a man that is drowning, which will help rather to destroy then save him.  
Alas! What is the Beauty that thou so admirest? When the night comes, it is nothing to thee; and while thou hast gazed on it, Hath it not withered away? Canst thou not even shut thy eyes, and fancy all into darkness or deformity? Or will not a few leprous spots, or malignant ulcers, soon divert thy affections, and make the Idol of thy Love to become the sad spectacle of thy distaste? Suppose that thou saw'st that beautiful Carcase lying on a Bier, carrying to be buried, or rotting in a grave, the skull digged up, and the bones scattered, where will be thy lovely object? Canst thou then love a skin full of dirt?  
Or didst thou but behold thy beautiful Dalilah, thy lovely Mistress, on a dying Bed, panting, schrieching, groaning, turning from one side to another, and panting for breath, her eyes gastfully rolling, her lips fading, her hands trembling, her mouth distorted through violent Convulsions, those White and Reds (so much admired) turned into a black swarthiness, and her whole body declining into clay; Ah tell me now what thou thinkest! Canst thou now sweetly embrace it, or take any pleasure in it? O my Soul then! Withdraw thy thoughts from the fading Beauties of the world: Let not the shadow, but the Sun direct thee: Labour to fix thy eyes upon the only true and lovely object of thy eternal happiness.   

That when all Loves fail, the Love of God remains.  
THe Soul of man is unsatisfied, nothing but the Creator thereof will content it: It walks but sadly amongst the Riches, Honours, and Dignities of the world; all the joys, glories, and beatitudes of the earth, afford it no comfort. It wholly represents God as the beginning and end of all things, and is ravished with its glory, as poor creatures use to be with the heat of the Sun. It is he alone which the soul seeks, esteems, and honours: All that she sees, hears, or understands besides, is nothing to her, if it carry not his Name, and take colour from his Beauty; she well knows she shall get all by loving him, and death itself, which comes from his Love, is the gate of Life.  
Here, we every night find a little death in our sleep: sickness and pains are still subject to overtake us, neither indeed do we know what belongs to a Crown, Sceptre, or Kingdom while we are in this base life: But surely, had we talked [only] one quarter of an hour with a blessed Soul departed, and discoursed of the State of the other life, Oh! How would our heart dissolve into desires? How would we hasten to go out of that ruinous house, where of we are but Tenants? How would we be ravished to hear these words, Go faithful soul, out of this Body, go out with joy, in full peace and safety; the eternal mountains [those glorious Heavens] and all the goodly company of Angels, and blessed Spirits, which there inhabit, will there receive thee? Go on confidently, behold God is ready to wipe away all thy Tears; No more sorrows, no more clamours; behold an Estate altogether new? Oh, What Repose! What Peace! What cessation of Troubles shall we there meet with!  
Our Saviour met the Youngman that was carried to Burial, at the Gate of Naim, Luke 7.11. [which is interpreted, The Town of Beauties] to show us, that neither Beauty, nor Youth, are freed from the Laws of Death. And it was not impertinately storied of a young man, who going eagerly after the pursuit of his Lusts, met a dead Corpse in his way, which occasioned his return, and the future amendment of that, and other his exorbitant and lascivious courses.  
And truly, as the consideration of our ashes will humble us under the greatest Pride, so will it abate and consume our burning Lust; he being very strong by Nature, or wicked by his own choice, who will not amend himself, having ashes for his Glass, and death for his Mistress.  
Oh! What then is it (silly dust and ashes!) that thus strangely inflames thy swelling veins, when the least breath, or show of death, is like Belshazzar's hand-writing on the Wall, ever ready to affright thee? Wilt thou then pursue those seeming joys and fancies which will at last vanish into a dejected Melancholy? Wilt thou unadvisedly let lose the Reins of thy affections, towards the enjoyment of such perishing Pleasures? If so, oh! How dearly wilt thou buy thy folly!  
What are we alas! and what is all we call ours? To day we flourish, and are well spoken of; we please, and are in favour with men. But (out alas!) our flower will fade to morrow, and we shall be evil spoken of, and out of favour with God and man.  
And whither tends all this (O my soul!) but to tell thee, that thou art made to wait on thy Lord, and Spouse, and wholly to thirst after Divine things; neither must thou ever think to attain perfect rest and happiness in the troublesome Bed of this world. Three cubits of earth will suffice us, and how little or much soever we possess, how beautiful or deformed soever we are, this is all shall be left us. Yet, how often (O God) doth it come to pass, that for a little deceitful Beauty, a little fugitive honour, a little filthy pleasure [and that not long] we so slightly regard the joys of heaven, neither dread the everlasting pains of hell.  
He that but truly be-thinks himself of Haman's pride, of Belshazzar's sacrilege, Ahab's covetousness, Absolon's hair, Sampson's locks, and Dives riches, shall quickly find, that these things wherein we most presumed, and which we esteemed our best support, may suddenly become the occasion of our ruin and destruction. You then that say, Come, and let us enjoy the pleasures that are; let us take our fill of precious wine, and sweet perfumes, and no way lose the flower of our time; let us crown ourselves with Roses, before they fade away, and let no meadow be untraversed by us; O that ye would but a little apprehend, that what this way seems most to afford you content, exposeth you a hundred times a day to the hazard of your lives.  
For how little alas! is the continuance [at best] of all the favours of Fortune? When one Sunshine of pleasure is past, in comes a Tempest; and when one storm is dispersed, how are we again cast into new despairs; and [at last] with what dreadful complaints (able to rend Rocks and Marbles asunder) will we lament our sins, then presented unto us, like so many Furies, which heretofore we esteemed so light.  
If then at any time thou art taken with the Siren and pleasing smiles of the world; if thou seem here to content thyself in the beholding of earthly Palaces, rich furniture, exquisite pictures, and sweet Perfumes; if thou seem here to please thy melancholy Fancy, in high Mountains, goodly Forests, rich Marbles, fair Meadows, pleasant Rivers, and beautiful Flowers; O do but be-think thyself! What are these? What is this to Heaven? What is this to Eternity? All being but a little Atom to the unspeakable joys of the Celestial Paradise.  
Earthly delights may (I confess) astonish, but can never satiate our senses. Temporal Beauty is but a transitory charm, an illusion of our senses, a Flower which hath but a moment of life, and a Dyal, which we never look on, but when the Sun shines: What is humane glory, but a Dunghill covered with snow, a Glass painted with false colours, a sugared Fruit gilded with poison, or a dangerous Hostess in a fair House? Shall we then trust so fading a good? Shall we hazard our Souls in so unhappy a snare? Or, shall we tie out contentments to so slippery a knot? Or dote upon temporal goods, which like chirping Birds, give us only a little Music in the Summer, and so fly away?  
There are some, who upon these words of the Psalmist, By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, have compared the temporal goods and delights of the world to these Waters; not only for their swift running away, and never returning; but for their trouble in procuring, and their sorrow in losing; and well may we therefore hang up our Harps, and sit down weeping, while we live in this Babylon of Captivity.  
And surely, Wisdom tells us, that such is the vanity of all earthly goods, as that there is nothing so great in this Vale of Tears, whose loss should any way disquiet us. What are our bodies but the food of worms? Our gaudy Attires, but nourishment for Moths? Our stately pyled Houses, but stones and mortar? Our most precious Jewels, but the excrements of an enraged Sea [which borrow their worth from our weak fancy] and all our honours, but the golden Masks and Weathercocks of inconstancy?  
O unfortunate Worldling! Where then are thy thoughts fixed? What is here in the world that can deserve thy love? Behold the whole Fabric of the Creation, and see what thou canst meet with worth thy affection? Canst thou then embark thyself among such treacherous Sirens? Seest thou not that thy riches, friends, reputation, companions, and all will at last forsake thee, as a Butterfly, which escapes the hand of a child? Whereat then aims thy strong Ambition? What means thy burning Avarice, Thy profuse Riot? What will one day become of thy wretched profit, thy fading pleasures? Will not all vanish into fancy, and a body of smoke; and nothing avail thee, when thy mouth shall be stopped with eternal silence?  
Be not then so bad a Merchant, as to sell things eternal for temporal. It is for silly flies to gad only in the Sunshine of this world: This Enchantress, which thou so much admirest, and enjoyest after thy own lusts, will at last prove but a very bad bargain, full of vanity, deception, and sorrow.  
Ah! That thou shouldest love poison, and embrace death! That we should seek our own ruin and confusion! Doth the world tempt thee to honour? Oh despise it in humility: If to Riches, O scorn it in contentment. And O my Soul! Let not the wings of thy love to God, be entangled with the birdlime of temporal things! God hath espoused thee a chaste Virgin to himself; Let not those Love-tokens which he hath sent to engage thy Affections, more strongly to himself, seduce thy heart from him, who except he may have the choicest, will admit of none of thy love.   

Temporal Goods cannot content the Soul, and therefore deserve not our Love.  
ALl the happiness and felicity of man in this world, is a Dream; it comes on we know not how, and when it vanisheth, we cannot so much as discern whether it is gone: Yea, How do all the possessions thereof pass away in an unperceived motion. When we suppose them fast locked in our arms, they creep from us in a mist or smoke, which silently steals out at the chimney's top, after it hath fouled and smutted it within.  
Our life is but like the nest of some silly Bird, whose best composure and materials are straw and dust; and as soon doth the stately Palaces and Courts of the greatest Princes decay, as the poor resting place of a Swallow comes dropping down at the approach of Winter. What (alas!) shall I say? since wheresoever we reflect our eyes, we shall find cause sufficient to dissolve them into Tears. If we look up to heaven, while we behold our Country aloof, we cannot but consider ourselves in banishment: If on earth, it is but the upbraiding remembrance of our grave; and how proudly soever we trample it under our feet at present, it makes full account to have the disposure of our heads; yea, the greatest Emperors after death, are found sitting in Vaults under earth in silence, and mournful Majesty.  
Neither is there any thing (when all other Beauty, Honours, and happiness proves brittle and inconstant) which remains to yield us comfort, but the benefit we receive from the few hours we spend in Prayer, Meditation, and the Exercises of a pious life. Now, now is the time, that in one little part of an hour, we may obtain pardon here, which all Eternity shall not hereafter. Now is the time, that in one short day we may have more debts so given us, then in all the years and times to come.  
Here may we so lament for sins committed, as to escape everlasting punishment: Here's nothing but the fearful cracks of ruins every where, the dreadful roaring of storms and tempests on every side. Our house still threatens its fall, and we are (with S. Stephen) in the midst of a violent shower of stones on every hand, and shall we not think of retiring ourselves to our heavenly Country? Shall we not willingly then leave the house of our Pilgrimage here, for those glorious Mansions above! O happy Country! O blessed Mansions, which are provided for us in our Father's house!  
But O Eternity, Eternity! How little do we think on thee? Or strive to avoid those endless miseries, and those perpetual nights of horror and sadness, which custom in sinning will assuredly bring upon us? Alas! What more fond, then for a little earthly Beauty, for Riches, and for the love of this world, to lose heaven, and procure eternal wretchedness? Alas! How do all the sweet waters of our pleasures, at last run hastily into a Sea of sorrows and bitterness? How doth sadness dive into the bottom of the Soul, when delights tickle us in the outside of the skin? How like a bunch of Grapes (saith S. Bernard) are the Worldlings joys, whose juice is pressed out? How full of disquietness are they? Their fullness (at best) being seasoned with shame and repentance. Oh! How do they (like abortives) die in the birth; yea, too often prove the executioners of the owners, or leave us, like a poor Pilgrim, despoiled by thiefs?  
We find our Saviour dissuading his Disciples from Ambition, Matth. 20.20. and to call Riches thorns, as bearing fair flowers, but the fruit very bad; yea, serves as a shelter for Vipers and serpents. Yet, oh insatiable Avarice! Whither dost thou transport our manners and understanding? Ah! the forgetfulness of our condition: Alas! What are we? Whence came we? Was it not a few years since we were born naked, creeping on the earth, and having a mouth open to cries and hunger; and do we think we have nothing, except we possess all things?  
Alas! Our misery lies in our life; we die, when we do not die; In our last end is all our happiness, which will transport us from earth to heaven, from Egypt to Canaan, if so be we make it our care to avoid as well the affections as the presence of all the creatures of this world, and unite ourselves to God by the practice of virtues, which will serve as so many steps to glory.  
Nor is there any other way to take away the sting of death, or make our life comfortable. Our honour will lie in the dust, and sleep in a Bed of earth. Our Riches will not deliver us in the day of wrath: what if thou leave them behind to procure a few mourning weeds to attend thy Hearse, or erect some glorious Monument to thy memory; yet will they at last rather afflict then relieve thee at the hour of thy passage. Oh, but thou wilt say, thy friends shall help thee: Alas! All that they can do, is but to attend thee to thy last resting place, and to shed some friendly [perchance feigned] Tears, for leaving them behind thee! Such miserable comforters are all things thou canst think on here below.  
When all things leave thee, the love of God, and a good Conscience will be thy familiar friends, and which must ever attend thee: That Balmof Gilead, which must cheer thee; and that Palm of Peace which must at last crown thee: And truly, we have daily need of God, and not of man to help us: One cries out here, Wretch that I am, who will help me out of misery? Where shall I find Tears enough to save me? Another cries out, What shall I do? Must I needs leave my only Father, my dear Husband, my loving Brother, my sweet and only Child? Oh let me die! Some good body or other make an end of me!  
The black clouds of sorrow sometimes so sadly overshadow us, as that (with Jacob) we rend our clothes, and will needs go down with sorrow to our Grave; We often cry out, What, for ever? In aeternum valedicere? What, to part for ever? To forsake the world, and all our friends, what more troublesome? What? To take this young betrothed, this poor Maid, this intended Husband? What? To lay hold on one so well beloved, in the flower of his age, so fresh, so flourishing, so full of Honour and Prosperity? O cruel and malicious Death! What? Hast thou Ears of Brass and Diamonds, and wilt not hear our cries? Alas! What do I here? I am but a living death, and an unprofitable burden to the earth! Why hadst thou not rather taken away this Beggar, that Cripple, who hath not wherewith to live? Ah Death! Now shoot the utmost of thy Darts!  
Thus do our humane respects too often seem to withstand the Divine Providence. But oh thou that art thus unwilling to part with a Dunghill, an earthly Cottage, to enjoy a life of perpetual Beauty and felicity! What (alas!) may we think of thee? That Heaven should open itself to thee, and thou wilt neither embrace it, nor open thy heart to love him that offers it? Alas! O Soul [many times ungrateful and disloyal] what wilt thou answer for so great a neglect, when God shall call thee to an account? Ah! If we love any thing in the world, let us love it for life eternal! The joys of heaven are without example. Oh that we might then know our names to be written in the book of Life! Oh how should we find our Spirits ravished with those beautiful Ideas of glory?  
Where can we more fitly commend ourselves, then unto so vast a bosom of Compassion, as shall set a period to all the miseries of this sinful life? To God (I say) who is an endless Ocean, and boundless Sea of mercy: How can we better fix our thoughts then on our crucified Saviour, and in his countenance, to read the lively characters of that infinite love he bears us: the remembrance of death itself, being sweet to those who lead their life so, as to meet him comfortably, as their Judge at the last day. It will be no more to him to die, then is one nights sweet repose on a bed of Roses.  
Who can but behold the spirit of Jesus amongst those great Convulsions of the world, moving round about the Cross, in the midst of those bloody dolours, insolent cries, and insupportable blasphemies? O behold, and see him there, as in a Sanctuary, bleeding, weeping, and praying, yea mingling his prayers with his tears and blood, and at last, to die unmovably upon the Throne of his patience.  
Oh madness of men! That spend all their time, increase their account, and lose so many fair opportunities [when they might have gotten heaven for a tear, a sigh, or a groan from a penitent heart] for the attaining of that, which not only proves their eternal ruin hereafter, but occasions their miserable vexation here. O worldlings! Thus to deceive yourselves! Who shall weep over you, since you know not how to lament and bewail yourselves? Why alas! are you so careful and tender of your bodies, yet daily entangle your poor souls in a thousand vanities, a thousand Courtships, and a thousand worldly loves, which defile you, and must one day be discharged at a dear rate.  
Miserable wretches! How will you then cry out, what have we done? Once had we time to have wrought out our salvation [O precious time!] but these golden days are past: And have we thus miserably undone ourselves? Come Rocks, and fall upon us! Come ye Furies and tear us, until we moulder into nothing.  
Sad creatures then as we are, to procrastinate and put off our Repentance! Since the Sun, which goes so many miles in a minute, and the Stars in the Firmament, which go many more, make not so much speed, as our body hastens to the Grave. The devouring sword, the consuming fire, the winds from the Wilderness, the Diseases of the Body, and all that afflicted holy Job, are still at our heels; what daily reports do we hear? Such a man is slain, another is drowned, a third breaks his neck; this man died eating, that man playing, another sleeping; this by accident, that by his own hands; Oh how great an Elephant, and yet how small a Mouse can destroy us; a pin, a comb, a hair (pulled out) hath gangrened: Nay, our joy, our mirth, and laughter, our shame, and blushing may ruin us; and in the very flower of our youth, and blossom of our age, we may be untimely nipped, and sent down into the dust.  
And alas! If God but a little withdraw our breath, vain is the power of art, vain is the Physician's skill, vain and fruitless are the sighs and tears of thy friends, yea vain and helpless are the wishes of all our kinsfolk. Here sits one weeping, there another lamenting; yet all to no purpose: Neither is it Beauty, or the Damask skin, that can help us, when we feel the slow pace of our panting pulse: It is not mirth, nor greatness, which can then affect us, when death in a moment shall dissolve all our honour into darkness. The whole world cannot afford us content, when our Soul is expiring from our body. Neither can all her alluring baits, smiling blandishments, and beautiful temptations avail thee, when thy spirits shall tremble with affrightful pangs, when all thy senses shall decline, and all the faculties of thy soul attempt which way soon to leave thy body.  
O then, that we did but present unto ourselves, the sad and miserable condition at present, and the happiness which is to come; How effectual it would be to raise up our thoughts from the fading blossoms, and perishing pleasures of this transitory world! How would it comfort us in all conditions whatsoever? How little would we care for the losses and crosses of this world, did we think of a heavenly kingdom?  
We are all [in the time of our absence from God] but strangers upon earth: Let us then pass the time of our sojourning here in fear; 1 Pet. 1.17. and then he needs not care for ill usage in his pilgrimage here, who knows he is a King at home. But alas! We too often eat husks, when we should feed on Manna: Great riches cannot make our clothes warm, nor our meat more nourishing, why then do we tumble in the mires of this world?  
Seek rather (O Christian Soul!) for that Kingdom whereof there is no end; that Kingdom which is infinitely glorious, Luke 1.33. and every way blessed, the King that ruleth is eternal, and they that live there, never die; Let our hearts and mouths be ever filled with the praises of it; Let our thoughts and words ever bend towards it, since we have no other way then this to attain any true and lasting glory.  
Let us also wholly resign ourselves to him that sent us here. We have too long lived in the Gardens of Adonis, which in the beginning make show of Flowers, but at last bring forth nothing but Thorns. Let us then fix a nail in the wheel of this furious, and yet inconstant Chariot, lest at last we expose ourselves to the hazard of a precipitous fall. Can there be a greater victory then to conquer our own tumultuous thoughts, in such a conjuncture of time, when our own ruin lies at stake? Can we better use our choicest skill, then to shake off those enchanting embraces, and turn away our earsfrom those betraying sighs, lest (like that insolent Conqueror, who was vanquished by his own slave) we become strangely cruel to ourselves.  
Alas! That we did but consider how fearful will be the case of those who have neglected the day of their salvation! If it be a troublesome thing to be tied to a Bed of Roses (though but for a little time) with silken strings, oh, what may we think of those damned Souls, which must dwell in a bed of Flames, as long as there is a God  
It will be in vain then to cry to the Hills to fall on us, and to the Mountains to cover us; It will be in vain to repent, and wish we had not slighted the day of our Visitation, nor sold it for a little pleasure: It will be in vain then to cry, Lord, open to us, oh spare us, oh pity us, do not cast us into Eternal Burn: O what ease! What eternal darkness! Blinded world! Prostituted World! Desperate World! Ah hadst thou but known, Hadst thou but known! But alas! Thy unhappiness hath put a Scarf before thine eyes.  
O poor secure Worldlings! What will you then do, when he that will be your Judge, shall come in the clouds of Glory and Majesty? Where will you hid yourselves? What shall cover you? Mountains are gone, the Earth and Heavens do pass away, and how do you wish yourselves might melt away as they do? But ah, wishes are now in vain! To what end dost thou cry Lord, Lord! It is too late [alas!] too late, why then dost thou look about thee? Whither dost thou run? Can any save thee? Wretches as you are! To what pass have you brought yourselves? How happy had you now been if you had believed and obeyed, having only time left to bewail and lament your miserable condition?  
Ah drowsy earthy Creatures! Are you still hanging downward, when heaven is before ye? Are you sleeping, when so great a Treasure is set before you? Are ye taken up with your delights and pleasures? Had ye rather sit down in dirt and dung, then walk in the Palace of Heaven? Is it better to be there, then above with your Saviour? Alas, deceived Soul! Come away then out of the Wilderness of this World, make no excuses, frame no delays, look not back on thy worldly business, thy unbridled lusts, thy sinful company which here took up thy thoughts in this howling Desert, this Valley of Tears.  
Do but consider how soon thou art to departed hence, then wilt thou find what thou hast neglected, in following trifles, and so much minding thy provision in the way, whilst thou art hastening so fast to another world, and thy eternal happiness lies at stake. How wilt thou then cry out upon thy rocky heart, thy proud and unbelieving heart, thy Atheistical, and Idolatrous, and worldly heart, yea thy carnal and sensual heart, for here toiling, and selling an endless glory for worldly vanities, and adventuring the loss of heaven, for the pleasure of sin; to have thy portion in this life (where the best things are often the lot of the most miserable wretches) and to lose thy part in heaven, and eternal happiness; to take up thy ease and dwelling here in a nest of straw of wind and vanity, [the greatest of Plagues, and forest of curses which God can give thee over to] and to lose thy part in Paradise, and thy Mansion in the heavenly Jerusalem.  
But oh the strange averseness of our souls from God that we should account our misery a happiness! Nay, that we should rather groan under any intolerable burden and servitude, then seek our happiness in him! That we should think these Honour's delightful, that Beauty tempting, those goods, lands, and houses, our dependence, that merry company our solace, that health and strength contentful, those buildings, walks, apparel, and pastimes to be pleasant, and (after all those seeming enjoyments, and heart-contenting thoughts) we shall look behind us, and see death with open mouth proclaiming these words; Fool, this night shall thy soul be taken from thee.  
O gross Idolatry, to make any creature, or means, our reliance! To place any dependence on the world's favours! to settle our soul upon such hazardous enjoyments, or to say, here am I well, here will I rest. And wilt thou here rest (oh my soul!) on the top of those tempestuous mountains? Wilt thou swallow down those deceitful baits, where death is nearest, when the pleasure seems sweetest? Alas! Settle not in this perishing world, where all our days are sorrow, and our labour, grief.   

The Souls solitude and content in her Separation from the great enticements of the world.  
HOw strange a thing is it, that God is always with us, and we are so little with him? We have our life, our being, our moving from him, and yet all this while we scarce know what he is. Alas! What is the cause? But that our eyes are dazzled with the false lights of the world, they are darkened with so many mists and vapours of our own appetites and passions, as that we cannot see the goods of heaven in the brightest of the day.  
Whereas (to speak true) our Soul should always be languishing after her Jesus, and count it a sad thing to be separated from him so much as in thought. Would we but learn a little to talk with him; O how would it sweeten the sadness of our Pilgrimage, by the contemplation of his Beauties! Were we but embarked in his Vessel, while we sail on the Seas of this troublesome world, we would not amuse ourselves to gather Cockles on the shore, but we would always have our eyes fixed upon Paradise.  
Or had we but our eyes well opened, to penetrate and see what the world is, we should find its chains (indeed) to have a certain pleasure, and seeming vigour in them, but only painted, and attended with a most certain sorrow, and uncertain contentment. Yea, we should then say of all the most ravishing Objects thereof, How senseless was I when I Courted you? O deceitful World! Thou didst appear great to me, when I saw thee not as thou art, but so soon as I did see thee aright, thou wert not more more to me but just nothing.  
Whither then dost thou straggle, O my Soul; Whither dost thou fly? O seek out him, who hath marked his steps with his great Conquests! Who hath made visible his way by his own light, paved it with his wounds, and watered it with his most precious blood. Say unto him (at least) O my Jesus! Stay with me, for it is late in my heart, and the night is far advanced by the want of true light. Alas (O my Lord!) wherefore art thou pleased to hid thyself from a Soul that languisheth for thee? Ah! Take away the vail from my eyes, and suffer thyself to be seen in the habit of thy excellent Beauties!  
Oh my God If I cannot enter as sorrowful as I would into my grave, I will yet go repentant into some obscure and savage Cave, where the Sun shall no more shine on a head so sinful as mine, or trace some desert mountains, where with freedom I may pour forth my sighs and complaints. There will I make that mouth which hath been often the gate of unchaste and idle speeches, to become a Temple of thy Praises. There shall those arms and hands, which have been the chains of wanton embracements, have room enough to be lifted up in prayer to heaven: mine eyes (O mine eyes!) which first received that fire which hath so passionately devoured my Soul, shall there turn Fountains, and want no water to wash that heart which hath so long been a burning Furnace of worldly lusts and affections: and those feet which have strayed in the ways of sin and wickedness, shall there traverse and weary themselves in the desolate paths of Furies and wild Beasts.  
Briefly, O my God Since I have so betrayed my heart, abused my youth, spent prodigally thy treasures, and made Crowns of silver to the Idol of my own inventions; since I have forsaken thee, who art the unchangeable, eternal, and incomparable goodness, (and without whom all other goods are nothing) to follow the wanton fires of my own lusts; where alas? shall I find Tears sufficient to wash away my Offences? Where shall I find parts enough of my body to be offered up as the Sacrifice of my Repentance? Wash me, wash me again, O my Jesus! Make clean, I beseech thee (merciful Saviour!) my most sinful Soul; What though it were as black as hell, yet (being once in thy hands) how soon will it become more white than that Dove of silver wings, whereof the Prophet speaks!  
Oh my God Have some pity on that heart, which is so many times torn in pieces, and strays among so great a multitude of Objects, which estrange, and draw me from thee! Draw me (O Lord!) from the great throng of so many inferior things, that so I may retire into my own heart, and find peace in thee. Make me to see the first beams of that Liberty which thou grantest to thy children. Ah! When shall my thoughts return from wand'ring in those barren Regions where thou art not acknowledged? When shall they cease to run in full career after all that pleaseth their sense, and account thy Cross only, and the Throne on Mount Calvary, to be the true Pathway to heaven?  
Here I am (I confess) in the Wilderness of sin, in the Desert of this world; O when shall I be reunited, and so purified by thy favours, that I may celebrate continual days of Feasting in my Soul! I was one of those [and I cannot deny it] that through my sins, helped to apprehend thee in that obscure and dolorous night, wherein thou wert betrayed; and when thou enteredst into the Garden of Mount Olivet; to expiate the sin committed [in a Garden] by our first Parents; Were not my sins then the Traitors that laid hold on thee? Were they not my sins which drew those bitter sorrows from those most dainty Sweets? Which made thee suffer pains in a place of delight, and turned that place which was made for Recreation, into a dismal Den of Desolation?  
Oh sad change! Ah, my Jesus! What hath my sins brought upon thee? Those Olives, which were tokens of Peace, did there denounce War against thee; the Plants there did groan, the Flowers were flowers of death, and those clear Fountains, were turned to fountains of sweat and blood: What then remains, but that I be now ashamed of all the fading curiosities of the world? Ah! Shall I not study this Garden? And (forsaking all other pleasures) make my heart fit ground for Jesus to reside and delight in? O beautiful Garden! since made so by the sighs of my dear Saviour. Here let me only breathe in thy walks, let me lose myself, that I may never be lost with my God: Let me gather thy flowers, since thou hast decked them with thy blood; Let me wash myself in those Fountains which thou hast sanctified with thy sweat.  
O my dear Saviour! Let me have no other Will but thine. Wilt thou be abridged of thy own Will, to give me an example of mortifying my Passions, and shall I retain any wicked or inordinate appetite? Hast thou (like the Dove of Noah's Ark) escaped the Deluge of so many Passions, and torrents of dolours, falling headlong so fast on one another, to bring me green Olive-branch of peace, and shall my soul be so audacious, as to wage war against thee by my sins? O what earth could then open wide enough to swallow me! What, thus to live with a hand stretched out against heaven, which pours out for nothing but Flowers and Roses? Out alas!  
No, no, Reign (O my dear Saviour!) within all the conquered powers of my Soul. Let thy Wounds be the adored Altars of my Vows: Let me hereupon promise an inviolable fidelity to thy service; Let me live no more but for thee, since thou makest my life to flourish with thy triumphant Resurrection.  
Ah my Soul! Dost thou want any thing to provoke thy Love? Is there not a Sea of Love here before thee? Cast thyself in then, and swim in the Ocean thereof: Sat no longer under the weeping banks of worldly sorrow; Thou hast long sat mourning with Hagar, 
Gen. 21.15. 1 Kin. 19.6. 2 King. 6.16.  in this Valley of Tears. Thou hast long been in the posture of Elias, sitting down under the Tree, forlorn and solitary; yea, desiring rather to die then to live. Nay, how many times hast thou cried out (with Elisha) Alas, What shall I do? and with passionate Jonah, I am weary of my life?  
When shall I be out of this frail, this corruptible Body, this ruinous, ensnaring, and deceiving flesh? O when shall I be out of this vexatious world, whose vain pleasures are but deluding Dreams? What remains then, O my Soul! But that thou strive to get out of this sink of sadness, this skin full of groans, this snow-bail of Tears, this Carcase of fears, this channel of the wa●●rs of affliction, and betake thyself wholly into the arms of thy Saviour.   

The Soul complaineth of her Condition and Misery, by reason of the darkness and ignorance of sin.  
THe Spirit of Man naturally tendeth to God, as its first cause; neither can take any contentment without him, though too often (indeed) hindered by the weight of the Body, and the bait of Concupiscence. He will what God will; loves what God loves; and if in this wayfaring life, his love sticks upon frivolous objects [which like foolish Fires, lead him into precipices and dangerous paths] he speedily complains how much he is misguided.  
Now the reason hereof is, That as every thing tendeth to the imitation of its Original, so a Soul [truly Christian] hath all its strength and vigour from God. He is the end of all his works; and if God chance to fail it, the whole Fabric of its salvation falls to the ground.  
When a gracious heart hath its eyes cleared by the Rays of Divine Majesty, he is at the end of its journey, and no longer entertaineth a multiplicity of desires, since he hath found the Centre of Eternal rest. And well then may the Soul of man, which is out of the Limits which God hath assigned it, find Inns to lodge in, but never find a Home to reside in.  
Alas, than what is our life, and the affairs of man? That which is past, is nothing; the present is a fantasy; and the future an Abyss; where even those that stand on the brink, see not any thing. Our life (only) is hid in Christ, as saith the Apostle. And surely, he only who knows how to accommodate himself to the Will of his Saviour, knows only how to live, and hath found the industry of an infinite happiness, in the accomplishment of his desires.  
Neither is there any thing so turmoiled, so torn, and so divided, as a Soul, which hath always before it the Image of its own crimes. And this is it which makes the Vermilion of the cheeks to fade; that maketh paleness to overspread all the face; hence is it, that a miserable man being fallen as it were into a Tempest [not foreseen] cries out, Humane hopes, where are ye? Ah true dreams of airy Fancies! Fleeting fires! which shine not but to extinguish yourselves, and (being put out) bereave us of all true light, leaving only the ill savour and sorrow of losing all your seeming glories: To what shall I compare your Beauties? but to those who carry under a smooth face, a heart spotted like the skin of a Panther? What are your Pleasures, but like those enchanted Islands, which recoil backward, and vanish when men most think to approach them.  
Alas my Tears! What fitness can ye find to bemoan my misery? Alas, my eyes! Why are those flames, which once so sweetly blazed in you, now fallen into an Eclipse? My voice is interrupted, and words imperfectly spoken; all the Organs and Bands of my Body are loosened and untied; Oh how doth fear and trembling spread itself over all the Basis of Nature's building?  
Nor is this evil passion, content only to seize on our Body, but it flieth to the superior Region of our Soul, to cause disorder, robbing it (almost in a moment) of memory, understanding, judgement, will, courage; yea rendering us benumbed, dull, and stupid in all our actions, and would a thousand times overcome us with Melancholy, were it not from the consolations drawn from the fountain of true piety. Alas, O Lord! How is our Soul confounded to see so many sparkles of pride, lust, and covetousness, arise from this Caitiff dust, which we are composed of! So little do we learn how to live, and so late how to die: which made S. Austin cry out, My God, my life, and my happiness! I confess my misery unto thee, after so many temporal consolations have separated me from thee!  
Thus is the poor Soul ever bewailing her condition, and bedewing that face with mournful Tears, wherein God once caused the sanctity of a gracious heart to be resplendent. And though formerly it had seemed cheerful, yet now alas, behold it (though heretofore retaining the vigour of holy alacrity) altogether dissolved with austerities and maladies: Nothing but spectres of terrors, ruin, outrages, solitudes, darknesses, revengeful thunders and innovations, extremely weaken and affright the heart, until (at last) having reckoned up the dolours which on every side environed her Saviour, she raiseth up herself (like the Palm) against the weight of her afflictions.  
O inestimable Bounty! O greatness unheard of! O inexhaustible love of God whose goodness is such, not only thus to divert our miseries, and fit them to our condition, but even from our Tears, to draw sweetness and consolation for our solace! Now as pious Hannah forsook all the distracted looks which sorrow caused in her, after she had conceived the little Samuel, so doth the poor Soul (being again honoured with the re-enjoyment of God in its heart, drive away all the disturbances of grief and sadness. Oh (saith she) what thoughts of Satan are these, to deliver up myself to distrust of comfort in the sight of a Jesus, who beareth my reconciliation on his sacred wounds, and pleadeth my cause before his eternal Father, with as many mouths as my sins in him have made wounds.  
It is not possible I should doubt of his love and fatherly goodness; if I look upon his hands, I shall there see it written with those nails that pierced them, I shall see it in his side which was opened for me, by that Lance which digged out the remainder of his life. Alas! Who was more destitute than man? more brutish and ignorant in so great a night, and horrible confusions? Who was more unfurnished with wise directions? And yet he affordeth us his examples: Who more forlorn? And yet he adopteth us for children: Who more needy? And yet he giveth us the treasure of his merits: Who more hungry? And yet he feedeth us with his flesh and blood: Who more imhappy? And yet how doth he divide every part of his body amongst us.  
O goodly spectacle to behold! How he blesseth us with his presence! How he replenisheth us by his greatness! How he governeth us by his power, and sanctifieth us by his influences? Oh for ever unhappy! If after so many benefits we remain still faithless and ungrateful: Lord! As thou revealest to me more of my misery, so reveal also more of thy mercy. I confess myself (indeed) to be too often entangled in some pleasant or profitable Lust: Satan is the Bellows, my corruption the tinder, and the world the wildfire to burn my soul, and so dangerously to withdraw my love, as that although (O my Saviour) thou art still calling me, yet am I loath to leave my Bed of ease, Cant. 5.1. How justly then (to prevent my spiritual pride) mayest thou leave me in ignorance and darkness, as thou didst thy Spouse; yea, to go to inquire, to pray, and yet not find the light of thy presence?  
But O Lord! Leave not this poor Soul of mine, but make it to understand the unmeasurableness of thy Bounties and Mercy! Oh for that day, when this knowledge of mine [now childish and darksome] shall be turned into a full and clear Vision; O happy darkness, if thus to become lightsome! The more hidden thou art now [blessed Saviour!] the more glorious wilt thou be then. Ah, that my heavy thoughts had the wings of an Angel, to soar aloft, amongst those celestial Quires!  
Methinks I see (when thou shalt be pleased to remove the screen of my mortal body, which now detains me from thy presence, and interrupts the view of thy glory) how nothing will be able to hinder the eagerness of my Soul, from flying to thee. Methinks I see Eternity too short to enjoy thee. Surely, there's no possibility of pleasure without thee, no faculty of Soul to wish, or think any thing but thee; yea, my Soul would more willingly wain into nothing, than part with thee; thou, my only incomprehensible and Eternal All, my dear, dearest Lord and God  
Adieu then those charming warbles of a fleeting and deceitful world! O merciful Father! Behold my prodigal Soul, which returns unto thee: Receive me as a mercenary servant, if thou wilt not receive me as a Son; for I resolve no longer now to run after the salt waters of worldly pleasures and contentments. The light of thy countenance is far better than life itself, being able to turn the shadows of death into life, and the midnight of the sharpest adversities into the noon-tide of joy and cheerfulness.  
Oh how great is the clemency of God, to hid from us the greatest part of things which will befall us in the world! The knowledge whereof, would continually overwhelm our wretched life with sadness and affrightment, and give us no leave to breathe among the delicious Objects of the earth. Had many great and eminent persons (mounted on the highest degree of honour) but seen how they were still falling into endless Abysses; or beheld the change of their Fortune, and the bloody ends of their life, it is impossible but the joys of their Triumphs would have been moistened with Tears, and (through a perpetual fear of inevitable necessity) they would have lost all the moments of their felicity.  
And did the poor and seemingly forsaken Soul, thoroughly at once apprehend the severe anger of an omnipotent God, what alas, would it do, when it sees itself menaced by the hideous and affrightful terrors and mischiefs of Satan? What shall the poor heart do, when God is pleased to write bitter things against it; when he shall scare it with dreams, and terrify it with Visions? Surely, not pains, imprisonments, poverty, or death itself can be more troublesome to it.  
Whereas the comforts of a quiet conscience (becalmed with the gracious incomes of Gods gracious presence, and enlightened with his glorious Beams, which expel the darkness and ignorance of our cursed Nature) as are so many threads of gold, which involve us here below in precious repose, and a certain expectation of beatitude, until at last we find wings to take our flight to the City of Peace and Refuge, promised unto us by that mouth which never erred, and whose Laws are established upon foundations stronger than the pillars of heaven and earth, and where we shall receive the excellent Promises, and clearest revelations of Eternity.   

The Soul admires the infinite Riches of her Saviour's Love, in taking Humane Nature upon him.  
WIth what admiration is not the heart of man seized on, when he entereth into the great Abysses which are discovered in our Redemption, and when he seethe Jesus [a Saviour] to reveal unto us the secrets and wisdom of heaven, by his blessed Incarnation.  
For what saw he in our Nature, but a brutish body, and a Soul all covered over with crimes, and wholly drenched in remediless miseries? Or what could he set before him, but a miserable ungracious wretch, cast forth upon the face of the Earth, wallowing in uncleanness, abandoned to all sorts of scorns and injuries: And yet behold how the Prince of Glory looking on us with the eyes of his mercy, taketh us, washeth, clotheth, adorneth, and tieth us to himself, by a hand of infinite Love: He laid aside the beautiful Angels, and came upon earth to seek this lost creature, though a Foe to his Honour, and injurious to his Glory.  
See, O my Soul! How that God [far beyond all other created Essences] hath been so liberal, as to bestow himself on thee! He bowed the Heaven, and came down, rendering his sacred Person subject to all the misery of humanity; to bruises, to tearings, to shatters, to violences, oppositions, and tyrannies; and all to accomplish a King of sorrow, calamity, and scorn. He laid aside all the Prerogatives of his most perfect Soul, exposing it to labours, to tears, and griefs, to those stupendious Throws in the Garden, which made him cry out in those expressive words, My God My God To what a point hast thou let me to be brought! and in the end, to be commended even to death itself.  
How alas! didst thou abandon thy body to heat, to cold, to weakness, to hunger, to thirst, to travel, to weariness, to fear, to sadness of Soul, and death itself?  
What was it but Love, and Love alone, that brought down God from heaven, to be incarnate in the womb of a Virgin, and to suffer all the hardships [not sinful] to which humane Nature is subject? So that thou art not able to conceive the multitude and greatness, nor any way comprehend the worth of his mercies. And what then canst thou say, but only lie gasping with admiration, of so vast, so unknown a goodness, and sigh out the rest in the Centre of thy heart?  
Good God What sublimate is made in the Limbeck of Love? What attractive was there in Humane Nature, to draw thee from the highest part of the heavens to its love? Thou (out of thy goodness) wouldst not lose him, who (through his own weakness) delighteth to lose himself.  
O miracle! That humane Nature should be thus tied to the Divine! That glory should be separated from the estate and condition of glory, yielding his Soul up as a prey to sadness! O dear Saviour! Thou stretchest out thy hand to him, who turns his back to thee. Man flieth as a Fugitive, and thou pursuest him even to the shadow of Death: What may we say more of so profuse a Bounty? Oh how thou courtest sinful flesh! Being not content to pardon his crimes, but even through thy own death to procure him a Kingdom.  
All the ancient Patriarches, who were persecuted in times past, and all the glorious Martyrs, who since our Saviour have endured such torments, made but a trial of his Dolours: Impatient souls then as we are! Can we expect a greater motive to suffering, then to have our Saviour for an example? Who then will complain? Or who is the man who cannot bear a small burden (to which he is tied by duty and nature) when he beholds this great Abyss of love, of mercy, of dolours, of ignomy, of blood, of lowliness, of admiration and amazement, which swalloweth up all thoughts, drieth up all mouths, and stayeth all Pens and hands.  
And canst thou, O my Soul! after all this, think any cross heavy, any affliction hard to endure? Canst thou choose but be vexed and enraged at thy repine? O my great and only good! Suppress those unreasonable follies which boil in my Breast; Make me know that whatsoever happens, good or bad to me, is my best portion, because it comes from thee. O rich Treasure! O mass of glory! In proportion to which, all the labours and tribulations which Men or Devils can heap on me, are nothing considerable.  
Thou hast seen also, O my Soul! with what unparallelled addresses, and exquisite inventions the Lord hath sought thee, and wooed thy love. He gave thee heaven and earth, with all their creatures, for thy motives to serve and love him. He made himself thy fellow and brother in flesh and blood; yea, he hath heaped on thee all the Names and Titles of Endearment, which either Nature or Use have introduced among mankind. He is thy Father, thy Spouse, thy Friend, thy Ransomer out of danger, thy Redeemer from thraldom and slavery, thy Saviour from death and misery; yea, he is thy food, thy drink, thyself.  
O Eternal Wisdomed How truly then didst thou say, It was thy delight to be with the Sons of men: Can Angels boast of such Privileges, of such tendernesses, of such Ecstasies of Love? No, None but so weak a Nature as Ours, was able to necessitate Goodness itself, to so deep a condescendence as this; and none but all goodness could so appropriate itself to all infirmities. O melting goodness, that fillest every Corner thou findest capable of thy perfection!  
We find the holy Frenzy of Love, to have possessed many of the Saints of God, here on earth, Moses, out of his extreme love to his Countrymen, wished himself blotted out of the Book of God, Exod. 32.32. S. Paul wished himself accursed, unless his brethren might be saved with him, Rom. 9.3. But if ever any exceeded in Love, above all the Love that was in the world; it was thou O Saviour! Joh. 10.20. who in the excess of thy Love to thy very Enemies, wouldst suffer thyself to be taken, delivered up, and shamefully put to death, for them.  
And in consideration whereof, it seems S. Hierom cries out; Oh, ungrateful man to thy God, whosoever thou art! considerest thou not the wonderful Love of him who is the Lord of heaven, to be delighted thus to do, and to suffer for thee? And thinkest thou thyself better, when thou art in the company of the wicked, and profane? Return Shunamite, return. And surely, methinks, we should not here so greedily seek after the delights and contentments of Nature; seeing the God of Nature so roughly handled in the world, which he built with his own hands. Ah! should not the Example of our Saviour, make us ashamed, when we nearly consider the sorrow of his life, and the ignomy of his death!  
We read of one further, who) considering this height of mercy, which aboundeth with all Riches, and hath the plenitude of all happiness) cryeth out in a great Ecstasy; O Love! What hast thou done? Thou hast changed God into man; thou hast drawn him out of the lustre of his Majesty, to make him a Pilgrim here on Earth; thou hast shut him nine months in the womb of a Virgin; 
Tu deum in hominem demutatum voluisti, tu deum abbreviatum paul sper à majestatis suae immenfitate, etc. Zeno. Ser. de Fide, Spe. & Charit.  thou hast annihilated the Kingdom of Death, when thou taughtest God to die.  
Ah, Love indeed! which drowneth all humane thoughts, which swalloweth all earthly affections, which causeth the Spirit to forget itself, and to look on nothing but Heaven. A Love which Angels study, and admire, whichman could not be without, and conceived in that fire, which Jesus came to enkindle on earth, to enflamethe whole world.  
Alas! who can choose but admire to think, how thou, O blessed Jesus descendest from the highest part of Heaven, to take our Nature upon thee, to charge thyself with our debts; to lay our Burdens and Miseries on thy own shoulders, to lodge in the silly Cottage of our Heart; to be despoiled of all for us; to become our Riches, by thy Poverty; Strength to us, by thy weakness. To become Contemptible, to make us Glorious; and full of Sufferings, to ease our servitude. To make thyself of a King, of Glory, a man of Sorrows, and to purchase our happiness with as many wounds, as thou hadst members.  
And shall none of those Arrows and shafts, flying on every side of thee (O my Soul!) wound thee to him? shall none of his Favours, Benefits, and Affections, descend into thee, to fill and replenish thee with flames of thankfulness and love? Canst thou still continue obdurate in the midst of those burning ardours, and not be wholly captivated with his Bounty; yea, altogether inebriated with the Ecstasies of his Love? Canst thou think of the infinite love of thy Saviour, in suffering for thee, and not admire his goodness? Canst thou read the History of his life [a life of Dolours from the Cradle to his Grave] and peruse it, without compassion? canst thou think of his death, and not commix the waters of thine eyes, with those of his water, and blood? Ah! canst thou consider all this, and not perpetually languish with fervent desires; yea, cause thy soul to melt and dissolve with spiritual languour, on the heart of thy beloved?  
O mirror! O Perfection! mine eyes dazzle in beholding thy Love; my Pen fails in writing thy Praises. O blind, if thou knowest not! O insensible, if thou neglectest it! and O unfortunate, if thou losest it! Go and see the Ashes of those who have been burnt with the world's love, and thou shalt see nothing comparable to his Love, who came to put us into the possession of all his greatness, by surcharging himself with our miseries.  
It may be, thou hast seen some to die on an Earthly Scaffold, who with the sweetness of their countenances, terrified the most terrible aspects of their Executioners. They did, they spoke, they suffered, they ordered their death, as matter of triumph. They comforted others, in a time, when they had much to do, not to complain themselves; But here, here is a Banquet, which carries with it all the benefits of Life, yet attended with an Edict of Death. Here's Cruelty mingled with Delights, Joy with Sorrow, and Pleasures with Funerals.  
Ah! what more could he possibly have done, than thus to suffer for us? He hath washed us in his blood, he hath regenerated us into his Love. If we endure any thing for him, he endureth with us; he weepeth for us, he prepareth eternal springs of consolations for us; yea, he mingleth all our griefs in the inexplicable sweetnesses of his bounty.  
O the excellency of divine Love, which thus causeth a Calm to be found in a Tempest, Safety in the midst of Dangers, Life on the brinck of Death, Comfort in Disasters, an Upholding in the midst of Weakness, and which protects so many people under the shadow of its Branches. Happy Souls! which flies hence into heaven, enriched with the purple stains of so heavenly a Fountain! yea, happy are the wounds from whence flow so much virtue and goodness.  
What greater mercy could there be, then to see a Humane Nature, sought unto by God, which was once despoiled of the Robe of Honour, and Diadem of Glory, as a just chastisement of its Rebellions, and condemned to a Prison of Flames and Darkness, even then, when it was unable to free itself; and when neither Angel, nor Man, could deliver it from the misery whereinto it was plunged; To see it (I say) sought unto by God, when it flew from him; and to consider how so heavenly a Father (transported with unspeakable love) said unto it, Take my only Son to redeem thee from thy many remediless calamities: And this only Son disdaineth not to become its Ransom, and delivered himself for it, to Torments so enormous, and Confusions so hideous.  
What shall we further admire in the ineffable mystery of the Incarnation? Can there be any thing in the world greater than a Man-God? If we cast our eyes on our heavenly Father, we there see a work of the power of his Arm, wherein he seems to have exhausted all his strength. The Heaven and the Stars (saith Gregory Nyssen) were but the works of the Fingers of this divine Majesty; but in the Incarnation, he proceedeth with all the extent of his might, with all the Engines of his power, and Miracles of his greatness.  
Blessed Jesus! who can choose but love and adore thee, who wert not content only to reconcile us to thy Father, but espousedst our Nature, and unitedst it to thyself by an indissoluble Band, we naturally use to show an aversion, and dislike to such persons as are loathsome, misshapen, and infected; and if, with those defects, we find a Soul, wicked, ungrateful, and an Enemy to God, we conceive him with such horror, as that we had need be more than men to endure him. But were not we in as bad estate as this? for besides the misfortunes and calamities which encompassed us on all sides, were we not Enemies to God, by being too much a friend to ourselves? and yet all this while, he accepteth us, and appropriateth us unto himself amongst all these contrarieties.   

The Soul checks herself for her backwardness, and too much neglect of her Saviour's invitations.  
WHat imagination is sufficiently powerful, to figure to its self, the ardent dolours of a wounded Soul, who (desiring to be free, and purified from the contagions of the earth, and apprehending the shadows of the least sins) hath its spirit seized on with the consciousness of some more heinous and grosser omissions? How hard a matter is it for the Soul, to guide the Helm of Reason in so tempestuous a storm of disturbances, and (in so dead a night of misery) to adore the Ray of God's Providence, since almost swallowed in the depth of her sorrows?  
But Nature having at last evicted a huge Tide of Tears, she thus sighs out the other in Complaints. My God how justly have my sins deserved this desolate condition? yea, to endure the Trial of those sorrows which might ever befall the thoughts of a wretched Creature? How happy, alas! are those pure and innocent Souls, who have departed from their Bodies, when they were ignorant of the sins which have approached my knowledge, and defiled my thoughts? They, like little blossoms, were cut off in the tenderness of their Age; and thrice happy had my Soul been to have been transported into the other world, before I had felt that trouble and anguish of Spirit, which [through the sense and horror of my sins, in refusing those gracious tenders of a merciful Saviour] now so sadly afflicts me.  
O wicked and ungrateful heart! it is thou which art the source and spring of all my disasters: wretch! whether goest thou? what hast thou to do with the things of the world, which will at last ruin thee? wilt thou thus cast underfoot the Laws of thy God Is it not madness to let pass so many golden Harvests, which time presents thee, and to sow nothing but wind and vanity, which only return thee thorns and sorrows, and at last, abandons thee as a Pilgrim robbed and despoiled by a Thief?  
O poor Soul! wilt thou live rather amongst fevers and burning coals, in an inconstant world, then tie thyself to the will of God? Miserable man, to have thy heart filled with such restless desires! wilt thou (like Ravens) be ever feeding upon Carrion? Is it for such infamous pleasures, thou renouncest the delights of heaven? unhappy man! where wilt thou find place to rest on at the last? Dost thou forget the words of the Prophet, Jer. 17.11. Silly Partridge, thou broodest borrowed Eggs, thou hast hatched Birds which were not thine, let them fly since thou canst not hold them. And canst thou yet fix thy beatitude upon this Gold, that Silver, that Beauty, that Profit, and Pleasure, as on a little Divinity? Is not Jesus (thy Saviour) enough to content thee? must a world be made of Gold, and Roses, to please thee?  
Alas, senseless Soul! canst thou have any better Object to behold, than a Saviour on the Cross, all naked, and who in his nakedness giveth all things? Oh! how little are all things mortal with him, who looks upon a God immortal! Blessed Jesus! having thee for my guide, I will walk confidently in the shades of death, since they cannot separate me from the fountain of life. I came not into the world glittering with precious Stones, neither can I go out poorer than I came. Let Poverty then come against me with all its terrors, I shall account it a Glory to die poor, for a God so despoiled. If Banishment come, what need I care what Land be under my feet, so my eyes be fixed in Heaven. Or what (at last) can Imprisonment, Fetters, Gibbets, yea death itself take from me but a life of Pismires, and Flies, and a miserable Carcase, subject to a thousand deaths?  
And woe unto that Soul, the darkness of whose understanding is so great, that though Jesus be all light he cannot see him? how deprived is that will, who though he be all goodness he cannot love? How are his affections perverted, who though he be all power, will yet refuse to submit unto him? Alas! how art thou estranged from him! when thou wert created, it was by his power; If thou live, it is by his bounty; if thou move, it is by his assistance; If thou lie down, he sustaineth thee; if thou sleep, he refresheth thee; if thou awake, he enlighteneth thee; if thou read, he teacheth thee; if thou eat, he nourisheth thee; if thou art clothed, he warms thee; no Creature being able towork by its own strength, having all but dependent Being's from God alone.  
Miserable wretches then as we are! as not to see him with our bodily eyes, so not to behold his Glory in our most retired Meditations! that he should be all brightness, yet we view him not; all sweetness, yet we taste him not; That he should be in all places, yet we feel him not: alas! what strangers are we in the House of our Father? O that our life here, should be fuch an estrangement from him, and that when we most behold him, it should be but as it were in a Glass darkly:  
Draw nearer than (O my Soul!) bring forth thy strongest burning Love; here's matter for thee to work upon; here's something truly worth thy loving. Oh see what bounty presents itself? Is not all the Goodness in the world contracted here? Is not all the Beauty in the world deformity to it? Here is comfort for thy Soul, and a feast for thine eyes. Ah! that ever thou shouldest need to be invited to feed on it! That thou shouldst be invited to love where thou feelest a heavenly sweetness accompanying it, and where the very Act of loving is unexpressibly sweet. O what wouldst thou give for such a life, couldst thou be all love, and always loving!  
Come away then (O my Soul) stand no longer looking on that Beauty, admiring this Face, or Idolising these earthly shadows. But behold that Glory, which is only to be enjoyed in the lap of Eternity. Ah that thou couldst bid the world farewel, and here immure thyself! that thou couldst shut the door upon thee, and enjoy the sweet content of divine and heavenly Meditation! But Oh the dulness of thy desires, after so great a happiness! How doth thy backwardness accuse thee of Ingratitude? must thy Saviour procure thee Heaven at so dear a rate, and wilt thou not more value it? must he purchase thy life by the Pangs of a bitter death? must he go before and prepare a Mansion, and art thou loath to follow? must his blood, and pains, and care be lost? O unworthy and ungrateful Soul! what is loathing, if this be love? Ah wretched Creature, if thou art not ashamed to neglect so great a mercy!   

The Soul reputes the time that ever she was Cloistered up in the walls of Clay, and thrown into the Dungeon of that corrupt mass of Flesh.  
THe Soul of Man, being embarked in the dangerous Sea of this world, where her adventure is very hazardous, and full of Rocks; and having no Port to put in at, but either Repentance or Death, bewails the want of her Pilot, without whose guidance, she is sure to meet with a miserable shipwreck, and which she conceives as natural to her, as swimming is to Fishes, flight to Birds, beauty in Flowers, and rays in the Sun.  
Woe is me (saith he) that ever I was born, to see the Light! Why did my Mother rejoice to hear me cry! and to receive the news that I was a living Soul? when first I entered into the world, I bore the Image of my Creator in some lustre and glory; but since that time my first Parents (who bore (as it were) in one Vessel, the Riches of all Mankind) had lost all that, which wretches might lose, or men desire, and which (with grief) we yet deplore; it's scarce discernible in me, in regard of those Leprous spots of sin, and taintures of iniquity which I have contracted from those frail corporeal Organs which have so pitifully disfigured and transformed me, as that the Character of my God is almost lost in me.  
Alas! I am but an unweildly lump of Earth, a mere passive thing of myself! Those eyes of mine which should have been as crystal Casements, through which I might behold the glorious Firmament, and study my Creator in the Volumes of Nature, have let out the Beams of vanity and lightness. Those Ears, which should have let in wholesome precepts, and holy exhortations, have been no other than Trunks to receive idle discourses, and vain sounds. That Mouth and Tongue, which should have sounded out the praises and glory of my Creator, and sung hallelujahs to him, have been instruments of Equivocation, Sin, and Profaneness. Those hands which were designed to deeds of Charity, have been employed in evil and sinful works. That Throat, which was intended as a Conduit-pipe to pour out divine and pious Ejaculations, hath been made the instruments of Luxury and excess. And those Feet, which were made to walk in the paths of Piety and Virtue, have been used to run into the Road of all Licentiousness.  
But oh! when I examine my heart [the seat of my affections] what a sink of sin, a Cage of unclean Birds, do I find it; and whereas I should have made it a Closet for my Saviour to sit and reside in, alas! what Hatred, what Hypocrisy, what spiritual Pride and Choler hath infected every corner thereof? And if I look further; how shall I find every Cell of my Brain infected. My Fantasy is become wild and extravagant: my Memory hath been more mindful of bad, then good things; my Understanding full of darkness, my Will wholly blinded, my Reason strangely besotted, and my Imagination wholly puffed up with airy passions, and malignant humours, which interpose between me, and the glorious Beams of my Saviour.  
Ah, whether have the Counsels of those transported me, which desire the ruin of my Soul! How am I environed with admires of Lusts, and besieged with Legions of inordinate affections? Miserable that I am! what shall I do to hinder the designs of my natural Corruptions? Alas! How they prevail against me? unhappy that I am! that the Sun which this day shines so bright over my head, should see his face defiled with the stains of my sins!  
What do I here in this house of Pleasure, where we seem to enter in by five Gates, which are all Crowned with Roses, and bear the face of youth and prosperity? Are not those five Gates, the five Senses, by which all the passages are made into carnal pleasures, and the vain delights of the world? Is this the way to live like a Christian, to walk according to the Rules and propensions of Nature? Is this the Babylon of worldly hopes, which in the beginning showeth itself as a Miracle, carrying Honey in the lip, Light in the face, but Poison in the tail?  
Why, alas! should I thus live in the fervours of a Fever? why should I desire to live in that greatness, which will only serve to make my fall the more miserable? Why should I rest upon those worldly comforts, whose acquisition is painful, whose fruition uncertain, and taste unsavoury. And how pleasing soever they appear in the dawning of the day, seeming in the first springing to be spread with Emeralds, and Rubies, yet will they at last be changed into the horrors or a sad Tempest, and ever waited on by ignomy and confusion.  
O that I should thus spend the latter part of my age after smokes and fantastic shadows, which will at last pay me with nothing but grief! shall I flatter my self with the specious hopes of the world, which like Dreams of a delicious Fountain, never quench the Thirst? Ah, much rather, let me make an Eternal divorce from all those frivolous worldly hopes! and look on Jesus, as the Polestar, always unmovable; let me put myself between the arms of hope, and (amidst all disturbances of mind) pass the veil, and enter the Tabernacle of the Sanctuary, whereinto he hath entered for our salvation.  
Behold how the Soul is troubled, as if, through some melancholy fit, she were fallen into an Abyss, from which issue forth such an infinite quantity of evil vapours, as cause night in the most cheerful brightness, and make the most pleasing Beauties to be beheld with affrightment. The greatest punishment which can befall a sad and dolorous Soul in this world, consisting in being suspended from the presence and sight of God. And as it naturally desireth to rejoin itself unto God, and the least hindrance it feels, is most irksome unto it, so how doth it mourn to be deprived of so infinite a comfort [which it alone depends on] and to see itself bereft of so great a happiness (even by its own fault) which is the Needle of the Dial, which showeth, how our Souls circumvolve times, and the hours of the day.  
And well may she complain of the great distance between her, and so infinite a bounty, seeing the holy Scripture (speaking of Love, Gen. 34.3.) says, It causeth one soul to clasp into another. And truly, did we but once begin to dislike the world, and hearty to love Jesus Christ, we should almost every moment think upon him; all the most pleasing Objects of the world would seem mixed with Gall and Wormwood. We should seek for our Saviour in all Creatures; we should languish after him. All that beareth his Name, and memory, will be delightful to him. We shall speak of him in all companies, desire to have him honoured, esteemed, and acknowledged by all the world; our solitude would be in Jesus, our discourse of Jesus; Jesus will be in our watch, and in our sleep, in our affairs and Recreations. And Oh! how unwilling will be to lose sight of him, though but for a little time.  
Did we but once wipe those eyes, surcharged with earthly Beauties, and covered with a thick cloud of the world's vanities, how soon should we fix them upon the infinite love, mercy, and goodness of God? How cheerfully would our Souls be carried with full flight into the bosom of our Saviour, and be there held in a sweet Circle of ravishing contemplations? our hearts would be as flaming Lamps, which perpetually burn before the Sanctuary of the living God; we should have but one main desire in the world, which is God himself; all creatures which use to be the Objects of our contentments, will never more be the subject of our fears.  
Neither should we (like silly worms) turn against God, when he permitteth any thing to happen, contrary to our liking, we would frame unto ourselves, a life simple and free from all affectations; we would learn to endure any slight oppositions with great tranquillity; we would cast away our wantonness, our pleasures, and petty peevishness, neither would we here think ourselves immortal, seeing that every moment, which is now in our hands, we must divide with death, and the Sun (which to day you have seen to rise out of his couch) may before his setting see you in your Tomb.  
Oh horror then! to see men enraged with that avarice, which sticks to their bones, as doth their Marrow, and shall sleep with them in their Grave? to see them pride themselves in their Garments, which are the food of Moths! to see them glittering with precious Stones, which are the excrements of the Sea, and Land; to see them carrried in Coaches, and on Horses, which are the Notes of their poverty, or to see them glory in Titles, which are but imaginary Felicities.  
Deceitful Beauties of the world then, where are ye? Ah, true Turrets of Fairies, which are only in conceit! where shall your allurements prevail from henceforth? to what calamity do you reserve a wretched life, deprived of strength, and vigour to resist you? and if it have any feeling, it is only of misery? How few, alas! are your selicities in this world? where your best lights have its shadows, all fruit its worm, and every Beauty fails not to have its embracements.  
And where are ye also, ye admirers of the fortunes of Glass, that happen to the wicked? where are these adorers of the Colossus, and heaps of dirt, that appear by the help of false gildings, and which are immediately reduced to dust? How much better had ye been, to have contemplated in that great School of Nature, where God speaketh to us, and teacheth us lessons through the veil of his Creatures? how happy had ye been, had ye looked upon these delights below, as men blind, whereby ye would the better have looked up to heaven, and into yourselves? that ye had heard of the world's vanities, as being deaf, and no ways ravished by them? as discoursing of them, and yet no way concerned? Thus should he have been as men in part translated to Heaven, and here become earthly Angels.  
For, Oh! how little doth the pomp of the world seem to that Soul, who every day drowns part of his life in Tears, and through long solitude hath purged itself from the impurities of the Earth! Oh, how contemptible do all those Beauties of dust and fortunes of wind, seem to that heart, which having every day dilated itself in the greatnesses of God, renders himself capable with the visits, and commerce with Heaven.  
It is time to close the Earth, when God opens Heaven, and to carry our heart where he is, since all our Riches are in him. What, alas! have we to do (like Moles) to dig the Earth, and therein to hid our Treasure? surely, he deserves to be everlasting poor, who cannot be content with a God, so rich as he is. Canst thou love a little shining Earth? Canst thou love a walking piece of Clay, before that God, that Christ, that Glory which is unmeasurably lovely? Canst thou love the World, thy Friends, thy Kindred, whose love cannot advantage thee, whose weeping cannot ease thee in the time of thy trouble; and canst thou not love thy Saviour, whose Tears and Blood have a healing virtue, and are like Balsam, and waters of life to thy fainting heart.  
Oh my Soul! what incomprehensible love is here; If love deserve, and should procure love, oughtest thou not here to pour out all the store of thy affections? shall he not be first served? shall he not have the strength of thy love, who parted with strength and life in love to thee? Oh that thy love were more! Oh that thy affections were a thousand times greater.  
Alas! what wantest thou to provoke thy love? is not here a Sea of love before thee? little dost thou know (ah little indeed!) the glory and blessedness of this love, little dost thou know the excellency of this Love. Is there any thing here below but baseness, in espect of thy enjoyments above? are the heavy sufferings, the unsatisfying vanities of this world, really suitable to thy desires? or canst thou find any place more suitable to thy misery, then that of mercy, or of nearer interest or Relation then that of Heaven?  
Come away then, O my Soul! stop thine ears to the ignorant language of the world; what is the Beauty, the Riches, the Honours, thou hast so much admired? Canst thou but even close thine eyes, and thou wilt think it all darkness and deformity? What is the beauty thou hast so much admired? alas! when the night comes, it will be nothing to thee! whilst thou hast gazed on it, it hath withered away; do●h not the wrinkles of consuming sickness, or of age, or some other deformity make it as loathsome, as it was once delightful.  
Ah then O miserable man that thou art! unworthy Soul! how canst thou love a skinful of dirt, and canst no more love the heavenly Glory? art thou not a Soul? is not heaven the only lovely Object? art thou not a Spirit, and is not Earth a Dungeon to Celestial Glory? shall Gold, or Greatness, or worldly Pomp, be thy Idols, which are all dirt and dung to Christ? come forth then O my dull and drowsy Soul, thou hast lain long enough in these earthly Cells, where cares have been thy Fetters, where sorrows have been thy lodgings, and Satan thy Jailor.  
The Soul calling to mind the infinite Love of her Saviour, bewails her ungratefulness, and the coldness of her returns.  
WHen holy David considered the works of God's hands, the Sun, and the Moou which he had made, Psal. 8.3, 4. he immediately breaks forth into thoughts of humility, touching the frail and sad estate of man. But blessed Lord! what can we say, for our great neglect of that Love which hath stretched itself for us, even to the death of the Cross; and what stupidity is it to forget that, that bloody Banquet, which was to us the source of life, should bring with it the Edict of death.  
O poor Sinner! What hast thou done, look upon a Deed, that was worthy of none but thy cruelty, stretch out thy hands, put thy fingers into those wounds which thou hast made, bedew thy hands [like unbelieved Thomas] in that sacred stream which flowed from thy Saviour's side! Drink (miserable wretch!) of that River, which there thou seest glide, to quench thy thirst; Look, and behold those dead eyes, which accuse thy nakedness, and which thou still dost wound with the aspect of thy wickedness; alas! they are not shut so much, by the necessity of death, as by the horror of thy Luxury.  
Behold the great temper of thy Saviour's Soul, in his most horrible sufferings! what could be invented, which he endured not? what could be undergon, which he met not with? Oh, high effect of an infinite Love! which found no belief in senses, no persuasion in minds, no example in manners, nor resemblance in nature.  
It is storied of a Prince, who being desirous to offer himself to death for the preservation of his Subjects, took the habit of a Clown, the better to facilitate his death; he laid down his Crown, and Purple, and all the Ensigns of Royalty (only retaining those of Love) and lost his life in his Enemy's hands. But alas! this was but a mortal life! and in giving it, he only paid that tribute to Nature, which at last he must of necessity yield. But where have we read, that a man glorious by Birth, and immortal by condition, hath espoused that humility, which all the world despiseth, that mortality which all must partake of, that mercy which none can equalise, and for no other occasion then to die for his friend?  
O dear Jesus! thou wert by nature immortal, and impregnable against all exterior violences! thou took'st not the Body of a Peasant, nor a body of Air, but a true body of Flesh, personally united to the word of God. Thou, O blessed Saviour! consumedst thy body with Travails; thou quailedst it with toils; thou castedst tottered Rags over thy Purple●, thou laidst our miseries upon thy own shoulders, and at last, resignedst thyself as a Prey, to a most dolorous death.  
My God What a Prodigy is this? Thou foundest a way to accord infirmity with Sovereignty; Honour with Ignominy, Life with Death, and Time with Eternity! O God of Glory! O mild Saviour! all this hast thou done; it was not possible that sole God should suffer death, nor sole Man should vanquish it; but God, and Man hath overcome it. Ought not then thy pains, to be as much adored by our wills, as they are incomprehensible to our understandings?  
And alas! how much ought we to be ashamed, since instead of enkindling our Affections, with the sacred fires of thy Eternal Love, we have sought after profane fire, from the eyes of earthly Beauty, and have opened our hearts to Foreign flames? Ah, ungrateful Soul! art thou not afraid to hear those heart-piercing words, Cant. 5.6. I opened to my beloved, but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone; my soul failed when I spoke, I sought him, but I could not find him. Shall the love of God be so communicative, as to stream forth by those two conduit-pipes [of Glory, and Beauty] and art thou not hereupon, even confounded, to see thy heart so narrow, and straightened in the exercise of holiness, and good works?  
Oh blessed Saviour! thou didst spend thy time in continual pain and labours here on Earth, for the redemption of the world; Many were the scorns, reproaches, and miseries thou endurest for us. Thou didst even melt and dissolve under the ardours of unspeakable affection and zeal, for our salvation; and at last exposedst thyself to languors, sorrows, ecstasies, and the cruel punishment of the Cross; and shall ingratitude be all the return thou reapest for such infinite mercy?  
How justly mayst thou many many times question with me, as thou did once with S. Peter, Joh. 21.17. Lovest thou me? Thou seemest indeed (poor soul) to love me; But why then dost thou not keep my Commandments? Doth not fond love [which ordinarily delights to see what it cannot attain] find too much admiration for thy eyes, and food for its flame! Ah, that ever thou shouldst spend so many hours, endure so much pain, and run so many hazards, to seek after an unhappy loathsomeness! Oh that ever thou shouldst take away thy love from me, to place it on Creatures which so little deserve it!  
And why should the faculties of the eye, which was ordained for light, be thus applied to darkness? Shall that which was Created for the use of Life, be the cause of Death? Alas! what canst thou gain, by embracing thy Lusts? O poor deceived Soul! what Snares, what Traps, what Tempests beset thee on all sides? O Man [miserable wretch!] drenched in the waters of bitter Tears! where, alas, wilt thou save thyself, if thou put not thyself under the shelter of thy Saviour's Cross? If thou lose him, thou hast nothing left to comfort thee. In him thou hast all things; If thou art Hungry, thou needest but to taste of his love; if Thirsty, the light of his countenance is fare better than the Corn and Wine of this world.  
We read of many accomplished Beauties in former ages, which have drawn the affections of those that beheld them; but what are those, but fading shadows to the love of Jesus, which winneth whole Nations, and Monarchies to it? From hence it is, that so many Kings, Queens, and great Personages, have forsaken the Pomp and Beauty of the World, and followed him through Thorns and Rocks, that so many millions of the wisest, and most purified Souls upon Earth, have abandoned themselves, and loved him, even to the suffering of Flames, and Wheels, yea, the dismembering of their whole Body.  
Oh that our hearts could then dissolve for him! Oh that they could daily melt in his service, without consuming, since there is nothing which equalizeth the excellency of this Celestial Love! But wretched Creatures as we are! can we choose but grieuc, to see them torn and divided by so many vile and base Objects, which divert our Affections, and hinder us from giving them to God, for which they were made? Oh, how much should we blush, thus to contaminate our hearts with the wickedness and impurities of the Earth!  
The heart of Man should be as a fortunate Island, wherein there is nothing but God and it: Or like the Nest of that little Bird, which cannot hold one silly Fly more than itself. But alas! what Creatures are there there lodged, to the prejudice of our Creator? O poor Soul! really miserable! do but once open thine eyes, and thou shalt soon see the headlong ruin which threatneth thee!  
Carnal Souls have much ado to conceive how a man may become passionate in the love of God; it is a love too high (say they) to transfer our Affections into Heaven: we know no affection but for temporal and visible things. O blinded Spirits, ignorant of the glorious Mysteries of Heaven; How do ye thus argue with yourselves? O sad Souls! is Heaven a Country wherein they have no commerce? Doth God speak to thee in all his Creatures; nay, doth he seek for thee, dost thou behold him through the veil of Nature, in somany various Objects? Dost thou daily see him in the Image of his Bounty and Greatness of his power, and the splendour of his Beauty, and in the lively Characters of his Majesty? and wilt thou be so much charmed with the present pleasures, and delighted so with the Workmanship, as to forget the Workman? Wilt thou embrace the shadow for the body and momentary Beauties for Eternal verities?  
Oh! but thou objectest, that he is a secret, so hidden, and invisible to men, that our poor spirits, find more confusion, then light in seeking him: I answer, hold thy peace (O thou ignorant and misjudging Soul!) God shows himself in as many mirrors as there are Creatures in the world. All that we see, hear, touch, or handle, cease not to recount unto us the love of our Maker. Do we not find the daily experience of his love, in every minute's preservation? Do we not hear the sweetness of his voice and harmonies, in the chirping of every little Bird, and Nightingale? yea, the least silly Fly holds forth a tone, which all the art of the world cannot frame.  
If we behold the murmuring of those silver streams, which so sweetly charm and delight our senses; if we cast an eye upon those various particoloured Flowers, with what an exquisite delicacy shall we find them adorned, insomuch that [as we have it from the sacred lips of Eternal Wisdom] Solomon in all his Royalty was not like one of these.  
But when we cast our eyes towards Heaven, when we behold the Sun, the Moon, and those silver sparkles which show themselves as soon as the Night spreads its Mantle over the inferior Regions of the World. Ah! how may we (with the Princely Prophet) cry out; The Heavens declare the Glory of God, and the Firmament showeth his handiwork.  
Expose not then the loss of thy innocency, and sanctity [O poor Soul!] to the alluring occasions of this tempting world, and thou needest not fear, but in him to find salve forall thy wounds. It may be thou fearest Poverty; alas! hath not thy Saviour consecrated it in the Crib, and in Clouts? Dost thou fear Reproaches? he hath sanctified them in the loss of his Reputation. Dost thou fear dolours? he hath lodged them in his own flesh. Dost thou fear Death? he hath overcome it for thee: only, let thy heart be devested from the ardent affections thou hast towards worldly enablements, beholding them as an inconstant moving of shadows, and Spirits, which with a swift course glide before our eyes. And lastly, let us look towards the eye of God, which perpetually beholdeth us. Let us behold it as our Polestar, and flaming Pillar; whereby, at last, we shall learn to repose ourselves in his bosom, slumber upon his heart, and sleep eternally between his Arms.   

The Soul breaks into Sighs, and dissolves into desires for the presence of God.  
THe Soul of Man, being made to the Image of God, and for the possession and fruition of God, will never rest, but in the conformity of its understanding, and will, to its Creator. It casts its eyes (indeed) oftentimes on the Sea, the Earth, with so many Rivers, which moisten it, so many Trees, which cover it, so many living Creatures which furnish it, so many men which inhabit and dress it, but yet rests not there.  
It figures also the Air in its thoughts, with all its Birds, so different in shape, so various in colour, so diversified in their Notes, but (alas!) like Noah's Dove, she finds no rest for her footing. It glanceth up further to those Crystalline and azure Vaults, where the Sun, the Moon, and so many silver Stars perform their career with such measure, as God hath determined, yet finds not God in any of them. It contemplates those innumerable Legions of Angels, Spirits of Fire, and light which resplendently shine as Lamps before the face of God; yet ever cries out, it is not be, God only being he who comprehendeth all things, and not only bounds them, but incomparably surpasseth them.  
What do I here then (O Jesus!) without thee, but sail without Stars, and labour without the Sun? Alas! if I can do nothing here without thee, if without the Sunshine of thy presence, I am but an unprofitable servant, and burden to the Earth, what do I here? All that satisfieth the desires of the curious, all that which inviteth the admiration of the wisest, all that which inflameth the hearts of the most passionate; yea, Land and Sea, Thrones and Sceptres, Arms and Empires (are but as a silly drop of dew before thy face.  
And wilt thou yet (O disloyal Soul!) entertain in thy heart a mass of worldly desires? Wilt thou rather live among Fevers, and burning Coals, then tie thyself to the will of God? wretched Rebel! wilt thou prostitute thyself, and have affection in store for a deceiving Creature! O ungrateful and faithless Soul? the same Paradise that God hath prepared for himself, he hath prepared for thee; he will, that thou possess thyself in him; and wilt thou take liberty to fly after all Objects, as Bees after Flowers? wilt thou flutter up and down like a silly Butterfly, amongst so many Creatures, so many desires, perpetually hungry, ever distant from thy good, ever a Traitor to thy own repose and glory; wilt thou adventure on a Sea that hath neither bottom nor shore? Beggarly Soul! which beggest every where! miserable Soul, which in every place findest want in abundance! when wilt thou rally all thy desires into one Period? when wilt thou begin to live the life of God? to be satisfied with God's contentment, and to be happy with God's felicity?  
But alas! methinks I hear thee say, of thyself thou art able to do nothing! stretch out thy arms then unto me, O mild Saviour! a poor Exile I am I confess, yet redeemed by thy Blood. Cast an eye on me from heaven, in these storms of life. O lead me to that pl●ce where thou for ever reignest! where youth waxeth not old, where life hath no limits, where Beauty decays not, where health doth not empair, nor love abate.  
If I cannot reach Heaven, by my own strength, let me go thither by thy love, which is the true gate whereby we enter into the Sanctuary, eternally to enjoy the sight of the inaccessible Beauty of the divine Presence. O God, as thou art dispersed throughout us by love, so banish all the cursed hatreds of hell, and the world, and make us love all in thy goodness, to possess all in thy fruition.  
Never suffer me, O Lord! to fill all the sails of my desires with the windy vanities of this world, which are more light than Smoak, more slippery than Ice; whose promises are Perjuries, and whose perjuries are forsakings. Ah, never let us run at random after the transitory honours of the Earth, which glister like a worm in rotten wood; which prick like Thorns, and withdraw our affections from thee, who Crownest the Heads of thy Elect with Eternal Garlands. Oh let me not live daily in the fits of Fire, and Ice, for the slight toys and fading beauty of the world, and for such things, as for shame we dare not oftentimes express, and have neither heart nor thought for thee.  
I see all things which environ me [those Riches, those Pomp's, those Honour's] are but flitting company, deceitful and momentary things, and serve for nothing but Snares and Prisons. Oh then let me look on all the Objects of pleasure, not as they are, when they first soothe me, but when they turn their backs and forsake me. All pleasures of sense pass but to the outward skin; and all the Flowers of the Garden of this world are without fruition, pleasing only to the Imagination, and no way satisfying the desires of a gracious Soul.  
Enter then into thy heart, O my Soul! and lay thy hand upon thy thoughts, and thou shalt find, that all thy unhappiness cometh, from being too much tied to Honours, Ambitions, and worldly Commodities. It was the saying of one, defining the life [which he called the Pilgrimage of a perfect Christian] that true and perfect Religion is, in a general despair of all things. And truly, the Remedy of all evils, will never be but in a holy despair of all the frivolous and fair semblances of the world. O happy despair indeed! to put all our hope in God alone, to remove those deceitful and treacherous Props, which besiege our credulous minds, and cease not to enter into our hearts, and hinder us from bidding adieu to all the charming Promises, and allurements of a barren and lying world, and from turning our eyes towards the heavenly Jerusalem, our true Country.  
Ah! how sweet are the expressions between the Bridegroom and the Bride, where she saith, My Beloved is mine, and I am his, Cant. 2.16. And again, I am my wel-beloveds, and my well-beloved is mine, Cant. 6.3. She first returns her soul and love to him, and then confirms his to herself. And when Love [like that of Jonathan to David] hath thus united their Souls, all the affections and actions of the Soul, to will, to do, to say the same thing, will speedily follow.  
Surely, the Spouse was at little rest, while absent from her Beloved. When (saith she) will the day of Redemption appear? Where, O where, art thou whom my Soul loveth, Cant. 1.7. By night I sought him whom my soul loveth; I will rise, and go about the City, and in the streets, and in the broad ways will I seek him whom my Soul loveth, Cant. 3.1.2. and when she seeks and finds him not, O how doth she bemoan self to the Watchmen; and having found him, she holds him fast, and will not let him go, ever crying out; O how shall I adhere unto him? how shall I incorporate myself with him? how shall I melt into praisings, and love-breathing Ditties? how shall I get into that Fountain of Goodness? Oh come, Oh come, that happy day! come even now! I fear neither Hell, nor Judgement, for I know thou canst bear no wrath against those that love thee! come then, come and draw my Soul from this loathsome body; screw up my Affections, O dear Saviour to thy own self; unloose the Fetters and Bonds of my imprisoned Soul, which keep me from the sight of my beloved Spouse, and Master; and at last set me at liberty in the Eternal freedom of thy Palace, and everlasting glory of thy presence. O free me from the snares of the world, the wiles of Satan, and the deceits of the flesh. O when will that day of Redemption come, when I shall drink at the full, those comforts which are here dispersed, but by small drops!  
And thrice happy is he, who hath here raised his gain from his losses; his assurance from this world's incertainties, his strength out of his infirmities, his hopes out of his despairs, and is not contented but in God, who can only satisfy his desires, and Crown him with Felicities! Happy, I say, is he, who beholds all worldly things, as Roses, which still with their odour, cast forth some of their substance, who look on them afar off, and in the dark, as painted Women, and adulterate Merchandise; who behold them as Torches, which waist and annihilate themselves, leaving nothing behind for the most part, but stench and smoke.  
The world (I confess) thinks it no easy matter to trust Christ upon his word, though he have told us, Mat. 11.30. His yoke is easy, and his burden light. What (say some) is it so easy to renounce all that a man hath [Wealth, Liberty, Life and all] are these so light? yes, poor Soul! Truth itself hath spoken it, and most true it is, that love makes them both light and easy.  
What though thou here seem to weep for a time, thou shalt but only resemble the Flower-de-luce, which weeps a little, and out of its own Tears, produceth seeds to renew its Beauty. The salt Sea of this world shall become a flourishing field, as it did to the people of God, when they came out of the chains of Egypt.  
We are here in this World, like little Infants, without Air, or Light, besmeared with blood, and swaddled in Clouts, which Nature only gave thee for a time, to fit thee the better for that life, where thou shalt for ever breath in all freedom and liberty. We are yet in Prison, Fetters, and Obscurity, until the coming of the great day, wherein God shall give us a Spiritual body. All the pomp of this World, all our life, yea all that pleaseth here, and taketh up our heart, is but the shadow of that Glorious Beauty, and contentment which passeth in Eternity.  
Let me then (O my God) continually exercise myself in the desires of joys Eternal! let me sanctify all other Loves to the love of Jesus Christ; let me forsake all humane things, O my God and betake myself wholly to the consideration of his excellency. When I speak, let it be of Heaven, as of my resting place, and of thee as of the Object of my Felicity.  
Ah! what can be more divine, then to see a Soul thus capable of the influences of Heaven? whom the  of Time cannot affright; whom the Threats of the world, nor the wheel of Inconstancy, neither the power of Death can dismay. O House of God O Temple of Peace! when will the time come which will divest us of all that is mortal, which will sweeten the bitterness of our life, replenish our hearts with spiritual refreshment, and at last put us into the bosom of Immortality?   

The Soul filled with Heavenly Love, sends forth the pure flames of her Affection.  
GOd, who loves the importunities of his servants, often hides his face the longer, to the end his Grace may with the more brightness afterwards appear. We find in Nature, that the Sun is never more resplendent, then after an Eclipse; the Sea never more calm, then after a Tempest, nor the Air brighter, then after a shower. Neither is it ever too late to knock, and cry at the Gate of Heaven.  
The fainting Beggar, which neglects the reinforcing of his complaint, often goes away without his reward. The weary and linger Christian, seldom attains the end of his journey, where he shall live for ever in the Palace of Peace and contentment; where our happiness shall be perpetual, and our fullness never occasion loathing to him that possesseth it.  
Neither doth God do us any injury, if (after long waiting here) instead of a Crown, which is the Weathercock of winds, of a Sceptre, which is the Reed of the times, or of a Life which is the Harbinger of Death, he affords us delights, and glories which outstrip the flight of Thoughts, which dry up all our Tears, and surmount all our Imaginations.  
It was once told a great Prince (being in his Infancy bred up in the House of a Peasant, whose Son he took himself to be) that he should no longer follow so mean an employment of life; that his Hat should be turned into a Diadem, his Spade into a Sceptre, his Rags into Robes of Gold, his Cottage into a Palace, and his servitude into an Empire. Oh, can we think how he was ravished with the love of a Father, by whom he was born to so much Treasure, and Greatness! And shall we not have the like approbation, when our Saviour tells us, we are not created to live among Mire, and Dirt, to be tied to a wretched frail and miserable Body, to walk among Briars and Thorns, and embroil ourselves in the toils and cares of a mortal life?  
Bring me then, O dear Jesus! in thine own time, into those celestial Palaces, of incomprehensible lights, and unspeakable Beauties? Enlighten me (O thou Son of Righteousness!) to discover those glorious excellencies (all white with Innocency, and resplendent with the Rays of Glory) from the Sirens of the world which so much abuse us with deceits, vanity, and infamies. I acknowledge (thus far) the infinite mercy of thy divine Providence, that while I was in darkness, and under the black Cloud of thy heavy displeasure, thou sanctifiest my Fetters, and hast now raised up my Ashes above the Crowns of the World.  
Thou mightest (indeed) have made me ambitious, delicate, haughty, covetous, and adorned with worldly Treasures, to have walked on Roses, to have putrifed in delights; yea, made my happiness seemingly to have outrun my desires. Such there are (I confess) who have defiled their names with reproach, wearied the Earth with their vices, astonished Posterity with their deportments, and peopled Hell with their crimes. But, O mercy! that thou makest me to see light in the most dusky Nights, and a Haven of comfort in the most forlorn shipwrecks:  
O most Mighty, O most Sovereign Lord of all things, visible and invisible! were I with thee, in the shades of death, what should I fear, being between the arms of Life; O great eye, who seest all, and art not seen of any here below! Thou art truly worthy (if we with mortal lips may call thee worthy) yea worthy, to whom all the world should give continual thanks, for thy inexplicable Benefits. Worthy, before whom we on our bended knees, should all our life-time remain prostrate; Worthy, that for thee, we should have Prayers, and prayers everlastingly on our lips. O Monsters of impudence, if yet we see not thy goodness, and persist insensibly of thy mercy!  
With these considerations, if the Soul now wholly ravished; she walks on Earth, as a man suspended in Heaven, drenched in God, and filled with the joys of his Spirit. Her eyes are listed up towards Heaven, though streaming down tears for sin upon Earth. Her hands are still lifted up thither by prayer. Her heart (formerly contracted with sadness for crimes, committed against so good a God) now melts with joy unspeakable. Neither ear-ring, nor drinking, nor sleeping, is able to dissolve the sweet conversation she hath with God.  
Now is it, that the Soul gins to lead a life wholly Celestial, as one, who seems to have nothing to do with the Bodies and conversations of the living. Now is it, that after so many Tempests, so many Thunderclaps and Whiriwinds of grief and sadness, she arrives at a Port, not of temporal felicity, but of the unspeakable joys of Heaven.  
Ah ignorant that we are, of the works of God perpetually fixed to the Earth, and deprived of those sparkles of heavenly fire, and light! Let us but a little draw aside the Curtain, and we shall see through so many Clouds, the glorious Rays of lasting happiness. There may you behold the Effigies of a gracious Soul, with a Crown on its Head, and Sceptre in its Hand, with prosperity continually smiling; with loves free from disturbance; with desires void of denials; with affairs without trouble, Greatness without change, Pleasures without sorrow; and at last, fully laden with celestial Honours.  
This surpassing Joy, having one time so far transported a heavenly lover, as to give occasion to some, who beheld him, to think him besides himself; you are in the right (said he) my Beloved hath taken away my will, and I have given him my understanding, there is nothing left me but memory to remember his mercy.  
Oh what a great Abyss of Delights are reserved for those purified Souls, who are thus wholly rapt in the contemplation of heavenly Beauties, and altogether ravished in the consideration of God's divine Goodness! No longer do they suffer themselves to be transported with earthly prosperities, but (in the midst of all worldly Pomp's) their eyes are firmly fixed upon the many benefits received from God; their Ears being charmed, their Tears wiped, their Fetters broken. And what way do they more seek out, then how to testify their gratitude, and pour themselves as incense upon Coals, towards the Altar of divine Majesty.  
Yea, there is a love so tender in them, and a fear of offending so infinite a Saviour, as that, they apprehend the least shadows of sin, as Death. Day and Night do they send forth Sentinels before the Altars, who cease not to implore the assistance of Heaven, for the salvation of their Souls.  
How often, in the deep silence of darkness [when no eye sees, nor ear hears] do they cause their weeping eyes to speak to God, and address their many vows to Heaven, for the attaining of Eternal life? How willingly do they part, with all the Interests of Flesh and Blood, and all other impediments about them? They think they can never do too much for eternal happiness; whatsoever are their sufferings here, the know Paradise will still be purchased at a good pennyworth.  
Oh true zeal! O most powerful Alchemy! changing all Tears and Troubles into Marble and Gold. What Wisdom, what Grace, what Eloquence, doth a heart [truly endowed therewith] use towards the attaining of Heaven? What love for its Soul? what fervour for its salvation? what care for its direction? what resignation of its will to the mind of God? What a heart of Diamond doth it express against a thousand strokes of dolours, and sufferings? how joyfully doth it meet death? yea, what Triumphs afterwards, in all conditions, and after all its afflictions, offering up unto God the obedience of the heart, the Prayers of the lips, and all the faculties of Soul and Body, which appear in a general conformity to the commands of God.  
And what (indeed) can that Soul fear (nay, what can he not hope for) who hath a Jesus for a Protector, and a God absolutely powerful, and whose power and essence walk hand in hand, which is without limits, embraceth all places, and no way confined to any certain number of Ages, since it is Eternal, and involveth all time? What can he doubt of, who can conclude an Interest in him, who made the world, with the least blast of his mouth, and can as easily [the same way] unmake it? all the great variety of this Universe, where there are Creatures without number, Beauties without end, and Greatnesses innumerable. being but an effect of his word.  
O how brave a thing do we account it, for a Prince to possess an earthly Kingdom in the hearts of men! to make himself a Throne of Peace, to which love raiseth an Eternal Basis, and on which God raineth infinite Blessings; Whereas what a hideous spectacle is it, to see Tyrants hidden (like Owls) in perpetual Nights, with a mind possessed, and beset with horrid Fancies, filled with suspicions, and seized by distrust; whose Dreams are full of bloody spectacles, for whom Thunder seems to roar, and for whom Heaven prepares all its Thunderbolts.  
Oh, what horror is it to see them not dare to appear in public, without being clothed with Iron, and despoiled of the people's affections; to appear among their Subjects in nothing but Blood, Terrors, Torments, and Massacres; and afterwards, to be hated like Plagues, and poisons! Is not this the way to make a Hell of his life, a Tyranny of his manners, and to increase vows towards his death?  
Just so, is the difference between a poor Soul, who daily marcheth under the standard of God's providence, and is every hour replenished with the mercies and benefits of Heaven. Like a virtuous King, the one adventures to live in the most unfrequented Wildernesses, without Corps-du-gard. He finds assurance in Battles, prosperity in his House, veneration abroad, admiration at home. When he sleeps, his Saviour [who is more watchful than a million of eyes] wakes for him, when he prays that voice [which is better than a million of mouths] makes intercession for him. His joys are pure, his pleasures innocent, his repose dreadless, his eating and drinking without fear of poison, his Life happy, and his Memory blessed.  
Whereas divine Providence (which sharpens the Sword of Justice in the Tears of the miserable, pours it on the head of the other, consumes him by strange Maladies; a thousand hands are ready to punish him; his life is a reproach, his memory full of curse, dunghills are provided to inter him; yea, the Stones or Metals afterwards punished and defaced, for no other crime, but to mention his Actions, and set forth his feature.   

The Soul contemplates, and sets forth her Folly in hazarding Eternal Joys, by preferring Earthly Vanities.  
AReprobate sense, being the last step which any one makes to enter into Hell; O how great is the happiness of an enlightened Soul, which sets all the glory of the world at its feet, and prefers the knowledge of Christ, and an obedience to his will and command beyond any thing here below which shall come in competition with it.  
Often doth she thus expostulate with herself; what alas? shall the sight of Temporal Beauty, which too often fills our Soul, with nothing but fire and flames, abate the more fervent love of Eternal things? Is it possible that I, should so adore my prison, and fetters here, as to balance them with the Cross of my Saviour Jesus? who alas! can give me Tears sufficient, having thus forsaken my God  
Origen mentions of Mary Magdalen, That Heaven and the Angels were a burden to her, and that she could live no longer than she beheld him that made them; and shall we here prefer an Earthly Pilgrimage, before a Heavenly Paradise? Is it possible that I should suffer myself to be entangled with worldly vanities, which are more brittle than Glass, more light than smoke, and more swift than the wind? that I should fatten myself in earthly Pleasures; that I should nourish this Carrion, this Dunghill of my Body, and neglect, and forget, and despise my Soul? Oh! what horrid Phantasms will seem to reproach me with ingratitude, when the affairs of my conscience shall be set in order, and say unto me; I am the Pleasure thou hast obeyed; I am the Ambition to which thou wert a slave; I am the Covetousness, which was the aim of all thy Actions. Behold thy sins, thus begotten by thee; Behold thy iniquities, which thou didst love so much, as to prefer before thy Saviour. Alas! alas! what Comfort, what Happiness, hast thou now in all these?  
Thus the unhappy Soul (thinking herself undone) cuts off her words, and deeply sighing, with sobs of true Repentance, and a lively penetrating grief, (wisheth herself any thing rather than a Reasonable Creature. And how glad would a miserable sinner be, if he might turn to nothing, and cease to be. But, alas, how doth he find himself lost, and involved in misery; yea, perpetually gnawn, and torn, with a torrent of inexplicable dolours, which cause him to break out into unheard of Frenzies.  
O Palace of God (saith he) that I have lost! O ugly Den of Serpents, whereinto I am thrown! O hideous darkness, which shall for ever be my inheritance! O infernal countenances, of enraged Devils, who must for ever be my Companions! The brightness of Paradise will now be nothing unto me; the joys of Heaven will now but aggravate my grief; what alas then shall I do? whether shall I turn myself?  
Go then, ye Worldlings, go! let Love fool ye, Ambition rack you, Covetousness rust ye, Lust inflame ye, Hope tickle ye, Pleasure melt ye; Let Anger burn, Envy gnaw, and Jealousy prick ye, Revenge exasperate, Cruelty harden, Fear sreez, and sorrow consume ye. Yet know, that one day ye will wish to have devested yourselves of all your worldly affections, and that ye had loved nothing, but for God, of God, and to God.  
See, see, fond man of Earth! who art glutted with delights, and (with the Richman in the Gospel) signest Requiems to thy Soul, Luk. 12.11. As having Goods laid up for many years. See, I say, at the doors of these Sirens [or rather, the Sepulchers of thy lusts] the smoke and stench of these dainties, which have heightened thy sins, ready to smother thee! See, see, those pleasures, which (like Lot's wife, over the burning Ruins of Sodom) cry out against thee with an Eternal voice; Traitorous Pleasures! Pleasures, Enemies of the Cross of Christ! how alas have ye beguiled me, how have ye deceived me?  
Alas! O voluptuous! O carnal Creature! how short a time will it be, ere those Members which thou wouldst not crucify, by a holy mortification, on the Cross of Jesus, shall be tormented with those pains of the justice of God Ah Illusion! ah Witchcraft! why should we live in the excess of those pleasures which we shall one day have more occrsion to curse then cherish? Oh thou ungrateful to God Traitor to thy own salvation! Go, I say, and place thyself in a better state of happiness; Go thou, and make a Covenant with Hell, and agreement with death. But O remember what will be the event! Alas! poor Soul! that thou shouldest purchase Repentance so dear, to give up the expectation of Eternity, and the fruition of so many glorious years, as a prey to one unhappy minute of pleasure! Where is thy faith which thou hast promised to God? where is thy weariness to avoid sin? Dost thou think that God doth not see thee sinning?  
The time is drawing on, when Death shall strip thee to the very skin, and leave thee nothing but what thou hast done, and given for God. How would it then comfort thee, to have conformed thyself to a religious life, and to have made every action thereof a step to Eternity? What greater thoughts of comfort can possess thy heart, than those, which bring to thy remembrance a lively faith, purity of life, exemption from grievous sins, poverty of Spirit, affection to the word of God, humility, charity to thy Neighbour, clemency, and a full resignation of thy whole mind to the will of thy Creator? Alas, how will one sole pleasure, taken in heavenly Objects, be a thousand times better, and more esteemed than all the delights and contentments of the world?  
But on the contrary, how sad will it be, when thy conscience [which as Phylo terms it, is the little consistory of the soul] shall sit on a Throne, with a Sceptre in her hand, and say unto thee; wicked Servant! recall thy Thoughts, Words, and Actions; how hast thou misspent the time of thy life? how many days hast thou carelessly lost? what sluggishness at thy rising? what negligence in thy employment? how great Words, and how little Works,? Why this rash judgement, that curious question? these wandering eyes? these straggling thoughts? this angry passion? that hasty slander? why this day's intemperance? that day's excess? this day's neglect of thy God? that day's uncharitableness to thy Neighbour?  
Oh how sad will these expressions be at the last day! Cursed Atheism! why wouldst thou rather feel thy torments, then believe them? Cruel Ambition! to what pass hast thou brought me? deceitful Riches! how have ye beguilded me? wicked Company, vain Companions, worldly Pleasures! how have ye been the chains of my Ruin? Alas! how can I write, or how canst thou hear, or read this without trembling, to think on thy forlorn condition? Poor wretch! what will become of thee, when thou shall look above thee, and see the God which hath forsaken thee, the Saints whom thou hast despised, and all the faithful at the right hand of Glory? when thou shalt look below, and see those hideous flames which thou must a bide for ever? wretched Soul what wouldst thou now give for a Christ, which only can [but will not] save thee? what would thou give for one hours' time of repentance? which once thou sleepest under, refusedst, and esteemedst of no value.  
Then wilt thou say unto thyself; O God O God whom have I lost, yet cannot lose? I have lost thee as my Saviour, yet have thee still present, beholding my pains. O Eternity! shall there never be end of my evils? shall those Torments be always beginning? Ah, why was not the womb of my Mother the Sepulchre of my birth? Why did not the Stars which then ruled, throw the sparkles of their influences against me? why did not the Earth swallow me up in my Cradle? must I live one sole minute on earth, to live an Enemy to God eternally? Ah Lord! what a depth is there in thy judgement! let silence smother the remainder of my complaints, since I can no longer endure myself, nor my Tongue make known the conceptions of my heart!  
Neither canst thou justly complain (poor Soul, whatsoever thou be!) that God did thee wrong in making such a hell for thee, seeing thy sin hath neither end, nor limits in its Eternity. It is an infinite evil, because it strikes at the head of an infinite Divinity. Wilt thou say to an Omnipotent God, thou createdst me to serve thee, but I will live for myself? Thou maidst a World for my use, but I will fill it with my sins; thou redeemedst me with thy blood, but I will contemn and trample it under my my feet. O horrible confusion! O unspeakable wickedness!  
No way of redress than is there left thee (O poor Soul!) but to live always in a state, wherein thou wouldst die; to fear Hell always that thou mayst not fear it are all; to frame a tender and timorous conscience to thyself, and to call thyself often to account in this manner. Ah poor Soul! if thou wert now at this instant to dislodge out of this world; art thou in an estate to be presented before the Throne of the supreme Judge? hast thou not some sins unrepented of, some restitution to make? do there not some vain thoughts and worldly lusts lodge and remain within thy heart?  
Say further to thyself; alas! what is a little time when it is gone? how quickly shall I be in another world? how speedily will our years pass? how will our minutes of pleasure be then repaid with everlasting sufferings? what have I then to do, but to provide for heaven? And let me think that time lost, wherein Nothing is done to that end. And seeing all the pleasure of sin here in this world, is but to converse with Swine, and feed on Husks. O that we had but a right apprehension of the fullness and pollution thereof, and how momentary and uncertain that delight is which we reap by it.   

The Soul (being ready to sink under the weight and apprehension of her Sins) bemoanes the weakness of her Faith, and desires help from her Saviour.  
THough Prosperity, and the Beauty of the world, doth not easily corrupt Souls, which have once taken upon them to live in the fear of God; yet notwithstanding they oftentimes would, and in some sort change them, every sin being a tripping off of the Souls heels.  
The poor labouring and industrious Bee, sometimes goes so long upon her honey, as that by much walking she there entangles her feet. So a Soul [yea one of those who are most devout] being continually soothed by a long sequel of pleasing successes, and the delights of the world, taketh some small flight out of itself, and seeketh content in the smiling and delicate air of the world's delights, though at last they prove nothing but the Objects of grief and sorrow.  
But no sooner doth adversity strike, and God hold up his finger, but the Soul re-entereth into itself, it raiseth itself above the ways of the Moon, and compass of the Sun, to the goodly Temple of Eternity, where Spirits live despoiled from these Masses of flesh and Bones which we draw along with us, in the midst of the various revolutions of this mortal life. This is the way which the Soul taketh, so soon as (through sin) she is alienated from the Court of Heaven. She entereth into a sad retirement, and in this manner bespeaks herself.  
O Lord, this World is irksome to me; I cry unto thee, Lord! unto thee do I fly. O thou whose clemency reacheth from Heaven to Earth, set my sins from me, as wide as the East is from the West. It is thou only, O Jesus! that canst cure the ardours of my Sufferings. It is thou only, that canst dry up my Tears, break my Fetters, and dissipate all my Troubles. If I am in darkness, thou art light; if in doubt, thou art my council; if in danger of shipwreck, thou art my Haven; if in a Labyrinth of Dangers, thou art the Thread to guide me out; yea, if at the Gates of death, thou art my Life! O suffer me not, dear Saviour! now to sink under the grievous weight of my many infirmities!  
Then she looks about her, as if it seemed Nature had displayed the Mountains & Valleys, the Woods, Forests, and Rivers, and the great Theatre of the works of God, altogether to assist and further her in the height of her sadness. She that formerly seemed like those, that shined in the Majesty of sumptuous attire, was now covered with course Cloth. She who seemed like those that altogether sparkled with precious Stones appeared now in a Livery of Sackcloth; and since he had formerly entertained a mortal beauty, was now wholly taken up, and wasted with sadness, and mortification of the Flesh.  
Methinks I hear how the Soul (reasoning with herself, and being ever perplexed and involved, finding pain in repose, thirst in abundance, and seeming separated from the fountain of true comfort) sadly cries out; My God I know that no good can be had without thee, the true and sovereign Good! In every place that I am without thee, I am in pain. All the Riches which are not in thee, seem to be mere poverty; All the greatness, pleasures, and profits of the World are nothing to me, unless I can call thee Saviour. From thee only comes that joy, which all the Saints have studied, with pain, with delight, and tasted with Glory. It is that which S. Peter calls, 1. Pet. 1.8. A joy unspeakable and full of Glory. It is that which S. James said, contained the consummation of all comforts, jam. 1.2. which S. Paul found in the Caverns of the Earth, which some have found upon Wheels, others in Flames, some in Gibbets, others on Gredirons; and lastly, it is that which descenderh from Heaven, and with Eternal streams of comfort watereth the dry and parched hearts of distressed Souls.  
Thus was the divine Soul, like the Moon in an Eclipse, which appeareth wholly dark on the side towards the Earth, but faileth not to be most bright in that part which looketh towards Heaven. And though some who behold her with carnal eyes, in such a state, may think her totally darkened; yet God, in this retirement and sweetness of repose, darts his glorious Rays upon her, through the Cloud of the Body, and causeth her to see the eyes of Angels, as a Soul wholly invested with the Sun of Righteousness.  
In the mean time, she relisheth this retreat, as Manna from Heaven, and tasteth this deep silence, with incredible delight, after so many confused clamours of a troubled Conscience. It seemeth unto her, that she than speaks to God face to face, and that she saw all the pride of the Earth much lower than her feet. Her Soul was whitened in her Tears, and purified in her desires, pouring out all unto God, as it were through the Limbeck of her ardent Devotion, and drawing the Curtain over all worldly affairs, to be only entertained with God.  
And from this time forward, she lives beyond the sense of worldly affections. Time seems to have not Sith for her; Death is unprovided with Darts? Calumny loseth its Teeth at her, and Glory spreads throughout the Ensigns of Immortality. She seems only to live on Ecstasies, turning that little breath which remained on her lips, to the praises of God. She now also sees it a matter very reasonable, that God should make use of all manner of Arms, to prosecute a Fugitive from his Providence, who hath made a divore from its Creator, and seeks to save himself in a Region of nothing. She can bethink of no better way to purify those eyes, then with tears, which are now wholly bend towards Heaven; neither any better course than mortifyings, and fastings, to whither the beautiful Roses of her face; and at last to give up that amorous heart which hath been the corrupt fountain of so many Lusts, only to be washed, and cleansed with the blood of her Saviour.  
O Lord (said she) my heart was created for thee, and it will be restless until it return unto thee! Do I hunger? thou art the bread of life. Do I thirst, thou art the waters whereof whosoever drinks shall never thirst. Am I Naked? thy Righteousness is my Robe, Isai. 25.4. Thou art a Refuge from the storm, and a shadow from the heat. If I am Ignorant, thou art Wisdom; to know thee, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent is Eternal life, Joh. 17.3. Since therefore all things are nothing unto me, without thyself, be thou all things unto me. O God true God, of my salvation! my heart which feels itself moved with an affectionate zeal, thinks always upon thee. O let the breathe of my heart fill my lips with the sounds of Love! The 
* Lingua amoris Tuba.  Tongue is Love's Trumpet; and that love whic his sweetly in the bosom, sounds sweetly in the breath; O therefore let my voice be the silver Trumpet loudly to sound thy praise!  
Love is the commanding affection of the Soul, consisting in the expansion, and going out of the heart towards a person or thing it wishes well to. It is the Queen Regent of the Soul, and sits upon the Throne, commanding all; where then can the distressed Soul better fix her affections, and but upon her Saviour, the ends of whose love (●ike so many several Lines in a Compass) meet all in Love as in their alone Centre? who alas! but the shaking hand [trembling for fear of guilt of sin, and the wrath of God] is fittest then to lay hold upon him? He is all comfort, who should partake of him, but such as are ready to faint? He is our Physic, and who should receive him but such as are diseased?  
In this manner will the Soul, which is ever longing after her Saviour, be ever seriously meditating upon the spotless innocence, and unblameable conversation of its Lord and Master. It will consider what it is, through the defilement of sin; it will frequently converse with the word of God; it will still keep communion with God in prayer, it will often participate of his holy Supper; and if at any time it be surprised with Temptation, and overtaken in a fault, oh how vigilant is it at all times, and in all places [privately by herself, and publicly with others.] And when any inordinate Passion, Lust, or Distemper, doth begin to stir in her, how doth she fly to the rich mercy and free Grace of her Saviour, for strength to crush it, in the very first rising, that she be not given ovet to impetuous desires, nor that sins of a high hand get dominion over her.  
The thoughts also of a Gracious Soul, will be ever frequent towards Jesus Christ. If she lie down, all things are commended to his protection. If she rise, she desireth his guidance. If she read, or meditate, she craves his help. If she ear, she entreats his blessing. When she is satisfied, she praiseth his Bounty. In the beginning of her Work, she labours in his fear; in the end thereof she refers it to his Glory. In scarcity, she is contented with his fullness; in plenty, she distributeth it to his Glory. All things are nothing without him, and he is all things unto her, if she have nothing else.  
And though she oftentimes labour under spiritual affliction, when God is pleased to turn her midday into Night, and many times afflict her with barrenness in her Soul, yet will she still be setting forth the praises of her God. If she cannot chant with the Nightingale, she will chirp with the Blackbird; she'll chatter with the Swallow, yea croak with the Raven, rather than the sighs and groans of her heart shall want pouring out. A serious survey of her manifold slips and failings shall be taken. She will be deeply humbled, loathing and detesting what she hath done amiss, confessing her offences with a mournful heart, and a weeping eye, unto the Redeemer of Men, who only is able to comfort her.  
How doth she complain, that her sins have even excluded all the comforts of her God, and all his Graces from her Soul? once she enjoyed a sweet communion with him, but now she sinks in the Valley of sorrow. For why? he passeth by as a Wayfaring man, is become a stranger to her, and takes her for his Enemy. Ah, they are my sins, they are my sins, (saith she) which have thus occasioned the withdrawment of my Saviour! And what? shall my dearest comforts be thus driven away by myself? woe is me, that I am constrained to live in thy Anger, and to have such a sad habitation in the dark Tents of thy heavy displeasure.  
My God my God why comes thy wrath so fast upon me? O what Billows of disquietness. arise within my heart! what sad thoughts arise within my Soul? I know not what to do, I know not what to answer, so unworthy am I, not having any thing in me to move thy affections to me. Alas! how unfit am I to perform any service to thee? How dull, how poor, and liveless therein? yea with what vanity and distractions, are my best Actions accompanied? And will Christ stoop to uphold such a worm as I am? Yes, sure Lord! my eyes are toward thee. It's true, I am a sink of sin, but thou art a Gracious God; I am the chief of sinners, yet such thou cam'st to save. What though I am darkness, yet thou art light? and however thou now seemest fare from me, thou canst again fill me with light and refreshment. If thou once appear, the Tempest of my weatherbeaten Soul will cease.  
Thus at last, through a true humiliation, having found her Conscience appeased, her bloody Issue staunched, her heart enlarged, her footsteps ordered, with delight to run the ways of God, and her poor (and almost shipwreck) Vessel arrived at the Haven of God's amiable Presence, she comfortably concludes, that God had heard the requests of her lips, saying unto her (by the testimony of his Spirit) as once Christ did to the sick of the Palsy, Mark. 2.5. Son, thy sins are forgiven thee.  
And here we see, how that God (who many times enricheth us by our losses, ennobles us by our disasters, and raiseth us by our Ruins) brings us low, that we may not. 
* Fecitque cadendo ne caderes.  fall into the Precipice of everlasting misery. He leaves us here for a time, to behold dying Creatures, who fade, whither, and shrink insensibly into nothing [when once unsupported by the divine hand] that the House of God, and the Palace of Essences, may be the more welcome to us, where all things are immortal, vigorous, perfect, and incorruptible.  
In this world, we see but with the two Eyes of Flesh, the whole world being still tottering, and altogether imperfect. But there it is where the blessed behold all things, stable equal, and absolute in all its dimensions. Here it is, that our Reason is Eclipsed, and we often stray from our chiefest good; but there it is, that (after an admirable Transformation) the Soul is wholly absorbed in Felicity. And as a small drop of water pouted into the Sea, instantly takes the colour and taste there of; so the Souls taste is fully inebriated and coloured with the divine Glory. O Beauty! O Greatness! O Goodness! Beauty to inhabit in the Idea of God, as in a Paradise of Glory; and Greatness to have capacity infinite, and truly apprehensive of divine Majesty.  
Hence also may we take notice, that as there is ever some weakness in humane things, which sticketh to the most smiling Felicities, and never giveth us wine, but with a mixture of dregs; so never doth the day of God shine clearly in a Soul, which hath too much light of man, and sips too deeply in the fading vanities of the world [such days being seldom without Clouds.] For, O deceitful Riches! O fading Beauty! O Phantasms of Honour! How painful are ye to those that sue for you?  
How Traitorous are ye to those that possess you, and dolorous to those that leave you? unhappy are those that prise you through error, that court you through vanity, and obtain you by iniquity.  
How much better is it, to put our hands in flames, then to lay them on Crowns covered with injustice? what will it avail us, to have worn Purple, when we arrive at the period of Death, if we have defiled it with the spots of uncleaness, and that we must make an Exchange of all our glory and greatness, for a habit of Flames, which shall no more wear out, then Eternity? And who so blind as those who behold not the Diamonds of a Royal Crown, to sweat with horror, upon a Head poisoned with Pride and Ambition? Who is so weak as sees it not, his best course to withdraw from the great conversations of the world, from the imbroilment of affairs, wherein is so little profit, from the Court, from specious Offices, Preferments, and Negotiations, from all worldly Ambitions, and to cultivate a sweet repose and quiet in the service of Jesus.  
O God of the Patient, and Eternal mirror of Patience! may my Soul for ever hover in that Region where thou inhabitest; may it speedily arrive to that fortunate Island, where divine tranquillity dwelleth, and where there is an everlasting springof Beauty, and Glory! may it enter into the Temple, and may the continual odours of the Sacrifice of Reconciliation, Mercy, and Propitiation, mount up to thy Throne, which thou taughtest us upon Calvary, in the bitter and sharp dolours of thy body; amidst the sorrow of Heaven, the darkness of the Sun, the opening of Sepulchers, the breaking of Stones, the effusion of thy Blood, and the desolation of thy Soul. And as thy arms, Blessed Lord! were stretched out upon the Cross, so at last receive me into the stretchedout arms of thy mercy.   

The Sinsick Soul can take no rest until she be further reconciled to her Saviour.  
AS there is never any thing good, without the experience of evil, so God is often pleased here to afflict his Children, the berter to make them relish his comforts. And hence is it, that (as David saith) Psal. 55.19. The wicked fear not God, because they have no changes; God sending troubles to his Children in mercy, but gives prosperity to the wicked in his wrath.  
And hence it is, that while the workers of iniquity do flourish, the children of God [being heavy loaden with the weight and burden of their sins] cry out Lay on us, O God any affliction, rather than suffer us to prosper in the way that is evil! As the little Nightingale which lives innocently, by some little seeds of Plants, sings sweetly (while we see all those Birds of Prey, which feed upon the flesh of Beasts, send forth a horrid cry.) And as the poor Turtle ceaseth not to groan, having lost her Mate, and often beholds herself in the silver streams, where, in every wave she sees, she laments the waving Image of her misfortune, yet is far more secure (since the memelancholly Object of pity) than those who are more obvious to the eye of the Fowler; so a pious Soul (though seemingly deprived of her sweet liberty, and seeing herself severed from all commerce with Man kind, to be banished into a Desert, where nothing but Rocks are witnesses of her sufferings) is notwithstanding still fastened unto God by Chains, not to be dissolved, whom she fervently desires to vouchsafe her comfort, and to confirm her spirit, which was descended into the bottom of the miseries of this world.  
When the poor Soul hath offended her God, she can never be friends with herself, until she be reconciled to him, and conceive his countenance to be turned again to her. If he once but hid himself, she looks forward, if he be there; on the right hand, and on the left, if she may find him. She takes all ocasions of holy Conferences, and useth all means (with the Spouse) to inquire for her Beloved, which way he was gone, and whether he was turned aside. Early and late doth she seek the Lord of her life; she takes no rest in traversing the Forests, the Woods, the Meadows, the Mountains, and Floods, Cant. 1.3. and 6.3. She seeks him by night whom her Soul loveth; she will arise, and look about the streets, with groans and cries, with sighs and prayers, in her Chamber and Closet, in Church and Chappel, she sends up her vows to the God of her salvation.  
How powerfully also doth she desire God (first bedewing her own eyes) to water the barrenness of her Soul? what sad complaints (being all swollen with Tears) doth she pour out? What, is Heaven turned Brass, that neither Tears, nor sighs can enter, Shall there be no more commerce between Heaven, and the unhappy Progeny of sinful Adam? Alas, O God saith the forlorn Soul) Wilt thou always be hidden from me? Shall I never see that face, which with one glimpse of splendour, can make me eternally happy? where am I? what do I? Alas my soul is in night, and darkness; and I sadly feel, (O blessed Saviour! that thou art far from me. My heart is near sinkingin a sea of sorrow; I row strongly, but can advance nothing, except thou come into my Soul. Come then, O my most blessed Saviour! walk upon this tempestuous Sea of my heart; say unto me, It is I, be not afraid. O come speedily and Reign within me, to disperse those cares, to enlighten my understanding, to inflame my will, to cure my Infirmities, and recover my decayed Senses!  
Many and bitter (not doubt) are the assaults of Satan all this while, within the poor Soul. Can God love thee (saith he) and leave thee thus to my power? Why then is all this befallen thee? where are all his mercies thou boastest of? sure he hath now forsaken, and delivered thee into my hand, why then shouldst thou wait any longer? But still doth the Soul stop her ears to the voice of his deceitful charming, not doubting, that (however Christ had for a time withdrawn his wont favour) he was still her Advocate, and (even at that instant) pleading her case, and answering for her (at the Bar of God's Justice) all those suits which Satan was then objecting against her.  
Oh (saith the Soul) it is he that died for my sins, and risen again for my Justification! my own Righteousness (alas!) is but as menstruous Rags. It is he only that was made [for me] Wisdom, Righteousness, and Redemption! Rom. 5.25. It is he that hath satisfied an infinite Justice for my sins! Isai. 53.4, 5, 6. It is he that bears my grief, and carries my sorrows, and will at last cure my sufferings.  
Behold then the various Dispensations of a merciful God Oh the wonderful experience of a strong belief, in a high mounted Soul! whose excellent Graces of Charity and Humility, are like so many wings to carry her above all the sense of her present Afflictions; giving her to see, that though Jesus were sometimes pleased to hid himself in the Gospel (as the Sun within a Cloud) yet he would again draw the Curtain, the Sun of Righteousness would appear with healing in his wings; and (notwithstanding his present withdrawment) did receive her sighs, and bottle up her Tears, and would again show himself in the best time.  
And whensoever the ship of her Soul seemed wracked, then would she endeavour to save herself upon the Rock of his infinite mercy: at this Pool of Bethesda, would she still lie, until he cured her; on this Thread would she catch to bear up her wounded spirit; and upon him would she still wait, who loves those to the end, whom he once loves, whose presence she always desired to cherish, and resolved still to wait on him, who (but for a time) hides his face from the house of Jacob, Isai. 8.17.  
And job. 10.1. [laying her complaint upon herself] How often would she thus expostulate with her offended God. Ah Lord! the marks of thy bounty 
* Semel electus, semper dilectus.  (I confess) are no less, than all I am, and have! Ah, wretched I! that continually wear about me all the Tokens of thy kindness, and yet not love thee? what shall I answer, when thou sayest unto me? I created thee like unto myself. I made thee a little God on Earth, I imprinted on thy forehead the Character of my Greatness. The Sun shined on thee, the Earth supported thee, the Creatures clothed thee, and yet thou hast forgotten me. O admirer of thyself, and ignorant of my works! Why hast thou husbanded my goods, as to change them into evil?  
Alas, poor Soul! what evidence will (at the last day) be produced against thee? The Devils, who first tempted thee to sin, will then rise up as witnesses against thee. The Angels of God (before whom thou shouldst not have sinned) will then testify against thee. The abused Creatures will then be brought in to thy conviction. The Messengers of God will cry aloud against thee for neglecting their Doctrine. All the personal mercies which thou hast received, will also be so many evidences against thee; the Earth that bore thee, the Air thou breathedst in, the Food which nourished thee, the Clothes which covered thee; the Creatures that laboured for thee, the Houses thou dwelledst in, and all things else that served for thy use, will then further thy condemnation.  
And may not God himself justly expostulate with thee? Did all my mercies deserve no more thanks? shouldst thou not have better served me, that gave them? was I so hard a Master, was my work so hard, and unreasonable; or my Rewards of so little value, as no way to persuade thee to my service? Ah ungrateful wretch! that the love of God, the evil of sin, the blood of thy Saviour, the Judgements to come, the Glory promised, and the punishment threatened, should not be as forcible to draw thee to Holiness, as a little fleshly delight and worldly gain, is to draw thee to wickedness!  
O whether will thy mind fail, when distempers shall steer it! Whether will thy Fancy run, when Diseases shall ride it! What Hell wilt thou frame within thy Conscience? Watch will surprise thee, Dreams will terrify thee; and if some terrible Bird do but croak in the Night, it is presently, the sad voice of some dead man, who bids thee prepare for another world.  
Ah! that thou couldst but think of thy perplexed condition, when thy conscience (being once awakened) shall blush, and stare thee in the face! when thy sins [with David] Psal. 51.3. Shall be ever in thy sight! Then will thy mouth be confessing, thy eyes weeping, thy cheeks blushing, thy hands writinging, and smiting thy bosom, thy heart-bleeding, thy Heartstrings breaking, and thy voice crying out (with Cain) My sins are greater than can be forgiven! Then too late wilt thou cry, Lord have mercy upon me; when a ruinous house shall be ready to fall about thy ears; when tediousness of sickness, loss of Goods, and confusion of understanding, shall encompass thee, when thy windy sighs, and deep-fetched Groans of thy breaking heart, when the misty Clouds of thy closing eyes, the Roaring thunder of thy stammering tongue [sometimes perchance venting horrible Oaths and Blasphemies] shall represent nothing but Images to the Beholders.  
And alas! what wilt thou do, when in the last agonies of Death, thy Body shall feel such great disturbances, as will make thee to turn here and there, to rub the Bed-clothes, which overpower thee with Convulsions, which choke thy speeches, make thy Visage Pale, thy memory to falter, and a cold sweat to overspread all thy body; which is only encompassed, with weeping eyes, whining countenances, distracted looks, affrighted and dejected Visages, hideous outcries, and perchance (which is worse) with petty Furies?  
Ah! what content wilt thou then take, when Death comes to sound his last Trumpet in thy Ears; saying unto thee, Come, let us be going, thou must dislodge from thy Riches, thy large possessions, from thy Beauties and fading Pleasures, from thy friends, and from thy kindred, and never more to return again?  
Oh! how bitter will be the remembrance of death; how harsh will it be unto unmortified spirits, when they shall say to the Body; ah, whither goest thou, dear Hostess! whether goest thou! Thou hast hitherto most tenderly pampered me, pompously clothed me, wantonly cherished me; I was thy Idol, thy Pride, thy Glory; and whether now must thou go? What, into a Grave with Serpents, and Worms? alas! what wilt thou do there, and what will become of thee?  
Thus fares it with distressed Souls in the shades of Death, when (fixing their dying eyes upon their former acquaintance) they find some weeping, others screeching; some fainting, and all (under a veil of sorrow) encompassing their Bed, with this sad Note: alas! do you leave us, and shall we meet no more? Farewell pleasing amities! adieu all our sports, feasts, and loves! now is the time come, that me must leave all our earthly acquaintance, all our Table friends, Ranters, Gamesters, Amorists, and all the delights of former Companies, since from this moment, we shall be for ever separated!  
Whereas, far otherwise shall it be with those heavenly and victorious souls, who have lived to God. Time, and the Laws of Death, have nothing to affright them with. All that they have to do, is but to go out of a dark Dungeon, and a straight Prison, to leave a world of sadness and misery, and enter into a spacious Temple of Eternal Splendours; where their Being shall have no end, their knowledge no ignorance, nor their love suffer change.  
Repair then unto him (O my Soul! who is all-sufficient; and though the discharge of thy duty be above the power of thy ability; yet can he give thee a heart to perform what he requireth from thee. There is no Prison for a Soul whom God hath set at liberty. The whole world belongs to him, who knows how to misprise it. God seeketh thy conversion, and he is able to turn thee; He requireth thy faith, and he is able to make thee believe; he requireth thy love, and by knocking at the door of thy heart, he is able to get entrance into it.  
Be not sad then, O my Soul! but adore that infinite mercy, which doth at any time chastise thee with Temporary punishments, being not willing to make thee an Object of that fury, which is kindled by Eternity of Flames! Why shouldst thou not bend all thy affections to Jesus, who is only able to delight thee? Why shouldst not thou be enamoured of his Beauties? Why shouldst thou not sigh after his Attractives? If we behold the Sun, we cannot choose but love God, that Glorious Light being the Image of the Sovereign King, the Eye of the which enlighteneth the Stars in Heaven, createth the Fruits and Flowers upon Earth, and giveth strength to all living Creatures. How pleasant a thing also is it to behold those goodly Forests, to trace those flourishing Woods, to be delighted with the murmuring Waters, to hear the pleasant notes and warbling of Birds, in the sweetness of solitude, and retirement.  
But, O my Soul! rest not here. Let thy Spirit fly to that hidden Spirit, which thus distributeth itself through so many melodious Divisions throughout the whole world. When thou contemplatest the world, and all things thereto belonging, think on that secret Spirit which insinuateth itself thereunto with such admirable power, ravishing sweetness, and incomparable harmony! Oh love thy Jesus, because he is fair, and made all these Beauties, presented before thee! Love him, because he is good, and communicateth himself unto thee! Love him, because he is thine, and thou art wholly his! O be thou still touched with his beauty, his wisdom, and goodness, and let his mercy still soften thy heart!  
And how (a thousand times) will't thou bless the hour of this Resolution? Ah Jesus! why should I argue any longer with my vain Thoughts? Why should I dispute any longer with my sinful Lusts? Why do I not fly away, weigh Anchor, set Sails, and go forward towards my Eternal happiness? Shall I create unto myself an Empire in my Banishment? shall I suppose myself in a Haven, in the midst of shipwreck? surely the Soul, which is ravished with the contemplation of Heaven, will not stay upon Flesh. She hath nothing to do with the standing puddles of Egypt which do only inflame thirst in her veins; but is ever seeking refreshment in the Cisterns of Bethel.  
No more will she ask, where is her God become? not a tract of a Tear will be visible on those cheeks, where Floods and Billows of sorrow had formerly appeared. Though formerly she went weeping under the heavy load of her sins, she at last returns with precious seed, she soons recovers her joy, 
Psal. 51.10.11.  and peace, and loseth no Grains, 
Psal. 126.6.  but rather gets ground in the fire of Temptation, she receives double (with job) for all her losses, for a Cup of Affliction, Vessels of joy; and for a few disconsolate days, months, and years of delight, and comfort in Heaven; where she no longer complains of her frailties, but cries out; It is enough Lord, it is enough what am I, or what is my Father's House, that thou shouldst thus deal with me? And oh! if there be such pleasures in the Kingdom of Grace, how unspeakable are those laid up for us in the Kingdom of Glory.   

The Soul is ravished upon the Return of her Saviour's Presence.  
THough the Soul of Man may live at uncertainties, upon a certain Faith, and (in time of desertion) trembling may accompany the people of God; yet it truly relies upon Christ's mercy, 
Job 13.15.16. Psal. 6.8.  it shows a true saving and justifying faith in the very act of Reliance and dependence. And though God's Afflictions are oftentimes like hot Spices, comfortable to the stomach, though hot in the mouth, yet the Soul [with the Spouse] is ever waking, whensoever it falls into any spiritual slumber.  
The greatest darkness ordinarily (as we use to say) is about the break of day. And it is not impossble, but that (when sadness and melancholy [which is many times the Nurse of doubting] shall pervert our Reason, and clad the Soul in mourning weeds) there may be an Eclipse at the fairest Noon, through the with-drawment of God's favour, and the interposition of Satan's Temptations. The dark Cloud which sometimes comes between God and the Soul, is again cleared with many Lights, and most sweet consolations, insomuch that being again gilded over with the most radiant Splendours and admirable Beauty of her beloved, she breaks out with profusions of heart, not to be expressed.  
Holy Asaph may complain, Will the Lord absent himself for ever? Will he be favourable no more? hath God forgotten to be Gracious? hath he in anger shut up his tender mercy? Psal. 77.7.8, 9 and yet all this expostulating with God, is not because he suspects the truth of his Promises; but because (at such times) the Soul cannot so plainly see it; it looks upon its sins in a multiplying-Glass, and in the gloomy day of Affliction, is ready to behold them, as an evidence that it wants that interest in God, it should have, and thinks (with David, and the Church) it is wholly cast off, Psal. 43.2. & 44, 9, & 80, 1.  
But after those fainting and soul-swounding fits, and too much eyeing and poring on sin, without observing the nature of God in his Covenant, when the poor Soul, as well looks upwards with one eye towards God's mercy, as with the other downward on her sins, she is kept from being overpowered with Satan's temptations; she concludes there is yet some help in her God; she still lays hold on the merits of her Saviour. And however her stomach may be gone for a time, yet (when she awakes out of her spiritual Desertion) she cries out, Surely the Lord is in this place, though I knew it not. Ps. 4.3.8 I shall again sit at David's Table, who bids me to come and taste, and see how good the Lord is. Fear not (O Spouse) thy Beloved is not wholly departed; Be not troubled if thy journey to Canaan be through the wilderness of this world, and if (in thy way to Zion) thou pass through the valley of Baca, since Christ is a Cloud and Pillar to direct thee.  
Thus by the Gates of Hell, doth God oftentimes show us the way to Heaven. He (who is not tied always to bring a Soul thither by one and the same Road) can make Death the way to life. The Sun of Righteousness is still bright, though behind a Cloud, and not seen to us. The Nurse is withdrawn oftentimes, that the Mother may get the chiefest affections of the Child. And though God leave a poor Soul, labouring in the Pangs of Desertion; yet (through the Sunshine of God's countenance ripening its Graces) cloudy weather still advantageth her growth, and her Barrenness, at last yields a fruitful Harvest; God's relief coming always in the best time, and she patiently attends his help from Heaven, even until the fourth [which is the last] watch of the Night.  
And when (with Peter) she is freed out of the Prison of strong Temptation, and God is pleased to come in unto her, with abundance of comfort: Oh! how is she raised to bless the Lord, who hath forgiven her sins, and healed all her infirmities! The waves of Terrors, and floods of Afflictions, never beat so violently upon her, neither did she so much complain of spiritual wants, as now she saw the wonders of God in the deep, and the infinitenefs of his Wisdom in the dispensations of comfort, and joy, of grief, and terror. The Souls complaint, now is no longer, Where is my God become? or that, There is no soundness in her flesh, because of his anger. All her distempers seem but as so much Physic, to cleanse her from her manifold sins: Yea, she now seems even drowned in sweetness, and (in sinking, cries out; Oh the breadth of thy unfathomable love! what Saint; what Tongue, what Angel, can speak out thy unexpressible kindness? 
Ephes. 5.17.  Thou hast loosed my Bonds, Oh that my heart could burn in love towards thee! Oh that I could (as I desire) make known to others, how good thou hast been to me! in preserving, strengthening, and fixing my fiath on a Rock, not to be overborn with the storms, and swelling Surges of Satan's Temptations!  
Methinks I meet thee every where (O blessed Jesus!) with a hundred arms unfolded, to do me good! what place, what time, what moment, is not filled with thy Bounty? Though passions have (for a time) assailed my mind, and thy Terrors have affrighted my spirits; yet behold, now thy Grace hath shot through the dark Clouds of my Sin, and doubting, thy Darts have pierced the Centre of my heart, with quickening sparklings, my spirits are come again: Ah, how my Soul is filled with joy, ravishment, and admiration.  
Oh God who is he, who beholds the fading shadows of the world [this dismal place, where cares and sorrows are still growing young, and never die] that would ever betray his Soul, Heaven, and his God, to yield obedience thereunto? who would betray an Eternity of blessing, for a Pleasure so short, and wretched? who would build Tabernacles here, to lose a Mansion among Celestial Souls, where Love only Reigns? who would not give a farewell to those earthly Cottages, to ascend those mounts of Bliss, where every season is a constant Spring? who would desire to make his name great here on Earth, and desire to have them enroled among the Saints in Heaven?  
O what Celestial mirth! what an expansion of all the faculties of the Spirit; yea, what rejoicing is there in the heart of Man, when Christ gins to make it his Throne? all Powers do him homage, all Passions render him service. Who can conceive what joy passeth in the Soul, when Jesus is pleased to take up his lodging in it? How is the heart excited, awakened, and inflamed towards Heaven? what distaste is there of all things in the world? It is as light to bleared eyes; It is as food to hungry Travellers; It is the repose to the wearied, the Country of poor Pilgrims, and the Crown of all our happiness.  
Nothing but Fires, Desires, Sweetness, Affections, Joys, and Admirations, will transport our Souls, having once regained our well-beloved; our thoughts will wholly be employed upon Jesus, we shall be dead and insensible to all the Objects of the world. All the Thorns wherewith it is encompassed, will seem as Roses. If we swim in the Tears of Wotmwood, it will be no other than sweet water. All the wounds we receive will be but like Rubies and Pearls. Our Maladies will prove but sports; our Calumnies will be our blessings; yea, Death itself no other than a happy life.  
When the Soul sleeps, Jesus is in her sleep; when she speaks, Jesus is under her Tongue; when she Writes, Jesus is under her Pen; and when she is merry, she chants forth the praises of her Jesus; in her solitude, she seems all environed with Raptures. And when any reproves her for being alone, she cries out, nothing less, before she was interrupted with their company. In the morning she grieves to think, how often she shall offend God before Night. Being about to rest, she bitterly (with scalding Tears) laments, that she shall have no more power over her Dreams, but offend her Saviour while she slept.  
Thus is her mind always running after her dear Spouse. See is in a prison of Love, where her Thoughts, her Hopes, her Joys, were Chains. And still doth she elevate herself upon the wings of Faith, in the highest postures she can towards Heaven, taking the choicest affections with her, whereby to ascend that Mountain of pure and inexpressible light. She well knew, that true Pleasure, was to be found no where, but in God, whose Joys are like those Gardens which never whither, but are perpetually watered with immortal Graces. And oh! How [if it were possible] would she express her love to him by daily offering herself a hundred times for him, in as many Sacrifices as she hath Thoughts, and Body, Members!  
Never Ship (laden with Gold) arrived more gladly at the Haven (after many tedious Tempests, and a thousand disasters among Pirates at Sea) as the poor soul now seems to take content in the love of God. And having spun out all the Web, which he gave her, cries out, I have ended all, the hopes of the world! why stayest thou O my God to receive my Soul, which I bear in my lips? O Jesus! at whose name the Heaven; the Earth, and Hell, do bend the knee! I now care not what I suffer for thee, so I sin not against thee, so I may for ever enjoy thee!  
Thus the love of God is like Lightning in a Cloud, still striving to break forth; and suffers the Soul to take little rest in any thing, but what it undertakes for the glory of her Maker, Joh. 11. who many times defers the cure, that his power may be the more manifest; the heats of affliction, being but the chafing of thewax whereby he means to seal us nearer to himself, and the spots of our infirmities, but the Letters wherein to write his Name. He makes his servants more eminent in their sufferings, than actions; yea, makes them remarkable (with the Apostle, 2 Cor. 6.4, 5.) In much Patience, in Afflictions, in Necessities, in Distresses, in Stripes, in Imprisonments, etc.  
And as in worldly Amity's, it is not enough to have affections, languors, and lip compliments, without some better effects; so the Souls love consisteth not in slight affectations, or idle Devotion. She knows that whosoever doth truly love, must serve Jesus, whose will must be executed, his Cross carried, and ourselves wholly transformed into him, by imitation of his Example. She looks no more upon a withered and rotten Gourd, upon the seducements and flatteries of a most odious and decayed Prostitute. But Heaven is still in her Eye, where wealth, without want; delight without distaste, and joy without sorrow (like undefiled and uncorruptible Virgins) sit clothed and crowned with Glory.  
A devout Soul, resembles those Rivers, which run under the Earth. It steals from the eyes of the world, to seek for the eyes of God. It studies solitude and retirement, and is wholly shut up within itself. Whence it often happens, that those of whom we speak least on Earth, are the best known in Heaven; and while the world thinks they lie upon Thorns, their Beds are made of Roses. Yea, God usually makes Ladders and Footstools of our Tribulations, to lead us unto Heaven.  
Happy then, is that life, which hath no eyes for carnal Beauties! it being a shame for us still to tread on Flowers, and think to attain Heaven, without being acquainted with the troubles of Earth, to be embarked in the great Ship of Christianity, and not sometimes to cast our eyes on the Rocks; but (like Jonah and the outcasts from God's Presence) to sleep securely under the Hatches.  
And for ever blessed is that life, which is no way dazzled with the sunshine of worldly vanities! How freely doth it taste the comforts of Heaven? How doth it forsake the painted pieces of the world? what pleasures will it [one day] take in this one Pleasure? what joy is it to derive all our Joys from this one Fountain? Why say we not then with S. Austin? O Fountain of Life, when shall we come to thy Delights, and eternal sweetness! I sigh here on Earth [holy Hierusaleus] in a dry Land! O dear City! with weeping eyes, we behold thee afar off!  
Tell me then (if thou canst) O fond worldling! what is it that thou so strangely sets thy thoughts on? What, alas! is it that thou so passionately seekest? Wilt thou have Honours? who hath more than God, to whom so many States, Kingdoms, and Empires are but a drop of dew? Hast thou high thoughts with thyself, who more high than thy Saviour, who makes Heaven to bow under the shadow of his Majesty, who sits upon Thrones, and shall at last come with his Angels to judge the World? Oh, but thou wouldst have power in thy hands! Alas who more great than this Judge, who makes the Thunder to roar, the Lightning to fly, the Rocks to rent, the Earth to quake, the Elements to melt; there being neither Place, Time, nor Power, which can deliver any out of his hands? If wisdom affect thee, who more wise than that God who hath the Riches of Eternal wisdom, who seethe all within himself, and to whom all things, past, present, and to come, are [at one instant] represented?  
But it may be (O wavering Soul!) thou art wearied with the cares, griefs, vexations, and anxieties of the world; If so, where canst thou find repose out of God? Hath he not all the contentments for the Soul and body? But thou sayest again, thou art no body without Pleasures; yea, the desires of thy heart, are unsatisfied without them. And is there not a fullness of joy in thy dear Saviour? Is he not an abundance, which never fails; a sweetness, which never corrupteth, a Feast which never consumes? Is he not a perpetual Treasury of Comforts, and an unexhaustible fountain of all contentments?  
Methinks (oh unsatisfied Soul!) I hear thee yet further to complain, thou wantest Riches. And dost thou think to receive them anyway, but from him who possesseth all? He is the Beauty of fields, the lustre of Flowers, the pleasantness of Fruits, the wealth of Minerals, and the Magazine of total Nature? Cannot he, whose care it is every year to make Garments, all besprinkled over with the pearls of so many Meadow flowers, satiate thy hungry desires?  
Surely, would we but thus, by continual familiarity, adore that most pure Spirit which thus enlivens us, and disperseth itself throughout the whole world, we should not look upon the Sun, but break out into desire for that eternal Light, wherein there is neither blemish nor darkness. We should not behold the Sea, but admire the secret depths of the Judgements of God, We should not cast our eyes upon the Fields, but [in so many sorts of Herbs and Flowers different in colour, and quality] behold the beautiful eyes of him that hath ordained them; neither should we hear a Bird to sing, but we will conceit it to speak the love of our Maker.   

The Soul being re-advanced on the wings of Faith, sends up her choicest Affections towards Heaven.  
THose that are throughly wounded with heavenly love, Cant. 3.1, 2, 3. are sending out their sighs and groans, their thoughts and tears, to seek out the well-beloved of their Souls. No return, nor Letter pleaseth them wherein the Name of Jesus is not comprised. They pretend not any more to the Greatness and pleasures of the world, after their former affliction, but throw themselves, between the arms of the Cross, that they may there find those of their Saviour, daily dissolving themselves into Tears, and meeting no comfort but in the wounds of their Saviour, and a heavenly Retirement.  
And O how great is the comfort, in seeking the remedies of our wounds, in the Mercies of an infinite God who [being in his Nature most wise and bountiful] hath not so given man over, as a prey to grief and calamities, but hath [withal] reserved a life of spirits to himself, whereby to please and adore him. He wipes the eyes of those that are his (so many times drenched in Tears) and makes them see (through their greatest sufferings) a glory and happiness not imaginable, which expects their Soul in another life.  
Ah welcome, welcome, that affliction which is raised from our Saviour's Love! Happy is that chastisement which comes from so fatherly a hand! What though I smart, though I bleed under the stripes of my heavenly Father? sure there cannot be so much pain in them, as comfort in the love of him that lays them on. Did he not use to chastise every one whom he doth receive, Heb. 12.6, 8. Alas! I might suspect myself? But O repining Soul! must thou always feed upon dainties? will not the Crumbs which fall from thy Master's Table, sometimes suffice thee? Canst thou not be content to touch the Hem of his Garment? Hast thou eaten so plentifully of the Loaves of his mercy, & canst thou not sometimes be content to fast with him in the Wilderness? Wilt thou be with him in the Calm, and not (with Peter) adventure to him on the waves of Trouble?  
Thus doth the poor Soul often check herself for her great faintness under the power of some affliction. But though she see it a sad thing to row, where Jesus is not in the Boat, yet at last she finds all things to fall out aright with those who embark with him! If he once say, It is I, be not afraid, Mat. 14.6.26. How quickly doth the storm of temptation cease? Nothing seems grievous to a sincere Christian, so as (at last, with the Apostle) he may finish his course with Joy. He is like a Pearl coming out of the salt Sea, beholding himself involved (almost from his birth) in great acerbities, and horrible confusions, from whence he mounts with so much lustre, as to make his adversities the steps to the Temple of Glory.  
That Soul, which hath brought itself to love God above all, and to despise all, in comparison of him, and accounts itself unhappy, if [for one moment of time] diverted from the sweet Ideas, and most sublime thoughts of his person, will with comfort, pass over all the troubles and acerbities suffered in in his service, perpetually languishing with most ardent desires, to behold him face to face.  
Have you never seen those poor Tulips in a Garden, shut up with melancholy under the shady coldness of the night, which in the next morning have been (as it were) unlock with the Key of the Sun's Rays? Just so doth it happen to those drooping Souls, who sometimes seem benumbed and frozen through the want of that Presence, which at last enlivens them with great refreshment and cheerfulness.  
Who would have thought that Jonah, when (contrary to the advice of his Master) he would turn Politician, and fly from his Presence, should forthwith be swallowed by the greedy Ocean; yet behold (when the Tempest pursued him, the Sea raged on him) the Belly of a Whale which we thought his Sepulchre, became his Palace, & wherein had he not been buried, he had died.  
Sure there is, I know not what kind of charm, in holy sadnesses, which cannot be sufficiently expressed; but such it is, that a Soul [contristated from God] when it is fallen into those Abysses, wherein all the world reputes it lost, findeth in the bottom of its heart, such lights and sweetnesses, as that there is not any comfort in the world to be compared with them.  
Still is the dejected Soul crying out, My God I adore thy holy Providence, which sometimes drencheth me with Gall and Wormwood, in an age wherein others are accustomed to walk on Roses! Thou knowst (O Lord!) that my pride hath need of such a counter-poise, and in all equity, hast thou done that, which thy wisdom thought good. What though mine eyes are moistened, and fail not every night to pour forth streaming Rivers? Is it reason I should live without some light hurt, seeing thee wounded on all sides for my example? Can I receive or take contentment in the hopes of a better fortune? Where should I gather those pleasures that I shall (at last) in joy in thee? It's true; I am yet upon the weeping banks of the River of Babylon; But since thou hast (at last) promised to wipe off those Tears, since thou hast told me, Thy yoke is easy, and thy burden light, and hast at last promised to ease all those that labour and are heavy laden; why should I not fix all my consolations and songs at the feet of thy Cross? why should I desire any thing more in the world, than the performance of thy holy will?  
Observe then, whosoever thou art that readest these lines, of what wood God useth to frame his Saints. Do we not see oftentimes, that some escape out of Prison by fire; others (falling into precipices very gently) have found their liberty in the bottom thereof; others, to whom poison hath turned into nourishment; others, to whom blows of a Sword have prolonged life! by opening their Impostumes; yea often it is, that the seeds of good hap, are sometimes hid under the appearances of evil. Oh silly humane Prudence then, which darest to row against the providence of God finding us many precpices in thy passions, which seem so pleasing to thee, as thou openest snares to betray thy poor soul!  
Is it possible that any, who bears the Name of a Christian, should not be grieved to lead a life an Enemy to the Cross of Christ? That so many good men, as we read of, should by the power of virtue afflict their bodies, and prefer contempt above all that the world esteemeth, that they might conform to the sufferings of their Saviour, and any contentment should be delightful, which comes not from divine things, and blots out all the memory of sensual delectations.  
Can it possibly be, that the Soul, which hath forsaken the Love-dalliances of the world, and razed out of his heart all other love (as the Rays of the Sun scatter the Shadows and Phantasms of the Night) should any more delight in its former pleasures? No sure, she returns (as from the Country of the dead) with languishing voice, and interrupted words, she bedews herself with tears for every vain thought and idle word, which offers violence, or makes the least breach on her former engagement.  
When David awaked (as it were out of a dead sleep) after he had remained nine months covered with filth, and blood, without coming to himself, until Nathan took away that veil that blinded him; how soon did he become another man? He was no more that amorous David, but a Penitent exceedingly humbled; having a heart bleeding, turns weeping, a sad and disfigured face, a body made thin, sigh redoubled one upon another; Joints pined away with fastings, and austereness, Bones broken, by reason of his sin. Society was unpleasing to him, the light unwelcome to him, because reproaching him with his offence. His Couch swum with Tears, his Harp was employed in expressing his griefs, & his whole Body (all this while dying to all mortal things of the earth) echoed his groan, and swelled with weeping on the Sea of Repentance, until he regained that presence, from which he desired God never more to cast him.  
And oh, that we could but cast those eyes, which have so often descried the fair prospects of the world upon Jesus our Saviour, the true brazen Serpent to free us from the Serpents of Hell Fire! yea (O dear Saviour!) look back upon me, as thou didst upon Peter! cast those eyes upon me, which did incessantly watch for my salvation, even to the passing of whole Nights in sighs and Prayers! O cast those eyes of love, of mercy and compassion upon me, which dart the beams of daylight into souls that love thee! Let those eyes (which are always flourishing) cool & shadow my wandering eyes, from the burning glances of lustful concupiscence. Let those eyes, which no sooner began to exercise the functions of life, but were seen all in blossom, and an amorous aspect for us, alloy the spreading Rays of those open Casements. Let those eyes which from the top of a mountain, looked on a poor famished people, who wandered through the deserts, as sheep deprived of their shepherd, guide my straying heart to thy own self.  
Briefly, let those crystal fountains, which daily distil the sweet influences of mercies; which (in dropping tears) so freely poured out themselves over miserable Jerusalem; which proved so efficacious for us, when thou gav'st up thy Soul, with weeping, and bleeding in the Sacrifice of the Cross, quench the flames of all unholy desires, and abate the fervour of all sinful thoughts and affections within us.   

The Soul [in a Frenzy] breaks out into admiration of God's love, in being freed from the misery of everlasting flames.  
THe discourse of Heavenly things, is the sweetest Manna which the Soul tasteth in the wilderness of this world. She is ever crying out, O Glory! O Bliss! O Happiness! how have ye struck me to the heart? O when will the happy day come, that I shall sit at this Fountainhead, and not need with pain, to draw the water of pleasure? When shall I arrive at this sweet Ravishment and Ecstasy? Alas! my dulness, my weakness, my drowsiness? yea, ever and anon, is she crying out! Oh the compassion of that Physician; which finding his Patients in a Frenzy, and knowing that nothing could preserve their life, but the loss of his own, is contented to die, not only for those who were the causers of his death, but the Actors, and instruments themselves!  
Solomon saith, That Love is as strong as death, Cant. 8.6. But if we examine the strength of each, we shall find Love to be the stronger. It's true, all earthly things submit to the power of death; young and old, Kings and Peasants, Sceptres, and Spades, are all alike to him. Not the Supremacy of the King also; not the holiness of the Prophet (as we see in David) not the gravity of the High Priest (verified in Eli to his Sons) Not the wisdom of Solomon, or the strength of Samson, are any way exempted from owing Homage, or paying tribute to Love, as unto Death.  
If we compare also, the acts of Love, with those of Death; we shall find Love, not only as powerful and universal, but much stronger; Death being only seen in taking the Rich, the Strong, the Wise, the Young, the Great: But O behold, how Love hath prevailed over the Son of God, the Saviour, and life of the world! See how he submitted himself to his death, out of Love! Was it not Love, and only Love, that wrestled with God, and overcame him in this, that he should leave the Heavens, and lay down his life, submitting himself to that death which had no power over him?  
O my God what do I here see? what is this my eyes behold? Truly, my Lord, my God death hath transported thee, even to Ecstasy! Alas, what shall I say to thee? my heart overwhelming love! when I consider how many Millions are swallowed up in Eternal perdition, while I am one of that small number thou hast brought to the light of knowing thee, and finding the narrow way to salvation? Why didst thou set thine eyes upon me, preferring a wretch before so many thousands? was it because I was Nobler, or more excellent than they? Ah no!  
O my Soul! what dost thou expect, if this be not enough to set thee on fire? Look about thee, and behold yet a further endearment; see thy own Country, thy Neighbours, Acquaintance, thy Kindred, and Friends; yea, how many mayst thou find of all degrees, more worthy of acceptation than thyself? Oh how the Soul is filled with a Seraphic Love, with a fire drawn from the most pure flames of Heaven, which is uncessantly burning (being shut up within a melting heart) without consuming! and which like a Diamond, in the midst of a thousand Hammers, is never moved with all their violence; is never tempted with the glittering of Honours; but is always tempering of Gall, with the most delicious contentments of this life, to follow her Jesus, her wounded Jesus, her Jesus that was crucified for her.  
Still is she crying out to herself, whence come those Lights, those Joys, those Pleasures, Consolations, and Hopes, which are thus above our strength, and wherewith we often find our thoughts to be transported and raised above ourselves? Is it not from thee, O Jesus! who enters into our Soul, and becomes our Comforter? we need not seek thee in Heaven, seeing thou art thus in our heart, and there utterest thy Oracles. O do thou still raise us above all the concupiscences of flesh! let us ever love and dilate ourselves in thee, which thus fillest us with the height of thy Glories! Let the sweet familiarity we have with thee our Redeemer, steal from us all extraordinary care of the world's employments; Though we are within the world, let us be nothing less than of the world. Let us (like Fishes) live silent in the roaring of the waves, and keep ourselves freshamidst the brinywaters of the Sea of this world; yea, like the beams of the Sun, let us touch the Earth, but never leave Heaven.  
And since mercy provoked, changeth itself into severe Justice [and what Creatures then are there which will not punish a fugitive Soul, which flies from her Saviour through her ingratitude, when he draws her to him by the sweetness of his love.] O let me [above all things] fear to be forsaken of thee, my God O let not mine eyes be the snares of my Soul! Blessed Lord! thou hast given thyself for a portion, thy Son for a Ransom, Rom. 8.32. jer. 10.16. Psal. 16.5. thy Spirit for a Pledge; thy Word for a Guide, and thy glorious Kingdom for an Inheritance: and alas, how unable am I to value the least of thy blessings, much less to repay thee any thing for them; since I am infinitely below all thy mercies; and had I any thing worthy thy acceptance, it were all thine, and I could offer nothing to thee but thine own.  
What then shall I do, but throw my heart to the feet of thy bounty all naked, all melted, without self-will, or power of resistance? Lord do thy pleasure upon me, 1 Sam. 3.8. Howbeit I will not despair of my Disease, vvhilst I remember the Physician. Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. Yea, I hope I am, even now, under thy healing hand. And though during my continuance in this Body, many infirmities oppress me, yet will I never leave craving what thou hast taught me always to ask.  
Give me therefore a Gracious disposition; a more watchful obedience to thy law, a more mortified conversation for the future, and more sorrow, and contrition of heart for what is past. O let my eyes be open to see the shortness of the pleasure of sin, and the perpetuity of sinners Torments; the easiness of thy gentle yoke, and light burden here below, and the weight of thy glory, provided for me above! since there is no moment (O Lord!) void of thy goodness; why should there be any moment void of my praise?  
I know it will not be long until death consume me to the very bones, and I shall then possess nothing, but what I have done for thee. Shall I then live in this world to myself, and be still vexed with care, how to preserve a miserable life? Dear Jesus! suffer me not thus to be taught by thy Judgements, what I have neglected to learn from thy mercy. Time and age will one day whither the blossoms of youth. The best of our joys are but fires of straw, or flattering sunshines, which are suddenly either washed away with a shower, or banished by Tempests. The Sun will (at last) daver the freshest Roses, and Lilies. O let not then my thoughts strike sail, or my heart do homage to the transitory beauties of this world (which will only ensnare and imprison me in the Fetters of sin) lest the storms of an evil conscience suddenly arise, and trouble the serenity of my delights, and the tranquillity of my seeming felicity!   

The Soul [being sensible of its former Mercies] sits weeping under the Cross of her Saviour, and resolves to partake with him in his Sufferings.  
AS Humility is seldom planted upon Crowns, and Sceptres, so the wisdom of State, seldom joins with that of the Cross, where its lustre is too often darkened, by the too much glittering of the world and ordinarily finds slippery footing amongst the Rubies and Diamonds of a Crown.  
It was the saying of Tertullian, who flourished two hundred years after the Nativity of our Saviour, when there had been no speech of any Emperors that had embraced Christianity; 
Tertul. in Apol.  That if the Caesars would become Christians, they would cease to be Caesar's: and if the Christians would become Caesar's, they would cease to be Christians; conceiving that poorness of spirit cannot consist with so high and stately Riches, neither Humility with a Sovereign Empire, or the Tears of Repentance, with the vain delights of the Court.  
Surely, the hungering and thirsting after Righteousness [upon which our Saviour so often leaves his blessing] can no way stand with the desire of Pomp, and Greatness in the world, no more than Peace can subsist with Licentiousness of War, or pureness of heart, with the conversing with most pleasing and tempting Beauties, or the fairest hopes of the world, which are mowed dough in their flower, by the pitiless Sith of death. Peter was never so near his ruin, as when he was warming himself in the Priest's Hall: John Baptist was far more secure amongst Wolves, Foxes, and Tigers, then among the wicked Courtiers of Herod; He was more happy with his little Dinner of Locusts, and wild Honey, retired in his Cabin, then amidst the Pomp's and Pleasures of the King of Galilee.  
Do we know whether our Fancy will run, when Ambition rides it; or our Minds sail, when distempers steer them? What makes a Hermit at the Court, a solitary man in a Tumult; a David in his Tower of Pleasures; a Solomon in the midst of so many Wives and Concubines; and a Samson, under the enticing hands of his treacherous Dalelah? Yea, what makes a sacred man amongst the profane, or a Saint in the house of a Tyrant?  
So hard is it also for Carnal eyes to behold the bitter Agony of our blessed Saviour; so hard is it for any Tongue (without being steeped in Gall) to express his sufferings, or for any person (without pouring out of Tears) to approach his Cross. What eyes can look on thee as they should, and behold all thy flesh wholly imprinted with dolours, and thy heart drenched in acerbities? What eyes can (without bitter relenting) behold thy deadly sweat of blood? can see thee dragged through the streets of Jerusalem, (every one looking out at the windows to fill their eyes with gazing, and astonishment?) can see thee buffeted, flouted, tossed from one Tribunal to another; spit on every where, despised, and maliciously affronted? What eyes can look on thy spread Arms, thy nailed Hands and Feet, thy racked sinews, thy pierced side, thy bended Neck, thy fallen looks, thy torn Body, thy pale and bloodless flesh, thy company to be of infamous Thiefs, and thy miserable Favourite, and forlorn Mother, ready (through grief, to expire their last breath? what ears could (with patience) hear thy doleful outcries to Heaven? and what heart could apprehend thee at first, received into a wretched Stable, and there laid in a Manger, and at last to conclude thy innocent life, in so great nakedness, as that thou hadst no other veil to cover thee, than the blood which gushed from thy wounds?  
Behold, O my Soul! the whole life of thy Saviour, which he passed here on Earth, and thou shalt find it a School of Christian manners; by the contemplation whereof, Holiness is perfected in the fear of the Lord, 2 Cor. 7.1. The world loved Riches, but he would be poor. The world loved Honours, but he shunned and refused a Kingdom, and the Treasures thereof, the world delighted in a carnal offspring, but he desired neither Marriage not Issue. The world feared nothing more than disgrace, desertion of friends, insulting of enemies, bodily Tortures, and Death; whereas Christ endured the rebukings of the people, the flight of his Disciples, the mockings of the Soldiers, the spitting of the Jews, and the death of the Cross.  
O ! that the mighty power of the Divinity would thus manifest itself in the infirmity of the Cross! Sure it was only for God to perform this great Design, and thus ascend up to his Throne of Glory, by the basest disgraces of the world; and if we will be his Children, we must make it appear by participation of his Cross, and by suffering Tribulation. By this Sun it is, that the Eagles are discovered. The good Thief saw no other Title, or sign of his Kingdom, but only his body covered over with blood, and oppressed with dolours, by that Book of the Gross, he learned all the Glory of Paradise, and apprehended, that none but God, could with such patience endure so great Torments.  
Methinks (blessed Saviour!) I hear devout Simon (seeing thee heavy loaden with the burden of the Cross) thus expostulating with thee. O Jesus! whether goest thou with the extreme weight of this barren piece of Wood? whether dost thou carry it, and why? where do you mean to set it; What? upon mount Calvary? Alas, that place is most wild, and stony! How canst thou plant it there? who shall water it? to which thou answerest; I bear indeed a piece of Wood upon my Shoulders, and carry it to mount Calvary. This Wood I bear, must bear me, to bear the salvation of the world, and to draw all after me. I bear it to place it by my death, and water it with my blood.  
Oh Love! canst thou love more, or express it beyond this? yet to all these, and infinitely more tortures, and unspeakable miseries, was thy Saviour exposed [O my Soul! for thy sake, for thine my soul!] that thou mayst not complain, thou wantest an Object, a Motive, a Pattern, or invitation to love. O mirror of Love! Love itself, Christ our Saviour! How earnest wert thou; nay, how delighted wert thou to Treat of thy Passion? It were thy sweet words, not long before thy death, With desire have I desired to eat. And when S. Peter would have dissuaded thee from thy last Sufferings, thou reprovedst him more for this, then for his denial of thee in the High Priests Hall. Thou only castedst thy eye upon him, for the first (as minding him thereby of his great promise made never to deny him;) but for the other, thou bidst him avaunt; yea, call'st him Satan, as being the hinderer of thy much desired and longed for death.  
Ah! incomparable Love! who can think on, and not admire the Ecstasies of our sweet Saviour? How is he even ravished with the object of his Death, and transported with the Idea of his sufferings? Behold, how he encourageth himself in this combat? How troubled he is at all those that hinder it? How confident doth he look on the Cross, as the Fountain of his Glory? And shall we not love his Cross, which Jesus hath cherished? every place is a Paradise to him that knows how to love the Cross, and every thing a Hell to those that fly it.  
Oh blessed Saviour then, who canst lift up all the Earth, with the least finger of thy power, raise up a little this sinful mass of my Body, which so sadly weighs itself down by its sins! O my God, fix thine eyes upon me, and thou shalt thereby bring me to the fountain of true happiness! The Father hath given me to thee, and I am the conquest of thy precious blood; and wilt thou suffer a Soul to be taken away from thee, that hath cost thee so many sweats and sufferings? Alas, Lord! thou hast but one life, and I see 1000 instruments of death, that have taken it away! Was there need of so many bloody Doors to let out thy innocent Soul? Can it not part from thy Body, without making (on all sides) so many wounds, which after they had served for the Objects of men's Cruelty, serve now for those of thy mercy  
O Lance! cruel Lance! why didst thou open his most tender side! But in thus playing the Murderer, thou hast made a Sepulchre, wherein I will from henceforth bury my Soul. When I behold the wounds of my dear Saviour, I do acknowledge the strokes of my own hand, and will therefore likewise there engrave my Repentance, Give me then (O sacred mouth!) give me that Gall which I see upon thy lips, to sprinkle all my pleasures! divide with me, (O beautiful head!) thy dolorous Crown of Thorns, seeing it were my sins which sowed them! Lend me (O sacred hands, and adored feet!) the Nails that have pierced them! and while I live, let me never breathe any other life, but that only which shall be produced from my Crucified Saviour.  
Surely, we shall never be worthy of him, until we thus bear the Ensigns of his War, and Ornaments of our Peace. And alas! what reason hath wretched man to complain? Is not suffering our Trade, our Vow, our Profession? As the Clock goeth on by the help of its counnter-poise, so a Christians life never proceedeth so much in virtue, as by the counterbalance of its Crosses. Make me then to serve thee, to imitate thee; yea, to suffer for thee, O thou King of the afflicted! Ah, that I had a Sea of sweet odours, to empty on an Object so worthy of love! Art thou unwilling to bear part of thy Saviour's Cross? yet give (O my Soul!) give at least, tears to him, who satisfied for thy sins!  
Consider that thy [miscalled] Sufferings, ifrightly used, are (indeed) Blessings. What if thou lose thy fortunes, it is to make thee know thyself; what if thy Health be impaired, it will make thee disaffect this world? What if thou lose thy Riches,, is it not to make thee seek out better? By all which, God is pleased to show us the straightest way to that life, which he hath promised us; and to assure us by his own Tribulation [who could not but know and embrace what is best] that the way of Tribulation, is the highway to Heaven.  
We find (indeed) Tertullian, in one place thus complaining; Eternal Wisdom! which thus cuts thy children's Threats, and use them as Sacrifices, as if thou couldst not Crown them, but by their Torments, or Honour them, but by their punishments! But alas! he that will love, must serve. And, Behold, 
August. Serm. 19 de verb. Apost.  (saith S. Au-gustine) The foolish Lovers, and Amorists of the world? are not they who are surprised therewith, ready to serve, to endure all commands, in Attire, in Habit, and behaviour, for a Mistress sake?  
Oh foul confusion of life, and prostitution of spirit! God (who promiseth never to behold us with a good eye, unless we keep his Commandments) deserves to be loved above all things. Love that cannot suffer, is not Love. Yea, the last Character of love to our Saviour, is to suffer for him, the Prince of Sufferings. Our Souls are engaged by Oath (saith Tertullian) to this warfare, so soon as we first enter into Christianity. Tertul. ad Scap.  
Besides; know we not that all Creatures of the world groan, and bring forth; that all the Elements are in Travel, and in a ceaseless agitation. The Air it self (say the Philosophers) is perpetually struck with the motion of Heaven, to prevent the hatching of Poison. The Rivers are purified by their streaming current. One deep must call upon another; the deep of Afflictions calls for that of Honour; and the heights of Honour are prepared according to the measure of our Tribulations. In this world Cruelty is mingled with Lights, and Pleasures with Funerals.  
God's Prison is a School of Wisdom. In this Captivity are we free, under these Bonds and Irons, our Soul can walk with God, in the midst of Groans, and sighs, our heart can rejoice, it can talk with him (though with the three Children in the midst of the fiery Furnace.) And as the most rigorous of Punishments, became a Throne of Honour to those three Champions (the fire forgetting itself to be fire, and the Furnace strewing itself with Roses) so all the Thorny paths of our Pilgrimage here, seem but like a Meadow, enameled over with Flowers. If we here make Jesus the Object of our present Dolours, he will hereafter prove the Fountain of our Eternal Joys.  
Behold then, the exact method which providence keeps, in the conduct of her chosen ones! Behold the Character of an humble Soul, persecuted by the Tongues of Slanderers; by the Arms of his kindred; by the contempt of his friends, by the ingratitude of his Enemies; yea, of those upon whom he had still heaped good turns, without having the least motion to revenge, always rendering good for evil. And last of all, behold him pouring out Tears of joy, under his Saviour's Cross.  
Here only is the Sanctuary of rest, where wearied Souls may lay their heads. Here shall we be sure to meet with comfortable embraces. Here shall the banished live more contented, than Kings in their greatest Royalty. Farewell Honours! farewell Empires, Riches, Reputation, Pleasures, and gorgeous Habiliments! Farewell stately Buildings, great Possessions, Gold, Silver, precious Stones, Feasts, and all earthly Pastimes! But welcome that Sickness, Banishment; welcome those Chains, Reproaches, Punishments, yea Death itself, which at last brings us asleep under our Saviour's Cross.  
O happy Cross! O welcome Troubles! why (blessed Jesus!) should I grieve to have those shoulders wounded with such a load, as (through thy aid) will become so pleasant unto me? The world is an uncertain Sea, where usually a Tempest doth arise, when a Calm is expected. But here's Constancy in a good course of life; Here's Patience in Tribulation; Here's Courage to support injuries, and Comfort against distresses. O the poor Treasures, that can be hoarded in Caves, in Houses, in Towers! What proportion do they bear to this Heavenly Treasure? O the scant presence, and jealous absence, of all the Goods and Delights of the world! How fleeting and momentary are they? how changeable are their inclinations? how hungry are the Benefits, and how pinching their Prodigality's? How base their Ends and aims, in their most real Professions? how weak and frivolous their Passions? yea, how easily are all consumed in a few trivial distastes?  
O my only God what miserable, penurious blasts are these to blow the Coals of my love unto thee? Henceforth, for ever make me to run with Mary Magdalen, after the sweet odours of thy glorious presence; make it all my pleasure, to sit days, nights, and hours, weighing the greatness of thy Excellency, the richness of thy Glory, and the beautifulness of thy Attributes. Make me to spend all my strength in blessing thee for thy goodness, in rejoicing at thy Mercies, in admiring thy Justice, and adoring thy Truth, and in an awful Reverence of thy Eternal Majesty.  
Thus doth the Soul (filled with Humility, and the zeal of Devotion) often (and not without groans) speak unto herself; What? shall I triumph where my Master hath been covered with Reproaches? Shall I take glory on my head, where my Saviour hath taken the Cross upon his Shoulders? shall I adorn that head with Crowns of Pearl, where he received one of Thorns? No, O Jesus! I have too long in deep draughts, drank of the poisonous sweets of this world's allurements. Now will I hang all Honours at the feet of thy Cross. What is Beauty, Strength, Valour, Wisdom, Industry, Eloquence, or all the things in the world, but Dung in comparison of thy Cross? O beloved Jesus? there can I sit, and condemn whatloever the world doth honour and esteem.  
O my Saviour! what sweetness and allurements are there in thy Sufferings? Here is our Wisdom, our Justice, our Sanctification and Redemption; Here is the splendour of the celestial Father, and the Character of his substance, who by his Word, doth support the world. And shall I not take up my Cross and follow him, (as he hath commanded) amidst the many great Affronts, Disgraces, and Persecutions, suffered by him? Shall I not therein also accompany his Prophets, the glorious company of his Apostles, and the Noble Army of Martyrs? Did my Saviour fly from Sceptres, and run to the Cross? would he have no worldly Kingdoms, because their Thrones were made of Ice, and their Crowns of Glass, and shall I not believe, that where he is, there can be no Desert or solitude?  
See, see then how the Characters of a suffering God, are the dearest delights of a sanctified Soul, which is no more itself, but altogether transfigured with a heavenly transmutation! It lives wholly on the blood of its Saviour; it breathes not, but by his spirit; it speaks not, but by his words; it thinks not, but by his Meditations. It defies Tribulation, Anguish, Pain, Nakedness, and Dangers. It adventures amongst bloody Swords and Persecutions, and is no way affrighted with burning Faggots, and boiling Cauldrons.  
And if thou (O my Soul!) art at any time unwilling to part with this Earthly Tabernacle, think but how willingly the glorious Martyrs of Christ sacrificed themselves in as many Torments as they had members. They preached on Crosses, sang in Flames, triumphed on Wheels. Deserts and Tears, Scorching and Snows, were nothing to them in the way to that Glory for which thou art unwilling to forsake a Dunghill.  
But O my God if thou think it fit to exercise my patience, to try my faith, to correct my sin, by the wickedness of men, give me grave never to be so disturbed with the injustice of Creatures, but that I may consider the justice of thee, who art the most righteous Creator! O let me not be vanquished and suppressed by the burden of the Cross, but rather enabled by the weight of it, to walk more steadily in all holiness, Justice, and sobriety, before thee.  
And though Affliction here seem like the Cloud, which the Prophet saw to carry winds and storms in it [but was environed with a golden Circle] yet let it, at last, be encompassed with the brightness, and smiling felicity of that day, wherein Calumny shall change itself into Adoration, Rage into astonishment, and those that are thought lost in the Labyrinth of misery, shall see themselves consecrated, and carried through their punishments, into the Haven of Eternal safety!  
Be not dismayed then, (O faithful Soul!) in the Sufferings and troubles of this life! suffer not thyself to be overcome with those Temptations, which will snatch so rich a Crown out of thy hands! Happy, and for ever blessed wilt thou be to enter into so incomparable a Glory! when it shall be said unto thee (having left the Deserts of this world) come now, and dwell in the everlasting delights of thy God O throw away those vanities which too much, too much flattered thee, with the splendours of a deceitful world! Raise up thyself, and say; O when will that day come, which will restore me a body to render it to God; a body no longer of frail pondorous and perishable Earth, but a body immortal, and gilded with the splendours and sufferings of my Saviour!  
Yea, let us more fix our Thoughts on an Immortality, a Resurrection, an Eternal Life; a life of God gained for us, by the pains, sweats, and blood of Jesus, to which he daily invites us; a life which will charm all our Troubles, sweeten all our rigours, purify all our intentions, animate our virtues, and at last (after so many hardships and Travels of a wretched life, so many Calumnies and Reproaches, and after so great a Tumult of miseries) Crown us with happiness, rest our weather beaten Ark, and bring us into a sweet and quiet repose.   

In Imitation of our Saviour's great Patience under his Passion; the Soul resolves for ever to yield an humble submission to his Will.  
THe Soul of Man can hardly entertain any Portion of God's will, but that wherein it's own is concerned. It is usually more troubled for any chastisement, then for its sin; yea, it often mourns for sin, rather because it deprives her of comfort, then because it provoketh God: Nay, how hardly can it embrace his word, with that joy, and his providence, with that contentment, as to say [at all times] with patiented Eli, It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good!  
Alas! what patience hath it in committing sin; but how impatient in suffering for it? how ready to execute vice; but how unwilling to endure the punishment? Oh good God How many years have I retained an inclination to sin? my Soul is bound (as it were with Iron Chains) in this unhappy Bed. Will there be no Angel to move the water for me? How strange a thing is it, that God should be so near us, and yet we so far from him? But alas! we are too much for the world, too fast nailed to the Earth! He that desires the society of Angels, must not embark himself deeply in worldly affairs: God is a Spirit, and he that intends to receive good from him, must not be a slave to his Body. He that intends to find Christ, must search for him [as the three Kings did] in the Manger of his Humility; he must look for him [as the blessed Virgin did] in the Temple in his piety; yea, he must seek for him [as the Maries did] in his Sepulchre, in the imitation of his death:  
But where (O Saviour! shall I begin thy passion? shall I go with thee into the Garden? indeed there it begun; there it was, that thy Soul began to be exceeding sorrowful even unto the death. There it was that thou beggest, That the Cup might pass from thee, Mat. 26.38, etc. There it was that thou sweatedst in a cold night on the Ground, in a cold Garden; yea, there it was that those drops of blood which so freely issued from thy veins, were forthwith congealed with the Air. Oh thy matchless love! Ah how sweet is the smell of it there, in thy great Agony.  
But shall we follow thee from the Garden into the High Priests Hall? O how hideous were the outcries of the rude Rabble against thee! Ah Lord! what was that which stopped thy ear, that thou wouldst not regard; or silenced thy Tongue, that thou wouldst not reply, was it not thy Love? Some spit upon thee, others smiled on thee; some railed on thee, others blasphemed thee; some scoffed, others buffeted, many accused, and all cried out against thee. But stay; may we not yet follow thee further, and ascend mount Calvary? Shall we not here see thee Nailed to the Cross for our sakes? Shall we not here find thee breathing out thy last, and pouring out thy heart's blood in a shameful cursed and tormenting way? Ah the depth of thy Love! O the transcendency of thy affections! No man having ever thus laid down his life for his friends.  
Unfortunate Sons of Adam! the effects of whose fond disobedience are now become so sadly evident! Behold thy Saviour cast on the Ground, his knees bend, his eyes overflown with Tears; his Hands stretched up towards Heaven [all covered with gloomy Clouds, and darkness] his heart swollen with grief, and is ready to break into some loud and doleful complaint against man's Ingratitude. O my God what means this universal strife, and contention within thy own breast? Art thou daunted at the sight of danger? Is the sight of danger become so frightful to thee? Thou weepedst indeed over Jerusalem, and Mary Magdalen drew Tears from thy eyes, but not with such astonishment as this.  
Thou discoursedst of thy Passion on mount Tabor but with a Glory which ravished the eyes and hearts of all that beheld it; thou hast often professed a great desire to see the hour of thy suffering; and can horror possibly seize on thee? Can grief surround thee? cold and stupifying Tears possess thee, now thou art arrived so near the place of thy wishes? O no! thy great Design is to be tempted in all things without sin, that we might be comforted in the tremble and faintings of our heart, and that we might learn this great and difficult Lesson, how to comfort ourselves at the full Tide of anguish and Tribulations.  
Behold further (O my Soul!) what a glorious Lesson of Patience thy Saviour hath set before thy eyes! bend but thy ears to those sacred words, Not my will, but thine be fulfilled: and who would think but that the excess of grief should a little disturb thy memory? Thou foresaw'st [no question] Blessed Saviour! those Clubs and Lantherns, Soldiers, and Officers, prepared to lay hands upon thee, and with loud cries and scorns to carry thee to Jerusalem. Jerusalem, where thou hadst done so many miracles. Jerusalem, where thou so lately enteredst with Joy and Triumph; and yet, thou cried'st thy will be done!  
Thou well knewest that Judges of all sorts, Priests and Divines, and Religious men which daily ministered at thy. Holy Altar, were appointed to discredit and accuse thee. That Kings, and Precedents, Jews, and Gentiles, and an infinite number assembled at this great Feast, would scorn and condemn thee, and yet still thou cried'st, thy will be done!  
Thou beheldest those whips, and scourges, those Spe●rs, and Thorns prepared to afflict thee; a mock purple, and the ridiculous Sceptre of a Reed to vilify and abuse thee; a heavy Cross, and tearing Nails, unmerciful hands, and ungrateful hearts to torment and affront thee, yet could no way alter thee from crying, Thy will be done!  
It was no news to thee, that a Murderer should be preferred before thee, and begged in thy place by thy beloved People, amongst whom thou spentst thy life; that two Thiefs should be thy Companions and fellow-sufferers; That Judas amongst thy own Disciples, should betray thee; that three of thy best friends should lie sleeping by thee; that Peter himself should deny thee; yea, that all should shamefully forsake and fly from thee; and yet still O dear Saviour) thou said, Thy will be done!  
Thou sawest afore hand, thy weeping and disconsolate Mother stand at the foot of thy Cross, and afflicting thy departing Soul, with the sight of thy grief and disconsolate condition thou leavest her in; and last of all, that thou shouldst be abandoned on all hands, and not so much as thy life's last breath spared. O invincible Courage! O admirable Fortitude! which neither life, nor death, nor things present, nor things to come, nor fears, nor torments, could so far alter thy resolution, but still thou submittest in these words, Thy will be done, Lord! and not my own.  
But alas! Is there no remedy after all this submission, for thy blessed Soul? Must thou alone drink of this sour Cup? Must thou alone tread the wine-press of sour Grapes? Alas dearest Saviour! where is then the God of Elias? Are his bowels of mercy turned into Adamant? are the Eternal Springs of Lebanon dried up? are the Heavens become Iron, that no drops of dew can distil down to refresh thy languishing Soul? Where are now thy old friends, which were so much delighted with thy Glory upon mount Tabor; who lately sung so cheerfully at thy entering into Jerusalem; yea, even solemnly protested their readiness to die with thee! Alas! they are all asleep! so fast, so dead asleep, that neither shame nor compassion on their Master's disconsolate condition, can make them to say so much as one short prayer for themselves.  
Oh weak condition of humane friendship! unhappy, and miserably deluded are all they who build on so false a Bottom! How far better is it to trust in God then Man? O ill requited Master! is this the fruit of all thy Teachings? Is this thy reward for all thy Benefits? Is this the Profit of all thy Wonders thou hast made amongst them? What though Judas were tempted with the glittering of Silver, which dazzles the eyes of all the World; yet what Plea have thy beloved Disciples to excuse their dulness, their coldness, and want of Love? Though Earth fail, Heaven should be kind.  
And now, O my Soul! thou who hast been witness to this great Spectacle; What? shall not this strange and incomparable love of thy Saviour, make thee wholly to go out of thyself? Look [if thou are able to look at so glorious a Light, or judge of so infinite charity] and tell me what thou canst do? Canst thou love any thing after this, but thy Lord Jesus? Canst thou affect any thing but thy dear Saviour? Can thy greatest troubles or hardships distaste thee? Thou complainest indeed of thy Sufferings, but weigh them in this Balance; and alas! how little cause hast thou to complain?  
Ah! what poor flea-bite are those which thou art afflicted with, in respect of the Torments thy Saviour underwent for thee? whom thou thus seest to have traced out the way with his own gored footsteps; having his Head Crowned with Thorns, his shoulders charged with the infamous Burden of the Cross; his ears pierced with Reproachful speeches, and his eyes floating with Tears; in which condition he ascended mount Calvary, and invites thee to follow him.  
Were they not thy sins (O my Soul!) which were the Nails that fastened his Hands, and his Feet? were they not the Spears which pierced his sacred side? Look upon thy Hypocrisy, which was the kiss that betrayed him? Behold thy Back-slidings, which made his Soul weary to death, which caused the withdrawment of his Father's love, and made him cry out that he was forsaken? Hath Christ endured so much for thee, and wilt thou not suffer a little for him? Ah happy is that Affliction which is raised from thy Saviour's love! How rich shall we be, when we have him for our Portion? yea, how high, when we shall see a true contempt of the world under our feet?  
Mayst thou forbid (O blessed Jesus!) that I should go about any worldly Throne, which carries not thy Sceptre, or that I should talk of Honours, when there is mention made of thy Holy Cross! Let all greatness where thou art, not be baseness unto me; and let me mount up unto thee by those stairs of Humility, whereby thou camest down to me. O let me kiss the paths of that Mount, which thou hast sprinkled with thy precious Blood, and esteem that Cross above all earthly things, which thou hast consecrated by thy cruel pains!  
Alas! is it not a shameful thing that God should seek us, among the heats of his Love and Sufferings, and yet we cannot be found by him? Shall we not forsake all the Disorders of a sensual life, which hinder the effect of his Grace? shall we not (with the Samaritan woman) forsake, and leave behind us our Pitcher, that we may return full of Jesus Christ? shall we not bid farewell to all those occasions which lead us to sin? O dear Saviour (the most pure of all Beauties!) since it is for thee that so many Champions have peopled Deserts, and passed the stream of bitterness and sorrow, bearing their Crosses after thee, and (amongst the most cruel of dolours) have felt the sweetness of thy presence! shall I shed no Tears for those sins that pierced thee? shall Jesus carry so many Thorns upon his Head, and shall I have none in my heart?  
Alas, my Soul! canst thou behold a Crown of Thorns grafted upon a man of sorrow? what Spectacle alas, is this? no more a man, but a skin despoiled, and bloody, taken from the teeth of Tigers and Leopards! Every stroke made a wound, every wound a fountain of blood. O hideous Prodigies which took away from us the light of the Sun, and covered the Moon with a sorrowful darkness! Heaven wears mourning upon his Cross; all the Citizens of Heaven weep over his Torments. The Earth quakes, the Stones rend, the Sepulchers open, the Dead arise; and all to teach us [by insensible Creatures] the pity we should take of his Sufferings!  
And, in conclusion of all, what should we hence learn, but [imitating our blessed Saviour, who having sadness in his Soul even to death; yea, taking up a resolution and deprecation in the approaches thereof, cried out, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me] willingly to submit to all those Sufferings he shall think fit to lay upon us. Neither to be any way fearful or solicitous, in what manner God will please to take us to him; or in the least manner to be troubled touching the place, hour, or manner of our Dissolution, since he that made us, best knows how to dispose of us as he please, who can give us a Cordial in our greatest fainting Fits; and therefore his will ought to be the rule of our Life, and Death, our Sufferings, and our Sorrows, since from him [who is all goodness of himself] we cannot expect any thing but the best.  
Are we mortal, and shall we grieve to die? Shall we not gladly drink of that Cup, whereof our Saviour hath begun? Death is  only to those who have not mortified their desires and affections, here while they lived; why then should we have regret to leave so miserable a lise? Why should we be unwilling to bid adieu and quit this place, where we have endured so many Deaths, and which hath so long been the place of our sorrows?  
O my God what a vain fear than is that which startles me? what a sad Pensiveness which over-spreads me? Oh when, and where shall I take my flight unto thee! Do not tell me (O dear Saviour!) there is a great Chaos between thee, and me, since thou hast already passed it; and wilt thou not then lift me up by thy mercy? I am here (as within the Deserts of Africa) in a burning world, the drought whereof makes it a habitation for Devils. O my God I am tormented in this flame, until some Lazarus be found to dip the end of his finger in thy blood, to allay the burning of my thirst, and restore me into the bosom of a merciful God.  
O bessed day! when we shall be free from sorrow, and suffering, but not from comfort, where we shall rest from our Labours, and perfectly enjoy the most perfect God; who, as he is love itself, will perfectly love us, yea love us for ever. O comfortable words! how sweet must they needs be to our ears? how refreshing to our wearied Senses, and languid Spirits?  
Ah, What smiles shall we then perceive in that face of Sorrows [and with whom we have here suffered] when he shall pronounce that joyful sentence, Come ye blessed of my Father; shall we then repent our Sufferings and Sorrows? are not the Tears of Repentance sweet unto us? This is that joy which was procured by sorrow. This is that Crown which was procured by the Cross. Jesus did weep, that our Tears might be washed away. Our Saviour bled, that we might not be wounded. O blessed Love! Oh, in what a frame will our Soul then be! who can express? who can conceive the infinite love, and unexpressible joy of so happy a Union, so sweet a Reconcilement! who can question the love, which he doth so sweetly taste? or doubt of that, which with such joy he feeleth, when we shall be encircled in Eternity, and for ever praise him.   
FINIS.