LIBRARY OF PRINCETON FEB I 8 2005 THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY c THE WORKS REV. J 0 H N ' H 0 W E, M. A MEMOIRS OF HIS LIFE, BY EDMUND C A L A M Y, D. D. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMfMRY Nl'.W YORK : PlfBLlSHF.II I5Y JOHN P. IIAVKN, ^■o. us NASSAU STREET. MPrccxxxv. E. Sanderson, Printer.. ..183G. CONTENTS. The Life of Mb. John Howe The Litino Temple; or a designed Improve- ment of that Notion, Tha: a Good Man is the Tem- ple of God. PiRT I. Concerning God's Existence, and his Con- versableness with Man. Against Atheism, or the Epicurean De.sm Chap. I. This notion common. Authorities need- less. Insignificant with the alhei.stical, who have made it nxire necessary to defend religion, and a temple in general, than this, or that. Better deferred against them by practice and use, ihar. irgament, whereof they are incapable. Often disputes of its principles not neces.sarj' to the practice of religion. Some consideration of those supposed in the general notion of a temple, pertioeut (however) lo this discourse Chap II I. The two more principal grounds which a temple supposes. Fihst, The e.tistence of Gjd. Secondly, His conversahleness with men : both argued from common consent. Doubt- ful if the first were ever wholly denied in former days. The second also implied, f^rsl, In the known general practice of some or other religion. Evidenced, Secondly, In that some, no strangers lo the world, have thought it the difference of man. II. The imiiiodesiy and rashness of the persons from whom any opposition can be ex- pected. III. These two grounds, namely, the existence of God, and his conversahleness with men, proposed lo be more slricllv considered apart. And, FIRST, The existence of God, where the nolinn of God is assigned. The parts whereof are proposed to be evinced severally of some existent beins. fSr$t, Eternity. Sectmdlu, Self-origination. Tiirdly, Independency. Fmrtli. Iv, Necessity of existence. Pifthly, Self-activity. (The impossibility that this world should be this neces.sary self-active being. The incon- sistency of necessary alterable matter, more largely deduced in a marginal digression.) Sixthly, Life. SerenMy, Vast and mighty power. A corollary Cn»p III. Wisdom a.sscrted lo belong to this Beins. The production of this world by a mighty agent rtesiitute of wisdom impossilile. On consideration of, I. What would be adverse lo this production. "2. What would be warning; .some erTecls to which a designing cause will, on oil hands, be confessed necessary, having mani- fest characters of skill and design upon them. Absurd here to except the works of nature ; wherein at least equal characters of wisdom and di->i?n are lo be seen, as in any the most confess- ed pieces of art, instanced in the frame and ini>- lion of heavenly bodies. A mean unphilosophical temper, to be more taken with novelties, than common things of greater importance. Further insianre, in the composition of the bodies of animals. Two conlrarv causes of men's not acknewledgin? the wisdom of their Maker herein. Progress is made from the consideration of the parLs and frame, lo the powers and func- tions, of terrestrial creatures. Growth, nutrition, propagation of kind. Spontaneous motion, sen- sation. The pretence considered, that tbebodiea of animals are machines. 1. How improbable it is. 2. How little to the purpose. The powers of the human soul. It appears, r.otirithslanding them, it had a cause ; by them, a wise and iniell'- gent cause. It is not matter. That not capable of rea-son. They not here reflected on who think rea.sonable souls made of refined matter, by the Creator. Not being matter, nor arising from thence, it must have a cause that is intelligent. Goodness belonging to this Being 14 Chap. IV. Generally all supposable perfection a.sserted of this Being ; where, Pirst, A being absolutely perfect is endeavoured to bi evinced from the (already proved) necessary bej ig;wbich is shown to import, in the general, the utmost fulness of being. Al.so divers things in particular that tend to evince thai general. As that it is at the remotest distance from no being. Most pure- ly actual. Most abstracted being. The produc- tive and conserving cause ol all things else. TJn- diminishable. Incapable of addition. Secondly, Hence is more expressly deduced. The infinile- ness of this being. An inquiry whether it be possible the creature can be aciually infinite 1 Difficulties concerning ihe absoluie fulness and infiniicne.ss of God considered. 2. The oneliness of this being. The trinity not thereby excluded. 30 Chap. V. Demands in reference to what haih been hitherto discoursed, with some reasonings there- upon : 1. Is it possible that, upon suppositum of this being's existence, it may be, in any way suitable to our present slate, made known lo us that it doth exist! Proved, I. That it may. 3. That, since any other fit way that can be thought on is as much liable to exception as that we have already, this must be, therefore, sufficient Strong impressions. Glorious appnrifions. Tcriible voices. Surprising transforniations. If ihe.se are necessary, is it needful they be universal 1 fre- quent 1 if not, more rare things of this sort not wanting. 2. Demand. Can subjects, remote from their prince, sullicienily be a.s.sured of his exist- ence 1 3. Demand. Can we be sure there are men on earth 1 37 Chap. VI. What is intended by God'.s eonvcrs.1- bleness with men. considered only as fundamen- tal and presupposed lo a temple. An account of the Epicurean deity. Its existence impossible any way lo be proved, if it did exist. Nor can be aHirincd lo anvgood intent. That such a be- ing i.s not God. Thai the absolute perfection firoved of God represents him a fit objecl of re- igion. From thence more particularly deduced to this purpose. His omnisciency, omnipolcncy, unlimited guodness, immensity. Curce'iaius's arguments against this last considered. ... 45 Part II. Coniaining Animadversions on Spinosa, and a French Writer prelendini: to crnluic him. With a Recapitulation of the Formsr Part, and an Account of the Destitution ana Restitution of God's Temple among men 56 Chap. I. Wherein is shown, the de.structivcness of Spinosa's scheme and design to religion and the temple of God. The repugnancy of his uoctrine to this assertiou — That whausoevcr exi.sis neces- sarily and of itself, is absolutely perfect ; which CONTENTS. is Iherefore further weighed. His vain attempt to prove what he designs. His second proposiljori coDsideied. His dehniiion of a substance defec- tive. Proves not his purpose. His third, fourth, and fifth proposition. His eighth scholia. The VMnUiiuclio ad paiUosopkiam 59 Ciui- II. Animadversions from a French writer, nameless. His pretence to confute Spinosa. The opinion of the world's being made of in- dependent self-exisiing matter ; chosen by him and a.s.serled against two other opinions. That of matlei's beins created out of nothing rejected, and falsely charged with novelty. Moses, and the author lo the Hebrews misalleged, vindicat- ed. Seiforiginaie, independent matter disproved: asserted by this author with evident self-contra- diction ; and without necessity 64 Chap. 111. The rea-son of what next follows. Di- rections to readers not wont to inquire into the grounds of their religion. A summary and plainer proposal unto such, of what hath been said in the former Part, concerning God's exist- ence and conversableness with men. The reason- ableness (so much being already evinced) of alleging, and relying upon the testimony of the Holy Scriptures. The expressness of that testi- mony concerning tlie unity of the Godhead, the trimly therein. The absolute perfection of the divine nature. The infinileness of God's know- ledge, power, goodness, and presence. His pro- pensions towards men, and aptne.ss (supposing tliere were no obstruction) to human converse. Matters of doubt herein resolved 67 Chap. IV. That there is an obstruction to this intercourse. The method of the following dis- course. Man's apostacy from God, and the vitiated stale of his nature ; not only represented in the sacred writings, but also acknowledged and lamented by pagans :— very mistakenly, in some respects-, wherein perhaps some of ihem not justly understood. This not the primitive state of man ; therefore not to be imputed to the Author of nature. The temple of God hereby became unfit for the divine presence. Unsuitable. Disaffected. Hereupon forsaken, and most justly ''1 CiiAP.V. The restitution of this temple undertaken by the Emmanuel :First,more darkly prefigured; afterward, more clearly manifested. This con- stitution of EtiimanHel suthcient. Necessary for this purpose. That he was himself to be the plat- form, the foundation, and the founder of it. The original temple. And was, in order hereto, also a sacrifice; to procure that God might honourably, and without wrong to his governing justice, return, and have his abode with men. And that they might become prepared to receive his returning pie.vence. For which purpose he hath in him the power of giving the Holy Spirit, on the account of this sacrifice. That when God is, for the sake of it, willing; we might no longer remain unwilling. That unwillingness to ne overcome by the power and spirit of Emiwinuel ; as hereafter to be more fully shown. But working (suitably to an intelligent subject) in a rational way. 'lo which a ereat acciMii- modalentss, in the constitution of Emmanuel. As dcmonwrating divine love, and holiness. In its luvelinesi. Possibility of being attained. Ti Chap. VI. The neassUij of this constitution of Emmanuel to the erecting God's temple in the world. The discoursing of this matter, proper on this occiLvion. As to God's part herein, first, proposed to show, both that a recompen.se was nece.ssary to be made, and that it could he made no other way. Towards the evincing the former, sundry thingr, gradoally laid down. The point itself argued, by considering the injary done lo the divine, with what we may suppose done to a human, government ; where repentance not con- stantly thought a sufficient recompense ; other- wi.se, a penitent delinquent was never to be pu- nished. Difference bclween God's pardon and man's in most usual cases. Recompense for wrong done lo government, quite another thing from what answers the appetite of private re- venge. Expressions that seem to import it in God, how 10 be understood. Shown that they import no more than a constani will so far lo punish offences, as is necessary for the asserting and preserving the rights and dignity of his go- vernment. So much most ajrrceable, and neces- sarily belonging to the perftelion of the divine nature. And if the justice oi a human govern- ment requires it, of the divine much more. . . 84 Chap. VII. The notion of justice in the divine government, and in a human, nit allogether the same. A thing said to be ju.st, in a negative and a positive sense. The question discussed. Whether God's will 10 punish sin were, an.ecedently to his legal constitution to that purpote, just, not only in the former sense, but in thelatier alsol Voie>Ui mm fit injuria, a-s to man neecs limita- tion. Holy Scripture speaks of God's punishing sin, not liierely as a concomitant of justice, but an etfect. His will to punish it must proceed from jnslice ; not, primarily, according to the common notion of justice, as it respects the rights of another ; therefore another notion of it (as to him) to he sought. God's rights .so una- lienable, that he cannot quit ihem to his own wrong as man can. Secondarily, according to the other notion, his right to punish depends not on his legal con.stitulion, but that on it. That he cannot altogelhet quit it, no detraction from liim. Justice, in a larger notion, doth further oblige to insist upon recompense ; viz. universal justice, as especially it comprehends his holiness, his wisdom. The fitness of God's methods here- in not to be only contemplated by men, but an- gels. In what sense punishments to be reckoned debts. This matter summed up .89 Chap. VIII. The first head thus far insisted on, that a sufficient recompen.se was necessary : the second succeeds, that no less w is sufficient than that made by Einmanuel. Dishonour to have insisted on less. What the divine estimate in this mailer was, his own word shows. His love to otTenders otherwise under restraint. Pro- P'jsed to consideration, 1. How great things were to be remitted, the sins of all times, and ages. Not from insufficiency unapplicable tc all sinners. Remission lo be granted, by a uni- versal law. 2. How great to be vouchsafed. Which follows 93 Chap. IX. Concerning the gift or communication of the Spirit. The Gospel the means of it. The inseparaole connexion hereof with ihe former , the imparling of righieousncss.for removing the guilt of sin. in what sense ilie Holy Spirit of God is said 10 be given, oi communicated. What per- sonal union signifies. How personal presence, vital union, communicated influences, concern the inquiiy. In what respect the necessity assert- ed of this communication. Since such fulne-ss of Spirit in Emmanuel, purposely for communica- tion; how comes it lo pa.ss ho, thereby, raises no more such temples; the necessiiy of this com- munication, for this purpose, represented two ways: by showing, 1. TbV 'he iloly Scripture teathos that Goil doth g.vc his Spirit, though under distinct notions, only through Christ. 2. That it was most reasonable, and tnerefore ne- cessary it should be so. The doctrine of Scrip- ture herein proposed under six heads 9" CONTENTS. Ch4P. X. The fim of ihe mentioned six heads insist- ed on— Thalthe spirit is given both as a Builder, and as an Inhabitant of this temple. Scripture testimony concerning I he former of those, and I he latter. And fur the sake of his death and suffer- ings. Anciently, the bles-sing of Abraham, and his seed froin a<;e to age, upon this account. More copiously and to other nations, when the fulness of tune was come. Christ's death hath influence for these two purposes with much dif- ference, to be afterwards explained. C'olossians i. 19, 20, 21. largely opened. A disie.vsion re- lating thereto. The principal import of that text, to show the dependence Christ's whole work of reconciliation, both of GocJ to us, and of us to God, had upon hi.s sacrifice on the cioss. The latter whereof is effected by his Spirit, obtained by that sacrifice. Other texts to the .same pur- pose. Further noted, that the Spirit is expressly said to be given by Christ, or in his name, &c. Given for building or preparing a temple, by a less certain, known rule Chap. XI. The sixth head proposed before, now insisted on. That for the purpose of inhabiting this temple, already formed, the Spirit is given by the Emmanuel, as a trustee. The Oeconomus, or cMef Steward of God's household. And by a certain, known rule. Giving thein, that arc to partake therein, the ground of a rightful claim uuto this great and most comprehensive gill. Whereupon '.o be considered. The dueness, amplitude, or comprehensiveness thereof. (1.) The dueness of it. 1. By promise. 2. By this promise, its having Ihe form of a covenant, resti- pulated on their part. 3. From their state of sonship, as regenerate. Adopted. 4. From their being to receive it by faith. (2 ) Its ample ex- tent, measured by the covenant, considered partly in actu si'^naln. In arlu exircitu. Infers recon- ciliation, relation. Thesummary of the covenant refers to it. The conclusion The Reconrileableness of God's Prescience of the Sins of Men, with the Wisdom and Sincerity of his Counsels, Exhortations, anrl whatsoever Means he uses to prevent them. In a Letter to the Hon. Robert Bojle, Esq. To which is added a Postscript in De- fence of the said Letter Man'sCrcation in a holy but mutable Stale. — Eccl. vii. 29. /», this imhj have I fmtnd, that God hath made man upright ; but they hare sought out many 132 A Calm and Sober Inquiry concerning the Possi- bility of a Trinity in the Godhead, in a Letter to a Person of worth ; occasional by the lately published Considerations on the Explications on the Doctrine of the Trinity, by Dr. Wallis, Dr. Sherlock, Dr. S— th, Dr. Ciulworth, &c. Together with certain Letters, formerly written to the Reverend Dr. Wal- lis on the same subject 13G A Letter to a Friend concerning a Postscript to the Defence of Dr. Sherlock's Notion of the Trinity in Unity, relating to the Calm and Sober Inquiry upon the same subject 151 A View of that part of the late Considerations ad- dres'-ed to H. H. about the Trinity, which concerns the S..h^r Inquiry on that subject. In a Letter to the former Iriend 157 A Letter written out of the Country to a Person of quality in the Citv, who look otfence at the late Ser- mon of Dr. StillingBeet, (Dean of St. Paul's,) before the Lord Mayor 168 Some Consideration of a Preface to an Inquiry concerning the occasional Conformity of Dissenters. 180 The Blessednrsr or the Righteous opened, and further recommended from the Consideration of the Vanity of this Mortal Life. In Two Treatises, on Psalm xvii. 15. As for me, J will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be saliffied, when I auaie, trith thy likeness : and Psalm Ixxxii. 47. Himember htnc short my time is: wherefore hust thtru made alt men in vain 1 Chap. 1. A proemial discourse. A reflection upon some loregoing verses of the psalm, by way of introduction to the text. A consideration of its somewhat various readings, and of its literal im- portance. A discussion of its real importance .so far as is necessary to the settling the subject of the present discourse Chap. II. A summary proposal of Ihe doctrine contained in this scripture. A distribution of it into throe distinct heads of discourse ; riz. 1. The qualified subject. 2. Thenatuie. 3. Thescason of Ihe ble.sscdness here spoken of. The first of these taken into consideration, where the qualifi- cation, righteousness, is treated of. About which is shown, 1. What it is. 2. How it qualifies. . Chap. III. The nature of this bles.sedness pro- pounded unto consideration, in Ihe three ingre- dients (here nientioued) whereof it consists. 1. Vision of God's face. 2. Assimilation to him, 3. The satisfaction resulting thence. These pro- pounded to be considered, 1. Absolulcly and singly, each by itself. 2. Relatively, in their muuial respects to each other. The first of these, Vision of God's face, discoursed of. 1. The ob- ject. 2. The act Chap. IV. The second ingredient into this bless- edness considered, A.ssimilalion to God, or his glory imprest. Wherein it consists, dis<-overed in sundry propositions. The third ingredient, The satisfaction and pleasure which results, sta- ted and opened Chap. V. The relative consideration of these three ingredients of the saints' blessedness; where it is propounded lo show particularly, 1. What relation vision halh lo assimilation. 2. What both these have tosatisfaciioii. The relation be- tween ihe tw o former, inquired into. An entrance upon ihe much larger discourse, what relation and influence the two former have towards the third. What vision of God's face or glory con- tributes loW»rds, satisfaction, estimated from the consideration, 1. Of the object of the glory tobe beheld ; as 'tis divine, entire, permanent, appro- priate Chap. VI. What the vision of God's face contri- butes to the .soul's satisfaction, estimated from the consideration of the act of vision iisclf. Wherein this pleasure surpasses thatof sii.se. A comparison pursued more at large, helween Itiis intuition and discourse, between it and faith. This intuition more absoluiely considered : Its characters, and whiuthey conlribule lolhe satis- faction of the blessed soul : That it is, viz. effica- cious, comprehensive, fixed, appropriate. . . Chap. VII. Wherein a.ssimilation (the likeness or "lory of God impressed) contributes nnto sctis- Paction where is particularly propounded to be shown. What pleasure it involves, what it dis- poses to : What it involves in the esse of it, what in Ihe cognosci. 1. The pleasure of being like God di.sco»ered. 2. Showing concoriiing the image of God (generally considered) ihni it is the soul's health and soundness restored ; that it is a vital, an intimate, a connatural, a perfect image Chap. VIII. The satisfaction carried in the glory of God impressed, further shown by instances. Certain particulars of this: impression instanced in a dependent frame of spirit, subjection or self- devoting, love, purity, liberty, tranquillity. . . 214 CONTENTS. Cbap. IX. The pleasure arising from knowing or considering ourselves to be like God : from con- siderini^ it, 1. Absolutely, 2. Comparatively, or respectively: To the former stale of the soul, To the state of lost souls, To its pattern, To the way of accomplishment, To the soul's own ex- pectations. To what it secures. The pleasure whereto it di.spose.s, of union, communion. A comparison of this righteousness, with this bless- edness Chap. X. The season of this satisfaction, which is two-fold; at deixth, and at the resurrection. The former spolcen to ; wherein is shown. That this life is to the soul (even of a saint) but as a sleep: That at death it awakes. As to the latter; That there is a considerable accession to its hap- piness at the resurrection Chap. XI. An introduction to the use of the doc- trine hitherto proposed. The use divided into Inferences of truth. Rules of duty. 1. Infe- rence, That blessedness consists not in any sen- sual enjoyment. 2. Inference, The spirit of man (since 'tis capable of so high a blessedness) is a being of high excellency Chap. XII. Inference 3. That a chanjre of heart is necessary to this blessedness. The pretences of ungodly men, whereby they would avoid the necessity of this change. Five considerations proposed in order to the detecting the vanity of sucn pretences. A particular discussion and re- futation of those pretences Chap. XIII. Fourth Inference. That the soul in which such a change is wrought, restlessly pur- sues this blessedness till it be aiiained. Fifth Inference. That the knowing of God, and con- formity to him, are .satisfying things, and do now in a degree satisfy, according to the measure wherein they are attained. Sixih Inference, That the love of God towards his people is great, that hath designed for them so great, and even a.satis- fying good Chap. XIV. 7. Inference. That since this bless- edness is limited to a qualified subject, " I in righteousness," the unrighteous are necessarily left excluded. 8. Inference. THat righteousness is no vain thing, inasmuch as it hatn so happy an issue, and ends so well Chap. XV. Two oihcr inferences, from the con- sideration of thcsea-^on of this blessedness: The former, that inasmuch as this blessedness is not attained in this life, the present happiness of saints must in a great part consist in hope. The latter, that great is tlie wisdom and sagacity of the righteous man, which waves a present tempo- rary happiness, and chooses that which is distant and future Chap. XVI. The second general head of the im- provement or use of the doctrine propounded from the text, containing certain rules or prescrip- tions of duty connatural thereto. 1. "rhat we settle in our minds the true notion of this blessed- ness. 2. That we compari' the temper of our own spirits with it, and labour thence to discern whctlii r we may lay claim to it or no. . . . ' Chap XVII. Rule 3. Directing such as upon in- quiry find, or see cnu.se to suspect, a total aver- salion in themselves to this blessedness, to be speedy and restless in their endeavours to have the temper of their spirits altered and made suit- able to il. Doubts and objections concerning the u.sc of such endeavours, in such a case, an- swered. Some considerations to enforce this di- rection propounded and pressed I Chap. XVIII Rub- 1 Directing to the endea- vour of a gradual impruvcment in such a dispo- 218 303 303 sedness of spirit (as shall be found in any mea- sure already attained) towards this ble.ssedne.ss. That 'tis blessedness begun which disposes to the consummate .state of il. That we are therefore to endeavour the daily increase of our pr. sent knowledge of God, conformity to him, and the satisfiedncss of our spirits therein Chap. XIX. Rule 5. Directing to raise our de- sires above the actual or possible attainments of this our present, and terminaie them upon the fu- ture consummate state of blessedness. The rule explained and pressed by sundry considerations. Rule 6. That we add to a desirous pursuit, a joyful expectation of this blcs,^edness, which is pursued in certain subordinate directions. . . Chap. XX. The addition of two rules, that more specially respect the yet future season of this blessedness, after this life; ric. Rule 7. That we patiently wait for it until death. Rule 8. That we love not too much this present life. . . . The Vanity of this mortal life: or, of Man, con- sidered in his present Mortal State. — P.salm Ixxxix. ■17, 48. Rcmenwcr hnw short my lime is ; vkerefare kast thou viadc all men in vain. What man is he thai liveth, and shall not see death? Shall he deliver his soul Jrmi the hand of the grave 1 Selah A Discourse relating to the expectation of future Blessedness. — Hebrews x. 36. For ye have i^cd of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise An Appendix, containing some memorial of Dr. Henry Sampson, a late noted Physician in the City of London The worthy Dr. Grew's Account of this his excel- lent Brother-in-law A Discourse concerning the Redeemer's Dominion over the Invisible World, and the entrance thereinto by death. Siiine part whereof was preached on occasion of the Deaod ; on behalf of a People that profess it. Jer. ii< . "21. Oo not abhor us for thy name's sake. . The O&ce and Work of the Holy Spirit, in every age, with reference to Particular Persons: consider- ea in .several Sermons, on John iii. 0. That which is bom ff lie flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the {!pirit is spirit ; and Gal. v. ii. If we live in the Spi- rit, let us also walk in the Spirit The Prosperous Slate of the Christian Interest be- fore the End of Time, by a plentiful effusion of the Holy Spirit, conside:'ed in Fifteen Sermons, on Ezek. itxxix. 'J9. Neither will J hide my face any viore from Item : for I have poured out mij Spirit upon the house if Israel, saith the Lord God The Obligations from Nature pnd Revelation to family Religion and Worship, represented and frcs.sed in Six Sermons; from Josh. xxiv. 15. But <.' for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. . . The Vanity of a Foimal Profession of Religion, considered in Eight Sermons, on Titus i. 16. They ftrofess that they know God ; but in his work.i they deny Aim, being abominable, and disobedient, and unto every good work reprobate The Love of Grod and our Brother, considered in Seventeen Sermons, on 1 John iv. 20. He that lovelh. not his brother xrhom he halh seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen ? Preached at a weekly mornmg Lecture at Cordwainer's Hall, in the ytar 1070 Thirteen Sermons on variocs si-ejects. Serm. I. Times and Seasons reserved in the Fa- ther's own power. — AcLs i. 7. And he said unto them. It is not for you. to know the times or the sea- sons, which t/ic Father hath put in his own power. Serm. II. Believers troubled, yet not distressed. — 'i Cor. iv. 8 We are troubled on every ^ide, yet not distressed Serm. III. Wherein afflictions are to be accounted jovful. — James i. 2. My brethren, count it all joy m\en ye fall into divers temptations Serm. IV. The Improvement of Afflictions desi- red—1 Peter v. 10. But the God of all grace, who hath called us into his eternal glory by ChrUt Jesus, after that ye have suffered awhile, make you perfect,staUisk,strensthen, settle you Serm. V. The Sin and Consequence of vexing the Holy Spirit.— I.sa. Ixiii. 10. Bi.t they rebelled, and rcred his Holy ^iril ; therefore he was turn- ed to be thtir enemy, and hefougU against them. Serm. VI, Obedience to be united with hearing the Word.— James i. 93. But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving mm r own selves •ft3 Serm. VII. The Parable of the Unjust Judge.- Luke xviii. 1 — 8. And he spalce a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint; saying. There was in a city a judge, which feared not God, neither regarded man : and there was a widow in that city ; and she came unto him, saying. Avenge me of mine adver- sari,. .ind he would not for a while ; but afterward he said within himself. Though I fear not God, nor regard man ; yet because this widow trouileth vie, I will avenge her, lest by her continual arming she weary me. And the Lord said, Hear what the unjust judge saith. And shall not God avenge his own eUct, which cry day and night unto Aim, though he bear long with them ? I tell you that he will avenge them speedily. Nevertheless when the Son of man cirmeth, shail he find faith on the earth? Serm. VIII. The Influence of Hope. — Rom. v. 5. Hope makclh not ashimed Ser.m. IX. Christians exhorted not to sleep, as do others. — 1 Thes. v. 6. Therefore lei tu not sleep, as do others Serm. X. Jerusalem rebuilt in troublous times. — Dan. ix. '25. The street shall be built again, and the wall, even in troublous limes Sc.RM. XI. David'sprayer, thatthe wayofGodmay be known upon Earth. — Psalm Ixvii. 'J, 3. That thy way may be known upon earth, thy saving health among alt nations. Lit the people praise thee, O God, let all the people praise thee Serm. XII. The Sin .■'ud Danger of forsaking the Lord.— Josh. xxiv. 20. If ye fnrsnke the Lord, and serve strange gods, then he mil turn and do you hurt, and consume you, after that he Aalh done you, good Serm. XIII. The Wicked turned into Hcll.-Psalm ix. 17. The wicked sAall be turned into hell, and all the nations tAal forget God Ser.mon3 : I. On the Gospel recommending itself to every Man's Conscience. Seven Sermons from 2 Cor. iv. 2. But ^ are renounced the Aidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully ; but by manifestation of the truth commending our.vttes to every man's conscience in the sight of God IL Thev to whom the Gospel is hid, arc lost souls. Six Sermons, frcim 2 Cor. iv. 3. But if our Cos-- pel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost III. On Hope. Fourteen Sermons, from Rom. viii. 34. For we ate saved by hope ; but hnjie that is seen is not hope : for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for > IV. Friend>hin wiili,God. Ten Sermons, from James ii. 2;i. .\na the scripture was fulfilled which sailh, .ihraham believed God, and it was im- puted unto kirn for righteousness : antl he was call- ed the friend of God V. On Regeneration. Thirteen Sermons, from 1 John V. 1. H'^o.wfriT believcth that Jems is the Christ is bom of God : and every one lh.tt loretk him that begat, lorclh him also tJuU is btgolttn of 7U ■K7 him. A Sermon directing what we are to do, after a strict Inquirv, whether or no we truly love God. — John v. ■12. But I know you, that ye hare not Ike Unt of Ood in you A Sermon on the Thanksgiving-day, Dec. 2, 1697. — Psalm xxix. 1. The Lord will bless his people witA peace A Seriaon for the Reformation of Manners.— b CONTENTS. Rom. xui. 4. Forhe isthe minister of God to thee for good •'■^* A Two-fold Discourse. I. Of Man's Enmity against God. II. Of Reconciliation between God and Man.— Col. i. 21. And yim, UuU were sometime alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet Tufw kat/i he reconciled 938 A Sermon preaclied on the Fifih of November, 1703.— Col. i. 13. Who hath delirered us from the power of darkness, and hath trandatcd us into the king- dom of his dear Son 95, these eighteen years, he loosed from this bond cm the sabbath day? 1004 y A Discourse relating to the much-lamented Death and solemn Funeral of (iucen Mary. — Heb. xii. 23. And to the spirits of just men made perfect. 1012 A Funeral Sermon on the Death of Mrs. Margaret / Baxter. — 2 Cor. v. 8. We arc confident. I .wi/, and willing rathrr to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord 1021 A Funeral Sermon on the Death of Mrs. Judith Hammond. — 1 Cor. xv. 54. Death is swallowed up in victory ., lOHO Letters 1036 Fragment of a Sermon 1039 Mr. Spademan's Funeral Sermon for Mr. Jolm G Howe.— 2 Tim. iii. 14. But continue thm, in the things which thou hast teamed a'ld hast been assured of, knowing of whotn thou hast learned them 1040 The Prin'ciples cr the Oracles of God. In Two Parts. Part I. containing, I. An Introduction, provmg t\ie Necessity of their being taught, in "Two Lectures, on Heb. v. 12. Ye have need that one teach ym again, which be the first principles of the oracles ■>/ God. . . . 1040 II. The Existence of God, manifest from the Crea- tion, in Four Lectures, on Rum. 1.20. For the invisible things of him from the cf.otion of the world are clearly seen, being imdeniood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead ; so that they are without excux. . . 105i> III. The Divine Authority of the Scriptvj-es, in Four Lectures, on 2 Tim. iii. 16. All Scripture is given by inspiration of God 10ion that offered, of serving the interest of religion and learning, and opposing the errors and designs which at that time threatened both. Among many instances of his generous temper, I shall mention one, which was his sea-sonable service to Dr. Selh Ward, who was afterwards Bishop of Exeter, and Sarum, ^successively. The case in short was this. In ItiST, that gentleman, who had succeeded Mr. John Greaves some time before as Astronomy professor in the university of Oxon, stood candidate for the principalship of Jesus college in the same university, upon the resignation of Dr. Michael Roberts. Dr. Ward had the majority of Ihe Fellows for him; but Mr. Francis Howell of Elxeter college made an interest in the Protector Cromwell, and obtained p Athon. Oxon. nil. ii p. 1014. THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. his promise for ihe filling up that vacancy. Dr. Ward not knowing that matters had gone so far, wa.s for making an interest in the Protector loo, and in order to ii applied to Mr. Howe, who, without making great promises as to success, readily offered to introduce him to the Protector,. and do him what service he was able. Having obtained an audience, and they three being j together, Mr. Howe gave Cromwell a great character of Dr. Ward, with respect to his learning, and signified how ill it would sound, if a man of his known merit should be discountenanced; especially when he had the majority of the Fellows on his side. Cromwell replied, that Dr. Roberts having resigned his principalship into his hands, he had been informed that it was his right to fill up the vacancy ; and he had given his promise to Mr. Howell, and could not draw back. But immediately taking Mr. Howe aside, and discoursing hiin freely about Dr. Ward, and he telling him that in his apprehension it would be much for his honour to do something for the Doctor, and that he would thereby encourage men of merit and learning, he returned to Dr. Ward, who continued waiting, and told him that he found Mr. Howe to be much his friend, and was upon his report of him disposed to give him some tokens of his regard : and thereupon he pleasantly asked him what he thought the principalship of Jesus College might be worth 1 The Doctor freely told him what was the value of it according to common com- pulation. And thereupon he gave the Doctor a promise, that he would allow hira the sum that he mentioned annually. This was at that time reckoned a .seasonable kindness: and the Doctor expressed his grateful sense of it to Mr. Howe some time after, when upon the change of the times he became a greater man. There were many others to whom Mr. Howe was very serviceable while he continued at Whitehall : and never was he known to be backward to assist any of the royalists or episcopalians in distress, if they were hut persons of real merit. He befriended several with his advice and interest upon their being obliged to ap- pear before the Triers, in order to the having their approbation before their being allowed to ofliciate in public as ministers. Among the rest that applied to him for advice upon that occasion, Ihe celebrated Dr. Thomas Fuller, who is so well known by his punning writings, was one. That gentleman, who was gene- rally upon the merry pin, being to lake his turn before these Triers, of whom he had a very formidable notion, thus accasied Mr. Howe, when he applied to him for advice. Sir, said he, you may observe I am a pretty corpulent man, and I am to go through a pa.ssage that is very straight, I beg you would be so kind as to give me a shove, and help me through. He freely gave him his advice, and he promised to follow it ; and when he appeared before them, and they proposed to him the usual question, Whether he had ever had any experience of a work of grace upon his heart 1 he gave this in for answer, that he could appeal to the Searcher of hearts, that he made conscience of his very thoughts ; with which answer they were satisfied, as indeed they well might. In short, so generous was Mr. Howe, in using his interest on the behalf of persons of any worth that applied to him, that I have been informed Cromwell once freely told him, that he had obtained many favours for others; but, .says he, I wonder when the time is lo come that yuu will move for any thing for yourself, oi your family. A plain argument that he took him for a very disinterested person, and as free from selfishness as he was from partiality. And here I know not how to forbear mentioning a pa.ssage that I had from Mr. Howe's own mouth, when I had the happiness of some hours' free conversation with him, without any interruption. I had heard from several, (and it had been confirmed to me by Mr. Jeremy White, who lived at Whitehall at the very same lime with Mr. Howe,) that the notion of a par- ticular faith in prayer prevailed much in Cromwell's court ; and that it was a common opinion among them, that such as were in a special maimer favoured of God, when they offered up prayers and supplications to him for his mercies, either for themselves or others, often had such impressions made upon their minds and spirits by a divine hand, as signified to them, noi only in the general that their prayers would be heard, and gra- ciously answered, but that the particular mercies that were sought for would be certainly bcslowed ; nay, and sometimes also intimated to ihcm in what way and manner they would be afforded, and pointed out to ihem future events beforehand, which in reality is the same with inspiration. Having heard of mischief done by the prevalence of this notion, I took the opportunity that offered, when there was nothing to hinder the utmost freedom, to inquire of Mr. Howe what he had known about this matter, and what were his appre- hensions concerning ill He told me the prevalence of the notion that 1 mentioned' at Whitehall, at the time when he lived there, was too notorious lo be called in question ; and that not a little pains was taken to cul- livate and support it; and that he once heard a sermon there, (from a person of note,) the avowed design of which was lo maintain and defend it. He said, he was so fully convinced of the ill tendency of such a prin- ciple, that after the hearing this sermon, he thought himself bound in conscience, when it came next to his turn to preach bclore Cromwell, to set him.self indus- triously to oppose it, and to beat down that spiritual pride and confidence, which such fancied impulses and impre.s,sions were apt to produce and cherish. He told me, he observed that while he was in the pulpil Cromwell heard hiin with great atleniion, but would sometimes knit his brows, and discover great uneasi- ness. When the sermon was over, he told me a person of distinction came to him, and asked him if he knew what he had done ; and signified it lo him as his ap- prehensioh that Cromwell would be so incensed upon that discourse, that he would find it very dtfficul e\tt lo make his peace wiih him, or secure his favour for th«. future. Mr. Howe replied, that he hod bul discharged his conscience, and could leave the event with God. He told me that he atWrwards observed Cromwell was THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. cooler in his carriage to him than before; and some- times he thought he would have spoken to him of the matter, but he never did, and rather chose to forbear. He added, that he had a great deal of satisfaction in what he did in this case, both in the time of doing it, and ever afterwards, to the time of our conversing to- gether upon this subject. I well remember, that upon this occasion I begged of Mr. Howe a sight of the notes of this sermon of his upon a particular faith in prayer, if ever he could recover them, and he gave me a promise ; and when I reminded him of it some lime after, he told me he had looked for the notes, but could not find them. And not long since I desired a search might be made for it, among the few notes of his that remain. And what could be found, though it is but a fragment, shall be added in the close of this account. Whilst he continued in Cromwell's family, he was often put upon secret services; but they were always honourable, and such as, according to the best of his judgment, might be to the benefit either of the public, or of particular persons. And when he was once en- gaged he used all the diligence, and secrecy, and des- patch, he was able. Once particularly I have been informed, he was sent by Oliver in haste, upon a cer- tain occasion, to Oxford, to a meeting of ministers there, and he made such despatch, that though he rode by St. Giles's Church at twelve o'clock, he arrived at Oxford by a quarter after five. In short, he so behaved himself in this station, that he had the ill will of as few as any man, and the particular friendship of the great Dr. Wilkins, who was afterwards Bishop of Che.'^ter, and several others, who were great supports of real piety and goodness in those times, and afterwards eminent under the legal establishment. When Oliver died, his son Richard succeeded him as Protector, and Mr. Howe stood in the same relation to the son, as he had done to the father. He was still chaplain at court, when in October, 1G38, he met with the congregational brethren at the Savoy, at the time of their drawing up their Confession of faith, &c.i And though he meddled not with state affairs neither then nor afterwards, yet he has often been heard to say, that he was in his judgment very much against Richard's parting with his parliament, which he easily foresaw would issue in his own ruin. I have been told by a friend, that discoursing once freely with Mr. Howe, about the .setting Richard aside, he intimated to him, that it was but a parenthesis in a public paper, thai was the occasion of the great ill-will of the officers to him which rose at length to that height, that nothing would satisfy, but the pulling him down. And when thfc same person signified in a way of free di.scourse to Mr. Howe, that he had heard Richard reflected on as a weak man. he with some warmth made this return; How could he be a weak man, when upon the remonstrance that was brought from the army by his brother Fleet- wood, he .stood it out all night against his whole council, and continued the debate till four o'clock in the morning, n Sm Mcmoi™ of iho Lifoof Dr J. Owen, prefixed lo the coroulclo col- lecUun of liu Sonnonj, p. ai. having none but Thurlow lo abet him; maintaining that the dissolving that parliament would be both his ruin and theirs ! Upon some further discourse on the same subject, Mr. Howe told my friend, thai Fleetwood undertook with great solemnity, that if Richard would but comply with the proposal ihat was made him, the army should not do him the least damage. And he added, that when Fleetwood was afterwards put in mind of this, all the answer he returned was, that he thought he had had more interest in the army than be found he had. And Mr. Howe further added, that ac- cidentally meeting with Major-General Berry, who was in those times so active and busy, some time after the restoration, when he was but in very mean circum- stances, he very freely told him, with tears running down his cheeks, that if Richard had but at that time hanged up him, and nine or ten more, the nation might have been happy. But without applauding what was weak, or vindicating what was blameable, it becomes us to be sensible, that the great and infinitely wise God had purposes to serve, that were out of the reach of human foresight. When the army had got their will, and set Richard aside, they, as it was foreseen they would, soon fell themselves; and a way was made by Monk to bring things back into the old channel. Mr. Howe returned to his people at Torringion, and continued his labours among them till the restoration : at which time there was such a madness attending the universal joy, that it is a perfect wonder the nation ever in any measure re- covered it. The king being restored, made for some time more use than was usual of the lords-lieutenants and their deputies to keep the .several coimties of the kingdom in awe : many were made offenders for a word, and the most cautious preachers were accused and censured, if they were not intoxicated to the same degree with their neighbours. Among the rest, Mr. Howe, though as cautious as most men of giving dis- turbance to any, yet met with some trouble, in the year IfiGO, a few months after the restoration, which appears lo have been given him by persons that were desirous to do a pleasure to those who then had the ascendant. He was informed against by John Evans and William Morgan, as delivering somewhat that was seditious and even treasonable, in two sermons preached from Gal. vi. 7, 8. on Sep. 30, and Oct. 14. The inform- ation was given before Mr. Wellington the mayor, who took an engagement from Mr. Howe, and others on his behalf, for his appearance at the next sessions, to answer to lhat matter. Before lhat time, some of the deputy-lieutenants of the county (who were not willing the magistrates of the .several corporations should be too powerftil) sent word to the mayor lhat they could not be present at the appointed ses.sion, but desired lo hear the matter at some other time, and pre- fixed a day for that purpose, to which the mayor accord- ingly adjourned the sessions in compliance with their desire. And whereas Mr. Howe in open court demanded the benefit of the statute of 1 Edw. VI. and 1 Eliz. to THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. purge himself by more evidences than ihe informers, the mayor administered an oath to one and twenty witnesses, who were judicious men, enjoining them on his majesty's behalftodeclare the truth of the matter; and they all clear- ed Mr. Howe from the guilt in the accusation, and the court accordingly discharged him. Some lime after this, on November 34th, one of the constables of the town summoned the mayor to appear before the deputy-lieutenant, by a warrant, dated the 14th, which he had kept ten days by him; and the same being signed by four gentlemen who had been in town the day that the warrant bore date, (which was the very day of the hearing,) and the sheriff's hand, who was not then in town, being also to the warrant, the mayor doubted whether the warrant was made by the gentlemen or not; and thereupon wrote to the sheritf, that in case he might not be excused from appearing, he would prepare for it, as far as would consist with his office and place : but the messenger not returning soon enough, (the summons being for Saturday, and the ap- pearance the Wednesday morning after,) the mayor gave another letter to the depuly-lieutcnants to the same purpose, and they presently sent a party of horse for him, who carried him to Exon ; where appearing before the said deputy-lieutenants, they told him he had acted unwarrantably in the case of Mr. Howe, and committed hlin to the Marshalsea, where he paid three pounds for fees, and afterwards was bound over to ap- pear at the next assizes ; and when they came, this af- fair of Mr. Howe was heard at large before the judge, and the notes that were taken in short-hand by a hearer were read before him; and having heard them out, he said the charge was wholly bottomed upon a mistake, and cleared him. One of the accusers soon left the town, and was seen there no more ; and the other cut his own throat, and was buried at a cross road. It is observable that there were many things of this kind at that time in several parts of England, which seem to have been managed in concert, on purpose to make way for the celebrated Act of Uniformity; as in the case of Mr. Andrew Parsons, of Wem, in Shropshire,' Mr. John Sacheverel, of Wincatmton, in Somersetshire,' and divers others. When things were thought sufficiently prepared for it, at length, in 166i, the Act of Uniformity passed the two houses of parliament, though, as it was observed, (and it ought not to this day to be forgotten,) with a very small majority in the House of Commons ; and it took place on August ilih, this year. Mr. Howe on that day preached two very affecting sermons to his people at Torrington, and his auditory were all in tears. He consulted his conscience, and could not be satisfied with the tenns of conformity fixed by the law, some account of which he gave in his farewell sermons. He here- upon quitted his public station in the church, and be- came a silenced nonconformist : though how that church from which he was eichtded, can be that truly primitive and apostolic choich that it is represented, and yet exclude one of his latitude, remains to many I do* CoofonniA's Founli Pic* fot tin NonanibniiBlJ, p. 30, ttc to this day a mystery. I shall not easily forget what he biiu.self has told me, rt.;. that the lirst tune be accidentally fell into Ihe company of his much valued friend Dr. Wilkins, after the affecting change which that act produced, (under the sad effects whereof many worthy persons are still groaning,) the Doctor in his usual way entering into a free and pleasant conversa- tion with him, told him that that act had had such con- sequences as a little surprised him. Some, he said, that he should have ihousht much too stiff and risid ever to have fallen in with the establishment, had complied and conformed, while others that he thought had a suf- ficient latitude to have conformed, bad stood out and continued nonconformists: and he intimated to Mr. Howe that he took him for one of the latter .sort, and should therefore be glad to know the rea-wns of his conduct. Mr. Howe very frankly told him, that he had weighed that matter with all the impartiality he was able, and had not so slender a concern for his own iLse- fulness and comfort, as not to have been willing and desirous to have been under the establishment, could he but have compassed it with satisfaction to hi-S con- science : but that the giving him a particular account of the workings of his mind upon that occasion, (which he was free to do without any reserve, when a convenient opportunity offered,) would take up much more time than they then had to spend together ; and that so many things were necessarily to be touched upon in a discourse on that subject, that it was not pas- sible for it to be crowded into a transient conversa- tion, and therefore he should reserve it to a season, when having more lime, he might have more scope for enlarging : but one thing, he added, he could tell him with a.ssurancc, which was this, that that UUitude of his, which be was pleased to take notice of, was so far from inducing him to conformity, that it was the very thing that made and kept him a nonconformist. The Doctor a.skcd him whether it was the disciplirm of the church, that was Ihe thing from whence he drew his chief ob- jection 1 To which Mr. Howe replied, that he could not by any means be ford of a church, that in reality had no discipline at all, and that he thought that a very considerable objectioi against the establishment. The Doctor told him, ihit though he was sensible there might not then be room for coming to a variety of par- ticulars, yet he should be glad of a general hint from him, about what was his great hinderance in the case, leaving the enlargement to a further opportunity, which he should readily embrace. Mr. Howe then went on, and intimated to him, that he took the public exercise of his ministry to be like a habitation or dwelling ; and that when he was put upon consulting a,bout a dwelling, he could not tell how to reconcile it with common prudence, to enter into a habitation that he was apprcheusive had so weak a foundation, as that it was not likely to .stand very long. I could not, says he, by any means be for going into a falling house, for fear of its felling about my ears. Of this nature (said he) I take the present constitution to be, compared with that • See AbiidinMnl, raL ii. pw an—*. THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. flonri.shin^ stale of real vital religion which I think I have sufBcienl warrant from the word of God lo expect and look for. To which the Doctor made this reply : I undcr.sl'ind you well, and if that be your sense, take this advice from a friend ; don't think lo gain any thing by sneaking or crouching, but bear up against us boldly and bravely ; stand to your principle, and sooner or later you may hope to carry your point. This Dr. Wilkins was ever a great enemy In rigour and severity. When he wa.s made a bishop by king Charles II. (which was not compa-ssed without con- siderable difficulty,) I have been credibly informed he waited on the famous Dr. Cosins, Bishop of Durham, among other spiritual lords, and desired his company at his consecration dinner. Upon this occasion Bishop Cosins entered into a free discourse with him, about mo- deration on the one hand, and a vigorous supporting the ecclesiastical constitution on the other. Bishop Wilkins frankly told his lordship, that for his part, it was his apprehension, that he who was by many (with ill nature enough) reflected on for his moderation, was in reality a better friend to the church than his lord- ship, who was for rigorously supporting the constitu- tion. Bishop Cosins .seeming surprised, Bishop Wil- kins added this as the reason of his assertion : For while you, my lord, said he, are for setting the top on the piqued end, downwards, you won't be able to keep il up any longer than you continue whipping and .scourg- ing; whereas I, says he, am for selling the broad end downward, and so it will stand of itself. 'Tis a pity this good bishop died so soon as 1672, and did not live till the revolution in 1688. What I have just been mentioning, of Mr. Howe's intimating to Dr. Wilkins, that he thought he had a scriptural warrant to expect and look for a more flourish- ing stale of real vital religion than we were yet arrived at, very naturally reminds me of a pa.ssage I have heard of in conversation, at some other time, between him and another great friend of his, inz. Dr. Hcnrj' More. That Doctor when he came to town, usually paid a visit to Mr. Howe, to whom he was always welcome. Calling once at his house, soon after his coming into the city, and not finding him at home, he left word he would come and dine with him the next day, which was Tuesday. Mr. Hcwe became that day an auditor at the lecture at St. Laurence's, hoping there to meet with his friend Dr. More, and bring him home along with him. Il so fell out that Dr. More being at that lecture, sat in the same se,it with Dr. Sharp, who was afterwards Archbishop of York, who when sermon was over, asked him where he intended that day to dine. He told him he had nromLsed to dine that day with Mr. Howe, whom he saw there present in another pew. Dr. Sharp invited himsi-lf to dine with him ion ; and the company of two such persons was highly p)ea.sing to Mr. Howe, who was in his element when in the company of men of letters. After dinner, among other things that were freely discoursed of, they at length came to talk of the Revelation of St. John, which was one of the Doctor's most common and favourite subjects. The Doctor, who was very fond of the notion, that the epistles to the seven Asian churches, which we meet with in that book, were prophetical, said, and repealed it over and over again, that he thought he had very good evidence to prove that we were now in the Sardian state ; with which Mr. Howe was not displeased, though Dr. Sharp seemed not much to relish it, thinking it no great compliment on the present ecclesiastical constitution. Being informed oif this conversation, I took the pains to turn to Dr. More's works, to see what account he gives of the Sardian church; and I fmd in him these words, when he is giving a particular description of it: 'Though the Sardian church be well rid of the foul idolatries and gross trumperies of the papal church, yet her state as yet is but carnal. It is not the dispensation of the spirit of life, but the main stir is about external opinion and ceremony.'i And he adds a little after t ' As mis- chievous a mark as any of her carnality, is her dissen- sion and schismaticalness, even lo mutual persecution ; as also the unnatural and unchristian wars of one part of reformed Christendom against the other.' So that Mr. Howe was not singular in his sentiments, in firmly expecting that a much more flourishing state of religion would in lime take place, than that which was brought in by the Act of Uniformity, in which so many were for acquiescing, without advancing so much as a step further, for fear of I know not what ill consequences that might ensue. But as to him, he had a large soul, and could not bear the thoughts of being cramped and pinioned. He was for the 'union and communion of all visible Christians ; and for making nothing necessary to Christian communion, but what Christ hath made nece.ssar)', or what is indeed necessary to one's being a Christian.' And he was convinced that 'such an imion must be efltcled, not by mere human endefivour, but by an almighty Spirit poured forth, which (saj-s he) after we have suBered awhile, shall irarapnVai, put us into joint, and make every joint know its place in the body, (1 Pel. v. 10.) shall conquer private interests and inclinations, and overawe men's hearts, by the authority of the divine law, which now, how express soever it is, little availeth against such prepossessions. Till then (he says) Christianity will be among us a lan- guishing, withering thing. When the sea.son comes of such an efl^ision of the Spirit from on high, there will be no parties. And amidst the wilderness desolation that cannot but be till that .sea-son comes, it matters little, and signifies to me (says he) scarce one straw, what party of us is uppermast. The most righteous, as they may be vogned, will be but as briars and .scratching thorns; and it is better to sufler by such, than be of them.'" I cannot help saying, that it could never be for the credit of any church, lo exclude one of such a make and spirit out of it,« enclosure. However, being ejected and silenced, Mr. Howe u 8co Mr. Howo'fl Funcnl Scnnon fur Mr. Mcftd, p. 9M, M6^ THE LIFE OF MK. JOll.N UoW£. coniiiiued fur some time in the coiuiy of Dei-on, preaching in private houses, among his friends and ac- quaintance, as he had opportunity. Having preached at the house of a certain gentleman in those parts, and spent some few days with him, he at his return home, was told that an officer belonging to the Bishop's court had been to inquire after him, and left word that there was a citation out, both against him, and ihe gentle- man at whose house he had preached. Hereupon, he the very neit morning took his horse, and rode to EUeler, and lighting at the inn there which he usually called at, he stood awhile at the gate, considering which way he had best to sleer his course. While he stood musing, a certain dignified clergyman, with whom he was well acquainted, happening to pass by, looked on him with some surprise, and saluted him wiih this question, Mr. Howe, what do you do here'! to whom he replied, with another question; Pray, sir, what have I done, that I may not be here 1 Upon which he told him that there was a process out against him, and that being so well known as he was, he did not at all question but that if he did not take care of himself, he would be taken up in a very little time. Among other discourse that passed, he asked him whether he would not go and wait upon the bishop'! He said, he thought not to do it, unless his lordship hearing of his being in that city, should think fit to invite htm. Upon this, he advised him to call for a room, and wail there a little, and told him he would go to the bishop, and lei him know that he was there, and return to him again, and give him an account, what his lordship said to it. He accordingly left him, and soon relumed, and brought him an invitation from the bishop, who signified he would be giad to see him. Wailing on his lordship, he received him with greni civility, as his old acquaintanre. The bishop presently fell to expostulating with him abou: his nonconformity. Mr. Howe told his lordship, he could not have lime, without greatly trespassing upon his patience, to go through Ihe several objections which lie had lo make again.st Ihe terms of conformity. The bishop pressed him to name any one that he reckoned to be of weight. He thereupon instanced in the point of re-ordination. Why, pray sir, said the bi.shop to him, what hurt is there in being twice ordained ? Hurl, my Ion'., says Mr. Howe to him; the thought is shocking; it hurts my understanding ; ii is an absurdity: for nothing can have iwo beginnings. I am sure, said he, I am a minister of Chri.st, and am ready to debate that matter wilh your lordship, if you please; and I can't begin again lo be a minister. The bishop then dropping that matter, told Mr. Howe, as he had done at other times, that if he would come in amongst them, he might have considerable preferments, and at length dismissed him in a very friendly manner. And as his lordship did not lake the least notice to him of the process that was i.ssued out against him, so neither did he say any thins of it to his lordship: but taking his leave, he mounted ed over lightly, according to the usual way for the generality of common readers. He there says of that discourse of his, ' That the design of it is wholly practical, and it hath little or nothing to do with disputation. If (says he) there be any whose business it is to promote a pri- vate divided interest, or who place the sum of their re- ligion in an inconsiderable and doubtful opinion, it doth not unhallow their altars, nor oflfer any affront to their idol. It intends no quarrel to any contending angry parly ; but deals upon things, in the substance whereof Christians are at a professed agreement : and hath therefore the greater probability of doing good to some, without the offence of any. 'Tis indeed equally matter of complaint and wonder, that men can find so much leisure, to avert from such things wherein there is so much both of delight and pleasure, unto what one would think should have little of temptation or allure- ment in it, contentious jangling. It might rather be thought, its visible fruits and tendencies should render it the most dreadful thing to ever\' serious beholder. What tragedies hath it wrought in the Christian church! Into how weak and languishing a condition hath it brought the religion of professed Christians ! Hence have risen the intemperate preternatural heats and an- gers that have spent its strength and spirits ; and make it look with so meagre and pale a face. We have had a greater mind to dispute than live, and to contend THE LIFE OP MR. JOHN HOWE. about what we know not, than to practise the far greater things we know, and which more directly tend to nourish and maintain the divine life. The author of that ingenious sentence, Pruritus disputandi scabies ecclesisB, whoever he were, hath fitly expressed what is the noLsome product of the itch of disputing. It hath begot the iilcerous tumours, which beside their own offensive soreness, drain the body, and turn what should nourish that into nutriment to themselves. And its effects are not more, grievous, than the plea.sures which it affects and pursues are uncouth and unnatural. The rough touch of an ingentle hand ; that only pleases which exasperates ; (as Seneca the moralist aptly expresses some like disaffection of diseased minds ; ) toil and vexation is their only delight ; and what to a sound spirit would be a pain, is to these a pleasure. ' Which is indeed the triumph of the disease, that it adds unto torment, reproach and mockery, and imposes upon men by so ridiculous a delusion, (while they are made to take pleasure m punishing themselves,) that even the most sober can scarcely look on in a fitter pos- ture than with a compa-ssionate smile. All which were yet somewhat more tolerable, if that imagined vanish- ing pleasure were not the whole of their gain ; or if it were to be hoped that so great a present real pain and smart, should be recompensed with as real a consequent fruit and advantage. But we know that generally, by how much any thing is more disputable, the less it is necessary or conducible to the Christian life. God hath graciously provided, that what we are to live by, should not cost us so dear. And possibly as there is the less occasion of disputing about the more mo- mentous things of religion, so there may be somewhat more of modesty and awe, in reference to what is so confessedly venerable and sacred, (though too many are over-bold even here also,) than so foolishly trifle with such things. Therefore more commonly, where that humour prevails, men divert from those plainer things, with some slighter and more superficial rever- ence to them, but more heartily esteeming iliem in- sipid and jejune, because they have less in them to gratify their appetite, and betake themselves to such things about which they may more plausibly contend. And then what pitiful trifles often take up their time and thoughts 1 questions and problems of like weighty importance (very often) with those which Seneca tells us this disease among the Greeks prompted them to trouble themselves about ! as, what number of rowers \ ■Ulysses had ? which wa.> written first, the Iliad or the Odyssesi so that (as he saith) they spend their lives very operosely doing nothing: their conceits being such, that if they kept them to themselves they could yield them no fruit, and if they published them to others, they should not seem thereby the more learned, but the more troublesome. And is it not (says he) to be resented, that men should sell away the solid strength and vital joy, which a serious .soul would find in substantial religion, for such toys'! yea, and not snly famish themselves, but trouble the world, and embroil the cborch with imperlinencies 1 If a man be drawn forth, to defend an important truth against an injurious assault, it were treacherous self-love to purchase his own peace by declining it. Or if he did sometimes turn his thoughts to some of our petite questions, that with many are so hotly agitated, for re- creation sake, or to trj* his wit, and exercise his reason without stirring his passions, to the disturbance of others or himself; here an innocent divertisement is the best purpose that things of that nature are capable of serving. But when contention becomes a man's element, and he cannot live out of that fire ; strains his wit, and racks his invention to find matter of quarrel ; is resolved nothing said or done by others shall please him, only because he means to please himself in dis- senting; disputes only that he may dispute, and loves dissension for itself; this is the imnatural humour that hath so unspeakably troubled the church, and debased religion, and filled men's souls with wind and vanity, yea with fire and fury. This hath made Christians gladiators, and the Christian world a clamorous theatre, while men have equally affected to contend, and to make ostentation of their ability to do so,' &c. Some time alter this, he was earnestly invited by a person of considerable quality into Ireland, and had generous offers made him. He accepted the motion with the greater readiness, and looked upon it as the more providential, because by this time he was reduced to straits, and his circumstances were but low ; which is not at all to be pondered at, considering that he had for some years Ixien out of any settled employment, and had but a small income, several in family, and a ge- nerous spirit of his own, which inclined him upon all occasions to make the best figure he was able. He set sail for Dublin (as I am informed) in the beginning of April, 1G71. And here I have a memorable passage to relate, which I have from such hands, that I cannot question the truth of it. When he went for Ireland, taking his eldest son along with him, he was for em- barking at a town in Wales, the name of which my in- formant has forgotten, but I suppose it was Holy-head. The wind not serving to carry them off, they con- tinued there a Lord's day, and found a large parish church, in which prayers only were to be read as usually, but no preaching was expected. The com- pany that was with Mr. Howe and waited for a wind, were pretty numerous, and they were desirous to find out some private place by the sea-side, where he. might preach to them. As they were walking along the sands in search of some such place, they met two men on hoi^seback riding towards the town, who proved to be the parson of the parish and his clerk. The clerk was asked by one in the company whether his master preached that day 1 No, said he, my master does not use to preach, he only reads prayers. Upon which it was farther inquired whether he thought his master would be willing to give leave to a minister that was in their company, who was going for Ireland, but wait- ing for a wind, to make use of his pulpit that day in his room? He answered he believed very willingly, THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. and they found it so, when the clerk had once made the motion to him. Hereupon Mr. Howe and the rest of them relumed back to Ihe town, and he preached that day twice to them in the church ; and in the afternoon the auditory was very large, and seemed to be not a little affected with what wa.s delivered. The wind not serving all the week following, the country all round those parts took notice that neiiher the vessel nor the minister were gone ; and therefore on the Lord's day after, they came flocking into the town, expecting he would preach that day also. There was a prodigious multitude gathered tugeiher ; and the parson, who had had no thoughts about ihe matter, nor made the least motion for any further assistance from the stranger, observing it, was in no small consternation. Preach hitnself he could not ; for he had not of a long time been used to it, and he was altogether unprovided ; and if he did not employ the stranger, it would lessen his reputation greatly : but then he did not know, whether as things stood, he could be able to prevail with him. However he sent his clerk to Mr. Howe, and begged he would come and preach again, for that otherwise he knew not what to do, the country being come in from several miles round, in hope of hearing him. Mr. Howe having been much indisposed, was in bed, and in a great sweat, when he received the message, and that made him at first doubtful whether he had best venture to comply. But considering with himself that here was a plain call of Providence, and not knowing but much good might be done in such a place, where preaching was so uncommon a thing, and ihe people seemed so desirous of the word of God, he sent word he would do it ; and cooled himself with as much speed as he was able with safety, and cast himself upon God, and went and preached .with great life and freedom; and he told my informant, that he never in all his lile saw people more moved, or receive the word with greater pleasure. And he at the same time added these words, ' if my ministry was ever of any use, I think it must be then.' Very soon after, the vessel went off, and he found no ill effects or consequences at all, of the pains he took in such circumstances. At length he had his whole family with him in Ire- land, where he lived as chaplain to the Lord Mas,sarcne in the parish of Antrim, and was received and treated with all imaginable respect. ?Iis great learning and Christian temper, (together with that lord's interest and influence,) procured him tlie particular friendship of ihe bishop of that dioce.se, who, (logelher with his metro- politan,) without demanding any conformity, gave him free liberty to preach in the public rhurch in that town, every Lord's day in the afternoon . and I have been informed that the archbishop in a pretty full meeting of the clergy, told them frankly, that he would have Mr. Howe have every pulpit (where he had any con- cern) open to him, in which he at any time was free to preach. And he manifested his truly peaceable and Christian spirit, both in his preaching and conversation, and was useftil lo many. In the very year in which he settled here, he pub- lished a noble discourse upon ' The Vanity of this mortal Life, or of Man considered only in this present mortal State,' from Psal. Ixxxi. 47, 48. which discourse is usually bound up with his ' Blessedness of the Right- eous.' There is an epistle before this sermon dated from Antrim in 1671, to John Upton, of Lupton in Devon, Esq, his kinsman, signifying that it was composed upon occasion of ihe death of Anthony Upton, son of ihe said John, who had lived between twenty and thirty years in Spain, and had promised to return home ; and being earnestly expected, a sudden disease in so few days landed him in another world, that the first notice his friemls had of his dealh or sickness, was by ihe arrival of that vessel (clad in mourning attire) which brought over the deserted body lo its native place of Lupton ; which providence was therefore ihe more aflecling, because a meeting of the several branches of the family, who lived at distant places, having been appointed, the place and occasion and design of it was this way altered ; and no less than twenty, ihe brothers and sisters of Ihe deceased, or their consorts, besides many nephews and nieces, and other relations, were brought together to the mournful solemnity of the in- terment. It has been the judgment of many, that this diseuursc is as noble a piece of true theological oratory, as can be easily met with. In 1G74 he published his treatise of ' Delighting m God,' which was the substance of some sermons he had preached twenty years before to the people of Torring- ton, with some additions and enlargements. He de- dicated them to his old friends, the inhabitants of that town, by a masculine, but at the same time most lender and afleclionate, epistle to them from Antrim, in which he gives such an account of himself, as may very well heighten our idea of him. Speaking of the sermons which he then published, he expresses himself in this glorious manner. ' They aim (says he) at the promoting of the same end, which the course of my poor labours among you did, (as he that knowelh all things knoweth,) the se- rious practice of the great things of religion, which are known, and least liable lo question ; without designing to engage you to or against any parly of them thai differ about circum.stanlial matters. They lend to let you see, that formality in any way of religion, unac- companied with life, will not serve your turn, (as it will no man's,) than which there is nothing more empiy, sapless, and void bolh of profit and delight. I have reflected and considered with some satisfaction, that this hath been my way, and the temper of my mind . among you. Great rca.son I have lo repent, thai I have not with greater earnestness pres.sed upon you the known and important things wherein serious Christians do generally agree : but I repent not I have been so little engaged in the hot conlesLs of our age, about the things wherein they differ. For as I pretend lo lillle light in these ihings, (whence I could not have much confidence lo fortify me lo such an undertaking,) so I nmsl piofe.ss to have liiile inclina- tion lo contend about matters of that kind. Nor yet THE LIFE OP MR. JOHN HOWE. am I mdiffcrenl as lo these smaller things, that I can- not discern to be in their own nature so. But though I cannot avoid to thinW that course right which I have deliberately chosen therein, I do yet esteem that but a small thing upon which to ground an opinion of ray excecdmg them that think otherwise, as if I knew more than they. Fur I have often recounted thus seriously with myself, that of ever)- ditTering party (in those cir- cumstantial matters) I do particularly know some per- sons by whom I find myself much excelled, in much greater things than is ihc matter of that difference. I cannot ('tis true) thereupon say and think every thing that they do; which is impossible, since they differ from one another as well as me ; and I understand well there are other measures of truth, than this or that ex- cellent person's opinion : hut I thereupon reckon I have little reason to be conceited of any advantage I have of such in point of knowledge ; (even as little as he would have, that can sing or play well on a lute, of him that k-nows how to command armies or govern a Icingdom;) and can with the less confidence differ from ihem, or contend with them. Being thereby, though I cannot find that I err in these matters, constrained to have some suspicion lest I do; and to admit it possible enough, that some of them who differ from me, having much more light in greater matters, may have so in these also. Besides that 1 most seriously think, hu- militj', charity, and patience would more contribute to the composing of these lesser differences, or to the good estate of the Christian interest under them, than the most fervent disputes and contestations. I have upon such considerations little concerned myself in contend- ing for one way or another, while I was among you ; or in censuring such as have differed from me, in such notions and practices as might consist with our com- mon great end; or as imported not manifest hostility thereto: contenting myself to follow the course that to ray preponderating judgment seemed best, without stepping out of my way to jostle others. But I cannot be so patient of their practical disagreement (not only with all serious Christians, but even their own judg- ments and consciences also) who have no delight in God, and who take no pleasure in the very sub.stance of religion,' &c. We may from hence take our mea- sures of him both as a minister and a divine; and can hardly forbear making this reflection, that it would be an unspeakable happiness, did but such a spirit as this pre\"ail more among all the parlies into which we are divided. In 1675, upon the death of Dr. Lazanis Seaman, he had an invitation given him to come and fix in London, by a part of his congregation, and was earnestly pre.s.s- ed to accept of their call. There was some difference among them abotit the person in whom they should centre. Some were for Mr. Charnock, and others for Mr. Howe: and though they that wrote to him urged a variety of arguments and inducements, yet he could not so well judge of the matters alleged at a distance; and was thereupon prevailed with to take a voyage in- to England, and make a visit at London, that he might view and jtidge of things upon the spot. He upon this occasion, which created him a great many thought*, and in which he looked seriously upwards for conduct, committed some hints lo writing, which have been pre- served, and are here faithfully transcribed from an au- thentic copy. The paper is inscribed al^er this manner. Cvnsideratims and Commtinings icilh myself conctm- inp my present Journey, Dec. 20, 75. By ytglU on my Bed. 'I. Clua;rc ; Have I not an undue design or self-n- sped in it? '1. I know well I ought not to have any design for myself, which admits not of subordination to the in- terest and honour of the great God, and my Redeemer, and which is not actually so snbordina'.ed. '•2. I understand the fearful evil and sinfulness of having such an undue design ; that it is idolatr)', the taking another god, and making myself that god. '3. I find (through God's mercy) some sensible stir- rings of hatred and detestation, in my breast, of that wickedness, and a great apprehension of the loveliness and beauty of a state of pure entire devotedness to God in Christ, and of acting accordingly. '4. I have insisted on this chiefly in prayer to God, in reference to this business, ever since it was set on foot, that I might be sincere in it: and though I have earnestly begged light to guide me therein, so as that I might do that herein which in the substance of the thing is agreeable to the holy will of God, yet I have much more importunately prayed that I might be sin- cere in what 1 do, not only because I know God will pardon ignorance (unremedied hy utmost endeavours) where he beholds sincerity, whereas he will never ac- cept the knowledge of our duty, nor the doing what is in substance our duty, if that right manner of doing it, or principle whence it is done, be wanting; but, also, from the higher esteem I have of sincerity, above all light and knowledge without it, and the greater excel- lence of the thing itself. '5. I have carefully examined what selfish respects I can have in this matter. Is it worldly emolumenll In this my heart acquits me in the sight of God. Is it that I affect to be upon a public stage, to be popular and applauded by men 1 To this I say, (1.) That I do verily believe, that I shall be lower in the eye and esteem of the people in London, when I corae under their nearer view. I know myself incapable of pleasing their genius. I cannot contrive nor endure to preach with elaborate artifice. They will soon be wean,-, when they hear nothing but plain discourses of such matters as arc not new to them. Yea, and ministers that now judge of me by what I have written, (when matter and words were in some measure weighed,) will find me, when 1 converse with them, slow to apprehend things, slow to express my own apprehensions, unready, entangled, and obscure in my apprehensions and ex- press' >ns : so that all will soon say, this is not the man THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. we took him for. (3.) It di.jpctii,' king had been a special blessing from heaven, to be much longed for by the protestant church. They likewise gave themselves such a loose agarnst the nonconform- ists, as if nothing was so formidable as that party. So that in all their sermons, popery was quite forgot, and the force of their zeal was turned almost wholly against the disseniers.'tttnlioo,' p. Ui. ini. I IlisKnr ofhis u»n Tinica, rat i. l<. IS>. THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. rarest piece of Hobbism that ever you heard in your life. Ods fish, he shall print it then, says the king ; and immediately called the lord chamberlain, and gave him his command to the Dean to print his sermon. When it came from the press, the Dean sent it as a pre- sent to Mr. Ho'we, as he usually did most of the things he printed. Mr. Howe immediately pertised it, and was not a little troubled, to find a notion there, that had so ill a tendency as that forementioned. Whereupon he drew up a long letter, in which he freely expostu- lated with the Dean, for giving such a wound to the Reformation ; signifying to him, that Luther and Calvin, and the rest of our blessed reformers, were (thanks be to God) of another mind. The Christian religion, (said he,) both as to its precepts and promises, is already con- firmed by miracles ; and must it be repealed, every time a wicked governor thinks fit to establish a false religion 1 must no one stand up for the true religion, till he can work a miracle 1 He signified to him, how much he was grieved, that in a sermon against popery, he should plead the popish cause against all the re- formers ; and insisted upon it, that we had incontest- able evidence of the miracles wrought hy the apostles, and that we are bound to believe them, and take reli- gion to be established by them, without any further expectations, &c. Mr. Howe carried the letter him- self, and delivered it into the Dean's own hands j and he taking a general and cursory view of it, signified his willingness to talk that whole matter freely over; but said, they could not be together where they were, without interruption, and therefore moved for a little journey into the country, that so they might have free- dom of discourse. They accordingly agreed to go and dine that day with the Lady Falconbridge at Sutton- Court, and Mr. Howe re d over the letter to the Dean, and enlarged upon the contents of it, as they were travelling along together in bis chariot. The good man at length fell to weeping freely, and said that this was the most imhappy thing that had of a long time befallen him. I see (says he) what I have offered is not to be maintained. But he told him, that it was not his tarn to preach as on that day. He that should have been the preacher being sick, the Dean said, he was .sent to by the lord chamberlain to supply his place : and he added, that he had but little notice, and so con- sidered the general fears of poperj', and this text offer- ed ilself, and he thought the notion resulted from it ; and, says he, immediately after preaching, I received a command from the king, to print the sermon, and then it was not in my power to alter it. I am the better .satisfied that there is no mistake as to the substance of this passage, because he from whom I had it, did not trust to his bare memory, but committed it to writing, presently after he received the account from Mr. Howe himself. And though such a story as this may make us sensible that the very best of men have their slips, yet ain I far from thinking it a dishonour to this great man, to be open to conviction. In 1G81 the dissenters were prosecuted with great f HiXOTT of his own Timea. vol i pajt soi. violence both in city and country, and the severe laws that had been made against them some years before, Bs well as some that were made against the papists in the reign of dueen Elizabeth, were rigorously put in exe- cution against them, without any favour. Several of the bishops concurred, and by influence from court, were prevailed with to do their endeavour to push for- ward the civil magistrate, and to sharpen the rigonr of the ecclesiastical courts, and that in defiance of the votes of the House of Commons in their favour. And as Bishop Burnet observes, ' such of the clergy as would not engage in the common fary, were cried out upon as the betrayers of the church, and as secret favourers of the dissenters. 'e The author of 'the Complete History of England, 'h says, that ' this year there was a vigorous prosecution of the protestant dissenters, which was ge- nerally thought a piece of court-artifice, to play the church of England against the dissenters, and enrage the dissenters against the church of England, that they might not unite and see their common danger, but rather by destroying one another, might make room for a third party, that lay behind the curtain, and watched an opportunity of the duke's succession.' And at this juncture, Mr. Howe published a discourse of ' Thought- fulness for the Morrow, with an Appendix, concerning the immoderate Desire of foreknowing Things to come,' in 8vo. It is dedicated to the Lady Anne Wharton, of Upper Winchingdon in the county of Bucks, who had expressed a desire of seeing somewhat written on that subject. To which is added, ' A Discourse of Charity, in reference to other Men's Sins, from 1 Cor. liii. 6.' He this year also published ' A Funeral Sermon on the Decease of Mrs. Margaret Baxter, who died June 28th, from 2 Cor. v. 8.' In 1682 things were much in the same state as the year before. This year also Mr. Howe published se- veral little things ; as, ' A Discourse on the right Use of that Argument in Prayer, from the Name of God, on behalf of a People that profess it, from Jer. liv. 21.'8vo. ' A Discourse on Self-Dedication, at the Anniversary Thanksgiving of the Earl of Kildare, for a great Deli- verance,' in 12mo, and ' A Funeral Sermon for Mr. Richard Fairclough, who deceased July 4th, from Matt. XXV. 21.' And he now drew up those Annotations on the three Epistles of St. John, which are to be met with in the second volume, or continuation, of Mr. Pool. In 1683 there was a most cruel order made by the justices of peace at their quarter-sessions at Exon, against all nonconforming ministers, allowing a reward of forty shillings to any person that apprehended any one of them, and declaring their resolution to put in execution again.st them the severest laws, and par- ticularly that of the 35th of Elizabeth, the penalties whereof are imprisonment, abjuration of the realm, or death. And Bishop Lamplugh (who was aflcru-ards archbishop of York) required the order to be read by all the clergy on the next Sunday after it should be tendered to them, on purpose (as was said) ' that the care of the justices of Devon, for the preservation of h Vol. ill. r«ose they should sen.'. 'It is then upon the whole most manifest, that no temporary afHiction whatsoever, upon one who stands in special relation to God, as a reconciled (and which is consequent, an adopted) person, though attended with the most aggravating circumstances, can justify such a sorrow, (so deep or so continued,) as shall pre- vail against and shut out a religious holy joy, or hinder it from being the prevailing principle in such a one. What can make that sorrow allowable or innocent, (what event of Providence, that can, whatever it is, be no other than an accident to our Christian state,) that shall resist the most natural design and end of Chris- tianity it.selfl that shall deprave and debase the truly Christian tcmjier, and disobey and violate most express Christian precepts'! subvert the constitution of Christ's kingdom among men 1 and turn this earth (the place of God's treaty with the inhahitanLs of it, in order to their reconciliation to him.self, and to the reconciled the'portal and gate of heaven, yea, and where the state of the very worst and most miserable has .some mixture of good in it, that makes the evil of it less than that of hell) into a mere hell to themselves, of .sorrow without mixture, and wherein shall be nothing but weeping and wailing. ' The cause of your sorrow, madam, is exceeding great. The causes of your joy are incxprcv-ibly greater. You have infinitely more left than you have lost. Doth it need to be disputed whether God be better and greater than man? or more to be valued, loved, and delighted in 1 and whether an eternal relation be more considerable than a temporar)- one? Was it not your constant sense in your best outward state. Whom have I in heaven but thee, O God, and whom can I desire on earth, in compa^ rison of thee ! Psal. lixiii. 25. Herein the stale of yonr ladyship's ca.se is still the same (if you cannot rather with greater clearness and with less hesitation pronounce those latter words.) The principal causes of your joy are immutable, such as no super\'ening thing can alter. You have lost a most pleasant, delectable, earthly rela- tive. Doth the blessed God hereby cease to be the best and most excellent goodl Is his nature changed 1 his everla.sting covenant reversed and annulled 1 which is ordfired in all things and sure, and is to be all your salvation and all your desire, whether he make your house on earth to grow or not to grow, 2 Sam. xiiii. 4. That sorrow which exceeds the proportion of its cause, compared with the remaining true and real causes of rejoicing, is in that excess causeless; i. e. that excess of it wants a cause, such as can justify or afford de- fence unto it. ' We are required, in reference to our nearest relations in this world, (when we lose them,) to weep as if we wept not, as well as (when we enjoy them) to rejoice as if we rejoiced not, because our time here is short, and the fashion of this world passeth away, 1 Cor. vii. 29 — 31. We are finite beings, and so are they. Our passions in reference to them must not be infinite, and without limit, or be limited only by the limited capa- city of our nature, so as to work to the utmost extent of that, as the fire burns, and the winds blow, as much as they can : but they are to be limited by the power, design, and endeavour of our reason and grace (not only by the mere impotency of our nature) in reference to all created objects. Whereas in reference to the in- finite uncreated Good, towards which there is no dan- ger or possibility of exceeding in our affection, we are never to design to ourselves any limits at all; for that would suppose we had loved God enough, or as much as he deserved, which were not only to limit ourselves, but him too; and were a constructive denial of his in- finite immense goodness, and consequently of his very Godhead. Of so great concernment it is to us, that in the liberty we give our affections, wa observe the just difference which ought to be in their exercise, towards God, and towards creatures. ' It is also to be considered, that the great God is pleased so to condescend, as himself to bear the name and sustain the capacity of our nearest earthly relations; which implies that what they were to us, in this or that kind, he will be in a transcendent and far more noble kind. I doubt not but your ladyship hath good right to apply to yourself those words of the prophet, Isa. Ivi. 5. Thy Maker is thy husband, &c. Whereupon, as he infinitely transcends all that is delectable in the most excellent earthly relation, it ought to be endea- voured, that the affection placed on him should pro- port ionably excel. I cannot think any person in the woild would be a more severe or impartial judge of a THE LIFE OP MR. JOHN HOWB. criminal affection than your ladyship: or that it would look worse unto any eye, if any one should so deeply take to heart the death of an unrelated person, as never to lake pleasure more, ic the life, presence, and conver- sation of one most nearly related. And you do well know that such an height (or that supremacy) of affec- tion, as is due to the ever-blessed God, cannot without great injury be placed any where else. As we are to have none other God before him ; so him alone we are to love with all our heart and soul, and might and mind. ' And it iiusht further to be remembered, that \vhat.so- ever inicrcbt we have or had in any the nearest relative on earth, his interest who made both is far superior. He made us and all things primarily for himself, to serve great and important ends of his own ; so that our satis- faction in any creature, is but secondary and collateral to the principal design of its creation. ' Which consideration would prevent a practical error and mistake that is too usual with pious persons, afflicted with the loss of any near relation, that they think the chief intention of such a providence is their puDifbment. And hereupon they are apt to justify the utmost excesses of their sorrow, upon such em occeision, accounting they can never be sensible enough of the divine displeasure appearing in it; and make it their whole business (or employ their time and thoughts be- yond a due proportion) to find out and fasten upon some particular sin of theirs, which they may judge God was offended with them for, and designed now to pimish upon them. It is indeed the part of filial ingenuity, deeply to apprehend the displeasure ol' our father ; and an argument of great sincerity, to be very inquisitive after any sin for which we may suppo.se him displeased with us, and apt to charge ourselves severely with it, though perhaps upon utmost inquiry, there is nothing particularly to be reflected on, other than common in- firmity incident to the best, (and it is well when at length we can make that judgment, because there really is no more, not for that we did not inquire,) and perhaps also God intended no more in such a dispen^a- tion, (as to what concerned us in it,) than only, in the general, to take off our minds and hearts more from this world, and draw them more entirely to himself For if we were never so innocent, must therefore such a relative of ours have been immortal 1 But the error in practice as to this case, lies here : not that our thoughts are mtuk exercised this way, but loo muck. We ought to consider in every case, principally, that which is principal. God did not create this or that ex- cellent person, and place him for a while in the world, principally to please us; nor therefore doth he take him away, principally to displease or punish us ; but for much nobler and greater ends which he hath pro- posed to himself concerning him. Nor are we to reckon ourselves so little interested in the great and sovereign Lord of all, whom we have taken to be our God, and to whom we have absolutely resigned and devoted our- selves, as not to be obliged to consider and satisfy our- selves, in his pleasure, purposes, and ends, more thim our own, apart from his. ' Such as he hath pardonel(« Ml. THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. Among other warm things which at that time came from the press, there was a letter published by Bishop Barlow of Lincoln, for the putting in execution the laws against the dissenters; and this was written in concurrence with that whi:h was drawn up by the justices of the peace of the county of Bedford, bear- ing date Jan. 14th, 1684. In answer to this warm and angr)' printed letter of the Bishop of Lincoln, Mr. Howe sent his lordship a free letter by the post, a copy whereof has been preserved, and here follows. ' Right Reverend, 'As I must confess myself surprised by your late published directions to your clergy of the county of Bedford, so nor will I dissemble, that 1 did read them with some trouble of mind, which I sincerely profess was more upon your lordship's account than my own, (who for myself am little concerned,) or any other par- ticular person's whatsoever. It was such as it had not been very difficult for me to have concealed in my own breast, or only to have expressed it to God in my prayers for you, (which through his grace I have not altogether omitted to do,) if I had not apprehended it not utterly impossible, (as I trust I might, without arrogating unduly to myself,) that some or other of those thoughts, which I have revolv- ed in my own mind upon this occasion, being only hinted to your lordship, might appear to your very sagacious judsjmenl (for which I have had Ion?, and have still, a continuing veneration) some way capable of being cultivated by your own mature and second thoughts, so as not to be wholly unuseful to your lordship. 'My own judgment, such as it is, inclines me not to oppose any thing, either, 1. To the lawfulness of the things themselves which you so much desire should obtain in the practice of the people under your lord- ship's pastoral inspection : or, 2. To the desirable come- liness of an uniformity in the public and solemn wor- ship of God : or, 3. To the fitness of making laws for the effecting of such imiformity: or, 4. To the execu- tion of such laws, upon some such person as may pos- sibly be found among so numerous a people as are under your lordship's care. ' But the things which I humbly conceive are to be deliberated on, are, 1. Whether aH the laws that are in being about matters of that nature, ought now to be executed upon all the persons which any way transgress them, without distinction of either I 2. Whether it was so well, that your lordship should advise and press that indistinct execution, which the order (to which the subjoined directions of your lordship do succcnturiate) seems to intend; supposing that designed execution were fit in itself 'I shall not need to speak severally to these heads: your lordship will sufficiently distinguish what is ap- plicable the one way or the other. But I humbly offer to your lordship's further consideration, whether it be Dol a snpposable thing, that some persons foimd in the faith, strictly orthodox in all the articles of it taught by our Lord Jesus or his apostles, resolvedly loyal, and subject to the authority of their governors m church and state, of pious, sober, peaceable, just, charitable dispo- sitions and deportments, may yet (while they agree with your lordship in that evident principle, both by the law of nature and Scripture, that their prince and inferior rulers ought to be actively obeyed in all lawful things) have a formed fixed judgment (for what were to be done in the case of a mere doubt, that hath not arrived, to a settled preponderation this way or that, is not hard to determine) of the unlawfulness of some or other of the rites and modes of worship enjoined to be observed in this church"! For my own part, though perhaps I should not be found to differ much from your lordship in most of the things here referred unto, I do yet think that few metaphysical questions are disputed with nicer subtlety, than the matter of the ceremonies has been by Archbishop Whitgift, Cartwright, Hooker, Parker, Dr. Burgess, Dr. Ames, Gillespy, Jeanes, Calderwood, Dr. Owen, Baxter, &c. Now, is it impossible that a sincere and .sober Christian may, with an honest heart, have so weak intellectuals, as not to be able to understand all the punctilios upon which a right judgment of such a matter may depend! And is it not possible there may be such a thing, as a mental as well as a merely sensitive antipathy, not vincible by ordinary methods'! Is there no difference to be put between things essential to our religion, and things confessed indifferent on the one hand, and on the other judged tmlawful; on both hands but accidental 1 (though they that think them unlawful, dare not allow themselves a libei} of sin- ning, even in accidentals.) If your lordship Mere the paterlamilias to a numerous family of chil.licn and servants, among whom one or other verj' dutiful child takes offence, not at the sort of food you have thought fit should be provided, but somewhat in the sauce or way of dressing, which thereupon he for- bears; you try all the means which your paternal wisdom and severity thinks fit, to overcome that aver- sion, but in vain; would you finally famish this child, rather than yield to his inclination in so small a thing 1 ' My lord, your lordship well knows the severity of some of those laws which you press for the execution of is such, as being executed, they must infer the utter ruin of them who observe them not, in their temporal concernment ; and not that only, but their deprivation of the comfortable advantages appointed by our blessed Lord, for promoting their spiritual and eternal well- being. I cannot but be well persuaded not only of the mere sincerity, but eminent sanctity of divers, upon my own knowledge and experience of them, who would sooner die at a stake, than I or any man can prevail with them (notwithstanding our rubric, or whatever can be .said to facilitate the matter) to k-neel before the consecrated elements at the Lord's table. Would your lordship necessitate such, perdere suhstantiam propter accidentia? What if there be considerable numbers of such in your lordship's vastly numerous flock; will it XZiT THE LIFE OF ME. JOHN HOWE. be comfortable to you, when an account is demanded of your lordship by the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls concerning ihem, only to be able to say, Though, Lord, I did believe the provisions of thine house pur- chased for them, necessary and highly useful for their salvation, I drove them away as dogs and swine from thy table, and stirred up such other agents as I could influence against them, by whose means I reduced many of them to beggary, ruined many families, banished them into strange coimtries, where they might (for me) serve other gods; and this not for disobeying any immediate ordinance or law of thine, but because for fear of offending thee, they did not in every thing comport with my own appointments, or which I was directed to urge and impose upon theml How well would this practice afree with that apostolical precept. Him that is weak in the faith receive, but not to doubt- ful disputations 7 I know not how your lordship would relieve yourself in this case, but by saying they were not weak, nor conscientious, but wilful and humoursome. But what shall then be said to the subjoined expostu- lation. Who art thou that judgest thy brother'? we shall all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. What if they have appeared conscientious, and of a verj' imblameable conversation in all things else? What if better qualified for Christian communion in all other respects, than thousands you admitted 1 If you say you know of none such under your charge so severely dealt with, it will be said. Why did you use such severity toward them you did not know? or urge and animate them to use it, whom you knew never likely to distin- guish ■? A very noted divine of the Church of England said to me in discourse not very long ago, upon mention of tne ceremonies. Come, come, the Christian church and religion is in a consumption ; and it ought to be done as in the case of consumptive persons, shave off the hair to save the life. Another (a dignified person) present, replied, I doubt not it will be so, in the Phila- delphiau state. I long thought few had been in the temper of their minds nearer it than your lordship, and am grieved, not that I so judged, but that I am mis- taken-, and to see your lordship the first public example to the rest of your order in such a course. Blessed Lord! how strange is it that so long experience will not let us see, that little, and so very disputable matters, can never be the terms of union so much to be desired in the Christian church ; and that in such a case as ours is, nothing will .satisfy, but the destruction of them, whose union upon so nice terms we cannot ob- tain ; and then to call sulihidincm, pacem I But we must, it seems, understand all this rigour your lordship shows, to proceed from love, and that you arc for de- stroying the dissenters, only to mend their understand- ings, and because affiiclio d/it intcUectum. I hope indeed God will sanctify the affliction which you give and procure them, to blessed purjioses; and perhaps m Tim Coropt-M.^ Hwtory of Rncland. vol. jii pnjro 393. tclU tia. that the Coimnoru. in 16^0. iin-tioji'd q bill for cxcmptiiiK lu^ mojostv'ri protectant sub^ jern. cli*ioiitin(i iVuin tlw rhiirch of England, (mm the p^'naltics inipottMl uixm tho paputta, by nnM'alin^ thi) act of »& Kbz. Thia bill pn«9od the Common*, ami wu Bpeod to by lAo Lonla, trnd Ifty nady for hia majesty's osacut But periissent nisi periisscnt: but for the purposes yonr lord-ship seems to aim at, I wonder what you can ex- pect. Can you, by tmdoing men, change the judgment of their consciences 1 or if they should tell you. We do indeed in our consciences judge, we shall greatly offend God by complying with your injunctions, but yet to save being undone, we will do it ; will this qualify them for your communion 1 If your lordship think still, you have judged and advised well in this matter, you have the judgment of our sovereign, upon twelve years' experience, lying against you: you have as to one o( the laws you would have executed, the judgment of both houses of parliament against you, who passed a bill (to which perhaps you consented) for taking it away.ra You have (as to all of ihem) the judgment of the last House of Commons sitting at Westminster, so far as to the season then, of executing those laws. It may be your lordship thinks it now a fitter season : but if you have misjudged, or misdone against your judg- ment, I pray God to rectify your error by gentler methods, and by less affliction, than you have designed to your brethren : and do not for all this doubt, (any more for your part than my own,) to meet you there one day, where Luther and Zuinglius are well agreed. If I did think that would contribute any thing to the honest and truly charitable design of this letter, I should freely and at large tell you my name: and do however tell you, I am, A sincere honourer of your lordship. And your verj' faithful, humble servant.' What effects this letter might have I know not, but I must confess I think it to have been very strong and moving, and likely to make impression. In 1685, the dissenters were run down imiversally, and hardly any one durst speak or write in their favour; and the prospects people had with respect to the public, grew every day more and more gloomy. Mr. Howe therefore having an invitation given him by the Lord Wharton to travel with him abroad, into foreign parts, accepted it readily. He had so little time given him to prepare for his voyage, which he entered upon in the month of August this year, that he had not an oppor- tunity of taking leave of his friends, but sent a letter to Ihem from (he other side the water, which was thus directed. ' To such in and about Londtm, among tchom I hate labotired in the work of the Gospel.' It here follows. ' Afy most dearly beloved in our blessed Lord and Sa- riovr Jestis Christ, grace, mercy, and peace be through him mvUiplicd nnto you. ' That I am at this time at this distance from you, is, I am persuaded, (upon the experience I have had of your great love and value of my poor labours,) not pleasant to you, and 1 do assure you it is grievous to me, though when hii majesty came lo the throno. to pass thia nmonft otljer bills, tliia waa taken from the table, and ncwT heanl of aner Which no man dni^t have done, without the kinp's eoininand, or at lea-«t his pri\-ily and conni%"anee at it. Tli« loss of tiiia bill was eomi^laiiicd of in the next parliament at Ozfoitl. but mut- out saliafitctiini or redroaa. THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. I murmur not at the wise and holy Providence that hath ordered things thus, in reference to you and me: but it added to my trouble, that I could not so much as Did farewell to persons to whom I had so great endear- ments, the solemnity whereof you know our circum- stances would not admit. Nor could I have opportu- nity to commtmicate to you the grounds of my taking this long journey, being under promise while the mat- ter was under consideration, not to speak of it to any one that was not concerned immediately about it: neither could I think that imprudent in itself, where acquaintance was so numerous; silence towards dearest friends in such cases usually being designed for an apology to all others. And after the resolution was taken, my motion depending on another, I had not time for that, or any such pui-poses. And should I yet commimicate them, as they lie particularly in my own thoughts, it would lose time that I may more profitabl)' employ, for both you and myself, while I do it not. Yon will, I may be confident, be more prudent and equal, than to judge of what you do not know : but so much I shall in the general say, that the providence of God gave me the prospect of a present quiet abode, with some opportunity of being serviceable ; (and I hope, as it may prove through his help and blessing, imto you, if I have life and health to finish what I have been much pressed by some of yourselves to go on with;) which opportunity I could not hope to have nearer you, at least without being unrea-sonably bur- densome to some, while I was designing service as much as in me lay to all. It much satisfies me that I have a record above, I am not designing for mj-self; that he who knowelh all things, knows I love not this present world, and I covet not an abode in it, (nor have I when it was most friendly to me,) upon any other ac- cotmt, than upon doing some service to him, and the souls of men. It therefore has been my settled habi- tual sense and sentiment a long time, lo value and de- sire (with submission lo sovereign good pleasure) peace and quiet, with some tolerable health, more than life. Nor have I found any thing more destructive to my health, than confinement to a room a few days in the city air, which was much better and more healthful to me formerly, than since the anger and jealousies of such as I never had a disposition to offend, have of later limes occasioned persons of my circumstances very seldom to walk the streets. ' But my hope is, God will in his good time incline the hearts of rulers more to favour such as cannot be satisfied with the public constitutions in the matters of God's worship, and that are innocent and peaceable in the land ; and that my absence from you will be for no long time, it being my design, with dependence upon his gracious providence and pleasure, in whose hands our times are, if I hear of any door open for service with you, lo spend ihe health and strength which God shall vouchsafe me, (and which I find through his mercy much improved since I left you,) in his work with and among you. In ihe mean lime, I believe it iriW not be unacceptable to you, that I offer you some 3 of my thoughts and counsels, for your present help, such as are not new to me, nor as you will find lo your- selves, who are my witnesses, that I have often incul- cated such things to you; but ihey may be tiseful to stir you up, by pulling you in remembrance. ' I. I beseech you, more earnestly endeavour lo re- duce the things you know (and have been by many hands instructed in out of the Gospel of our Lord) to practice. Nothing can be more absurd than to content ourselves wilh only a notional knowledge of practical matters. We should think so in other cases. As if any man should satisfy himself lo know the use of food, but famish himself by never eating any, when he hath it at hand: or that he understands the virtues of this or that cordial, but languishes away to death in the neglect of using it, when it might cheer his spirits, and save his life. And the neglect of applying Ihe great things of Ihe Gospel to the proper uses and purposes of the Christian life, is not more foolish, (only as the con- cernments they serve for are more important,) but much more sinful and provoking lo God. For we are lo con- sider whence the revelation comes. They are things which the mouth of the Lord hath spoken; uttered by the breath of the eternal God, as all Scriptures are said to be. God breathed, as that expression may be liter- ally rendered, 2 Tim. iii. 16. And how high a con- tempt and provocation is it of the great God, so totally lo pervert and disappoint the whole design of that re- velation he hath made lo us, to know Ihe great ihings contained therein, only for knowing sake, which he hath made known that we might live by them. And oh what holy and pleasant lives should we lead in this world, if the temper and comple.\ion of our souls did answer and correspond lo the things we know. The design of preaching has been greatly mistaken, when it has been thought, it must still acquaint them who live (and especially who have long lived) under it, with some new thing. Its much greater and more im- portant design is ihe impressing of known Ibings (but too little considered) upon the hearts of hearers, that they may be delivered up into the mould and form of the doctrine taught them, as Rom. ri. 12. : and may so learn Christ as more and more lo be renewed in Ihe spirit of their minds, and put off the old man and put on the new, Eph. iv. 20. The digesting our food is what God now eminently calls for. ' II. More particularly labour lo have your apprehen- sions of the future state of the imseen world, and eter- nal things, made more lively and efficacious daily, and that your faith of them may be such as may truly ad- mit lo be called the very substance and eridence of those things. Shall that glorious everlasting state of Ihings be always as a dark shadow with us, or as Ihe images we have of things in a dream, ineffectual and vanishing, only because we have not seen with our eyes, where God himself hath by his express word made the representations of them to us, who never de- ceived us, as our own eyes and treacherous senses have done I Why do we not live as just now entering into Ihe eternal stale, and as if we now beheld the glorious xzvi THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. appearing of the great God our Saviour, when we are as much assured of ihcm as if we beheld Ihemi Why do we not oftener view the representation of the heavens vanishing, the elements melting, the earth flaming, the angels every where dispersed to gather the elect, and them ascending, caught up lo meet the Redeemer in the air, ever to be with the Lord! What a trifle will the world be to us then ! ' in. Let the doctrine of the Redeemer be more studied, and of his mighty undertaking, with the im- mediate design of it, not merely to satisfy for sin by the sacrifice he once for all made of himself, and so to procure our pardon and justification, without effecting any thing upon us, but to redeem us from all iniquity, to purify us to himself, &c. and to form us after his own holy likeness, and for such purposes to give his Holy Spirit to us. Consider that our Redeemer is mighty, who hath such kind designs upon us; and that as they shall not therefore finally fail of accomplish- ment, so will they be carried on without interruption, and with discernible success, if we fail not as to what pert in subordination to him belongs to us. How cheerfully should the redeemed of the Lord go on in their course, under such conduct! ' IV. Endeavour your faith may be stronger, more efficacious and practical, concerning the doctrine of Providence, and that the workings and events of it lie all under the management and in the hand of the Re- deemer, who is head over all things to the church: that therefore how grievous and bitter .soever be his people's lot and portion at any time, there cannot but be kind- ness at the bottom; and that not only designing the best end, but taking the fittest way to it. For can love itself be unkind, so as not to design well ! or wisdom itself err so, as to take an improper course in order thereto! Hereupon let not your spirits be imbiltered by the present dispensation of Providence you are under, whereby you are in so great a part deprived of the helps and means of your spiritual advantage, which you like and relish most. And to this purpose consider, ' I. Our wise and merciful Lord (though perhaps such means might he in some measure useful to us) doth for the present judge, that his rebuking our undue use of them will he more useful; either overvaluing or undervaluing his instruments, turning his ordinances into mere formalities, preferring the means of grace (as they are fitly called) before the end, grace itself. '2. Consider whether there he no disposition of Spi- rit, to treat others as you are treated. The inward temper of our minds and spirits is so much the more narrowly to be inspected, by how much the le.ss there is opportunity to discover it by outward acts." As to such as differ from us about the forms and ceremonies thai are now required in the worship of God, would we not be glad if they were as much restrained from using them in their worship, as we from worshipping without them? And do not we think that that would as much prieve them, as our restraint doth usi And why should we suppose that their way should not as much suit their spirits, and be as grateful to them, as ours 10 usl But we are in the right way, some will say, and they in the wrong: and why cannot any man say the same thing with as much confidence as we'' Or do we think there is no difference to be put betweei. controversies about matter of circumstance, and about the essentials of Christianitj' t Undoubtedly till those that affect the name of the reformed, tmd coimt it more their glory lo be called protestanls than to be good Christians, have learnt to mingle more justice with their religion, and how better to apply that great ad- vice of our Lord's, Whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do that to them, &c. and till they become studious of excelling other men, in substantial goodness, abstractedness from the world, meekness humility, sobriety, self-denial, and charity, and to lay a greater stress hereon, than on being of one or other denomination, God's controversy will not cease. ' I reckon it much to be considered, and I pray you consider it deeply, that after that great precept, Eph. iv. 30. Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, it imme- diately follows, ver. 31. Let all bitterness, and anger, and wrath, and clamour, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice : plainly implying that the Spirit of God, that Spirit of all love, goodness, sweet- ness, and benignity, is grieved by nothing more than by our bitterness, wrathfulness, &c. And it appears that the discernible restraint and departure of that blessed Spirit from the Church of Christ in so great a measure, for many foregoing generations, in comparison of the plentiful effusion of it in the first age, hath en- sued upon the growth of that wrathful contentious Spirit which showed itself early in the Gnostick, but much more in the afler-Arian persecution, which was not in some places less bloody than the pagan persecu- tion had been before. Oh the gcntlenes,s, kindness, tenderness, and compassionateness of the evangelical truly Christian spirit, as it most eminently appeared in our Lord Jesus Christ himself! And we are told, if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none oi his, Rom. viii. 9. And how easy and pleasant is it to one's own self, to be void of all wralhfulness, and vin- dictive designs or inclinations towards any other man ! For my own part, I should not have that peace and consolation in a suffering condilion, (as my being so many years under restraint from that pleasant work of pleading with sinners that they might be saved, is the greatest suffering I was liable to in this world,) as through the goodness of God I have found, and do find, in being conscious to myself of no other than kind and benign thoughts towards them I have suffered by, and that my heart tells me I desire not the least hurt to them that would do me the greatest ; and that I feel within myself an unfeigned love and high estimation of divers, accounting them pious worthy persons, and hoping to meet them in the all-reconciling world, that are yet (through some mistake) too harsh towards us who dissent from them: and in things of this nature I pray that you and I may abound more and more. Rut again, as I would not have your spirits imbittered, so I would not have your spirits discouraged, or sunk THE LIFE OP MR. JOHN HOWE. in dejection. The Lord will not cast off hi.s people, because it hath pleased him to make them his people, 1 Sam. xii. 2-2. I do not mean those of this or that party, but who fear God and work righteousness, be they of what party soever. As I often think of that saying of an ancient, {Clem. Alex.) that he counted not that philosophy, which was peculiar to this or that sect, but whatsoever of truth was to be found in any of them J so I say of Christianity, 'tis not that which is appropriate to this or that party, but whaLsoever of sincere religion shall be found common to them all. Such will value and love his favour and presence, and shall have it ; and he will yet have such a people in the world, and, I doubt not, more numerous than ever. And as the bitterness of Christians one towards another chased away his Spirit, his Spirit shall vanquish and drive away all that bitterness, and consume our other dross. And as the apostacy long ago foretold, and of so long continuance m the Christian church, hath been begun and continued by constant war agamst the Spirit of Christ; the restitution and recovery of the church, and the reduction of Christianity to its ancient self, and primitive state, will be by the victory of the Spirit of Christ over that so contrary spirit. Then shall all the enmity, pride, wrathfulness, and cruelty, which have rent the church of Christ and made it so little itself, be melted down; and with all their great impurities besides, earthliness, carnality, love of this present world, and prevalence of sensual lusts, be purged more generally away, and his repairing work be done in a way grievous to no one, wliereby those that are most absolutely conquered will be most highly pleased: not by might or by power, but by the Spirit of the Lord. ' In the mean time let us draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to us. Let us more study the exercising ourselves to godliness, and take heed of turning the religion of our closets into spiritless uncomfortable formalities. Their hearts shall live that seek God. ' To that ble.ssed, and faithful, and covenant-keeping God I commit you; and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up further, and give you an inheritance among them that are sanctified. ' And as I hope I shall without ceasing remember you in mine, so I hope yon will remember too in your prayers. Your sincerely affectionate, Though loo unprofitable, Servant in Christ, JOHN HOWE.' In the course of his travels with this noble lord, Mr. Howe had the satisfaction of seeing divers noted places, and conversing freely, not only with a number of learned papists, but several proteslant divines, both Lutherans and Calvinists, and making a variety of remarks for his own use: and in the mean time, he was often not a little affected with the melancholy tidings of the swift advances they were making in England towards popery and slavery, which he most heartily lamented, as well as the hardships and severities which his nonconforming brethren met with in particular. And not having any encouragement from the posture of affairs to return home, he at length, in the year 168G, settled in the pleasant city of Utrecht, which is the capital of one of the seven United Provinces. He took a house, and resided there for some time, and had the Earl of Sutherland and his coimtess, and some English gentlemen, together with his two nephews, Mr. George and Mr. John Hughes, boarding with him. He took his turn of preaching at the English church in that city, with Mr. Matthew Mead, Mr. Woodcock, and Mr. Cross, who were there at the same time. They kept frequent days of solemn prayer together, on the account of the threatening state of affairs in their own country: and Mr. Howe generally preached on the Lord's-days in the evening in his own family. And there being several English students then at that university, in order to their being fitted for future use- fulness, Mr. Howe w-as pleased to favour some of them with hearing their orations and disputations in private, and giving them his particular instructions and advice as they were prosecuting their studies, which .some have owned to have been of no small advantage to them. There were also several other worthy persons of the English nation at that time there, and in other parts of the United Provinces, that they might shelter them- selves from prosecutions in their own country ; such as Sir John Thompson, (afterwards Lord Haversham,) Sir John Guise, Sir Patience Ward, and Mr. Papillon; and there was a good harmony and correspondence among them; and Mr. Howe received much respect from them, as well as from the professors in that academy. Among others by whom he was visited while he continued at Utrecht, one was Dr. Gilbert Burnet, afterward Bishop of Sarum, who also preached in the English church there, and ven,- frankly declared for occasional communion with those of different senti- ments. He and Mr. Howe had a great deal of free conversation, upon a variety of subjects: and once discoursing of nonconformity, the Doctor told him, he was apprehensive that it could not subsist long; but that when Mr. Baxter, and Dr. Bates, and he, and a few more, were once laid in their graves, it would sink, and die, and come to nothing. Mr. Howe replied, that that must be left to God ; though he at the same time intimated that he had different apprehensions ; and did not reckon it to depend upon persons, but upon prin- ciple, which when taken up upon grounds approved upon search, could not be laid aside by men of con- science. The best way, he said, to put an end to non- conformity, would be by giving due liberty under the national seitlenieni, and laying aside needless clogs that would give occasion to endless debates. Were this once done, there would be no room for a conscien- tious nonconformity: but that without it, they could expect no other than that as some passed off the stage others would rise up and fill their places, who would act upon the same principles as they had done before them; though he hoped with a due moderation and THE LIFE OP MR. JOHN HOWE. temper towards those ol' different sentiments. And the event has .sliowed, that he was herein in the right. Several years after this, I myself having occasion to wait upon Dr. Burnet, after he had been some time Bishop of Sarum, at his palace in that city, where I was treated with great frankness and civility, his lord- ship signified how well he was pleased with the temper discovered by the rising generation of ministers among the dissenters; though at the same time he intimated, that it was the common apprehension of the great men of their church, that nonconformity would have been res unhis atalis only, and not have been con- tinued to another generation, but have drawn to an end, when they that were ejected out of the public churches were once laid in their graves. Upon this occasion, I declared to his lordship, that which, having so fair an opportunity, I shall not now be shy of sig- nifying more publicly ; riz. that after the closest search into this matter of which I have been capable, I can- not perceive that while and as long as the spirit of im- position continues, any other can reasonably be ex- pected, than that there will be some who will think themselves obliged to stand up for a generous liberty, the doing of which may be very consistent with all that charity and brotherly love that is required, either by reason or Scripture. And this liberty has, since the death of the greatest part of the ejected ministers, (though with the full approbation of such of them as were then living, and of Mr. Howe in particular,) been defended by some among the dissenters, upon a bottom so truly large and noble, that the sagacious Mr. Locke himself, whom I believe most people will own to have been a pretty good judge, has more than once (as I have been credibly informed) freely owned, that as long as they kept to that bottom, they need not ques- tion being able to stand their ground. And the num- ber of their friends and abettors so increased, partly on the account of the largeness of the foundations they went upon, and partly also upon their steady zeal for the government after the revolution, while the estab- lished church was miserably divided, about the oaths, and a great many other things that were very distaste- ful to men of sense and thought;" that in all probabi- lity their interest mu.^it before this time have had a con- siderable accession of strength, had it not been for their unaccountable heats in the reign of King William, and also in the reign of his present majesty King George; by which they have been sadly exposed and weakened. But of all persons, those that are zealous for the established church, have little reason upon this accoimt to insult them, because of the shamefiil differ- ences they have had amongst themselves, which in a great measure continue to this day. We may here say very safely, Iliacos intra mnros pcccatur et extra. While Mr. Howe continued in Holland, the late King William, (of glorious and immortal memory,") who was at that time Prince of Orange, did him the honour to admit him several times into his presence, and dis- coursed with him with great freedom ; and he ever after retained a particular respect for him. I well re- member also, that he himself once informed me of some very private conversation he had with that prince, upon his sending for him, not long before his death. Among other things, the king then asked him a great many questions, about his old master Oliver, as he called him, and seemed not a little pleased with the answers that were returned to some of his questions. In 1687, King James published his declaration for liberty of conscience, upon which the dissenters were freed from their fetters and shackles, and were allowed the freedom of worshipping God in public, in their own way, without any molestation. Mr. Howe's flock in London earnestly pressed for his return to them ac- cording to liis promise, and he readily compUed. But before he left Holland, he thought it proper to wait on the Prince of Orange, who in his asual way received him very graciously. He signified to his royal liighness, that he was returning for England, at the earnest solicitation of his friends there, who were impatient of his absence, now that he was in a capacity of public service among them. The prince wished him a good voyage, and advised him, though he and his brethren made use of the liberty granted by King James, yet to be very cautious in addressing ; and not to be prevailed with upon any terms, to fall in with the measures of the court, as to taking off the penal laws and test, which was the thing intended, but which would have fatal consequences ; and to use his utmost influence in order to the restraining others: which he readily promised ; and he was as good as his word. Upon his return into his own counlrj', which was in May this year, he was gladly received by his old friends and brethren, and with joy (though not without an aching heart, considering the apparent danger of the public) returned to the free exercise of his ministry. He was thankful for a little breathing time afforded, and endeavoured to improve it to the best purposes, and to preserve himself and others from the snares that were laid for them. The author of the life of a celebrated nonjuror, casts some most invidious reflections upon the body of the dissenters, and their conduct in this reign. He in- sinuates, that when that inconsistent people had long cried out against the members of the church of Eng- land as inclinable to poperj-, they themselves were the first to join hands with this popcr)-, against the church of Kngland, and to favour the designs thereof, which they had but just belore so loudly exclaimed against." And it must be owned, that they would have been an inconsistent people indeed, had the body of them acted in that manner : but the best of it is, that this is a sug- gestion that is as void of truth as it is of charity. If some among the dissenters did charge those of the church of England with favouring popery m King Charles's reign, it was bcoau.se of their appearing so zealous for his brother, who was well known to be a Bilminblr illustntf^, by Uw account fivpn in t!ic LiJ*e of Mr. Juhii KoUJew«JJ, Put III o Lilb of Mr. KottlowtU, in Bro. p. 141. THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. xxU papist, and lYom whom no other conld be expected than that he would, if he came to the crown, do his utmost to bring in popery, in opposition to all the laws and securities against it ; and they evidently hazarded the loss of our liberty and religion too, by making the dangerous' experiment: and they would boldly venture upon this, though they were freely warned beforehand what the consequence would be. But as for joining hnnds with this popcr)-, none were more free from thm than the dissenters. Bishop Burnet owns, that how much soever a few weak persons might be intoxicated by the caresses of the court, and elevated by an appearance of favour shown them, yet the 'wiser men among them saw through all this, and perceived the design of the papists was now to set on the dissent- ers against the church, as much as they had formerly set the church again.st them: and therefore, though they returned to their conventicles, (as he is pleased to call them, though not a jot the better thought of upon that account by his warmer brethren.) yet they had a just jealousy of the ill designs that lay hid un- der all this sudden and unexpected show of grace and kindne.ss.'i" In confirmation of this, I can upon good grounds B-tsure the reader, that whereas there were about this lime great endeavours used to draw in the dissenting ministers to approve the measures of the court, and fre- quent meetings among them to consider of their own behaviour, at which times Mr. Howe was .seldom absent, he always declared against approving the dispensing power, or any thing that could give the papists any assistance in the carr^'ing on their designs; and he therein had the full concurrence of the generality of his brethren. I have had a particular account of one meeting at Mr. Howe's own house, in order to consider of the advisablcness of drawing up a writing to sig- nify their concurrence with the king, as to the ends of his declaration; at which lime there were two persons present that came from court, and intimated that his majesty wa'ted in his closet, and would not stir from thence tiil an account was brought him of their pro- ceedings. I have heard that one in the company did intimate that he thought it but rea-sonable they should comply with his maje-iity's desire. To which another immediately replied, that he was fully convinced that the sufferings they had met with, had been all along on the account of their firm adherence to the civil interest of the nation, in opposition to lory schemes, rather than on the account of their religious principles : and there- fore if the king expected they should join in approving such a conduct as would give the papists their liberty, and establish a dispensing power, he had rather he should take their liberty again. Mr. Howe, in sum- ming up the matter, signified they were generally of that brother's sentiments, and could by no means en- courage the dispensing power; and it was left to those who came down to them from court, to report that as their common .sense to those that sent them. Several 1 TtniM. %-oL I. p«ce 673- of their ministers were, it must be confessed, afterwards privately closeted by King James; and I won't say but some few of them, who had personal and particular favours shown them, might he drawn too far into the snare, and use their interest in order to the taking off all penal laws and tests : but they were but very few, and as soon as it was known, their interest and sig- nificance was les.sened; the far greater number stood it out; and Mr. Howe particularly, when the king dis- coursed with him alone, told his majesty that he was a minister of the Gospel, and it was his province to preach, and endeavour to do good to the souls of men; but that as for meddling with state affairs, he was as liule inclined as he was called to it, and begged to be excused. The same author also observes, ' that upon King James's famous declaration to all his loving subjects for liberty, there followed a vast crowd of congratulatory ad- dresses and acknowledgments, from all sorts of dissenters, complimenting the king in the highest manner, and protesting what mighty returns of loyalty they would make his majesty, for such his favour and indulgence to them.'i And he add.;, 'only the members of the church of England generally were hercat very nn- ea-sy.' But Bishop Burnet, who I am apt to think will be most likely to be regarded in the case, gives a quite different representation of the matter. He, speaking of the dissenters, says, ' It was visible to all men, that the courting them at this time was not from any kind- ness, or good opinion that the king had of them. They needed not to be told, that all the favour expected from popery was once to bring it in, under the colour of a general toleration, till it should be strong enough to set on a general persecution : and therefore, as they could not engage themselves to support such an ar- bitrary prerogative a? was now made use of, so neither could they go into any engagements for popery. They did believe that the indignation against the church parly, and the kindness to them, were things too unna- tural to last long. So the more considerable among them resolved not to stand at too great a distance trom the court, nor to provoke the king so far, as to give him cause to think they were irreconcilable to him, lest they should provoke him to make up matters on any terms with the church party. On the other hand, they resolved not to provoke the church party, or by any ill behaviour of theirs drive them into a reconcilia- tion with the court.'' As to the addresses of the dissenters upon this occa- sion, though some of them ran high, yet the church pariv had set them the pattern, and therefore it was the less decent in them to make complaints of them. Those of the establishment had in a most luxuriant manner thanked King Charles for dis.solving one of the best of parliaments, and as the Earl of Warrington de- clared in his speech, were mighty ' forward in the sur- render of charters; and in their fulsome addres.ses and abhorrences, made no other claim to their liberties and r Bp. Bumcfi Hiatory of lij* own Timn, »ol. \. ra^ 702. THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. civil rights, than as concessions from the crown: telling the king, every one of his commands was stamped with God's authority,' &c. And the university of Ox- ford in particular, had in one of their public addresses promised King James, that ' they would obey him with- out limitations or restrictions:'" which was not to be equalled by any thing that came even from the most incautious or the most transported dissenters. And if they did not now preach so much against popery as the churchmen, they may the more easily be excused, because their people did not so much need it. They had little reason to fear that any of their persuasion would be perverted, for that the adhering to their dis- tinguishing principle of the sufficiency of Scripture, would not fail of securing them ; while many of the bishops and doctors of the church of England, had in- stilled into their followers .such odd notions, about the power of the church in matters of faith, the apostolical succession and power of bishops, their right to judge of fitness and decency in the worship of God, to which all others must submit, and the binding force of old canons and councils, that it highly concerned them to do all that they were able to deliver them from the consequences which they might easily foresee the Ro- manists would put them upon drawing from such prin- ciples. And the truth of it is, though I han't the least word to say, to the lessening that glorious de- fence of the protestant cause that was at this time made by the writings of the divines of the church party, yet the dissenters may be very well allowed to have taken no small pleasure, in seeing those gentlemen baffle the papists, upon such principles as they might easily discern would help to set the authors themselves more upright than some of them had been before: and in such a case to have offered to take the work out of their hands, had been over-officious, and an indecent intermeddling. However, the king went on with his design, and nothing would satisfy him, but his declaration for liberty must be read in all the churches. The bishops meeting together for consultation, were convinced that their concurring in this step, and sending the declara- tion to all their clergy, and requiring their reading it publicly to the people, would be an owning the dis- pensing power: and therefore they drew up a petition to his majesty, in which they desired to be excused. This petition was called a libel, and they were sent to the Tower for prescniing it. Mr. Howe being at this time invited to dinner by Dr. Sherlock, the Master of the Temple, accepted the invitation, and was very civilly treated ; arid there were two or three other clergymen M the table. After dinner, the discourse ran mostly upon the danger the church was at that lime in, of benig entirely ruined. The Doctor, freely, but pretty abruptly, asked Mr. Howe, what he thought the dissenters would do, sup- posing the preferments of the church should be made vacant, and an offer should be made of filling them up out of their number! Mr. Howe was .so surprised I Buihop Bunwt'i lliitory ofhii own Times, vot 1. p. sgo. with such a question as this, which he little expected, that he was at first at a loss for an answer. Where- upon the Doctor drew out his dark and melancholy scheme very distinctly, with all imaginable marks of concern. He told him he thought that the bishops would be as certainly cast, as they were at that time imprisoned in the Tcwer: that the rest of the clergy, who had so generally refu.sed reading the king's decla- ration, would follow after them : that it was not a thing to be supposed that their places should be suffered to continue vacant : and that no way could be thought of for the filling them up again, but from among the dis- senters: and who Utiows, said he, but Mr. Howe may be offered to be Master of the Temple 1 And therefore he intimated he was very desirous to know how they would be inclined to behave, upon such a supposition ; of which he believed him to be as capable of giving an account as any man whatsoever. Mr. Howe told the Doctor, that these were things that were altogether imcertain : but that if it should so happen that matters should fall out according to his fears, he could not pre- tend to answer for the conduct of the dissenters, among whom there were several parties, that acted upon different principles; and that therefore it was most reasonable to suppose, their conduct might be differeni. He signified to him, that he could answer for none but himself: and that he thought for his part, if things should ever come to the pass he mentioned, he should not baulk an opportunity of more public service, (which he was not aware he had done any thing 'o forfeit,) provided it was offered him upon such terms as he had no just reason to except against: but then he added, that as for the emolument thence accruing, he should not be for meddling with that, any otherwise than as a hand to convey it to the legal proprietor. Whereupon the Doctor rose up from his seat, and em- braced him, and said that he had always taken hic\ for that ingenuous honest man that he now found him to be, and .seemed not a little transported with joy. Mr. Howe afterwards telling this pa,r>^3ge to a certain great man in the church, to whom the Doctor was well known, and signifying how much he was on a sudden to seek for an answer to a question he so little ex- pected, W'hich was bottomed upon a supposition, that had not so much as once entered into his thoughts be- fore, he immediately made him this reply : Sir, yon say you had not once thought of the case, or so much as supposed any thing like it; but you must give me leave to tell you, if you had studied the case seven years together, you could not have said any thing that had been more to the purpose, or more to the Doctor's satisfaction. When these fears were all blown over, and a happy revolution brought about in IG88, and the Prince of Orange was come to St. James's Palace, the dissenting ministers waited on him in a body, and were intro- duced by the Lords Devonshire, Wharton, and Wilt- shire; at which time, Mr. Howe, in the name of the rest, made a handsome speech, signifying, THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. 'That thejr professed their grateful sense of his highness's hazardous and heroical expedition, which the favour of Heaven had made so surprisingly pros- perous. ' That they esteemed it a common felicity, that the worthy palriotsof the nobility and gentry of this king- dom, had unanimously concurred unto his highness's de- sign, by whose most prudent advice, the administration of public affairs was devolved in this difficult conjunc- ture, into hands which the nation and the world knew to be apt for the greatest undertakings, and so suitable to the present exigence of our case. ' That they promised the utmost endeavours, which in their stations they were capable of affording, for promo- ting the excellent and most desirable ends for which his highness had declared. ' That ihey added their continual and fervent prayers to the Almighty, for the preservation of his highness's person, and the success of his future endeavours, for the defence and propagation of the protestant interest throughout the Christian world. ' That they should all most willingly have chosen that for the season of paying this duty to his highness, when the lord bishop and the clergy of London at- tended his highness for the same purpose, (which some of them did, and which his lordship was pleased con- descendingly to make mention of to his highness,) had their notice of that intended application been so early, as to make their more general attendance possible to them at that time. ' And that therefore, though they did now appear in a distinct company, they did it not on a distinct account, but on that only which was common to them and to all proiesianls. ' That there were some of eminent note, whom age or present infirmities' hindered from coming with them; yet they concurred in the same grateful sense of our com- mon deliverance.' The prince in answer, assured them, ' that he came on purpose to defend the protestant religion, and that it was his own religion, in which he was; born and bred ; the religion of his coimtrj', and of his ancestors: and that he was resolved, by the grace of God, always to adhere to it, and to do his utmost endeavours for the de- fence of it, and the promoting a firm union among pro- testants.' In this year 1688, Mr. Howe published a few prac- tical discourses: as, ' A Sermon on John v. 4'2. directing what we are to do after strict Inquiry, whether or no we truly love God :' and ' Two Sermons preached at Thur- low in Suffolk, on those words, Rom. vi. 13. Yield your- selves to God.' In UVO, he wrote a short letter about the case of the French protestants, which I shall here add, leaving it to the reailcr to guess (and I cannot myself do more") to whom it was addressed. 'Twas in these words : 'Sir, ' Birr that 1 am learning as much as I can to count I Thb rcfoTcd lo Mr. BuUr ud Dr. Bala. nothing strange among the occurrences of the present time, I should be greatly surprised to find, that divers French protestant ministers, fled hither for their con- sciences and religion, who have latitude enough to con- form to the rues of the church of England, do accuse others of their brethren, who are fled hither on the same account, but have not that latitude, as schismatics, only for practising according to the principles and usages of their own church, which at home were common to them both ; and, as schismatics, judge them unworthy of any relief here. Their common enemy never yet passed so severe a judgment un any of them, that they should be famished. This is put into the hands of the appellants from this sentence, unto your more equal judgment. And it needs do no more than thus briefly to represent their case, and me, Most honoured Sir, Your most obliged, and mosi humble Servant, This year there were many and warm debates in the two houses of Lords and Commons, about a compre- hension, and an indulgence ; for bills were brought in for both, and both were canvassed. Some were so nai- row-spirited and so ungenerous, as, forgetting their pro- mises and repeated declarations in the time of their dis- tress, from which they were just so wonderfully deli- vered, to be for still keeping the dissenters under a brand. Mr. Howe therefore at this lime fairly represented their case, and strenuously argued upon it, in a single sheet of paper, which was printed, and is very fit to be transmitted to posterity. The case of the Protestant Dissenters represented and, ar- gued. ' TiiEv are under one common obligation with the rest of mankind, by the universal law of nature, to worship God in assemblies. ' Men of all sorts of religions, that have ever obtained in the world, Jews, Pagans, Mahometans, Christians, have in their practice acknowledged this obligation. Nor can it be understood, how such a practice should be so universal, otherwise than from the dictate and impression of the universal law. ' Whereas the religion professed in England is that of reformed Christianily, some things are annexed to the allowed public worship, which are acknowledged to be no parts thereof, nor in themselves necessary; but which the dissenters judge to be in some part sinful. ' They cannot therefore, with good conscience towards God, attend wholly and solely upon the public worship which the laws do appoint. ' The same laws do strictly forbid their assembling to worship God otherwise. ' Which is in eflect the same thing, as if they who made, or shall continue such laws, should plainly say, If you will not consent with us in our superadded rites and modes against your consciences, you shal. not THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. worship God; or if you will not accept of our additions to the Christian relipon, you shall not be Christians: and manifestly tends lo reduce to paganism a great part of a Christian nation. ' They have been wont therefore to meet however in distinct assemblies, and to worship God in a way which their consciences could approve ; and have many years continued so to do, otherwise than as they have been hin- dei ed by violence. ' It is therefore upon the whole fit to inquire, ' Qu. 1. Whether they are to be blamed for their hold- ing distinct meetings for the worship of God 1 ' For answer to this, it cannot be expected that all the controversies should be here determined, which have been agitated about the lawfulness of each of those things which have been added to the Christian religion and worship, by the present constitution of the church of England. ' But supposing they were none of them simply un- lawful, while yet the misinformed minds of the dissen- ters could not judge them lawful, though they have made it much their business to inquire and search; being urged also by severe sufferings, which through a long tract of time they have undergone, not to refuse any means that might tend to their satisfaction; they could have nothing else left them to do, than to meet and wor- ship distinctly as they have. ' For they could not but esteem the obligation of the universal, natural, divine law, by which they were bound solemnly to worship God, less questionable than that of a law, which was only positive, topical, and human, re- quiring such and such additaments to their worship, and prohibiting their worship without them. ' The church of England, (as that part affects to be called,) distinguished from the rest by those additionals to Christian religion, (pretended to be indifferent, and so confessed unnecessary,) hath not only sought to en- gross to itself the ordinances of divine worship, but all civil power. So that the privileges that belong either lo Christian or human society are enclosed, and made pe- culiar to such as are distinguished by things that in them- selves can signify nothing to the making of persons either better Christians, or better men. ' Q«. 2. Whether the laws enjoining such additions to our religion, as the exclusive terms of Christian worship and communion, ought to have been made, when it is acknowledged on all hands, the things lo be added were before not necessary ; and when it is known a great number judge them sinful, and miist thereby be restrained from worshipping the true and, living Godi ' Ans. The question to any of common sense, answers itself. For it is not put concerning such as dissent from any part of the .substance of worship which God haih commanded, but concerning .such additions as he never commanded. And there are sufficient tests lo distinguish such dissenters from those that deny any substantial part of religion, or assert any thing con- II Viniiicktion of sonic Protestant Principles, &"v p. 52. trary thereto. Wherefore to forbid such to worship that God that made them, because they can't receive your devised additions, is to exclude that which is ne- cessary, for the mere want of that which is tu)neces- sary. ' And where is that man that will adventure to stand forth, and avow the hmdering of such persons from pay- ing their homage to the God that made them, if we thus expostulate the matter on God's behalf and their own 1 Will you cut off from God his right in the creatures he hath made 1 Will you cut ofi" from them the means of their salvation upon these terms'? What reply can the matter admit 1 "Tis commonly alleged that great deference is to be paid to the laws, and that we ought to have forborne our assemblies, till the public authority recalled the laws against them: and we will say the same thing, when it is well proved, that they who made such laws, made the world too. 'And by whose authority were such laws made? Is there any that is not from Godi and hath Grod given any man authority to make laws against himself, and lo deprive him of his just rights from his own crea- tures? 'Nor if the matter be well searched into, could there be so much as a pretence of authority derived for such purposes from the people, whom ever)' one now ac- knowledges the first receptacle of derived governing power. God can, 'tis true, lay indisputable obligations by his known laws, upon every conscience of man about religion, or any thing else. And such as repre- sent any people, can, according to the constitution of the government, make laws for them, about the things they intrust them with : but if the people of England be asked man by man, will they say they did iutrust to Iheir representatives, their religion, and their con- sciences, lo do with them what they please 1 When it is your own turn to he represented by others, is this part of the trust you commit 1 What Dr. Sherlock" worthily says concerning a bishop, he might (and par- ticularly after, doth) say concerning every other man. He can be no more represented in a council, than at the day of judgment : every man's soul and conscience must be in his own keeping ; and can be represented by no man. ' It ought to be considered that Christianity, wherein it superadds lo the law of nature, is all matter of revela- tion. And 'lis well known that even among pagans, in the settling rites and institutes of religion," revelation was pretended at least, upon an implied principle, that in such matters human power could not oblige the peo- ple's consciences. ' We must be excused therefore, if we have in our practice expressed less reverence for laws made by no nuthorily received either from God or man. ' ' We are therefore injuriously reflected on, when it is imputed to us, that we have by the use of our liberty acknowledged an illegal dispensing power. We have THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. done no other thing herein, thsui we did when no dispen- sation was given or pretended, in conscience of duty to him that gave tis our breath : nor did therefore practise otherwise, because we thought those laws dispensed with, but because we thought them not laws. Whereupon little need remains of inquiring further. ' Q». 3. Whether such laws should be continued 1 Against which, besides what may be collected from that which hath been said, it is to be considered, that what is most principally grievous to us, was enacted by that parliament, that, as we have too much reason to believe, suffered itself to be dealt with to enslave the nation, in other respects as well as this; and which (to his immortal honour) the noble Earl of Danby procured to be dissolved, as the first step towards our national deli- verance. ' And let the tenour be considered of that horrid law, by which our Magna Charta was torn in pieces ; the worst and most infamous of mankind, at our own es- pense, hired to accuse us ; multitudes of perjuries com- mitted, convictions made without a jurj', and without any hearing of the persons accused; penalties inflict- ed, goods rifled, estates seized and embezzled, houses broken up, families disturbed, often at unseasonable hours of the night, without any cause, or shadow of a cause, if only a malicious villain would pretend to sus- pect a meeting there ! No law in any other case like this ! As if to worship God without those additions, which were confessed unnecessary, were a greater crime than theft, felony, murder, or treason ! Is it for our reputation to posterity, that the memory of such a law should be continued 1 ' And are we not yet awakened, and our eyes opened enough to see, that the making and execution of the laws, by which we have suffered so deeply for many by-past years, was only, that protestants might destroy protestants, and the easier work be made for the introduction of po- pery, that was to destroy the residue 1 ' Nor can any malice deny, or ignorance of observing Englishmen overlook, this plain matter of fact. After the dissolution of that before-mentioned parliament, dissenters were much caressed, and endeavoured to be drawn into a subserviency to the court designs, espe- cially in the election of after-parliaments. Notwith- standing which, they every where so entirely and unanimously fell in with the sober part of the nation, in the choice of such persons for the three parliaments that next succeeded, (two held at Westminster, and that at Oxford,) as it was k-nown would, and who did, most generously assert the liberties of the nation, and the proiestant religion. Which alone (and not our mere dis- sent from the church of England in matters of religion, wherein Charles 11. was sufficiently known to be a prince of great mdifferency) drew upon us, soon after the dissolution of the last of those parliaments, that dreadfi\l storm of persecution, that destroyed not a small number of lives in gaols, and mined mnltitudes of fa- milies. ' Let English freemen remember, what they cannot but know, that it was for our firm adherence to the civil interests of the nation, (not for our different modes of religion from the legal way, though the laws gave that advantage against tis, which they did not against others,) that we endured the calamities of so many years. ' When by the late king some relaxation was given ns, what arts and insinuations have been used with us, to draw us into a concurrence to designs tending to the pre- judice of the nation! And with how little effect upon the generality of us, it must be great ignorance not to know, and great injustice to deny. ' But he that knoweth all things, knoweth that though, in such circumstances, there was no opportunity for our receiving public and authorized promises, when we were all under the eye of watchful jealotLsy ; yet as great assurances as were possible, were given us by some that we hope will now remember it, of a future established security from our former pressures. We were told over and over, when the excellent Hecr Fagel's letter came to be privately communicated from hand to hand, how easily better things would be had for us, than that encou- raged papists to expect, i£ ever that happy change shoiJd be brought about, which none have now beheld with greater joy than we. ' We are loth to injure those who have made us hope for belter, by admitting a suspicion that we shall now be disappointed and deceived, (as we have formerly been, and we know by whom.) or that we shall suffer from them a religious slavery, for whose sakcs we have suffered so grievous things, rather than do the least thing that might tend to the bringing upon them a civil slarcry. ' We cannot but expect from Englishmen that they be just and true. We hope not to be the only instances whereby the Anglica fides and the Pu«tapor In Mr. . may be capable of inviting one another occasionallj' to the brotherly offices of mutual assistance in each other's congregations. For which, and all things that tend to make us a happy people, we must wait upon him in whose hands their hearts are.' Having brought down my history thus far, I shall not, in what remains, confine myself to relate things just as they passed year by year, but shall for brevity sake rather choose to give an account in the general, of Mr. Howe's conduct in the warm debates that arose among the dissenting ministers, some time after the resolution and toleration ; in the controversy upon the doctrine of the Trinity ; and the dispute about oc- casional conformity ; and then shall add some account of his works not yet mentioned, and of his last sickness, death and burial, and his exemplary character ; and subjoin in the close of my narrative (which I hope cannot disgust by its length, when it entertains with so great variety) such letters of his, as I have been able to recover. I shall begin with the diflfercnces among the dis- senting ministers soon after the revolution, and when they had obtained a toleration. These were very un- happy ; and the more so, because they gave too much occasion to those to insult, who had often said. Do but let these people alone, and you'll see, they'll soon fall out among themselves. We may dale the rise of them, from the Heads of Agreement, as.sented to by the body of the united ministersb in aud about the city, and in the several parts of the coimtry, which were published THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. in 1691. Mr. Howe had a considerable hand in draw- ing (hem up. The design of them was to bring those that were presbyterian and those that were congre- gational in their judgments to a coalition, that so their difference might for the future be buried in oblirion : but It so fell out, that some few of those who were in their judgment strictly congregational, standing out, and refusing to approve these heads of agreement, and concur in the designed union, plied their brethren who were of the same sentiments with him, who had con- sented to the union, so close, that they gave them no rest, till they broke off from those to whom it was in- tended they should for the future have been more strictly united. It was observed in Germany, that that which they called the Book of Concord, was the occasion of great discord := so also, this designed union among us, was the occasion of new divisions and quarrels. It was indeed at first much applauded, and the Heads of Agreement were generally approved and .subscribed, and they who stj'led themselves the united brethren acted very harmoniously, and had weekly meetings, in which matters of common concernment were managed and adjusted with great unanimity. They, by consent, published a declaration against Mr. Richard Davis, of Rothwel, in the county- of North- ampton,ii and did several other things that might have contributed to the keeping up order and regularity, and the making the dissenters appear a compacted body : but at length they had separate weekly meetings, and such feuds and jealousies arose amongst them, as issued in a rupture that had affecting consequences, in which it was apprehended that they who never were of the union, had no small hand. One great occasion of the debates now on foot, was the reprinting of the works of Dr. Crisp, (who was noted for his antinomian notions, though reputed a very pious man,) with some sermons added ; to which a paper was prefixed, sub- scribed by several ; for which a sort of an apology was atlerwards published, which was prefixed to Mr. Jolm Flavel's discourse, intituled, ' A Blow at the Root ; or the Causes and Cures of mental Errors.' Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Daniel Williams wrote against the errors of these sermons a book intituled, ' Gospel Truth stated and vindicated,' to which also there were several names subscribed; and Mr. Lorimer wrote a large apology for those subscribers ; and a great variety of pamphlets were published on both sides, which made a great noise and stir. And at length, there came out in 1G92 a paper intituled, ' The Agreement in Doctrine among the Dis- senting Ministers in London,' which was subscribed by Mr. Howe among the rest, hut it answered not the end ; for the debates were still continued.' One party suspected (or at least pretended to suspect) the other of verging too much towards Arminianism, and even Socinianism; and they on the other side charged them with encouraging antinomianism. Seve- ral papers were hereupon drawn up, and subscribed, in « S» Bijndlii HulocT of tho Rofcnnalian, in and about Ok Low Counlriw, vol. 1. tiook IS. n 364. d 8l at his house, about .some private atfairs of his o*n, which we did. I was to have preached at hi* place to-morrow, after my own work at home ; but present indisposition prevents me as to both. We have however agreed to exchange some times : but this cannot last long. The things that threaten us make haste. Only let us be fotind among the mourners in Zion ; comforts will come, in this or the better world. I just now heard from Mr. Porter out of Sussex, who inquires after thee. In the Lord, farewell : To thee and thine, from me and mine, with most entire and undecaying affection, J. H.' Great also were the debates that were at this lime OB foot about the doctrine of the Trinity. Different ex- plications of that doctrine had been published by Dr. Wallis, Dr. Sherlock, Dr. Soiuh, and Dr. Cudworth, and others ; and a certain writer published considera- tions on these explications, which occasioned Mr. Howe, in 1694, to publish a tract, intituled, ' A calm and sober Inquiry concerning the Possibility cf a Trinity in the Godhead, in a Letter to a Person of worth.' To which were added, some letters formerly written to Dr. Wallis, on the same subject. In this discourse he waves the question about three persons in the Deity, though he declares the use of that term neither blamcable, nor indefensible ; and only in- quires whether the Father, the Son or Word, and the Holy Ghost, cannot possibly admit of sufficient dis- tinction from one another, to answer the parts and purposes severally assigned them by the Scripture, ia the Christian economy, and 3'et be each of them God, consistently with this indubitable truth, that there can be but one God. This he asserts to be no absurdity or contradiction. He promises, that he undertakes not to show thtil the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are three and but one in the same respect : tmd that he only designs to represent this matter as possible to be some way, though not as definitely certain to be this way or that. This being done, he, 1. Acknowledges, that whereas we do with greatest certainty and clearness conceive of the Deity, as an intel- lectual being, comprehensive of infinite and universal perfection, so do we conclude it a being necessarily ex- istent. He is the I am : and whatsoever intellectuafc being is necessarily existent is divine ; whereas whatso- ever being is contingent, is a creature. 2. He affirms, that whatsoever simplicity the ever- blessed God hath by any express revelation claimed to himself, or can by evident and irrefragable reason be demonstrated to belong tc hira as a pcrfeclion, ought to be ascribed to him : but such simplicity as he has not claimed, such as can never be proved to belong to him, or to be any real perfection, such as would prove an im- perfection and a blemish, &c. we ought not to ascribe to him. 3. He declares, that such as have thought themselves obliged by the plain word of CJod to acknowledge a trinity in the Godhead, of Father, Son, and Holy THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. Ghost, but withal to diminish the distinction of the one from the other, so as even to make it ne.Tt to no- thing, by leason of the straits into which unexamined maxims concerning the divine simplicity have cast their minds, have yet not thought that to be absolute or omnimodous. 4. Since we may offend very highly by an arrofjant pretence to the knowledge we have not, but shall not offend by confessing the ignorance wliich we cannot remedy, he infers, we should abstain from confident conclusions in the dark, especially concerning the nature of God; and from saying, we clearly see a sufficient distinction of Father, Son, and Spirit in the Godhead cannot be, or is impossible. 5. Waving the many artificial unions of distinct things, that united and continuing distinct make one 'hing, under one name, he proposes only to consider what is natural, and instances in what is nearest to us in our very selves. Now we find, as to ourselves, that we are made up of a mind and a body ; somewhat that can think, and somewhat that cannot; sufficiently dis- tinct, yet so united as to make up one man. He adds, 6. That the making up two things of so different natures into one thing, was possible to be done, since it is actually done; 'twas what God could do, for he hath done it. And if it be possible to him to unite two things of so very different natures into one thing, 'twould be hard to assign a colourable reason, why it (should not be as possible to him to unite two things of a like nature. He argues, 7. That if such a union of three things, so as that they shall be truly one thing, and yet remain distinct, though united, can be affected, then it is not intrin- sically, or in itself, impossible. 8. If such a vmion with such distinction be not in itself impossible, 'tis offered to consideration, whether we shall have a conception in our own mind any thing more incongruous, if we conceive such a union, with such distinction, unmade and eternal, in an unmade or uncreated being. 9. Supposing it possible that three spiritual beings might be in a state of so near union with continuing distinction, as to admit of becoming one spiritual being, as well as thai a spiritual being and a corporeal being may be in a stale of so near tmion, with continuing distinction, so as to become one spiritual corporeal being: he queries, whether supposing the former of these to be as possible to be done as the latter, which is done already, we may not as well suppose somewhat like it, but infinitely more perfect, in the uncreated being? 10. He affirms, that the union of the two natures, the human with the divine, in one person of the Son of God, cannot appear to considerate persons more con- ceivable or possible, than the supposed union of three (Distinct essences in the one Godhead. 11. He affirms, there is nothing in all this repugnant to such simplicity as God any where claims to his own being, or that plain reason will constrain us to ascribe to him, or that is really in itself any perfection. 12. He adds, that if we should suppose three spiritual necessary beings, the one whereof were mere po- not alone.' In many cxscs he discovered uncommon sagacity ; I shall particularly mention one instance, the truth of which may be depended on. In King Charles's reign he had m 8m hia ruiwiml 3«nuoo oa Dr. Williun BaiM, p. lei. it signified to him by several, that a certain nobleman that was at that time great at court, was desirous to see him. Taking an opportunity to wait upon him, and being easily admitted, the great man signified that his visit was ven,- acceptable, and seemed to be willing to enter into particular freedoms with him. Among a great many other things, he told him that he was very sensible that the dis-senters were a considerable body of people, that deserved regard : and that it was his appre- hension that if they had a person that was near the king, and had a good interest at court, that would give them hints by way of advice for their conduct, upon critical emergencies, and that was able and ready to convey their requests to his majesty, as occasions might require, it would be much for their advantage. And he was pleased to express himself in such a manner, that Mr. Howe thought he could easily gather, that the maker of the motion had no aversion from being the person pitched upon, for the purpose mentioned. After n pause, he made this reply ; that the dissenters bcn-g a religious people, he thought it highly concerned them, if they fixed upon any particular person for that purpose, to make choice of one that would not be a.shamed of them, and whom at the same time they might have no occasion to be ashamed of: and that a person in whom there was a concurrence of these two qualifications was very difficult to find. And he heard no more of him. And it is with me past doubt, that they that were admit- ted to the knowledge of the secret history of his life, could have recollected several such instances, had the communicating memoirs concerning him been sooner thought of, and attempted. In common conversation he was many times very pleasant and facetious. Some of his sudden repartees were very remarkable, and deserve to be preserved. Being at dinner with some persons of good fashion, there was one gentleman in the company that expa- tiated with great freedom in praise of King Charles the First, and made some indecent reflections upon others, that were not at all agreeable to several at the table. Mr. Howe observing he intermixed a great many horrid oaths with his discourse, took the freedom to tell him, that in his humble opinion he had wholly omitted one very great excellency which the prince he had so much ex- tolled was so generally owned to have belonging to him, that he had not known of any one that had the face to contest it. The gentleman seemed not a little pleased to have Mr. Howe come in as a voucher for the prince he applauded, and was impatient to know what that par- ticular excellence was that he referred to. And when he had pre.s.scd for it with importunity, he at length told him it was this; that he was never heard to swear an oath in his common conversation. The gentleman took the reproof, and promised to forbear swearing for the future. At another time, as Mr. Howe was walking along he passed by two persons of quality, who were talking freely together, and with great eagerness; and when he came near them, he heard them damn each other THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN HOWE. most abominably: whereupon pulling off his hat, and saluting them with great civility, he cried out, I pray God save you both ; which so took with them, that it for the present diverted the humour they were in, and they joined in returning him thanks. I shall mention yet one passage more, which I think may be depended on as related. It is this ; that during the continuance of the debates in parliament about the bill against occasional conformity, Mr. Howe walking in St. James's Park, passed by a certain noble lord in a chair, who sent his footman to call him to him, for that he desired to .speak with him. Coming up to him, the said lord very respectfully saluted him, signified he was glad to see him, and entered into discourse with him upon the matter depending, reckoning it a thing of no small consequence, which he intimated he had opposed to his utmost. Among other passages upon that occasion, he so far forgot himself, as to express himself thus: Damn these wretches, for they are mad; and are for bringing us all into confusion. Mr. Howe, who was no stranger to the lord who thus entertained him with discourse, considering his character, made this reply to him : My lord, 'tis a great satisfaction to us, who in all affairs of this nature desire to look upwards, that there is a God that governs the world, to whom we can leave the issues and events of things : and we are satisfied (and may thereupon be ea.sy) that he will not fail in due time of making a suitable retribution to all, according to their present carriage. And this great Ruler of the world, my lord, said he, has among other things also declared, he will make a difference between him that swcareth, and him that fearelh an oaih. My lord was struck with his last hint, and presently re- plied. Sir, I thank you for your freedom, and take your meaning, and shall endeavour to make a good tise of it. Mr. Howe in return said, My lord, I have a great deal more reason to thank your lordship, for saving me the most difficult part of a discourse, which is the application. 'Twould be well if more of his letters could oe re- covered. [Here are subjoined in the original Life, several of Mr. Howe's letters, which are inserted in the present edition at page 1036.] ^ THE LIVING TEMPLE; OR, A DESIGireO IMPROVEMENT OF THAT NOTION, THAT A GOOD MAN IS THE TEMPLE OF GOD. PART I. CONCERNING GOD'S EXISTENCE, AND HIS CONVERSABLENESS WITH MAN AQAmST ATHEISM, OR THE EPICUREAN DEISM. TO TUE RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM LORD PAGETT, BABON OP BEAUDESEUT, in the county op STiPPORD. My honoured Loril, I HAVE not the opnorlunily of bcgginj; your Lordship's foregoing leave to prefix your name to these papers; bul despair not of your following pardon. Your name must he acknowledged great, through two potent empires, Christian and Mahometan ; and the services greater which you have done to many thai may perhaps not have heard the sound of your name. Your prudent and prosperous negociations in the Austrian and Ulioman courts, have obliged multi- tudes, whose better genius halh taught ihcm more to value them.selvcs, than to think ihcy were born to slaver)' ; from which you have found means, in great part, to save Europe : smncirhcrc, by charming great power, so ai to conquer the inclination to use it to so ill a purpose; ciseichere, by preventing its increase, where that inclination was invinci- ble. And hereby you have ilignilicd England, in letting it be seen what it can signify in the world, when it is so happy as to have its interest managed by a fit and able hand. Yet that knowledge your Lordship hath heretofore allowed me to have of you, cannot suffer me to think you will account your name too great to patronize the cause asserted in the following discourse. That it is unpolished, will not affect your Lordship ; let that rest where it ought : the subject and design will, 1 doubt not, have your Lordship's countenance. And the rather, that it is not the temple of this or that party that is hero defended, which would little agree to the amplitude of your Lordship's large mind, and your great knowledge of the world, bul that wherein man- kind have a common concern. A temple that is the seat of serious, living religion, is the more venerable, and the more extensive, the more defensible, and the more worthy to be defended, by how much it is the less appropriate to this or that sect and sort of men, or distinguished by this or that affected, modifying form ; that which according to its primitive designation may be hoped, and ought to be the resort of all nations ; which it is vain to imagine any one, of tnis (fr that exlcrnal form, not prescribed by God himself, can ever be ; imless we shoulil suppose it possible, that one and the same human prince, or power, coiild ever come to govern the world. Such unifoiiuily must certainly sup- pose such a universal monarchy a-s never was, and we easily aiiprehend can never be. Therefore, the belief that the Christian religion shall ever become the religion of the world, and the Christian church become the common universal temple of mankind ; that " the mountain of the Lord's house snail be established on the lop of the mountains, and all nations How to it ;" (a.s, besides that, many other texts of holy Scripture do plainly speak :) and an intemperate con- tentious zeal for one external, human form of God' s temple on earth, are downright iiuunMsicncics. That belief, and •.his zeal, must destroy one another ; especially, that which makes particular icniplcs engines to batter down each otne; j'!cause they agree not in some human additionals, though all may be charitably supposed to have somewhat of divine life in them. Therefore we plainly see, that this universal. Christian, living temple, must be formed and finished, not by human might or power, but by the Spirit of the living God ; which Spirit, piiurcd forth, shall instruct princes, and the potentates of the world, to receive and cherish among their subjects the great essentials of Christian religion, and whatsoever is of plain divine revelation, wherein all may agree, rejecting, or leaving arbitrar)', the little human addilaments about which there is so much disagreement. Heaven did favour us with such a king : and thanks be to God, that he hath given us such a queen, who is not for destroying any temples that may have true vital religion in them, because they neither all have, or have not, the same pinnacles, or other pieces of omalure alike. God grant all Christian princes and powers may herein equally imitate theip both ; as many do seriously lament the loss of the former. It nas lieen long the honour of your family to have had great esteem and reverence for such a temple. And I doubt not, but its having spread its branches into divers other worthy families of the Hampdens, Foleys, Ashhursts, Hunts, has given your Lordship much the more grateful and complaccntial view, for the affinity to your own in this resnect. A temnle so truly (and even only) august and great, spreads a glory over the families, kingdoms, and nations wnere it can have place. What is here written is a mean oblation, for the sen-ice of this temple; but acceptable, as even goaLs' hair was, by being consecrated, with a sincere mind, for the use of the tabernacle of old. The First Part betakes iLself to your Lordship as an orphan, upon the decease of its former patron, in hope of some sort of a posiliminary reception. And for the Second Part, it is (as your Loniship shall vouchsafe to receive it) origi- nally and entirely yours. The former, your Lordship will see, had a former dedication : and I cannot think it will be displeasing to your Lord- ship, that I let it stand. For though it may .seem somewhat uncouth and unusual to have two .such epistles come so near one another, yet the unfashionableness hereof, I conceive, will, in your Lordship's judgment, be over-balanced by considerations of a preponderating weight, that are suggested to the reader. While, in the mean time, I cannot suppose it unacceptable to your Lordship, that a person of true worth in his lime, related to the same county in which your Lordship hath .so considerable concerns, ann not altogether unrelated to yourself, should have had a participation with you in the same sort of patronage ; with whom your Lordship hath also a true participation, in all the honour, esteeift and sincere prayers thiW ever were conceived for him, by Your Lordship's most obedient, And most devoted, humble servant, JOHN HOWE. ADVERTISEMENT. Readef Be pleased tn tuxe notice, that the former part of this work was heretofore inscribed to that w.irthr ferson, Sir John Skeffinglon, of Fisherwick, in Staffordshire, Baronet : and who was at that time, also, Viscovmt Loid Masserene, go- vernor of the county of Londonderry, and one of the Lords of his Majesty Charles the Second's tnoit uonourable privy council in the kingdom of Ireland ; and now, since, deceased. I have, however, thought fit to let it be reprinted, (the incongruity being, by this advertisement, avoided, of making an address anew, in this new impression, to one no longer in our world,) that the memory of a person so truly valua- ble may, so far as this can contribute thereto, be preserved ; and because, also, many things in this epistle may be useful, as a preface, to show the design of the following discourse. And as this purpose may be equally served by it as it is, the other purpose being also, thus, better served, I have not judged it necessary, though that had been easy, to alter the form ; which was as follow : Although I am not, my Lord, without the apprehension that a temple ought to have another sort of dedication, yet I have no such pique at the custom of former days, but that I can think it decent and just that a discourse concerning one conceived under your roof, though born out of your house, should openly own the relation which it thereby hath, and the author's great obligations to your Lordship ; and upon this account 1 can easily persuade myself (though that custom hath much given place to this latter one) not to be so fashionable, as even to write in masquerade. It were indeed most unbecoming, in the service of so noble a cause, to act in disguise, or decline to tell one's name. And as the prefixing of one so obscure as that which the title-page bears, will be without suspicion of a design to re- compense, by the authority of a name, any feared weakness of the cause itself; so were it very unworthy, having nothing better, to grudge the bringing even of so mean a thing, as a .sacrifice to the door of the temple. And although your Lordship's is of so incomparably greater value, yet also is it (as the equity of the case requires) exposed with less hazard ; since in common account, the vouchsafement of pardon (whereof I cannot despair) for such a.ssumed liberty, can with no justice be understood to import more than only a favourable aspect on the design, without any interest or participation in the disrepute of its ill management. So that your honour is in uo more jeopardy than the main cause itself, which is but little concerned in the successfulne.ss or miscarriage of this or thii ed'ort, which is made on behalf of it ; and which, you are secure, can receive no real damage. For the foundations of this temple are more stable than those of heaven and earth, it being built upon that Rock against which the gales of hell can never prevail. And if, in any unforeseen state of things, you should ever receive prejudice, or incur danger by any real service you should design unto the temple of God, your adventure would be the more honourable, bv how much' it weie more hazardous. The order of Templars, your Lordship well knows, was not, in former days, reckoned inglorious. But as this temple is quite of another constitution and make, than that of Jerusalem, and (to use those words of the sacred writer) u^tipiToi'jiros, Tovri^tf oi rairm rjii jcriatoij — Ti-ot made with hands, that is to say, -not of thistnnlding; (Heb. ix. ll.)'so what is requisite to the interest and service of it, is much of another nature. Entire devotcdness to God, sincerity, humility, charity, refincdness from the dross and baseness of the earth, strict sobriety, dominion of one's self, mastery over impotent and ignominious passions, love of justice, a steady proponsion to do good, delight in doing it, have contributed more to the security and beauty of God's temple on earth,'conferrcd on it more majesty and lustre, done more to procure it room and reverence among men, than the most pro.'sperous violence ever did: the building up of this temple, even to the laying on the top-stone, (to be followed with the acclamations of Grace, grace,) being that which must be done, not by'might or power, but by the Spirit of the Lord. Which, ina.smuch as the structure is spiritual, and to be situated and raised up in the mind or spirit of man, works, in order to it, in a way suitable thereto. "That is, very much by soft and gentle insinuations, unto which are subservient the self-recommending amiableness and comely aspect of religion; the discernible gracefulness and uniform course of such in whom it bears rule, and is a settled, living law. Hereby the hearts of others are captivated and won to hxik towards it : made not only desirous to taste its delights, hut, in order thereto, patient also of its rigours, and the rougher severities which their drowsy security and unmortified lusts do require should accompany it ; the more deeply and thoroughly to attemper and form them to it. Merely notional discourses about the temple of God, and the external forms belonging to it, (how n.seful isoever they be in their own kind and order,) being unaccompanied with the life and power whereto they should bt; ad- joined, either as subservient helps, or comely expressions thereof, do gain but little to it in the estimation of discern- ing men. Much more have the apparently useless and unintelligible notions, with the empty formalities too arbitrarily affixed to it, by a very great, namely, the unreformed, part ol the Christian world, even there exposed it to contempt, where the professed (but most irrational and hopeless) design hath been to draw to it respect and veneration. And when these have become matter of strife, and filled the world with noise and clamour, through the imperious violence of some, and the factious turbulencv of others; it hath made it look with a frightful a.spect, and rendered the divine presence, so represented, an iindesired, dreadful thing. This may make that the language of fear with some, (which is of enmity with the most,) " Depart from us, wc desire not the knowledge of thy waj-s." DEDICATION. 5 Most of all; when a glorj'inK in these thins*;, and contention about ihem, are joined with cross immoralities ; either manifest impiety, sensual debaucheries, acts of open injustice, or the no less criminal evil of a proud, wrathful, un- governable temper of spirit; this hath made it a most hateful thing in the eyes of God and men, and turned that which should be the house of prayer unto all nations, into a den of robbers : hath cast the most opprobrious con- tumely upon him whom they would entitle the owner of it. That is, when men will steal, murder, commit adulter)', swear falsely, oppress the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow; and yet cry. The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, &c. ; it is as if they would make the world believe, that the holy God, the great lover and patron of purity and peace, had erected on purpose, a house on earth, to be the common harbour and sanctuary of the vilest of men, the verj' pests of human society, and disturbers of mankind. And if they were not the very worst, yet how absurd and senseless a thing were it, that he should be thought to appropriate a people to himself, have them solemnly baptized into his name, and trained up in a professed belief of those his more peculiar revelations, which are without the common notice of the most ; and in the use of certain (somewhat different) external institutes, being yet content that, in all things else, they be but just like the rest of the world. Though he may be, for .some time, patient of this indignity, and connive at such a slate and posture of thines, (as he did a great while towards the Jews of old,) yet, that this should be thought the ttjp of his design, and the thing he la-stly aimed at, and would acquiesce in, supposes such a notion of God, a.s than which worshipping a stock were not more foolish and impious, and professed atneism as rational and innocent. This bath spoiled and slurred the glory of the Christian temple, the most august and magnificent the world hath, (and which, indeed, only hath right to the name,) made the religion of Christians look like an empty vanity, and appear, for many ages, but as an external badge of civil distinction between thein and another sort of men, that are only contending for enlarging of empire, and who shall gra-sp most power into their hands; both having also their sub-distinguishing marks besides, under which loo probably divers of those who have adjoined themselves to the so dilferenced parties, furiously drive at the same design. And these zealously pretend for religion and the temple of God; when, in the mean time, it were a thing perfectly indifferent (even in itself, as well a.s in the opinion of the persons concerned) what religion or way they were of, true or false, right or wrong, Pasanish, Mahometan, Jewish, Christian, Popish, Protestant, Lutheran, Calvinistical, Episcopal, Presbyterial, Independent, &c. : supposing there be any of each of these denominations that place their religion in nothing el.se but a mere assent to the peculiar opi- nions, and an observation of the external formalities, of their own party; and that they never go further, but remain finally alienated from the life of God, and utter strangers to the soul-refining, governing power of true religion. Onlv, that their case is the worse, the nearer thev approach, in profession, to the truth. And really, if we abstract from the design and end, the spirit and life, the tranquillity and pleasure, of religion, one would heartily wonder what men can see in all the rest, for which they can think it worth the while to contend, to the disquicting'themselves and the world. Nobody can believe they regard the authority of God, in this doctrine or institution, rather than another, who ne?lect and resist the substance and main scope of religion, recommended to them by the same authority. And as to the matters themselves which will then remain to be disputed, we have hrst the distinguishing name; and if we run over all those before recited, is it a matter of that consequence, as to cut throats, and lay towns and countries desolate, only upon this quarrel, which of these hath the handsomer sound"? The different rites of this or that way, to them who have no respect to the authority enjoining them, must, in them- selves, signify as little. And for the peculiar opinions of one or another sect, it may be soberly said, that a very great pan understand no more of the distinguishing principles of their own, than he that was yet to learn how many legs a sectary had. Only they have learned to pronounce the word which is the SKibboUlk of their party, to follow the common cry, and run with the rest, that have agreed to do so to. But if they all understood the notions ever so well, (not tospeakof only those which are peculiar to their way, but,) which are most necessaiy to true religion itself; were it not, in them, a strange frenzy, to contend with clubs and swords about a mere notion, which has no influence on their practice, and they intend never shall 1 If any should profess to be of opinion that a triangle is a figure that hathfourcorners, sober men would think it enough to say they were mad, but would let them quietly enjov their humour, and never think it fit to levy armies against them, or em- broil the world upon so slender a quarrel. And wherein can the notions belonging to religion be rationally of higher account, with them, who never purpose to make anv use nf them, and against which it is impossible for any to fight so mi.schievously by the most vehement, verbal opposition, as themselves do, by their opposite practice, most directly assaulting, and striking at, even what is most principally fundamental to religion and the temple of God 1 Not that these great things are unworthy to be contended for. AH that I mean is, what have these men to do with them 7 or how irrationally and inconsistentlv with themselves do thev seem so concerned about thcm1 For even lesser things, the appendnircs to this sacred frame, arc not without iheir just value, to them who under- stand their intent and use. Nor am I designing to tempt your Lordship to the neglect or disesteem of any, the least, thing appertaining to religion. And if any other should, I rejoice daily to behold in you that resolute adherence to whatsoever apparently divine truth and ins'titution, to common order, decency, peace, and unity, (nhich so greatly contribute both to the "beauty and stability of God's house,) that may even defy and dismay the attempt ; and gives ground, however, to be confident it would be labour bestowed as vainly, as it were impiously designed. So much greater assurance do you give of your constant fidelity and devotedness to the substance of practical religion itself. Only how deeply it is to be resented, that while it should be so with all others, so few understand wherein that substance doth consist. 1 .shall not now take notice of men's very different (which must infer some men's mistaken) apprehensions concerning the things necessary to he believed. 6ut, besides that, though some religious sentiments be most deeply natural to men, (and, for aught we certainly know, as far extended as the true notion of humanity can be,) yet in all times, there has been a too general mistake (not peculiar to the Paganish world oniy) of the true design, and proportionahly of the genuine principle of it. That is, it has not been understood as a thing designed to purify and refine men's spirits, to reconcile and join them to God, associate them with him, and make ihem finally blessed in him. But only to avert or pacify his wrath, procure his favourable aspect on their secular affairs, (how unjust soever.) while, in the mean time, they have thoushlof nothing less than becoming like to him, acquainted with him, and happy in him. A reconciliation hath only been dreamed of on one side, namely, on his, not their own ; on which, tney are not so much as inclined to any thing else, than the continuance of the former distance tmd disaffection. Consonantly whereto, it is plainly to be seen, that the great principle which hath mostly animated religion in the world hath not been a generous love, but a basely servile fear and dread. Whence the custom of sacrificing bath so generally prevailed (whencesoever it took its rise) in the Pajan world. And with so deep an apprehension of its absolute necessity, that men of even so vile and barbarous manners' as the Gaul's of old, chose, in matters of con- tioversy, to submit their greatest concernments lo the pleasure anil arbitremcnt of their Druids, (those sacred per- sons, as they reckoned them,) rather than be interdicted the sacrifices (the only punishment they could inlllct^ in * Sm Uw chtnclw pven of tirni t)jr Ciccio. Oi»t dto. Kwr. Fon. 6 DEDICATION. ease of their refusal : which punishment (as is testified by Julius Caesar*) they accounted the most grievous imagi- nable. And it needs not be said in what part of the world the same engine hath had the same power with men, even since they obtained lo be called Christian. Which, while it haih been of such force with them, who, notwiihstand- ing, persisted in courses of Ihe most profligate wickedness ; whence could their religion, such as it wa.'s, proceed, save only from a dread of divine revenge 1 What else could it design (though that most vainly) but the averting it, without even altering their own vile course I Now let this be the account and estimate of religion ; only to propitiate the Deity towards flagitious men, still re- maining so; and how monstrous a notion doth it give us of God, that he is one that by such things can ever be ren- dered favourable to such men ! Let it not be so, (while you sever its true and proper end also,) how most despicably inept and foolish a thing doth it make religion ! A compages and frame of merely scenical observances and actions, intended to no end at all. In a word, their religion is nothing but foolery, which is not taken up and jiroseculed with a sincere aim to the bettering iheir spirits; the making them holy, peaceful, meek, humble, merciful, studious of doing good, and the composing them into temples, some way meet for the residence of the blessed God ; with design and expectation to have his intimate, vital presence, settled and made permanent there. The materials and preparation of which temple are no where entirely contained and directed, but in the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ: as, hereafter, we may with divine assistance labour to evince. The greater is the ignominy done to the temple of God, and the Christian name, by only titular and nick-named Christianity. Will they pretend themselves the temple of God, partakers in the high privilege and dignity of the Emmanuel, (in whom most emi- nently the Deity inhabiteth,) who are dlscernibly, to all that know them, as great .strangers to God, and of a temper of .spirit as disagreeing to him, of as worldly spirits, a.s unmortified passions, as proud, wrathful, vain-glorious, en- vious, morose, merciless, disinclined to do good, as any other men 1 When God cleanses his house, and purges his floor, where will these be found 1 And for this temple itself, it is a structure whereto there is a concurrence of truth and holiness ; the former letting in (it were otherwise a dark.some, disorderly, uncomfortable house) a vital, directive, formative light, to a heavenly, calm, God-like frame of spirit, composed and made up of the latter. It is this temple, my Lord, which I would invite you both to continue your respect unto in others, and, more and more, to prepare and beautify in yourself You will find little, in this part, offered to your view, more than only its vestiJ>idum, or rather a very plain (if not rude) frontispiece ; with the more principal pillars that must support the whole frame. Nor, whereas (by way of introduction to the discourse of this temple, and as most fundamental lo the being of it) the existence of the great Inhabitant is so largely insisted on, that I think that altogether a needless labour. Of all the sects and parties in the ■world, (though there are few that avow it, and fewer, if any, that are so, by any formed judgment, unshaken bv a suspicion and dread of the contrarv,) that of atheists we have reason enough to suppose the most numerous, as ha- ving diffused and spread itself through all the rest. And though, with the most, under disguise, yet uncovering, ■with too many, its ugly face: and scarce ever more than in our own days. Wherefore, though it hath never been in any age more strongly impugned ; yet, because the opposition can never be too common, to .so common an enemy, this additional endeavour may prove not wholly out of season. And the Epicurean atheist is chiefly designed against in this discourse ; that being the atheism most in fashion. Nor is any thing more pertinent to the design of the discourse intended concerning God's temple ; which, import- ing worship to be done to him, requires, first, a belief that he is. And surely the [E;] inscribed of old, as Plutarch tells us, on the Delphic Temple; signifying, (as, after divers other conjectures, he concludes it to do,) T/mv, dost exist, is an inscription much more filly set in view, at our en- trance into the temple of the living God, whose name is, I AM. Amidst the pleasant entertainments of which temple, (made more intimate to you than human discourse can make it,) may you spend many happy days in this world, as a preparative and introduction to a happier eternity in the other. Whereto he is under many and deep obligations, by any means, to contribute to his uttermost, who must (especially in the offices relating to this temple) profess himself. My honoured Lord, Your Lordship's most humble. Devoted Servant, JOHN HOWE. • CnminenU bb. 9. LIVING TEMPLE PART I. CONCERNING GOD'S EXISTENCE, AND HIS CONVERSABLENESS WITH MAN. CHAPTER I. THIS NOTION COMMON. AUTHORITIES NEEDLESS. INSIGNIFICANT WITH THE ATHEISTICAL, WHO HAVE MADE IT MORE NECESSARY TO DEFEND RELIGION, AND A TEMPLE IN GENERAL, THAN THIS, OR THAT. BETTER DEFENDED AGAINST THEM BY PRACTICE ANB. DSE, THAN ARGUMENT, WHEREOF THEY ARE INCAPABLE. OFTEN DISPUTES OF ITS PRINCIPLES NOT NECESf.lARY TO THE PRAC- TICE OF RELIGION. SOME CONSIDERATION OF THOSE SUPPOSED IN THE GENERAL NOTION OF A TEMPLE, PERTINENT (hoWEVEr) TO THIS DISCOURSE. dnlge themselves in a course, upon which they find the apprehension of a God, interesting him.sclf m human affairs, would have a very unfavourable and threatening aspect. They are therefore constrained to take great pains with themselves, to discipline and chastise their minds and un- derstandings to that lameness and patience, as contentedly to suffer tlie racing out of thoir most natural impressions and sentiments. And they reckon they have arrived to a verv heroical perfection, when ihcv can pass a scoff upon anv thing, that carries the least signiticaiion with it of the fear of God; and can be able to laugh at the weak and .squeamish folly of ihose softer and effeminate minds, that will trouble themseh'es with any thoughts or cares, how to please and propitiate a Deity: and doubt not but they have made all sale, and effectually done their busi- ness, when thev have learned to put the ignominious titles of frenzy, and folly, upon devolion, in whatsoever dress or garb; to en' canting. lo any serious mention of the name of God, and break a bold adventurous jest upon any the most sacred mysteries, or decern and awful solemnities, of religion. II. These content not them.selve.s to encounter this or that feet, but mankind ; and reckon it too mean and in- glorious an achievement to overturn one sort of temple or another ; but would down with them all, even to the ground. And they arc bound, in reason and justice, to pardon the emulation which they provoke, of vying with them as to the universaliiy of their desien; and not to regret il, if they find there he any that think it their duly to wave a while serving the lemple of this or that party, as less con- siderable, to defend that one wherein all men have a com- mon interest and concernment ; since mailers are brought to ihat exigencv and hazard, that it seems less necessary to contend aboin this or lhat mr«^e of rclieion, as whether there ought lo be any at all. What was said of a former age, could never better agree lo any, ihan our own, "ihat none was ever more frnilful of religions, and barren of religion or inie piety." It concerns us to consider, whether the ferlilitv of those many doth not as well cause as ac- comnnnv a barrenness in this one. And since ihe iniquity of the world haih made that loo suitable, which were otherwise unseemly in itself, to speak of a lemple as a fortified place, whose own sacredness ought ever to have been it.s sufficient forlificalion, it is time lo be aware lest our forceiful heal and zeal in the defence of this nr that nut-trork, do expo.se (not to say betray) the main fnrlress to assault and danger. Whilst it hath long been, by this I. It is so well known that this notion hath long obtained in the world, that we need not quote sayings to avouch it ; wherewith nut the sacied writings only, but others, even of pagans themselves, would plentifully furnish us. But as authorities are, in a plain case, needless to un- prejudiced minds ; so will they be useless to the prejudiced, be the case never so plain. Nor is any prejudice deeper, or less vincible, than that of profane minds against religion. With such, it would in the present argument signify little, to tell them what hath been said or thought before by any others. Not because it is their general course lo be so very circumspect and warj', as never to approve or a.ssent to any thing, unless upon the clearest and most convinc- ing demonstration : but from their peculiar dislike of those thinirs only, that are of this special import and tendency. Discourse to them what you will of o ttmplc, and it will be nau.senus and iinsavour>': not as being cross to their rcii-son, (which thev are as little curious to gratify as any other sort of men,) but to their ill humour, and the dis- affected temper of their mind; whence also (though they cannot soon or ea'^ily get that masten," over their under- standings herein, yet because they would fain have it so) they do what they can to believe religion nothin? else but the effect of timorous fancy, and a trmple, consequently, one of the most idle impertinences in the world. To the.se, the discussion of the notion we have proposed to consider, will be Ihought a beating the air, an endeavour to give consistency to a shadow. And if their reason and power could as well serve their purpo.se as their anger and scorn, they would soon tear up the holy ground on which a temple is set, and wholly subvert the sacred frame. I speak of such as deny the exi.stence of the ever-blessed Deity; or(if they are not arrived to that express and formed misbelief) whose hearts are inclined, ancl ready to deter- mine, even against their misgiving and more suspicious minds, there is no God : wlio, if Ihey cannot as yet believe, do wish there were none; and so sfonglv, as in a great degree to prepare them for that belief That would fain banish him not only out of all their thoughts, but the world too; and lo whom il is so far from being a grateful sound, lhat the tabernacle of God is with men on earth, lhat they grudge to allow him a place in heaven. At least, if they are willing to admit the existence of anv God at all, do say to him. Depart from us ; and would have him so confined lo heaven, thai he and thev may have nothing lo do with one another: and do therefore rack their impious wils lo serve their hvpothesis cither way i that under its protection thev may securely in- 8 THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part 1. means, a neglected, forsaken thing; and is more decayed by vacancy and disuse, than it could ever have been by the most forcible battery ; so as even to promise the rude assailant an easy victory. Who fears to insult over an empty, dispiriietl, dead religion 1 which alive and shining in Its native glory, (as that temple dolh, which is compacted of lively stones 'iinKcd to the living corner stone,) bears with it a niairnificencc and statu that would check a profane look, and dazzle the presumptuous eye that durst venture to glance at it oblicpiely, or with disrespect. The temple of ine living God, manileslly animated by his vital presence, would not only dismay opposition, but command veneration also; and be both its own ornament and defence. Nor can it be destitute of that presence, if we ourselves render it not inhospitable, and make not its proper inhabitant be- come a stranger at home. If we preserve in ourselves a capacity of the divine presence, and keep the temple of God in a posture fit to receive him, he would then no more forsake it, than the soul a .sound and healthy body, not violated in any vital part. But if he forsake il once, it then becomes an exposed and despised thing. And as the most impotent, inconsiderable enemy can securely trample on the dead body of the greatest hero, that alive carried awfulness and terror in his looks; so is the weak- spirited atheist become as bold now, as he was willing be- fore, to make rude attempts upon the temple of God, when He haih been provoked to leave it, who is its life, strength, and glop,'. III. Therefore as they who will not be treacherous to the interest of God and man, must own an obligation and ne- cessity to apply themselves to the serious endeavour of restoring the life and honour of religion ; so will the case itself be found to point out to us the proper course in order hereto. That is, that it must rather be endeavoured by practice, than by disputation; by contending, evcrj' one with himself, to e.xcite the love of God in his own breast, rather than with the profane adversarj' to kindle his anger, more aiming to foment and cherish the domestic, continual fire of God's temple and aliar, than transmit a flame into the enemies' camp. For what can this signify ■? And it seldom fails lo he the event of disputing against prejudice, (especially of disputing for the sum of religion at once against the prepossession of a sensual profane temper, and a violent inclination and resolvedncss to be wicked.) lo beget more wrath than conviction, and sooner to incense the impatient wretch than enlighten him. And by how much the more cogent and enforcing reasonings are used, and the less is left the confounded, baffled creatures to say, on behalf of a cause so equally deplorate and vile; the more he finds himself concerned to fortify his obstinate will ; and supply his want of reason with resolution ; to find out the most expedite ways of diverting, from what he hath no mind to consider; to entertain himself with the most siupifying pleasures, (that must serve the same turn that opium is wont to do in the case of brokpii. un- quiet sleep,) or whatsoever may most effeclually serve to mortify any divine principle, and destroy all sense of God nut of his soul. And how grateful herein, and meritorious often, are the assistant railleries of servile, and it may he mercenary, wits! How highly shall he oblige them, that can furnish out a libel against relie;ion, and help them with more arti- ficial spi'e lo blaspheme what they cannot disprove ! And now shall the scurrilous pasquil and a few bottles, work a more effectual confutation of religion, than all the rea.son and argument in the world shall be able to countervail. This proves too often the unhappy issue of misapplying what is most excellent in its own kind and place, to im- proper and incapable subjecis. IV. And who sees not this to he the case with the modern atheist, who hath been pursued with that strenglh and vijour of argument, even in our own days, that would have tiallled persons of any other temper than their own, into shame and silence 1 And so as no other support halh been left loirrrli;?inn, than a senseless stupidity, an obstinate rcsolvedness not to consider, a faculty to stifle an argument with a jest, to charm their rea.son by sensual ,soflne.s.ses into a dead sleep; with a strict and eircumspeet care that it may never awake into any exercise above the condition of dozed and half-witted persons; or if it do, by the next debauch, presently lo lay it fast again. So that the very principle fails in this sort of men, whereto, in reasoning, we should appeal, and apply ourselves. And it were al- most the same thing, to offer argtiments to the senseless imaees, or forsaken carca.'^scs of men. It belongs to the grandeur of religion lo neglect the impotent assaults of these men : as it is a piece of glory, and bespeaks a worthy p.vrson's right understanding, and just value of himself, to disdain ihe combat with an incompetent or a foiled enemy. It is becoming and seemly, that the grand, ancient, and received tiuth, which lends to, and is the reason of, the godly life, do .-lomeiimes keep stale ; and no more descend lo perpetual, repeated janglings with every scurrilous and impertinent trifler, than a great and redoubted prince would think it fit to dispute the rights of his crown with a liink- It fit to dispute the ngtits ot I Irunken, distracietl fool, or a madman. Men of atheistical persuasions having abandoned their rea.son, need what will more powerfully .strike their sense — storms and whirlwinds, flames and thunderbolts; things not so apt immediately to work upon iheir understanding, as their fear, and that will astonish, thai ihey may convince, that Ihe great God makes himself known by Ihe judgments which he executes. Stripes are for the back of fools (as they are justly styled, that say in their hearts, There is no God.) But if it may be hoped any gentler method may prove effectual with any of triem, we are rather to expect the good eflect from the steady, uniform course of their aciions and conversation, who profess reverence and devo- tcdncss to an eternal Being; and the correspondence of their vnv, to their avowed pri-nciple, that acts them on acreeahly to ilself, and may also incur the sense of the beholder, and gradually invite and draw his observation; than from the most severe and necessitating argumenta- tion that exacts a sudden assent. V. At least, in a matter of so clear and commanding evidence, rea.soning many times looks like iriflin?; anil out of a hearty concernedness and jealousy for the honour of religion, oiie would rather it should march on with an heroical neglect of bold and malapert cavillers, and only demonstrate and recommend ilself by its own vigorous, comely, coherent course, than make ilself cheap by dis- cussing at every turn its principles: as that philosopher who thought it the fittest way to confute the sophisms against molion, only by walking. But we have nothing so considerable objected against practical relision.as well to deserve the name of a. w;?Aij77i; at least, no sophism so perplexing in the case o{ religiows, as of votural, molion; jeers and sarcasms are the most weiehtv, convincing arsumenis; and let Ihe deplorate crew niock on. There are those in the world, that will think Ihey have, however, reason enough to persist in the wnv of godliness; and ihat have already laid the founda- tion of that reverence which they bear to a Deity, more sironslv than lo be shaken and beaten off from il hy a jest; and lh''refore will not think il nccos.sary lo have the princi- ples of their reliffion vindicated afresh, every time ihcy are called lo the practice of it. For surely they would be re- ligious upon very uncertain terms, that will ihink them- selves concerned to suspend or di.scontinue their course as oft as they are encountered in it wilh a wry mouth or a distorted look; or lhat are apt to be put out of conceit with their religion by the laughter of a fool; or by their cavils and taunts against the rules and principles of it, whom only their own sensual temper, and impatience of serious thoushts, have made willing to have them false. That any indeed should commence religious, and persist wilh blirid zeal in this or that discriminaiing profession, without ever considering why they should do so, is un- manly and absurd ; e'^pccially when a gross ignorance of the true rea.sons and grounds of religion shall be shadowed over wilh a pretended awe and scrupulousness to inquire ahoul thinss .'0 fucred. And an inquisitive temper shall have an ill character put upon it, as if rational and profane were words (if the same signification. Or, as if reason and jud;:inent were utterly execrated, and an unaccount- able, enlhusia-iiic fury, baptized and hallowed, Ihe only principle of relieion. But when Ihe matter halh un- dergone already a .severe inquisition, and lieen search- ed lo Ihe bottom; principles have been examined; the strenglh and firmness halh been tried of its deepest and Ciup. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. most fiuidamcntal grounds, and an approving judgment been past ia ihr case, and a nsulution tneri'upou taken up, of a suitable and correspondent practice ; alter all this, it were a vain and unwarrantable curiosity, to be perpetu- ally perpleiing one's easy path with new and suspicious researches into the most acknowledged things. Nor were this course a liiile prejudicial to the design and end of religion, (if we will allow it any at all,) the refining of our minis," and the fitting us for a happy eternity. For when shall that building be finished, the foundations whereof must be every day torn up anew, upon pretence of further caution, and for more diligent search ! Or when will he reach his journey's end, that is continually vexed (and often occasioned to go back from whence he came) by causeless an.\ielies about his way; and whether ever he began a right course, yea or no ! Many go securely on in a course most ignominiouslv wicked and vile, without ever debating the mailer with themselves, or inquiring if there be any rational principle 10 jusiifv or bear them out. Much more may they, with a checriul confidence, persist in their well-chosen way, that have once settled their re.solutions about it upon firm and assured grounds and principl';s, without running over the same course of reasonings with ihem.selves in reference to each single, devotional act; or thinking it necessary ever)- time they are lo pray, to have it proved to them, there is a God. And because yet many of these do need excitation ; and though they are not destitute of pious sen- timents and inclination-s, and have somewhat in them of the ancient foundations and frame of a temple, have yet, by neglect, suffered it lo grow into decay. It is therelore the principal intendment of this discourse, not to assert the principles of religion against tho.se with whom they have no place, but lo propound what may some way tend lo rein- force and strengthen them, where they visibly languish; and awaken such as profess a devotedne.ss to God, lo the speedy and vigorous endeavour of repairing the ruins of his temple in ineir own breasts; thai ihev may thence hold forth a visible representation of an indwelling Deity, in effects and actions of life worthy of such a presence, and render his enshrined glory transpareiil to the view and conviction of the irreligious and profane. Which hath more of hope in it, and is likely lo be lo better purpose, than disputing with them thai more know how to jest, than reason ; and belter understand the relishes of meal and drink, than the strength of an argument. VI. But though it would be IkjiIi an ungrateful and in- si^ificant labour, and as talking to the wind, lo discourse ol religion with persons that have abjured all seriousness, and thai cannot endure to think ; and would be like fight- ing with a slorm, lo contend against the blasphemy and outrage of insolent mockers at whatever is sacred and di- vine ; and were too much a debasing of religion, to retort sarcasms with men not capable of being talked with in any oiher than such (that is, their own) language : yet it warns neither its use nor pleasure, lo the most composed minds, and thai are most exempt from wavering herein, to view the frame of their religion, as it apily and even naturally ri.ses and grows up from iis very foundations; and to con- template its first principles, which they may in the mean lime find no pre.senl cause or inclination to di.spuie. They will know how to consider its most fundamental grounds, no: with doubt or suspicion, but with admiration and de- light ; and can with a calm and silent pleasure enjoy the repose and rest of a quiet and wellavsured mind, rejoicing and contented lo know to themselves, (when others rcfu.se 10 partake with ihem in this joy,) and feel all firm and .stable under ihem, whereupon cither the practice or the hopes of their religion do depend. And there may be also many others of good and pious inclinations, that have never yet applied themselves lo consider ihc principal and most fundamental grounds of religion, .so as to be able to give or discern anv tolerable reason of them. For either the sluggishness of their own temper may have indisposed them to anv more painful and laborious exercise of their minds, and made them to be content with ihe easier course of taking ever)- thing upon trust, and imitating the example of others; or ihey have been unhappily misinformed, that it consists not with the reverence due to religion, to .search into the groimds of it. Yea, and may have laid this for one of its main groimds, thai nil exercise of reason may have any place about it. Or perhaps having never tried, ihey apprehend a greater difficulty in coming lo a clear and certain resolution herein, than indeed there is. Now such need to be excited lo set their own thoughts a-work this way, and to be assisted herein. They should therefore consider who gave them the understandings which ihcy fear to use. And can ihey use them to better purpose, or with more gratitude to him who made ihem intcllieeni, and not brute creatures, than in labouring to know, tlial ihey may also bv a reasonable service worship and adore their Maker 1 Are they not to use their very .senses about the mailers of religion 7 For the invisible things of God, even his eternal power and godhead, are clearly seen, &c. And their faith comes by hearing. But what ^ are these more sacred and divine, and more akin lo religion, than their reason and judgment, without »-hich also their sense can be of no use to them herein 1 Or is it the best way of making use of what God has revealed of himself, tiy whatsoever means, not to understand what he hath revealed ">. It is most true in- deed, thai when «-e once come clearly lobe informed that God hath revealed this or that thing, we are then readily to subject (and not oppose) our feeble reasonings to his plain revelation. And it were a mo.sl insolent and un- creaturely arrogance, lo contend or not yield him the cause, though things have to us .seemed otherwise. But it were as inexcusable negligence, not to make use of our under- standings lo the best advantage ; that we may both know that such a revelation is divine, and what it signifies, after we know whence it is. And anv one thai considers, will soon .see it were very unseasonable, at least, lo allege the written, divine revelation, as the ground of his religion, till he have gone lower, and fore-known some things (by and by to be insisted on) as preparatory and fundamental to the knowledge of this. And because it is obvious lo suppose how great an in- crease of strength and vigour pious minds may receive hence, how much it may animate ihem lo the service of the temple and contribute to their more cheerful progress in a religious course ; it w-ill ihcreforc not be besides cur present purpose, but very pursuant to it, to consider awhile, not m the conicniious way of brawling and cap- tious disputation, (the noise whereof is as unsuitable to the temple, as that of axes and hammers,) but of calm and sober discourse, the more principal and lowermost grounds upon which the frame of religion rests, and lo the supposal whereof, the notion and use of any such thing as a temple in the world, do owe themselves. CHAPTER II. TIic two more principal {^rounds which a tpmple luppoaea. 1. Tb«enilence of God. 2. Hui convtT»ablfrH's« with men : huih argutHJ rram commoa ron»cnt. The fomKr d.Kubtl'uI if t%cr wliolly dciiitii m fnmicr Aar*- The Inttor bIm> imphitl in thp knoun tfocral praclice of Mine nt other roll- ^on. Kvidencnl m itial iKinHN no ttranrers to llie world, have tbouchi it Ihe diftennre of man Tht- immodest}- and mshnen of the fcr»on« from whom any opK«*iiioii can U- fxp^-clwl These two (rroiiTKl* proino«ed lo be more ■inctly ronsidiTit) npari. And. fu>t. The exUtcnre of God. where lirHt Ihe nofi6n (if r.i*.l ut a«*u,*nn] The parts when-of a/e proptised to be evinr>-d severally of •omt- exi-ilrnt bfin«. 1- Etemitjr a Self nnfmation. 3. Imk-iK-ndfOcy. < Ni^<-«iiy of exidtencc. 5 Si'U urtivily iTho imrect«jnir>- letf active U'ltiR. The incunsist- ency ot' ncc^uan' alti^-mble matter, more lar^ly d<-thicrd m a marpnoJ di* grenion.) 6. Life. 1. Vaat and michty power. A corollary. I. Now ihe pround-s more necessary to be laid down, and whkh are supposed in the most general notion of a temple, are especially these two 1 The existence of God, and his convers^blencss with men. For no notion of a temple can more easily occur to any one's thoughts, or is more agreeable lo common acceptation, than that it is a habitation wherein God is pleased to dwell among men. Therefore lo the desigTialion and use of it, or (which is all one) to the intention and exercise of religion, the belief or persuasion is necessar}' of those two things, (the same which we find made necessar)' on the same account,) ** That God is, and that he is a r'ewarder of them thai dili- geDtly seek him ;" Heb. xi. C. as will appear when the 10 THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part I. manner and design of that his abode with men shall be considered. These are the grounds upon which the sacred frame of a temple ought to stand, and without which it must be ac- knowledged an un.-upiicirled, airy fabric. And since it were vain to discourse wlial a temple is, or whereto the notion of it may Ije applied, unless it be well resolved that there is, or ought to be, any such thing; the strength and firmness of tliis its double ground should be tried and searched, and of its pretensions thereto. II. And though it be not necessary in a matter that is so plain, and wherein so much is to be said otherwise; yet it will not be impertinent to consider, first, what prescription (which in clearing of titles is not wont to signify nothing) will signify in the present case. And, First, For the existence of God, we need not labour much to show how constantly and generally it hath been acknowledged through the whole world ; it being so iliffi- cult to jiroduce an uncontroverted instance, of any that ever denied it in more ancient times. For as for them whose names have been infamous amongst" men here- tofore upon that account, there hath been that said, that at least wants not probability for the clearing them of so foul an imputation. That i.s, that they were maliciously re- presented as having denied the existence of a Dcily, be- cause they impugned and derided the vulgar conceits and poetical fictions of those days, concerning the multitude and the ridiculous attributes of their imaginary deities. Of which sort Cicerob mentions not a few ; their being inflamed with anger, and mad with lust ; their wars, fights, wounds; their hatreds, discords; their births and deaths, &c. : who though he speak less favourably of some of the.-se men, and mentions one' as doubting whether there were any gods or no, (for which cause his book in the he;;inning whereof he had intimated that doubt, (a;; Cotla is brought in, informing us,) was publicly burnt at Athens, .mil him- self banished his country,) and two othersd as expressly denying them; yet the more generally decried patron" of atheism (as he has been accounted) he makes Velleius highly vindicate from this imputation, and say of him, that he was the first that look notice that even nature itself had impressed the notion of God upon the minds of all men : who also gives us these as his words ; " What nation is there or sort of men that hath not, without teach- ing, a certain anticipation of the gods, which he calls a prolepsis, a certain preventive, or fore-conceived informa- tion of a thing in the mind, without which nothing can be xmderstood, or sought, or disputed of?" Unto which pur- pose the same authorf (as is commonly observed) else- where speaks ; that there is no nation so barbarous, no one of all men so savage, as that some apprehension of the gods hath not tinctured his mind; that many do think in- deed corruptly of them, which is (saith he) the cllect of vicious custom ; but all do believe there is a divine power and nature. Nor (as he there proceeds) hath men's talk- ing and agreeing together elfcctcd this. It is not an opi- nion settled in men's minds by public constitutions and .sanctions; but in every matter the consent of all nations is to be reckoned a law of nature. And -W'halever the apprehensions of those few (and .some others that are wont Id lie nienlioned under the same vile character) were in this matter, yet .so inconsideiaMe halli the dis.sent been, that a< another most ingenious pnsran authors writes, " In so great a contention and variety of opinions, (that is, concerning what God is,) herein you shall see theb law and rea.son of every country to he harmonious and one; thai there is one God, the King and Father of all ; that the many are but the servants andi — co-nilers unto God ; that herein the Greek and the bar- barian say the same thing, the islander and the inhabitant of the continent, the wi.se and the foolish : go to the utmost bounds of the ocean, and you find God there. But if (says he) in all limes, there have been iwo or three, k an aiheisticnl, vile, senseless sort of persons, whose (1 Diu^onui aiid'rlici«luruit C> lip. rpportii) wa« minminiHl *iftf.K. ofterwarctji 'V.if. 0 Epicurui. wliuiii Qlaii liuowii Kp»ll» lo M BCouiU of attMTuni. but nut of irrfUriuii ; lu liercaftt'r niuy tu ulj««n'uU rciccniTuacul QuaaL I i l> Do Nulura Uoorum, 13). 1. wlto^^taj Iliugdic!! Laertiiu. bi Aris- Din^nm Laciliui own eyes and ears deceive them, and who are maimed in their very soul, an irrational and steril sort, as monstrous creatures, as a lion without courage, an ox without horns, or a bird without wings; yet, out of those, you shall understand somewhat of Goa ; for they know and confess him, whether they will or no." III. Yea, and the use of a temple, and the exercise of religion, (which suppose the second ground also, as well as the first,) have been so very common, (though not altogether equally common with the former.) that it is the observation of that famed moralist,! " Tnat if one travel the world, it is possible to find cities without walls, without letters, without kings, without wealth, without coin, without schools and theatres. But a city without a temple, or that useth no worship, prayers, &c. no one ever saw." And he believes a city may more easily be built" without a foundation, or ground to set it on, than any community of men have or keep a consistency without religion. IV. And it is no mean argimient of the commonness of religion, that there have been some in the world, and those no idiots neither, that have accounted it the most constituent and distinguishing thing in human nature. So that Platonic Jew" judgeth invocation "of God, with hope towards him, to be, if we will speak the truth, the only genuine property of man, and saith that imly he vho is adud by suck a hope, is a man, and he that is destilute of this hope, is 710 man ;"" preferring this account to the common definition, (which he says is only of the concrete of man,) that he is a rea.sonable, and mortal, living crea- ture. And yet he extends not reason further, that is, to the inferior creatures ; for he had expressly said above, " That they who have no hope towards God, have no part or share in the rational nature." And a noble persouP of our own says, " That upon accurate search, religion and faith appear the only ultimate differences of man ; whereof neither diviitc perfection is capable, nor brutal imperfec- tion ;" rea.son, in his account, descending low among the inferior creatures. But these agreeing more peculiarly lo man, and so universally, that he affirms, " There is no man well and entirelv in his wits, that doth not worship some deity." Who therefore accounted it a less absurdity to admit such a thing as a rational beast, than an irreligious man. Now if these have taken notice of any instances that seemed to claim an exemption from this notion of man, they have rather thought fit to let them pass as an anomalous sort of creatures, reducible lo no certain rank or order in the creation, than that any should be admitted into the account, or be acknowledged of the society of men, that were found destitute of an inclination to worship the cominon Author of our beings. And according to this opinion, by whatsoever steps any should advance in the denial of a Deity, they should proceed by the same, lo the abandoning their own humanity ; and by saying there is 710 God, should proclaim themselves 710 men. However, it discovers (which is all that is at present in- tended by it) the commonness, not to say absolute uni- versality, of religion, in the observation of these persons, whom we must suppose no strangers to the world, in their own and former times. And if it afford any less ground for such an oKscrvaiion in our present time, we only see that a.s the world grows older it grows worse, and sinks into a ileeper oblivion of its original, as it recedes further from it. And (notwilh.standing) this so common a consent is yet not without its weight and significancy to our present pur- pose ; if we consider how impassible it is to ^ive or ima- gine any tolerable account of its original, il we do not confess it natural, and refer il to that common Author of all nature whom we are inquiring about : of which so much is said by divers others.i that nothing more needs here la lie said about il. V. And at least so much is gained by it 10 a temple. •IV. iti». 1. .,,. h ouvtbaivov yofiov xat Xoyow. . I, !i.K. r-u- I'nlutcm. m liaip'Oi Xff'i. ti ' r'. < .i.inud (leteriuB pntiofi insid. 1 . 1, jii iiiiilD' plnnt. GrotHit de VeTUaie CtirltHmue KeHfi. Cbip. II. THE LIVING TEMPLE. n that unless some very plain and ungainsayable demonsti^- tion be brouijhi a^inst iht grounds of it, (which will be time enouffh to consider when we see it pretended lo^ no opposition, lit to be regarded, can ever be made to it. That is, none at all can pos.sibly be made, but what shall pro- ceed from the most immodest and rash conlidence, animated and borne up only by a design of being most licentiously wicked, and of making the world become so. Immodest confidence it must be, for it is not a man, or a nation, or an age, that such have to oppose, but mankind ; upon which they shall ca-st, not some lighter reflection, but the vilest and most opprobrious contumely and scorn that can be imagined. That i.s, the imputation of so e^jregious folly and dotage, as all this while to have worshipped a shadaw, as the author of their being ; and a Ji^ment, for their com- mon parent. And this not the ruder only, and uninquisi- tive vulgar, but the wisest and most con.sidering persons in all times. Surely le.ss than clear and pregnant demonstra- tion (at lei-st not wild, incoherent, self-confounding sup- positions and surmi.ses, of which more hereafter) will never De thought suflicient to justify the boldness of an attempt that shall carry this signification with it. And it will be a confidence equally rash, as immodest. For what can be the undertakers' hope, either of success or reward t Do thev think it an ea.sy enterprise, and that a few quirks of malapert wit will serve the turn to balfle the Deity into nothing, and unteach the world religion, and rase out im- pressions renewed and trtuismilted through so many ages, and persuade the race of men to descend a peg lower, and believe they ought to live, and shall die, like the perishing beast 1 Or, do they expect to find men indifl'erent in a matter that concerns their common practice and liopel add wherein their zeal hath been wont to be such as that it hath obtained to be proverbial: to .strive as for the verv altars. And what should their reward be, when the natural tendency of their undertaking is to exclude themselves from the expectation of any in another world ! And what will they expect in this, i'rom them whose temples and altars they go about lo subvert ? Besides, that it they be not hurried by a blind impetuous rashness, they would consider their danger, and apprehend themselves concerned 10 strike very sure. For if there remain but the lea.st po.s- sibility that the matter is otiierft-ise, and that the Biding doth exist, whose honourand worshiplhey contend against, they must understand his favour to be of .some concern- ment to them; which they lake but an ill coui-se to entitle themselves unto. Much more have they rea-son to be solicitous, when their horrid cause not only wants evidence, nor hath hitherto preiende <^an never be made, our experience, both that hiiherto it hath not been, and that it would have been if it could, miffht render us tolerably secure. For surely it may well tie .sunpased, that in a world so many atres lost in wickedness, nil imaginable trials would have been made to di--l)iirlhen it of religion ; and somewhat that had been s[)ecious ai least, to that purpose, had been hit upon, if the matter had been any ways possible. And the more wicked the world hath been, sodireetlyconlrarv and .so continually assaulted a principle, not vet vanquished, appears the more plainly invincible. And that the assaults have been from the lusts of men. rather than their rea.son. shows the more evidently, that their reason hath only wanted a ground to work upon, which if it could have been found, their lusts had certainly pressed it lo iheirservice in this warfare, and not lia\e endured, rather, the molestation of continual checks and rebukes from it. Nor need ive yet to let our minds hang in suspen.se, or be in a dubious expectation, that possibly some or other great wit may arise, that shall perform some great thing in this matter, and discover the groundlessness and folly of religion, by plain and undeniable reasons that have not !is yet been tliought on; but betake ourselves to a stricter and closer consideration of our own grounds, which if we can once find lo be certainly true, we may be sure they are of eternal truth, and no possible contrivance or device can ever make them lal.se VI. Having therefore seen what comvwn consent may contribute to the establishing of them jointly ; we may now anply ourselves to consider and search into each of them (so far as they arc capable of a distinct considera- tion) severally and ajiaii. Having still his mark in our eye, our own confirmation and excitation in reference lo what is the proper work and bi^sinessof a temple, religion and conversation with God : how little soever any en- deavour in this kind may be apt to signify with the other- wise-minded. VII. And, first, for the existence of God ; that we may regularly and with evidence make it out lo ourselves, that he is, or drith exist, and may withal see what the belief of his existence will contribute towards the evincing of the reasonableness of erecting a temple to him. It is requisite that we first settle a true notion of him in our minds ; or be at an agreement with ouiselves, what it is that we mean, or would have lo be signified by the name of God : other- wise we know not what we seek, nor when we have found him. And though we must beforehand professedly avow, thai we take him to be such a one a.s we can never compre- hend in our thoughts; that this knowledge is too excellent for us, or he is more excellent than that we can perfectly know him; yet it will be suflicient to guide us in our search alter his existence, if we can give such a descrip- tion, or assign such certain characters of his being, as will severally or together distinguish him from all things else. For then we shall be able to call him by his own name, and say, This is God ; whatever his being may con- ta.n more, or whatsoever other pro^vriics may belong to it, beyond what we can as yet comjia-ss in ourpresent thoughts of'him. VIII. And such an account Ave shall haveof what weare inquiring after, if we have the conception in our minds of an eternal, uncau.sed, independent, necessary' Being, that hath active power, life, wisdom, goodness, and whatsoever other supposable excellency, in the highest perfection originally, in and of itself Such a being we would with common consent express by the name of God. Even they that would profess to deny or doubt of his existence, yet mu.st aclmowledge this to be the noiion of that which they deny or douM of Or if they should say this is not it, or (which is all one') that they do not deny or doubt of the existence of sucn a Bein? as this; they on the other hand that would argue for his existence, may conclude the cau.se is yielded them; Mis being that which they designed to contend for. It must indeed be acknowledged, that some things be- longing to the notion of God might have been more ex- pressly named. But it was not necessarj- they should, neing sufficiently included here, as will afterwards appear: nor perhaps so convenient; some things, the express men- tion whereof is omitted, being such as more captious per- sons might be apt at first to startle at; who yet may possibly, as they are insinuated under other expressions, iH'come by degrees more inclinable to receive them after- wards And however if this be not a fvU and adequote notion, (as who can ever tell when we have an express, dis- tinct, particular noiion of Gnip«.iwedby tlK-ir con\'eniency ; a* ttiey may porttaps linil wim snail make tnal how to fx- [ross Uie icDse intpnuod by tnem in otlH-r wi,rd^. And Uipy am usim] with- out nupicion, Uiat it can bo tlKmyht thcv arc meant to Bignify an ifcvf-r Qod itavc unpnal to hnm,.]l'; tait in tno negative sense, that lie never received it from any other : yea. and that lio is. what Ls more than equivalent to his tK'inf. ■rir-eauscd ; namely, a Reiiiff of himselt' so excellent as not to ne«l oc be capable to admit any cause Vid. c. 4. Sect 3. Ami with the ck- reclation of the same allowance which hath been |n%-en to (itTdirio,, or other lake words. We also take it for cranled, (which it may suffice to hint here uoce fur all.) that when we use here tlie wont ttif-tubtUtrnt. it will tM> under- itond we intend by it, (without loirical or melapn)-Bical nicety,) not the mere exdusiiin of dependence uo a sutuoct. but on a cnu-so. 4 .\'\i\ i\ b..||i,T tiy the way tliis will not aifonl us (Ihoujrh that be none '.: .in.-.*s) plain evidence that Umre can be no such thinr as r iniiUcr, mav be exiunined by such as think 111 to ^ve < '*iun. For let it lie oinsitlcred, if every jtart and |»ar. ■i ■ i;' the matter of this universe were itself a necessary l>..^.. . .- ir from all eternity, it must have not only its simple beiNjr, t«i( il« Isiiiir such or such, of itself necessarily; or mther every thin^ of it, - TiOtinn among themselves, renui- ion. till they shall i thereto, but only of their (iffii aptly to be disposed in Ihe no cnaDge possible) For supihim one of these narlides from eternity of or such a figure, a* tn.mgular. Iwioked, Ac how. can it lose anv thing fnim itself, oc suffer any ullenitiun i»fits figure which essentially and necessarilv belonged to it from eternity ) That to which it is neci.siiary lo be such it is mposflible to it nirf inU. such. Or suppose no alteration of figure (which Epwurus admits not) i "^ ■ Iweome coni-enicntly s possible. Because you could be given how other things came to be. But what ! doth it signify any thing towards the giving an account of, the original of all other things, tosuppose only an eternal, self-suteisting, unactive being ? Did that cause other things to be 1 Will not their own breath choke them it they attempt to utter the self-contradicting word.s, an un- active cause (t. e. efficient or author) of any thing. And do they not see they are as far from their mark ; or do no more towards the a.ssigning the original of all other things, by supposing an eternal, unactive being only, than if they supposed none at all. That which can - I . But if it he here necessarily, (that is, in this or ifuil [.. . [ • r 111 some or oth'.r it roust be, and it cannot be hire and In. r. '; Ml II iiiii-t ls> heie eternally, and can never not be here. Th,.re. li.i.- M<- (.11, ii.i.i- no notion of necivarily alterable or movealile matter, which IS not uieonMsleiit and n>inignant lo itaelf Therefore also motion must proceed from an immoveable mover, as hath been (though ujsin another ground) concluded of old. But how action tut extra stands with the immutability of tin' I)eit». must be feich,.d fmm the coiisidi-mtion of otlier perfections belonging thereto. Of which metnphi-sicians and school, men may be con-sulled, disctsusing at large. See Suarez. Ledrjitna it ttt- rina prrffcrionf. wnlh many more, at k-lsure. Whatsoever difficulty we may apprehend : lind forcsi-eing peifecUy all futurity, togetlie Mi,i ■„.„,,..„ .«..„-, .... . ,. ~, ...... eternal detemiination ef will concerning the existence ot such and *uch things to such an instant or point of time, can suffice to tla ir rrr^duction witlHiut a suiier.add«.d efflux of power at that instant ; w bich would seem lo infer somewhat of mutation: yet as the former i.f tlio,. cannot be de. nion«lratower. in piir>iiinnre lo a calm, complacenliul. eienml imrpose ; for the production oflhis orealiire niiiiie bv its own anion ; and the e emal, blind, ungosemed action of mult.r ui>in itself hv which it is i«'n»lually changing itself, while yet it is supis.si'd n>.c(.ssanly what it was Is. fore And how much more easily ruiir. iwiM.- tlmi i«. than this ; how also liberty of action oonsisls with ne. ... divers ha*-o showni to which purpose somewhat not '-' seen. Ficin fiA. H cap. 12. dc immorttd. 4-c, But in ■I. iirvtence to imagine a difficulty. For our own l«.inf, . . t as to us is necirtsan', t & it is imposisl upon us ; ... i„.;nr hv n„r .>wn choicc ; and jec are conscioua to our* litieny of acting. Vc«. and not only doth fhune no imagination of the existence of tins I THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part I. But if it be said, though eternity be not the measure of one chanpje, it may be of infinite changes, endlessly suc- ceeding one another; even this also will be found contra- dictious and impossible. For, (not to trouble the reader with the more intricate controversy of the possibility or impossibility of infmite or eternal succession, about which they who have a mind may consult others,') if this signify any thing to the present purpose, it must mean the infinite or eternal changes of a necessary being. And how these very terms do clash with one another, methinks any .sound mind might apprehend at the first mention of them; and how manifestly repugnant the things are, may be collected from what hath been said ; and especially from what was thought more fit to be anne.xed in the margin. But now since we find that the present slate of things is changeable,and actually changing, and that what is change- able is not nece.ssarily,and of itself; and since it is evident that there is some necessary being; (otherwise nothing could ever have been, and that without action nothing could be from it ;) since also all change imports somewhat of passion, and ail pa.ssion supposes action, and all action active power, and active power an original seal or subject, that is self-active, or that hath the power of action hi and of itself; (for there could be no derivation of it from that which hath it not, and no first derivation, but from that which hath it originally of itself; and a iirst derivation there must be, since all things that are, or ever have been, furnished with it, and not of themselves, must either me- diately or inunediately have derived it from that which had it of itself ;) it is therefore manifest that there is a neces- sary, self-active Being, the Cause and Author of this per- petually variable state and frame of things. And hence, XV. 6. Since we can frame no notion of life which self-active power doth not, at least, comprehend, (as upon trial we shall find that we cannot,) it is consequent, that this Being is also originally vital, and the root of all vi- tality, such as hath life in or of itself, and from whence il is propagated to every other living thing." And so as we plainly see that this sensible world did sometime begin to be, il is also evident that it took its be- ginning from a Being essentially vital and active, that had itself no beginning. Nor can we make a difficulty to conclude, that this Being (which now we have shown is active, and all action implies .some power) is, XVI. 7. Of va.st and mighty power, (we will not say infinite, lest we should step too far at once ; not mind- ing now to discuss whether creation require infinite power,) when we consider and contemplate the vastness of the work performed by il. Unto which (if we were to make our estimate by nothing else) we must, at least, judge this power to be proportionable. For when our eyes behold an eflect exceeding the power of any cause which they can behold, our mind must step in and supply the defect of our feebler sense ; so as to make a judgment that there is a cause we see not, equal to this effect. As when we behold a great and magnificent fabric, and en- tering in we see not the nnuster, or any living thing, (which was Cicero's observation" in reference to this present purpose,) besides mice and weasels, we will not think that mice or weasels built it. Nor need we in a matter so obvious, insist further. But only when our se- verer reason hath made us confess, our further contem- plation should make us admire, a power which is at once Doth so apparent and so stupendous. Corollary. And now, from what hath been hitherto discoursed, it seems a plain and necessary consectn- ry, that this world had a cause diverse from the mat- ter whereof it is composed. For otherwise matter that liaili been more generally t Parkrr T.-nlnm. l^hynico-Thool. Doroiloii. IMiiliw. ront. Dr. Mon'a En chirid. MotaiihvH. u Which will nliiii pmvo it lo ho n Sptrit ; iitilo whirli onliT iif Mnfn t'^ BcniinI vilntitv. or llial liCi' tm cmiontinl to thitm. 4in4 um «)i.(tine\iiflhiiitf a i>rt> fidrty lictwprn il and II IxMly, an any olhor wii rnii fii^trn iiiMin ; that i«, tlmi thoujfli a iNNly niny l>o truly Haid to livii, yet il livi<« by a lili> Ihiit i* acridi'ittal. ond Hnparabln from it, so m Ihat il may ctM*o to hvo. and yd Imi a Ukly 8lilt : wlion^aM a npint Hvofl by ilH own flmcnco ; no Uuil il can nii morn ron«ic to livi< Uiaji Ui bo. And u whore that cidcnce i» bonuwud and durivcd only, an it is taken to be of itself altogether unactive, must be stated the only cause and fountain of all the action and motion thai is now to be found in the whole universe : which is a conceit, wild and absurd enough ; not only as it opposes the common judgment of such as have with the greatest diligence inquired into things of this nature, but as being in itself manifestly impossible to be true ; as would easily appear, if il were needful to pre.ss further Dr. More's» rea-sonings to this purpose ; which he hath done snlficient- ly for himself And also that otherwise all the great and undeniable changes which continually happen in it most proceed from its own constant and eternal action upon itself, while it is yet feigned to be a necessary being ; with the notion whereof they are notoriously inconsistent. Which there, fore we taking to be most clear, may now the more .se- curely proceed to what follow. CHAPTER III. Windom UBcrted to belong to t)ii». 2. How little lo the purpose. The powers of the human soul. II ajipears, vntwitfuitandiiig tliein. it hail a cause ; bt/ Ihcm. I. We therefore add, that this Being is wise and in- telligent, as well as powerful ; upon the verj" view ofthis world, it will appear .so va.st power was guided by equal wi.sdom in the framing of il. Though this is wont to be the principal labour in evincing the existence of a Deiiy, namely, the proving that this universe owes its rise to a wi.se and designing cause ; (as may be seen in Cicero's excellent performance in this kind, and in divers later writers ;) yet the placing so much of their endeavour herein, seems in great part to have proceeded hence, that this hath been cho.sen for the great medium to prove that it had a cause diverse from itself But if that once be done a shorter way, and it fully appear that this world is not itself a neces.sary being, having the power of all the action and motion to be found in it, of itself; (which already seems plain enough ;) and it do most evidently thence also appear to have had a cau.se foreign to, or distinct from, itself; though we shall not there- fore the more carelessly consider this .subject ; yet no place of doubt seems to remain, but that this was an fn/f///gen< ciiiise, and that this world was the product of wisdom and counsel, and not of mere power alone. For what imagi- nation can be more grossly absurd, than to suppo.se litis orderly frame of things to have been the result of so mighty power, not accompanied or guided by wisdom and counsel ? that is, (as the ca.se musl now unavoidably be understood,) that there is some being necessarily existent, of an es-sentially active nature, of inconceivably va.st and mighty power and vigour, destitute of all under- standing and knowledge, and consequently of any self- moderating principle, but acting always hy the necessity of ils own nature, and therefore lo its very utterniosi, that raised up all the alterable matter of the universe (to whose nature it is plainly repugnant tobeof itself, or exist III Mlurhi'n D. Canw Prinnp. PhilaMph. put I And that such an increase could not, upon the supposi- tion we are now opposing, but have been, is most evident. For, not to insist that notning of impressed motion is ever lost, but only imparted to other thmgs, (which they that suppose it, do not tktrtfore suppose, as if they thought, bemg once impressed, it could continue of itself, but that there is a constant, equal supply from the first mover,) we will admit that there is a continual decrease, or loss, but never to the degree of its continual increase. For we see when we throw a stone out of our hand, whatever of the impres-sed force it do impart to the air, through which it makes its way, or not being received, vani^hes of itself, it yet retains a part a considerable time, that carries it all the length of its journey, and all does not vanish and die away on the sudden. Therefore, when we here consider the continual, momenlly renewal of the same force, always necessarily going forth from the same mighty Agent, with- out any moderation or restraint; ever)' following impetus doth so immediately overtake the former, that whatever we can suppose lost, is yet so abundantly over-supplied, that, upon the whole, it cannot fail to be ever growing, and to have grown to that all-destroying excess before mentioned. Whence, therefore, that famed restorer and improver of some principles of the ancient philosophy, hath .seen a necessity to acknowledge it, as a manifest thing, " That Gfod him.self is the universal and priniarv cause of all the motions that are in the world, who in the beginning created matter, together with motion and rest; and doth now, by his ordinarj' concourse only, continue so much of motion and rest in it, as he first put into it. — For (saith he) we understand it as a perfection in God, not only that he is unchangeable in himself, but that he works afltr a most constant and unchangeable manner. So that, excepting those changes which either evident experience or divine revelation renders cerlain, and which we know or believe to be without change in the Creator, we ought to suppose none in his works, lest thereby any inconstancy should be argued in himself."" Whereupon he grounds the laws and rules concerning motion, which he afterwards lays down, whereof we referred to one, a little above. It is therefore evident, that as without the supposition of a self-aclire Being there could be no such thing as motion ; so without the supposition of an inlellignt Being, (that is, that the same Being be both sdf-adite and intelligent,) there could be no rc/r«/ar motion; such as is absolutely necessary to the fonning and continuing of any the com- pacted, bodily substances, which our eyes behold every day : yea, or of any whatsoever, suppose we their figures, or shapes, to be as rude, deformed, and useless, as Me can imagine; much less, -such as the exquisite compositions, and the exact order of things, in the imiverse, do evidently re(]uire and discover. III. And if there were no such thing carried in this sup- position, as is positively adverse to what is supposed, so as most certainly to hinder it, (as we see plainly there is,) yet the mere want of what is necessary to such a produc- tion, is enough to render it impossible, and the suppasition of it absurd. For it is not only absurd to suppose a pro- duction which somewhat shall certainly resist and hinder, but which wants a cau.se to efl'ect it ; and it is not less absurd, to suppiwe it affected by a manifestly insufficient and unproportiiinable cause, than by none at all. For as nothing can he produced without a cause, so no cause can work above or beyond its o«Ti capacilv and natural apti- tude. Whatsoever therefore is a.scribed to any cause, above and beyond its ability, all that surplusage is ascribed to no cause at all : and so an effect, in thai part at least, were supposed without a cause. And if then it fiillow when an effect is produced, that it had a cause ; why doth it not equally follow, when an effect is proiluccd, having mani- fest characters of wisdom and desisrn upon il, that it had a wi.se and designing cause 1 If ii be .saul, there be some fortuitous or casual (at least undesiirncd) productions, that look like the effects of wisdom and contrivance, but indeed arc not, as the birds so orderly and .seasonably making iheir nesLs, the bees their comb, and the spider its web, which are capable of no design : that exception needs to be well proved before it be admitted ; and that it be plainly demonstrated, both that these creatures are not capable of design, and that there is not a universal, designing cause, 16 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PjlbtI. from whose direclivc as well a.s operative influence, no imaginable eflecl or event can be exempted; (in which case it wiJl no more be necessary, that every creature that is observed steadily to work towards an end, should itself design and know it, than that an artificer's tools should know what he is doing with them; but if they do not, it is plain he must ;) and surely it lies upon them who so ex- cept, to prove ui this ca-se what they say, and not be so precarious as to beg or think us so easy, as to grant so much, only because they have thought fit to say it, or would fain have it so. That is, that this or that strange event happened without any designing cause. IV. Bui, however, I would demand of such as make this exception, whether they think there be any effect at all, to which a designing cause was necessary, or which they will judge impossible to have been otherwise pro- duced, than by the direction and contrivance of wisdom and tounsen I little doubt but there are thousands of things, laboured and wrought by the hand of man, con- cemmg which they would presently, upon first sight, pro- nounce they were the effects of skill, and not of chance; yea, if they only considered their frame and shape, though they yet understood not their use and end. They would surely think (at least) some effects or other sufhcient to argue to us a designing cause. And would they hut so- berly consider and resolve what characters or footsteps of wisdom and design might be reckoned sufficient to put us out of doubt, would they not, upon comparing, be brought to acknowledge there are no wnere any more conspicuous and manifest, than in the things daily in view, that go or- dinarily, with us, under the name of the works of nalurc 7 Whence it is plainly consequent, that what men com- monly call universal nature, if they would be content no longer to lurk in the darkness of an obscure and uninter- preted word, they must confess is nothing else but cmt- mon providence, that is, the universal pmvcr which is every- where active in the world, in conjunction with the vtier- ring icisilom which guides and moderates all its exertions and operations; or the wisdom which directs and governs that power. Otherwise, when they see cause to acknow- ledge that such an exact order and disposition of parts, in very neat and elegant compositions, doth plainly argue wisdom and skill in the contrivance ; only they will dis- tinguish, and say, It is so in the effects of art, but not of nature. What is this, but to deny in particular what they granted in general 1 to make what they have said signify nothing more than if they had said. Such exqui- site order of parts is the effect of wisdom, where it is the effect of wisdom, but it is not the effect of wisdom, where it is not the effect of wisdom 1 and to trifle, instead of giving a reason why things are so and so 1 And whence take they their advantage for this trifling, or do hope to hide their folly in it, but that they think, while what is meant by art is known, what is meant by nature cannot be known I But if it be not known, how can they tell but their distinguishing members are co- incident, and run into one 1 Yea, and if they would allow the thin;; itself to speak, and the effect to confess and dictate the name ol its own cause, how plain is it that tliey do run into one, and that the expression imports no impropriety which we somewhere find in Cicero; 'I'hi art of nature ; or rather, that nature is nothing else but divine art, at least in as near an analogy as there can be, between any things di- vine and human. For, that this matter (even the thing itself, waving for the present the consideration of names') may be a little more narrowly discussed and seAiched into, let some curious piece of workmanship be otlered to such a sceptic's view, the making whereof lie did not see, norof any thing like it ; and we will suppose him not told that this was made by the hand of any man, nor that he hath any thing to guide his judtrincnt about the way of its becoming what it is, but only his own view of the thing itself; and yet he shall presently, without hesitation, pro- nounce. This was the effect of much skill. I would here inquire, Why do you so pronounce 1 Or, What is the rea- son of this your judgment ^ Surely ho would nul say he hath no reason al nil for this so confident and unwavering determination ; for then he would not be determined, but speak by chance, and be indifferent to say that, or any thing else. Somewhat or other there must be, that, when he is asked. Is this the effect of skill? shall so suddenly and irresistibly captivate him into an assent that it is, that he cannot think otherw ise. Nay, if a thou.sand men were asked the same question, they would as undoubtedly say the same thing ; and then, since there is a reason for this judgment, what can be devised to be the reaMin, but that there are so manifest characters and evidences of skill in the composure, as are not attributable to any thing else 1 Now here I would further demand. Is there any thing in this reason, yea, or no? Doth it signify any thing, or is it of any value to the purpose for which it is alleged 1 Surely it is of very great, inasmuch as, when it is con- sidered, it leaves it not in a man's power to think aiyr thing else ; and what can be said more potently and effi- caciously to demonstrate 1 But now, if this reason signify any thing, it signifies thus much ; that wheresoever there are equal characters, and evidences of skiJl, (at least where there are equal, J a skilful agent must be acknow- ledged. And so it will (in spile of cavil) conclude uni- versally, and abstractedly from what we can suppose dis- tinctly signified by the terms of art, and natun, that what- soever effect hath such or equal characters of skill upon it, did proceed from a skilful cause. That is, that if this effect be said to be from a skilful cause, as such, (li.^. as having manifest characters of skill upon it,) then, every such effect, {viz. that hath equally manifest characters of skill upon it,) must be, with equal reason, concluded to be from a skilful cause. We will ack-now'ledge skill to act, and wit to contrive, very distinguishable things, and in reference to some works, (as the making some curious fli//o7nfl(on, or self-moving engine,) are commonly lodged in divers subjects; that is, the contrivance exercises the wit and invention of one, and the making, the manual dexterity and skill of others: but the manifest characters of both will be seen in the ef- fect. That is, the curious elaborateness of each several part shows the latter ; and the order and dependence of parts, and their conspiracy to one common end, the former. Each betokens design ; or at least the smith or carpenter must be understood to design his own part, that is, to do as he was directed: both together, do plainly bespeak an agent, that knew what he did ; and that the thing was not done by chance, or was not the casual product of only being busy at random, or making a careless stir, with- out aiming at any thing. And this, no man that is in his wits, would, upon sight of the whole frame, more doubt to assent unto, than that two and two make lour. And he would certainly be thought mad, that should pro- fess to think that only by some one's making a blustering stir among several small fragments of brass, iron, and wood, these parts happened to be thus curiously formed, and came together into this frame, of their own accord. Or lest this should be thought to intimate too rude a representation of their conceit, who think this world to have fallen into this frame and order, wherein it is, by the agi- tation of the moving jiarts, or particles of matter, without the direction of a wise mover; and that we mav also make the case as plain as is possible to the most ordinary capacity, we will suppose (for instance) that one who had never before seen a watch, or any thing of that sort, hath now this little engine first otlered to his i-iew; can we doubt, but he would upon the mere sight of its figure, structure, and the very curious workmanship which we will suppose appearinir in it, presently acknowledge the artificers hand 1 But if he were also made to understand the use and purpose for which it serves, and it w'erc dis- tinctly shown him how each thing contributes, and all things in this little fabric concur to this purpose, the exact mea.sur- ing and dividing of time by mmules, hours, and months, he would certainly both confess and praise the great inge- nuiiv of the first inventor. But now if a by-slander, be- holding him in this admiralion, would undertake to show a profoundor reach and strain of wii, and should sav. Sir, you are mistaken concerning the composilion of t)iis so iiinch admired piece ; il was not made or designed by the hanil or skill of anyone; there were only an innumerable company of little atoms or very small bodies, much too small to be perceived by yourseiise, that were busily fri.sk- ingand plying to and fro about the place of its nativity; and by a strange chance (or a .stranger fate, and ihe necessary Ch»p. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. n laws of that motion which they were unavoidably put into, by a certain boisterous, unJesigning mover) iney fell together into this small bulk, so as to compose it into this very shape and figure, and with thi-s same number and order of parts which you now behold: one squadron of these busy particles (little thinking what they were about) agreeing to make up one wheel, and another some other, in that proportion which you see : others of them nl.so falling, and becomins fixed in so happy a p', (concerning which the common saying is as applicable, more frequently wont to be applied to matters of morality, "Goodness is from the concivrrence of all causes ; evil from any defect,") enc/i so aptly and opportunely serving its own proper use, and all one common end, certainly to say that so manifold, so regular, and stated a subserviency to that end, and the end itself, were undesigned, and things casually fell out thus, is to say we know or care not w'hat. We will only, before we clo,se this consideration, con- cerning the mere frame of a human body, (which hathbeen so hastily and superficiallv proposed,) offer a supposition which is no more strange (excluding the vulgar notion by which nothing is strange, but what is not common) than the thing itself, as it actually is ; riz. That the whole more external covering of the body of a man were made, instead of skin and flesh, of some very transparent sub- stance, flexible, but clear as ver\- crystal; through which, and the other more inward (aiid as transparent) integu- ments or enfoldings, we could plainlyperceive ihesituaiion and order of all the internal parts, and how they each of them perform their distinct ofticcs : if we could discern the continual motion of the blood, how it is conveyed by its proper conduits, from its first source and fountain, partly downwards to the lower entrails, (if rather it ascend not from thence, as at least what afterwards becomes blood doth,) partlv upwards, to its admirable elaboratory, the heart ; where it is refined and fnrnishcd with fresh vital spirits, and so transmitted thence by the distinct vessels prepared for this purpose: could we perceive the curiou."! contrivance of tho,se little doors, by which it is let in and out, on this side and on that; the order and course of its circulation, its most commodious distribution by two social channels, or conduit-pipes, that every where accompany one another throughout the body: could we discem the curious artifice of the hrnin, its ways of purgation ; and were it possible to pry into the secret chambers and receiv tides ot the le.ss or more pure spirits there ; perceive theii manifold conveyances, and the rare texture of that net, commonly called the xmndrrfvl ime: could we behold the veins, arteries, and nerves, all of them arising from their Willi ; a* Companclla in Ihftt raplurotia discouno of his Alhoismiw Iriumphtt- Urn. „.^ f Not! prorfost cibuii nr*i\ie cotpori ftccpdit qiii RtaUm sumplua cmimtuT. Sclicca ton onolber occiwion,) Chap. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 19 proper and distinct originals ! and their orderly dispersion lor ihc most pari, by pairs and conjiipitions, on this side and thai, from the miilclle of the back; with the curiou-sly wrought branches, » hith, supposing these to appear duly diversified, a.s .so many more duskisn .strokes in this trans- parent frame, they would be found to make throughout the wliole of it ; were every smaller fibre thus made at once dis- cernible; especially those innumerable threads into which the spinal inarrow'is distributed at the bottom of the back : and could we, through the some medium, perceive thase numerous little machines made to serve unto voluntary motions, (which in the whole body are computed, by some,s to the number of four himdred and thirty, or thereabouts, or so many of them as according to the present supposi- tion could possibly come in view,) and discern their com- position ; their various and elegant figures — round, square, long, triangular, &c. and behold them do their ollices, and see how they ply to and fro, and work in their respective places, as any motion is to be performed by them: were all these things, 1 say, thus made liable to an easy and distinct view, who would not admiringly cr>- out. Haw fearfMlly and wmukrfuUy am I made J And sure there is no man sober, who would not, upon such a sight, pro- nounce that man mad, that should suppose such a produc- tion to have been a mere tindesiened CMSuaUy. At least, if there he any thing in the world thai may be thought to carry svjkicnlly convincing evidences in it, of its haWng been made industriously, and on purpose, not by chance, would not this composition, thus offered to view, be esteemed to do so much morel Yea, and if it did only bear upon it chariuUrs equally evidential, of wisdom and design, with ickal doth certainly so, though in the lowest degree, it were sufficient to evince our present purpose. For i{ me such instance as this wouhl bring the matter no higher than to a bare equality, that would at least argue a maker of man's body, as wi.se, and as properly designing, as the artificer of any such slighter niece of workmanship, that may yet, certainly, be concluded the effect of skill and design. And then, enough might be said, from other instances, to manifest him unspeakably superior. And that the matter would be brought, at least, to an equality, upon the supposition now made, there can be no doubt, if any one be judge that hath not abjured his understanding and his eyes together. And what then, if we lay aside that supposition, (which only .somewhat gratifies fancy and imairination,) doth that alter the ca.se 1 Or is there the less of wisdom and contrivance expressed in this work of form- ing man's body, only for that it is not so easily and sud- denly obvious to our sight 1 Then we might with the same reason say, concerning some curious piece of carved work, that is thought fit to be kept locked up in a cabinet, when we .see it, that there was admirable workmanship shown in doing it ; but as soop as it is again shut up in its repository-, that there was none at all. Inasmuch as we speak of the objective characters of wisdom and design, that are in the thing itself, (though they must .some way or other come under our notice, othenvise we can be capa- ble of arguing nothing from them, yet,) since we have suf- ficient a.>isurance that there really are such characters in the structure of the body of man as have been mentioned, and a lhou.sand more than have been thought nece.ssar\' to be mentioned here ; it is plain that the greater or less facility of finding them out, so that we be at a certaintv that they are, (whether by the slower and more gradual search of our own eves, or by relying upon the testimony of such as have purchased themselves that satisfaction by their own labour and diligence,) is merely accidental to the thing itself we are discoursing of; and neither adds to, nor de- tracts from, the rational evidence of the present argument. Or if it do either, the more alvstntse paths of divine wis- dom in this, as in other things, do rather recommend it the more to our adoration and reverence, than if ever)- thing were obvious, and lay open to the first glance ot' a more careless eye. The things which we are sure (or may be, if we do not shut our eyes) the wise Maker of this w-orld hath done, do sufficiently serve to assure us that he could have done this also; that is, have made every thing in the frame and shape of our bodies conspicuous in the way but t Rlolanii« h Parker TentAnu Phvsico.ThcoL now supposed, if he had thought it fit. He hath done greater things. And since he hath not thought UuU fit, we may be bold to say, the doing of it would signify more trifling, and less design. It gives ns a more amiable and comelv representation of the Being we are treating of, that his' works are less for ostentation than use; and that his wisilom and other attributes appear in them rather to the instruction of sober, than the gratification of vain minds. We may therefore confidently conclude, that the figura- tion of the human body carries with it as manifest, un- questionable evidences of design, as any piece of human artifice, that most confes.sedly, in the judgment of any man, doth so; and therefore had as certainly a designing cause. We may challenge the world to show a disparity, unless it be that the advantage is unconceivably great on our side. For would not any one that hath not abandoned at once both his rea.sonh and his modesty, be ashamed to confess and admire the skill that is show'n in making a siatvie, or the picture of a man, that (as one ingeniously say.s) is but the shadow of his skin, and deny the wi.sdom that ap- pears in the composure of his biJdy itself, that contains so numerous and so various engines and instruments for sundn,- purposes in it, as that it is become an art, and a very laudable one, but to discover and find out the art and skill that are shown in the contrivance and forma- tion of them 1 VIII. It is in the mean time strange to consider from how different and contrar)- causes it proceeds, that the wise Contriver of this fabric hath not his due acknow-ledgments on the account of it. For with some, it proceeds from their supine and drowsy ignorance, and that they little know or think what prints and footsteps of a Deity they carrj- about them, in their bone and flesh, in every part and vein and limb. With others, (ns if too much learning had made them mad, or an excess of light had struck them into mopish blindness, )lhe-sethingsare -so well known and seen, so common and obvious, that they are the less regarded. And because they can give a very punctual account IKal tliines arc sn, they think it, now, not worth the consider- ing, /4otr tkey come to be sn. They can trace all these hidden paths and footsteps, and therefore all seems very easy, and thev give over wondering. As they that w-ould cleiract fmin Columbus's acquists of glon,- by the discover)- he had made of America.i by pretending the achievement was CH-sy; whom he ingeniously rebuked, by challenging them to rnake an egg stand erect, alone, upon a plain table; w-hich when none of them could do, he only by a gentle bruising of one end of it makes it stand on the table with- out other support, and then tells them this was more easy than his voyage to America, now they had .seen it done; before, thev knew not how to go about it. Some may think the contrivance of the body ofaman,orotheranimal, easy, now thev know it ; but had they been to project such a model without a pattern, or any thing leading thereto, how- miserable a loss had they been at ! How- ea.sy a con- fession had been drawn from them of the finger of God, and how- silent a submi.ssion to his just triumph over their and all human wit, when the most admired performances in this kind, by any mortal, have been only faint and in- finitely distant imitations of the works of (Sod ! As is to be seen in the so much celebrated exploits of Posidonius, Regiomontanus, and others of this sort. IX. And now if any should be either so incurably blind as not to perceive, or so perversely wilful as not to acknow- ledge an appearance of w-i.sdom in the frame and figuration of the body of an animal (peculiarly of man) more than equal to what appears in any the most excpiisiie piece of human arlifire, and which no wit of man can ever liilly imitate; although, as hath been .said, an acknowledged equality would sulfice to evince a wise maker thereof, yet because it is the existence of God we are now speaking of, anil that it is therefore not enough to evince, but to mag- nify, the wisdom we would a.scrihe to him; we shall pa.ss from the pans and frame, to the consideration of the more principal powers and functions of terrestrial creatures; ascending from such as agree to the less perfect orders of these, to those of the more perfect, riz. of man himselC i ArclibulK>p Atilxtt's Geof. ao THE LIVING TEMPLE. PlRT 1. And surely to have been the Author of faculties that shall enable to such functions, will evidence a wisdom that defies our imitation, and will dismay the attempt of it. We begin with that u{ grmtth. Many sorts of rare en- gines we acknowledge contrived by the wit of man, but who hath ever made one that couKl grow, or that had in it a self-improving power 1 A tree, an herb, a pile of grass, may upon this account challenge all the world to make such a thing. That is, to implant the power of growing into any thing to which it dotk not natively belong, or to make a thing to which it doth. By what art would they make a seed 1 And which way would they inspire it with a seminal forml And they that think thiswhole globe of the earth was compacted by the casual (or fatal) coalition of particles of matter, by what magic would they conjure so many to come together as should make one clod ! We vainly hunt with a lingering mind after miracles; if we did not more vainly mean by them nothing else but novelties, we are compa.ssed about with such. And the greatest miracle is, that we see ihem not. You with whom the daily productions of nature (a.s you call It) are so cheap, see ii you can do the like. Try your skill upon a rose. Yea, but you must hai'e pre- existent matter 1 But can you ever prove the Maker ol the world had so, or even defend the possibility of uncreated matter 1 And suppose they had the free grant of all the matter between tne crown of their head and the moon, could they tell what to do with it, or how to manage it, so a.s to make it yield them one single flower, that they might glory in, as their own production'? And what mortal man, that hath reason enough about him to be serious, and to think awhile, would not even be amazed at the miracle ofnutrition? Or that there are things in the world capable of nourishment 1 Or who would attempt an imitation here, or not despair to perform any thing like if! That is, to make any nourisnable thing. Are we not here infinitely oul-donel Do not we see our- selves compassed about with wonders, and are we not ourselves such, in that we see, and are creatures, from all whose parts there is a continual defluxion, and yet that receive a constant gradual supply and renovation, by which they are continued in the same state 1 As the bush burn- ing, hut not consumed. It is easy to give an artificial frame to a thing that shall gradually decay and waste till it quite be gone, and disappear. You can raise a structure of snow, that would .soon do that. But can your manual skill compose a thing that, like our bodies, shall be con- tinually melting away, and be continually repaired, through so long a tract of time1 Nay, but you can tell how it is done ; you know in what method, and by what instruments, food is received, concocted, separated, and so much as must serve for nourishment, turned into chyle, and that into blood, first grosser, and then more refined, and that distributed into all parts for this purpose. Yea, and what then ■? Therefore you are as wise as your Maker. Could you have made such a thing as the stomach, a liver, a heart, a vein, an artery 1 Or are you so very sure what the digestive quality is? 'Or if you are,and know what things best serve to maintain, to repair, or strengthen it ; who im- planted that quality ? both where it is so immediately useful, or in Ihc other things you would use for the servi<'c of that 1 Or how, if such things had not been prepaied to your hand, wotild you have rievised to persuade the par- ticles of matter into so useful and happy a conium-iure, as that such a quality might rc.Milt ! Or, (to speak more suit- ably to the most,) how, if you had not been shown the way, wouhl you have thougiit it were to be done, or which way would you have gone to work, to turn meat and-drink into flesh and blood 1 Nor is prcpa/ialitm of their mrtt kind, by the creatures that have that faculty implanted in them, less admirable, or more possible to be imitated by any human device. Such productions stay in their first descent. Who can, by his own contrivance, fmd out a way of making any thing that ran produce another like itself. What machine did ever man invent, that had this power 1 And the ways and means by which it is done, are such (though he that can do all things well knew how to compa.ss his ends k Dea Ctrtci de pawionibui ajlimn. put l. utriuo alibi. by them) as do exceed not our understanding only, but our wonder. And what shall we say oi spontaneous motion, wherewith we find also creatures endowed that are so mean and despicable in our eyes, (as well as ourselves,) that is, that so silly a thing as a fly, a gnat, Slk. should have a power in it to move itself, or stop its own motion, at its own pleasure 1 How far have all attempted imitations in this kind fallen short of this perfection 1 And how much more excellent a thing is the smallest and most contemptible insect, than the most admired machine we ever heard or read of; (as Archytas Tarentinus's dove, so anciently cele- brated ; or more lately, Rcgiomontanus's fly, or his eagle, or any the like;) not only as having this peculiar power, above any thing of this sort, but as having the sundry other pincers, besides, meeting in it, whereof these are wholly destitute 1 And should we go on to instance further in the several powers of sensation, both external and internal, the various instincts, appelitions, pas.sions, sympathies, antipathies, the powers ot memory, (and we might add, of speech,) that we find the inferior orders of creatures either generally fur- nished with, or some of them, as to this last, disposed unto. How should we even over-do the present business ; and too needlessly insult over human wit, (which we must suppose to have already yielded the cause,) in challenging it lo produce and offer to view a hearing, seeing engine, that can imagine, talk, is capable of hunger, thirst, of desire, anger, fear, grief, &c. as its own creature, concerning which it may glory and sa)', I have done this 1 Is it so admirable a performance, and so ungainsayable an evidence of skill and wisdom, with much labour and long travail of mind, a busy, restless agitation of working thoughts, the often renewal of frustrated attempts, the van,-ing of defeated trials; this wav and that at length to hit "upon, and by much pains, and with a slow, gradual progress, by the use of who can tell how many sundry sorts of instruments or tools, managed by more (possibly) than a few hands, by long hewing, hammering, turning, filing, to compose one only single machine of such a frame and structure, as that by the frequent reinforcement of a skilful hand, it may be capable of some (and that, other- wise, but a verv .short-lived) motion 1 And is it no argu- ment, or eflfect of wisdom, .so easily and certainly, without labour, error, or disappointment, to frame both so infinite a variety of kinds, and so innumerable individuals of every such kiiid of living creatures, that cannot only, with the greatest facility, move themselves with so many sorts of motitm, dowiiwards, upwards, to and fro, this way or that, with a progressive or circular, a swifter or a slower, motion, at their own pleasure ; but can also grow, propagate, see, hear, desire, joy, &c. ? Is this no work of wisdom, hut onlv'blind either fate or ohancel Of how strangely per- verse and odd a complexion is that understanding, (if vet it may he called an understanding,) that can make this judgment ! X. And thev think they have found oiit a rai;e k-nack, and that gives a great relief lo their diseased minds, who have learned lo call the bodies of living creatures, (even the human not excepted,) by way of diminution, machines, or n sort of automatons engines. But how little cause there is to hug or be fond of this fancy, would plainly appear, if, first, we would allow our- selves leisure to examine with kmn small prclene^ this ap- pellation is so placed and applied: and, next, if it be applied righllv, lo hmr little purpose it is alleged ; or that it signifies nothing to the exclusion of divme wisdom from the formation of them. And for the Jirst. because we know not a better, let it be considered how defective and unsatisfying the accoimt is, which the greaik and justly admired master in this faculty gives, how divers of those things, which he would have to be so, are performed only in the mechanical wav. .... For though his ingenuity must be ack-nowledged, in his mmli'si exception of sonic' noble operations belonging lo ourselves from coming under those rigid necessitating laws, yet certainly, lo the severe inquiry of one not partially addicted lo the senliments of so great a wit, because they were his, it would appear there are great defects, and many Chap. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. HI tilings yet wanting, in the account which is given us of same of the meaner of those lunclions, which he would attribute only to organized matter, or (to use his own expression) to the conformation of the members of the body, and the course of the spirits, excited by the heat of the heart, &c. For howsoever accurately he describes the instruments and the way, his account seems very little satisfying of th* principle, eitlier of spontaneous motion, or of sensation. As to the former, though it be very apparent that the muscles, seated in thai opposite posture wherein they are mostly found paired throughout the body, the nerves and the animal spirits in the brain, and(sU|)posewe)that;r;««- duU seated in the inmost part of it, are the instruments of the motion of the limbs and the whole body ; yet, what are all these to the prime causation, or much more, to the spon- taneity of this motion 1 And whereas, with us, (who are acknowledged to have such a faculty independent on the body,) an act of will doth so manifestly contribute, so that, when we will, our body is moved with so admirable faci- lity, and we feel not the cumbersome weight of an arm to be lifted up, or of our whole coporeal bulk, to be moved this way or thai, by a slower or swifter motion. Yea, and ■when as also, if we will, we can, on the sudden, in a verj- instant, start up out of the most composed, sedentary pas- ture, and put ourselves, upon occasion, into the most vio- lent course of motion or action. But if we have no such will, though we have the same agile spirits about us, we find no difficulty to keep in a posture of rest ; and are, for the most part, not sensible of any endeavour or urgency of those active particles, as if they were hardly to be restrained from putting us into motion ; and against a reluctant act of our will, we are not moved but with great difficuUv to them, and that will give themselves, and us, the trouble. This being, I say, the case with us; and it beiii.» al.so obvious to our observation, that it is so very much alike, in these mentioned respects, with brute creatures, how inconceivable is it, that the directive principle of their icoiions, and ours, should be so vastly and altogether unlike "! (whatsoever greater perfection is required, with us, as to those more noble and perfect functions and operations which are found to belong to us.) That is, that in us, an act of will should signify so very much, and be for the most part necessary to the beginning, the continuing, the slopping, or the va- rying of our motions; and in ihem, nothing like it, nor any thing else besides, only that corporeal principlei which he assi°Tis as common lo them and us, the continual heat in the heart, (which he calls a sort of fire.) nourished by the blood of the veins; the instruments of motion already men- tioned, and the various representations and impressions of external objects, as there and elsewhere"' he expresses him- self! Upon which last, (though much is unuoubtedly to be attributed to it,) that so main a stress should be laid, as to the diversifying of motion, seems strange; when we may observe so various motions of some silly creatures, as of a fly in our window, while we cannot perceive, and can scarce imagine, any change in external objects about them : yea, a swarm of flies, so variously frisking and plying to and fro, some this way. others that, with a thousand di- versities and interferings in their motion, and some resting; while things are in the same state, externally, to them all. So that what should can.se, or cease, or so strangely vary such motions, is from thence, or any thing else he hath .said, left unimaginable. As it is much more, how, in creatures of much strength, as a bear or a lion, a pan- should be moved sometimes sogentlv,andsometimcs with so mighty force, only by mere mechanism, without any directive principle, that is not altogether corporeal. But most of all, how the strange regularity of motion in some creatures, as of the spider in making its web, and the like, should be owing to no other than such causes as he hath assigned of the motions in general of brute creatures. And what though some motions of our own .seem wholly invo- luntary, (as that of our eyelids, in the case which he sup- poses,) doth it therefore follow they must proceed from a principle" only corporeal, as if our soul had no other act belonging to it, but that of willing 1 Which he doth not - p«rt I. art. 8. n De PlM. UL 19. DiMit dtntltod. downrieht say ; but that it is its only, or its chief act : and if It be its chief act only, what hinders but that such a motion may proceed from an act that is not chief! Or that it may have a power that may, sometimes, step forth into act (and in greater matters than that) without any formal deliberated command or direction of^our will? So little reason is there to conclude, that all our motions" common to us with beasts, or even their motions them- selves, depend on nothing else than the conformation of the members, and the course which the spirits, excited by the heat of the heart, do naturally follow, in the brain, the nerves, and the muscle.s, after the same mtinner with the motion of an automaton, &c. But as to the matter of unsation, his account seems much more defective and unintelligible, that is, how it should be performed (as he supposes every thing common to us with beasts may be) without a soul. For, admit that it be (as who doubts but it is) by the instruments Mhich he assigns, we are still to seek what is the sentient, or what nseth these instruments, and dothsenlire or exercise sense by them. That is, suppose it be performed in the brain,? and that (as he says) by the helpof the nerves, which from thence, like small strings,'' are stretched forth unto all the other members ; suppose wc have the three things to con- sider in the nerves, which he recites — their interior sub- stance, which extends itself like very slender threads from the brain to the extremities of all the other members into which they are knit; the verj- thin little skins which en- close these, and which, being continued with those that inwrap the brain, do compose the little pipes which contain these threads ; and lastly, the animal spirits which are conveyed down from the bram through these pipes — yet which of these is most subservient unto sense ? That he undertakes elsewhere' to declare, riz. that wc are not to think (which we also suppose) some nerves to serve for sense, others for motion only, as some have thought, but that the enclosed spirits serve for the motion of the mem- bers, and those little threads (also enclosed) for sense. Are we yet any nearer our purpose 1 Do these small threads sentire'! Are these the things that ultimately receive and discern the various impressions of objects'! And since they are all of one sort of substance, how comes it to pass that some of them are seeing threads, others hearing threads, others tasting, &c. Is it from the diverse and commodious figtiration of the organs unto which the.se descend from the brain ! But though we acknowledge and admire the curi- ous and exquisite formation of those organs, and their most apt usefulness (as organs, or instruments) to the purposes fur which they arc designed,yei what do they signify,with- out a proportion ably apt and able agent lo use them, or percipient to entertain and judge of the several notice.s, which by them are only transmitted from external things 1 That is,'suppose we a drop of ever .so pure and transparent liquor,or let there he three, diversely lincturedor coloured, and (lest they mingle) kept asunder by thei.- distinct, in- folding coats ; let these encompass one iheother, and toge- ther compose one little shining globe: aiv we satisfied that now this curious, pretty ball can see "> Nay. suppose we it ever so conveniently situate; suppose we the fore-men- tioned strings fastened to it, and these, being hollow, well replenished with as pure air or wind or gentle flame as you can imagine; yea, and all the before-de.scribed little threads to boot; can it yet do the feat 1 Nay, suppose we all things else lo concur that we can suppose, except a living principle. (call thai by what name you will.) and is it not still as incapable of the act of seeing, as a ball of clay or a pebble stone ! Or can the substance of the brain ii.self perform that or any other act of sense, (for it is superfluous to speak disiinrtly of the rest,) any more than the pulpof an apple or a dish of curds? So' that, trace this matter whither you will, within the compass of yonr a.ssigned limits, aiid vou are still at the same loss: range through the whole body, and what can you find but flesh and bones, marrow and blood, strings and threads, humour and vapour; and which of these is capable of .sense ? These are your materials and such like; order them as you will, put ihem into what method you can devise, and except p Phnci))- PbilosoplL S«cL 199. r Diopu. c. 4. S. «, i. THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part I you can make il live, you cannot make it so much as feel, iDuCii less perform all other acts ol' sense besides, unio which these tools alone seem as unproporiionable, as a plough-sh.ire to the most curious sculpture, or a pair of tongs to the most melodious music. But how much more inconceivable it is, that the figura- tion and concurrence of the fore-mentioned organs can alone suffice to produce the several pa.ssions of love, fear, anger, &c. whereof we find so evident indications in brute creatures, it is enough but to hint. And (but that all per- sons do not read the same books) it were altogether un- necessary to have .said so much, after so plain demonstra- tion" already extant, that matter, howsoever modified, any of the rnentioned ways is incapable of sense. Nor would It seem necessary to attempt any thing in this kind, in particular and direct opposition to the very peculiar sentiments of this most ingenious author, (as he will undoubtedly be reckoned in all succeeding time,) who, when he undertakes to show what sense is, and how it is performed, makes it the proper business of the soul, comprehends it under the name of cogitation;'- naming himself a thinking thing, adds by way of question. What is that'! and answers, A thing doubling, understanding, aihrming, denying, willing, nilling, and also imagining, and exercising sense; says" expressly it is evident to all that it is the soul that exerci-ses sense, not the body," in as direct words as the .so much celebrated poet of old. The only wonder is, that under this general name of cogita- tion he denies it unto brutes; under which name, he may be thought less fitly to have included il, than to have af- firmed them incapable of any thing to which that name ought to be applied; as he doth not only affirm, but es- teems himself by most firm reasons to have proved.^ And yet that particular reason seems a great deal more pious than it is cogent, which he gives for his choosing his particular way of differencing brutes from human creatures, viz. lest any prejudice should be done to the doctrine of the human soul's immortality ; there being no- thing, as he truly soys, that doth more easily turn ofl' weak minds from the palh of virtue, than if they should think the souls of brutes to be of the same nature with our own; and therefore that nothing remains to be hoped or feared after this life, more by us than by flies or pismires. For surely there were other ways of providing against that danger, besides that of denying them so much as sense, (other than merely organieal,? as he somewhere alleviates ihe harshness of that position, but without telling us what useth these organs,) and the making them nothing else but well-formed machines. Eui yet if we should admit the propriety of this ap- pellation, and acknowledge (the thing itself intended to be signified by it) that all the powers belonging to mere brutal nature are purely mechanical, and no more ; to what purpose is it liere alleged, or whai can it be understood to signify 1 What is lost from our cause by il 1 And what have atheists whereof to glory ! For was the contrivance of these machines theirs 1 AVere they the authors of this vare invention, or of any thing like it"! Or can they show any product of human device and wit, that shall be capable of vying with the strange powers of those machines'! Or can they imagine what so highly exceeds all human skill, to have fallen by chance, ani without any contrivance or design at all. into a frame ca- pable of such powers and operations ? If they be machines, tliey are (as that free.spiriled au- thor speaks) to be considered a.s a sort of machine' made by the hand of God, which is by infinite degrees better ordered, and hath in it more admirable moiions, than any that could ever have been f jrined by ihe art of man. Yea, and we might add, .so liltle disadvantage would accrue to the present cause (wh.atever might lo some other) by this concession, that rather (if it were not a wrong to the cause, which justly disdains we should allege any thing false or uncertain for its support) this would add much, we will not say to its victory, but to its triumph, that "'e did ac- knowledge them nothing else than mere mechnnical con- trivances. For, since they must certainly either be such, or have each of them a .soul lo animate, and enable them • In Dr. Moro'i Immoitality of Uw Soul. I Piincip Phil, port 4. 1S9. u HediL 2. w Dioptr. r. <. to their several functions; it seems a much more easy performance, and is more conceivable, and within the nearer reach of human apprehension, that they should be furnished with such a one, than be made capable of so admirable operations without it; and the former (though it were not a surer) were a more amazing, unsearchable, and less comprehensible discovery of the most transcen- dent wi.sdom, than the latter. XI. But because whatsoever comes under the nam^ of rosiitalion, properly taken, is assigned to some higher cause than mechani.sm ; and that there arc operations belonging to man, which lay claim lo a reasonable soul, as the im- mediale principle and author of them; we have yet this further step to advance, that is, lo consider the most ap- parent evidence we have of a wise, designing agent, m the powers and nature of this more excellent, and, among things more obvious to our notice, the noblest of his pro- ductions. And were it not for the slothful neglect of the most to study themselves, we should not here need to recount unio men the common and well-k-nown abilities and excellences which peculiarly belong to their own nature. They might take notice, without being told, that first, as to their iiitellectunl /acuity, they have somewhat about them, that can think, understand, frame notions of things; that can rectify or supply the false or defective represen- tations which are made to them by their external senses and fancies; that can conceive of things far above the reach and sphere of scn.se, the moral good or evil of ac- tions or inclinations, what there is in them of rectitude or pravity ; whereby they can animadvert, and cast their eye inw'ard upon themselves; observe the good or evil acts or inclinations, the knowledge, ignorance, dulness, vigour, tranquillity, Irouble, and, generally, the perfections or im- perfections, of their own minds; that can apprehend the general natures of things, the fulure existence of what, yet, is not, with the future appearance of that to us, which, as yet, appears not. Of which last sort of power, the confident assertion, " No man can have a conception of the future,"' needs not, against our experience, make us doubt ; especially being enforced by no better, than that pleasant reason there subjoined, for the fnture is not yet ; that is to say, because it is future ; and so (which is all this reason amounts to) we cannot conceive it, because Ke cannot. For though our conceptions of former things guide us in forming notions of what is future, yet sure our conception of any thing as future, is much another sort of conception Irom what ^^■e have of the same thing as past, as appears from iis diflerent elfecis; for if an object be apprehended good, we conceive of it as past with sorrow, as fulure with hope and joy ; if evil, with joy as pa.sl, with fear and sor- row as future. And (which above all the rest discovers and magnifies the intellecUial power of the human soul) that they can form a conception, howsoever imperfect, ot this absolutely perfect Being, whereof we are discoursing. Which even they that acknowledge not its existence, cannot deny; except they will profe.ss themselves blindly, and at a venture, to deny they know not what, or what they have not so much as thought of. They may take notice of Xheixpoirer of comparing things, of discerning and making a judgment of their agreements and disagreements, their proportions and disproportions to one another ; of affirming or denying this or that, con- cerning such or such things; and of pronouncing, with more or le.ss confidence, concerning the truth or fal.sehood of such affirmations or negations. And moreover, of their poircr of orsruing, and infer- ring one thing from another, .so as from one plairuand evident principle, lo draw furlh a long chain of conse- quences, that may tie discerned to be linked therewith. They have wiihal to consider the liberty and the large capacity of Ike human trill, which, when it is itself, rejects the dominion of any other than the supreme Lord, and refuses satisfaction in any other than Ihe supreme and most comprehensive good. And unon even ,so hasty and transient a view of athin^ furnisheu wiih such powers and faculties, we have sut- j Reap, textxv a Hobbet't HuBiti Nature. Chip. III. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 23 ficieot occasion to bethink ourselves. How came such a thing as this into being 1 whence did it spring, or to what original doth it owe itself 1 More particularly we have here two things to be discoursed. — First, That, notwith- standing so high excellences, the soul of man doth yet ap- pear to be a caused being, that sometime had a beginning. —Secondly, That, by them, it is sufficiently evident, that it owes itself to a wi.se and intelligent cause. As to itie former of these, we need say the less, because that sort of atheists with whom we have chiefly now to do, deny not human souls to have had a beginning, as supposing them to be produced by the bodies they animate, by the same generation, and that such generation Jul sometimes begin ; that only rude and wildly moving matter was from eternity; and that by infinite alterations and commixtures in that eternity, it fell at la-st into this orderly frame and state wherein things now are, and became pro- lific, so as to give beginning to the several sorts of living things which do now continue to propagate themselves ; the mad folly of which random fancy we have been .so largely contending against hitherto. The other sort, who were for an eternal succession of generations, have been sufficiently refuted by divers others, and partly by what hath been already said in this discourse; and we may further meet with them ere it be long. We in the mean- time find not any professing atheism, to make human souls, as such, necessary and self-originate beings. Yet it is requisite to consider not only what persons of atheistical persuasions have said, but what also they pos- sibly may say. And moreover, some that have been remote from atheism, have been (irone, upon the contem- plation of the excellences of the human soul, to over- magnify, yea and even no less than deify, it. It is therefore needful to say somewhat in this matter. For if nothing of direct and downright atheism had been designed, the rash hyperboles, as we will charitably call them, and un- warrantable rhetorications of these latter, should they obtain to be looked upon and received as severe and strict assertions of truth, were equally destructive of religion, as the others' more strangely bold and avowed opposition to it. Such, I mean, as have .spoken of the souls of men as parts of (Jod,'' one thing with him ; a particle of divine breath; un exlracl or derivation of himself ; that have not feared to apply to them his most peculiar attributes, or say that of them, which is most appropriate and iucommuni- cably belonging to him alone. Nay, to give them his very name, and say in plain words ihey were God.<: Now it would render a temple alike insignificant, to suppose no worshipper, as to suppose none who should be worshipped. And what should be the worshipper, when our souls arc thought the same thing with what should be the object of our worship ! But mcthinks, when we con- sider their necessitous, indigent state, their wants and cravings, their pressures and groans, their grievances and complaints, we should find enough to convince us they are not the self-originate or self-sufficient being ; and might even despair any thing should be plain and easy to them, with whom it is a difficulty to distinguish ihcmselve.s from God. Why are ihev in a slate which thev dislike ? Where- fore are they not iull and satisfied 1 Why do thev wish and complain 1 Is this Godlike ! But if any have a doubt hanging in their minds concerning the unitv of souls with line another, or with the soul of the world, let them read what is already extant : and supposing them, thereupon, distinct beings, there needs no more to prove them not to be necessary, independent, uncaused ones.J than their. sub- jection to so frequent changes ; their ignorance, doubts, irresolution, and gradual progress to knowledge, certainty, and stability in their purposes ; their very being united with these bodies in which they have been but a little while, as we all know ; whereby they undergo no small change, (admitting them to have been pre-eiistent,) and b 9«i. Ep. W. Hor. Scnii. M. Anion, avwrtaeaa tnvrov c Tlw Pinhaion-aiir conctmint ttliom it i< uid. Itn-y wm wnnl lo nj. monKh ono anuUnr ui toko h«'.l. lot llieti t/muld rnu God In Oumttlca.— M" iIi.i-ITjv rn, (► MiDK.g ., Jumblicli. de viL PylhM. PI«to. who unrtf ttukM to prmr tl» immortalilr of tlK Kul by inch anunH-nts m. if llwy mi conclude aiij Ihuif. x-ould conchiilc it la tw God ; that it la Uk tbunlain. tec phnaple (ni) u, »iii npxn] of motion ; and adili. that the principle ii un. beaotton. &c in Ph»lon«. Makn it iho c«uk of all Ihinn. and Uw niW of all, [>c Let I 10. tnouf h his wordi there Mem meuil of the aoul of the woiU. wherein they experience so many. Yea, whether those changes iin|iort any immutation of their very essence or no, the repugnancy being so plainly manifest of the very terms, 7ic<:/-.<.«ryanri eham^eabCe. And inasmuch as it is so evident that a neccs.sary Being can receive no accession to itself; that it must always have, or keep it.sell", after the same manner, and in the same state ; that if it be neces- sarily such, or such, (as we cannot conceive it to be, but we must, in our own thoughts, affix to it some determinate state or other,) it must be eternally such, and ever in that particular unchanged state. Therefore he the perfection of our souls as great as our mo.st certain knowledge of them can possibly allow us lo suppose it, it is not yet so great, but that we must be con- strained to confess them no necessary, self-originate beings, and, by consequence, dejK'ndent ones, that owe themselves to some cause. XII. Nor yet (that we may pass over lo the other strangely distant extreme) is the perfection of our souls so little, as to require less than an intelligent cause, en- dowed with the wisdom which we assert and challenge unto the truly necessary, uncau.sed Being. Which, because he hath no other rival or competitor for the glory of this production, than only the fortuitous jumble of the blindly- moving particles of matter, directs our inquiry to this single point: Whose image the thing produced bears'! Or which It more resembles 1 stupid, senseless, unnctire matter, (or at the best only supposed moving, though no man, upon the atheists' terms, can imagine how it came to be so,) or the active, intelligent Being, whom we affirm the cause of all things, and who hath peculiarly entitled him- .self, the Father of spirits. That is, we arc to consider whether the powers and operations belonging to the reasonable soul do not plainly argue — I. That it neither rises from, nor is, mere matter; whence it will be consequent, it mu.st have an efficient, diverse from matter — 2. That it owes itself lo an intelli- gible efficient. As to the former, we need not deal distinctly and seve- rally concerning their original and their nature. For if Ihey are not mere matter, it will be evident enough they do not arise from thence. So that all will be summed up in this inquiry. Whether reason can agree lo matter considered alone, or by itself? But here the ca.se requires clo.ser discourse. For, in order to this inquiry, it is requisite the subject be deter- mined we inquire about. It hath been commonly taken tor granted, that all substance is either matter or mind; when yet it hath not been agreed what is the distinct notion of the one or the other. And for the staling their difl'er- cnce, there is herein both an apparent difficulty and ne- cessity. A ilijiculty ; for the ancient difference, that the former is extended, having parts lying without each other, the latter uneitended, having no parts, is now commonly ex- ploded, and, as it seems, reasonably enough ; both because we .scarce know how to impose it upon ourselves, to con- ceive of a mind or spirit that is unextended, or that hath no parts : and that, on the other hand, the atoms of matter, strictly taken, must also be unextended, and be without parts. And the difficulty of assigning the proper diflereuce between these two. is further erideni, from what we expe- rience how difficult it is to form any clear distinct notion of substance itself, so to be divided into mailer and mind, stripped of all its atlribuies.' Though, as that celebrated author also speaks, we can be surer of nothing, than that there is a real somewhat, that sustains those attributes. Yet also, who sees not a necessity of assigning a differ- ence 1. For how absurd is il, to affirm, deny, or inquire, of what belongs, or belongs not, to matter, or mind, if it be altogether unagreed, what we mean by the one, or the other. Conceminir wtucb •oul. aftenraMi, inquiring \\hrther all oufbt not to account it God. tv an^wfw. Yoi certainly, except any ooe he come to citrente mad. m^^s Ami «h*.thi.r an identity were not imonned «>f ooraoula, with that of Uie world, or w-iih t^od. ■ too much left in dt^ubl. both as to ham atid tocno at hi9 fiiMnwi^n : (n «ay iio(hin|I of niodem cnthtiiiinatji d Ilr .Mun-<'a Poem. Antimonopauchia. Ili< tmmortalitr of the doul. Mr. Bajctff'* Aprendix to the Reaaon* of Chriitian Rclinon. &c. e A« 14 to be aeen in that accurate di«oour*p of Mr. Lodce. HiJ Etatjr of Human Undentaiidiif , ptjblislied uncc thta waa firsi written. 34 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PabtI That the former, speakinfr of any continued portion of matter, hatli parts actually separable ; the other being ad- mitted to have parts too, but that cannot be actually sepa- rated ; with the power of self-contraction, and self^ilata- tion, ascribed to this latter, denied of the former, seem as intelligible differences, and as little liable to exception, as any we can think of Besides what we observe of dulness, inaciivity, insensibility, in one sort of substance; and of vigour, activity, capacity of sensation, and spontaneous inolion, with what wc can conceive of self-vitality, in this latter sort; i. e. that whereas matter is only capable of having life imparted to it, from somewhat that lives of itself, created mind or spirit, though depending for its being on the supreme cause, hath life essentially included in that being, so that it is inseparable from it, and it is the same thing to it, to live, and to be. But a merely materiate being, if it live, borrows its life, as a thing foreign to it, and separable from it. But if, ini)tcad of such distinction, we should shortly and at the next have pronounced, that as mind is a cogi- tant substance, matter is incogitant ; how would this have squared with our present inquiry 1 What antagonist would have agreed with us upon this state of the question'! i. c. in efi'eci, whether Ihi/l can re*>»in or think, that is incapa- ble of reason or thought 1 Su>;h, indeed, as have studied more to hide a bad meaning, than express a good, have confounded the leims matter oi body, and s-ubstance. But take we matter as contradistinguished to mind and spirit, as above described ; and it is concerning this that we in- tend this inquiry. And here we shall therefore wave the consideration of llicir conceits, concerning the manner of the first origina- tion of men, who thought their whole being was only a production of the earth. Whereof the philosophical ac- count deserves as much laughter, instead of confutation, as any the most fabulously poetical; that is, howthey wore formed (as also the other animals) in certain little bass, or wombs of the earth, out of which when they grew ripe, they broke forth,f &c. And only consider what is said of the constitution and nature of the human soul itself; which is said to be com- posed of very well polished, ihe smootlicst and the roundest atoms ;S and which are of the neatest fashion, and every way, you must suppose, the best conditioned the whole country could afford ; of a more excellent make, as there is added, than those of the fire itself And these are the things you must know, which think, study, contemplate Irame syllogisms, make theorems, lay plots, contrive busi iiess, act the philosopher, the logician, the mathematician, sialesman, and every thing else ; only you may except the priest, for of him there was no need. This therefore is our present theme, whether such things as these be capable of such, or any acts of reason, yea or no ^ And if such a subject may admit of serious discourse ; ill this way it may be convenient to proceed, vi:. either any such small particle, or atom (for our business is not now with Des Carles, but Epicurus) alone, is rational, or a good convenient number of them assembled, and most happily met together. It is much to be feared the former way will not do. For we have nothing to consider in any of these atoms, in iLs solitary condition, besides its magni- tude, its figure, and its weight, and you may add also its motion, if you could devise how it should come by it. And now, because it is not to be thought that till atoms are rational, (for then the stump of a tree or a bundle of straw might serve to make a soul of, for aught we know, as good as the best,) it is to be considered by which of those properties an atom shall be entitled to Ihe privilege of being rational, and the rational atoms be distinguishcil IVoiu the rest. Is it their peculiar inngiiiludc or size that so far ennobles them"! Epicurus would here have us be- lieve, that Ihe least are the fittest for this turn. Now if you consider how little we must suppose thcin generally to' he, according to his account of them ; (that is, that looking f Oasaend. Epicur. Synlaff. I An may l» looii iii Uic name ayntnlt ond in Epicunn's Epi«t ta Horodot InLacrt. 'Et uro/'wi' avrnf cv)Kiioffjt Xctvrurttjv, KUt s'pvyyvXaraTttii', upon any of those little motes a stream whereof yon may perceive when the sun shines in at a window, and he doubts not but many myriads of even ordinary atoms, go to the composition of any one of these scarcely discernible motes;) how sportful a contemplation were it, to suppose one of those furnished with all Ihe powers of a reasonable soul! Though it is likely they would not laugh at the jest, that think thousands of souls might be conveniently placed upon the point of a needle. And yet, which makes the matter more admirable, that very few, except they are very carefully picked and chosen, can be found among those many myriads, but will be too big to be capable of rationality. Here sure the fate is very hard, of those thai come nearest the size, bnt only, by a very little too much corpulency, happen to be excluded, as unworthy to be cotmtcd among tlie rational atoms. But sure if all sober reason be not utterly lost and squandered away among these little entities, it must needs be judged altogether in- comprehensible, why, if upon the account of mere little- ness, any atom should be capable of reason, all should not be sp: and then we could not but have a very rational world. At least, the difference in this point being so very small among them, and they being all so very little, me- thinks they should all be capable of some reason, and have only less or more of it, according as they are bigger or le«. But there is little doubt, that single property of less mag- nitude, will not be stood upon as the characteristical differ- ence of rational and irrational atoms ; and because their more or less gravity is reckoned necessarily and so imme- diately to depend on that, (for tho.se atoms cannot be thouglil porous, but very closely compacted each one with- in itself.) this, it is likely, will as little be depended on.b And so their peculiar figure must be the more trusted to, as the differencing thing. And because there is in this respect so great a variety among this little sort of people, or iioiion, as this author somewhere calls them, (whereof lie gives so punctual an account, ■ as if he had been the ge- neralissimo of all their armies, and were wont to view them at their rendezvous, to form them into regiments and squad- rons, and appoint them to the distinct services he found them aptest lor,) no doubt it was a difficulty to determine which sort of figure was to be pitched on io make up the rational regiment. But since his power was absolute, and there was none to gainsay or contradict, the round figure was judged best, and most deserving this honour. Other- wise, a reason might have been asked (and it might have been a greater ditticulty to have given a good one) why some other figure might not have done as well; unless respect were had to fellow-atoms, and that it was thought, they of this figure could better associate for the present purpose ; and lliat we shall consider of by and by. We now pro- ceed on the suiiposilion that possibly a single atom, by the advantage of tliis figure, might be judged capable ol this high achievement. And in that case, it would not be im- pertinent to inquire whether, if an atom were perfectly round, and so very rational, but by an unexpected misad- venture, it comes to have one little corner somewhere clapped on, it be hereby quite spoiled of its rationality "i And again, whether one that comes somewhat near that figure, only it hath some little protuberances upon it, might not by a little filing, or the friendly rubs of other atoms, becoihe rational 1 And yet, now we think on it. of this im- jirovement he leaves no hopes, because he tells us, though they have parts, yet they are so solidly compacted that they are by no force capable of dissolution. And so whatever their fate is in this particular, they must abide it without expectation of change. And yet, though we cannot really alter it for the better with any of them, yet we may think as favourably of the matter a-s we please ; and for any thing that yet appears, whatever peculiar claim the round ones lay to rationality, we may judge as well; and shall not easily be disproved ol any of the rest. Upon the whole, no one of these properties alone is likely to make a rational atom : what they will all do, n w ivn* yr-i ii iiuib out Homowhnt croudy, tlint tlv k-njit (nnd conspquonlly the lifhtoHO vhould lie thouirht tiUor Io Ik llio miillor ol' Uic rational iioid, Im> cauM Uwv are aoleit lur mution. whnn vnt no ittlirr Raiun ia MaaiMinH nf Ihnii h Wlirrr yM it fiilla the lifhUwO vhould lie thouirht hUcr to be Iho manor ol' the rational iioid, bo- cauw Uwy aro apteit for molioa, when yet no oUicr cauic ij assifnod of Uwir motion beaidoa llwir fm%ity. which cannot hnt hp mon>. a* they are bi* per ; (for no doubt if JTJU ihould lr>- llH-ni in a pair of ncaltw. the l»i:fv*t would be lound to otil-weiBh ;) whence nlito it Nhould seem to follow, that the heaWejtl ha\inc most in them of that wltich in tlie caujlo of motion, ihuuld be Uic most mo\-c- alile. and ao by con*ele to him imports, we may in due time come more expressly to jissert,) and that the knowledge which is with us the end of reasoning, is in him in its highest perfection, without being at all beholden lo that means; that all the connexion of things with one an- other lie open to one comprehensive view, and are known to be connected, but not because they are so. We say, is it conceivable that man's knowing power should proceed from a cause that hath it not, in the same, or this more perfect kind ? And may use those words to this purpose, not for their authority, (which we expect not should be here significant,) but the convincing evidence they carry with them, " He that teacheth man knowledge, shall not he know ? " That we may drive this matter to an issue, it is evident the soul of man is not a necessar)', self-originate thing; and had therefore some can.se. We find it to have knowledge, or the power of knowing, belonging to it. Therefore we say. So had its cause. We rely not here upon the credit of vulgar maxims, (whereof divers might be mentioned,) but the reason of them, or of the thing itself we allege. And do now speak of the whole, entire cause of this being, the human soul, or of whatsoever is casual of it ; or of any perfection naturally appertaining lo it. It is of an intelligent nature. Did this intelligent na- ture proceed from an unintelligent, as the whole and only cau.se of it ? That were to .speak against our own eyes, and most natural, common sentiments ; and were the same thing as to say that .something came of nothing. For it is all one to say so, and to say that any thin? communicated what it had not lo communicate. Or (which is alike madly absurd) to say that the same thing was such, and not such, intelligent, and not intelligent, able to communicate an intelligent nature, (for sure what it doth it is able to do,) and not able, (for it is not able to communicate what it hath not,) at the same lime. It is hardly here worth the while lo spend lime in coun- termining that contemptible refuge, (which is as incapable of offending us, as of being defended.) that human souls may perhaps only have proceeded in the ordinary course of generation from one another. For that none have ever said any thing to that purpose deserving a confutation, ex- cept that some .sober and pious per.sons, for the avoiding of some other dilliculties, have thoushi it more safe lo a.s- sert the traduction of hum.nii souls, who yet were far enough from imagining that llu-y ciuKI be total, or first causes lo one another: and doubted not, but they had the constant neces.sary assistance of that same Being we are pleading for, acting in his own sphere, as the first cause in oU such, as well as any olhfr, productions. Wherein they nothing oppose the main desism of this discourse ; and therefore it is not in our way, to offer at any opposition unto them. But if any have a mind to indulge themselves the liberty of so much dotage, as to say the souls of men were first and only causes to one another ; either they must suppose them to be material beings ; and then we refer them to what hath been already said, showing that their powers and operations cannot belong lo matter, nor arise from it; or immaUrial, and then they cannot produce one another in the way of generation. For of what pre-exislent sub- stance are iheymade? Theirs who beget ihem ? Of that Ihev can pan wilh nothing ; separability, at least, of parts being a most confessed property of matter. Or some other ? Where will they find that otherspiritual substance, that belonged not inseparably lo some individual being Chip. m. THE LIVING TEMPLE. before t And besides, if it were pre-existem, as it must be if a soul be generated out of it, then they were not the first and only causes of this production. And in another way than that of generation, how will any form the notion of making a soull Let experience and the making of trial convince the speculators. By what power, or by what art, will they make a rea.sonable soul spring up out of nothing 1 It might be liopcd that thus, without dispucing the pos- sibility of an eternal, successive production of souls, this shift may appear vain. But if any will persist, and say, that how, or in what way soever they are produced, it is strange if they need any nobler cause than themselves ; for may not any living thing well enough be thought ca- pable of producing another of the same kind, of no more than equal perfection with itself? To this we say, besides that no one living thing is the only cause of another such, yet if that were ailmitted possible, what will it availl For nath every soul that hath ever existed, or been in being, been prodluced, in this way, by another! This it were ridiculous to say, for if every one were so produced, there was then some ime, before every one ; inasmuch as that which produces, must surely have been before that which is produced by it. But how can every one have »n« before itf A manifest contradiction in the very terms! For then there will be one without the compass of every one. And how is it then said to be every one 7 There is then it seems one besides, or more than all. And so all is not all. And if this be thought a sophism, let the matter be soberly con-^idered thus : The soul of man is either a thing of that nature universally (and consequently every indi- vidual soul) as that it doth exist of itself, necessarily and independently, or not. If it be, then we have, however, a wise intelligent being necessarily existing, the thing we have been proving all this while. Yet this concession we will not accept, for though it is most certain there is such a being, we have also proved the human soul is not it. Whence it is evidently a dependent being, in its own na- ture, that could never have been of itself, and consequently not at all, had it not been put into bein? by somewhat else. And being .so in its own nature, it must be thus with every one that partakes of this nature. And consequently it must be somewhat of another nature that did put the souls of men into being. Otherwise, the whole stock and line- age of human souls is said to have been dependent on a productive cause, and yet had nothing whereon to depend : and so is both caused by another, and not caused. And therefore since it is hereby evident it was somewhat else, and of another nature, than a human soul, by which all human souls were produced into being : we again say, that distinct being either was a dependent, caused being, or not. If not, it being proved that the .soul of man can- not but have had an intelligent or wise cause, we have How what we .seek — an independent, necessary, intelligent being, if it do dencnil, or any will be so idle to say so ; that, however, will infallibly "and very speedily lead us to the same mark. For though some have been pleased to dream of an infinite succession of individuals of this or that kind, I suppose wc have no dream as yet, ready formed, to come under confutation, of infinite fcinds or orders of beings, gradually superior, one above another; the inferior still depending on the superior, and all upon nothing. And therefore, I conceive, we may fairly take leave of this ar- gument from the human soul, as liaving gained from it stitficient evidence of the existence of a necessary being, that is intelligent, and designedly active, or guided by wisdom and coun.sel, in what it doth. We miglt also, if it were needful, further argue the same thin? from a power or ability manifestly superior to, and that exceeds the utmost perfection of, human nature, viz. that of prophecy, or the prediction of future contingen- cies ; yea, and from another that exceeds the whole sphere of all created nature, and which crosses and countermands the known and slated laws thereof viz. that of working miracles; both of them exercised with manifest design ; as might evidently be made appear, by manifold instances, to as many as can believe anv thing to be troe, more than what they have seen with their own eyes ; and that do not lake present sense, yea, and their own only, to be the alone measure of all reality. Bat it is not necessary we insist upon every thing that may be said, so that enough be said to serve our present purpose. XVI. And that oar purpose may yet b« more fully served, and such a being evidenced to exist as we may with .satisl'artiun esteem to merit a tempU with us, and the religion of it, it is necessary that we add somewhat con- cerning, 9. The divine goodness; for unto that eternal Being, whose existence we have hitherto asserted, goodness also cannot but appertain ; together with those his other attri- butes we have spoken of It is not needftil here to be curious about the usual scholastical notions of goodness, or what it imports, as it is wont to be attributed to being in the general, what, as it belongs in a peculiar sense to intellectnal beings, or what more special import it mav have, in reference to iMs. That which we at present chiefly intend by it, is a propen- sion to do good with delipht ; or most freely, without other inducement than the a?reeablene.ss of it to his nature who doth it; and a certain delectation and complacency, which, hence, is taken in .so doing. The name of goodness (though thus it more peculiarly signifies the particular virtue of liberality) is of a significaney large enough, even in the moral acceptation, to comprehend all other perfections or virtues, that belong to, or may any way commend, the will of a free agent. These therefore we exclude not ; and particularly whatsoever is wont to be signified, as attri- butable unto God, by the names of holiness, as a steady inclination unto what is intellectually pure and comely, with an aversion to the contrarj' ; justice, as that signifies an inclination to deal equally, which is included in the former, yet as more expressly denoting what is more proper to a governor over others, rir. a resolution not to let the transgressions of laws, made for the preservation of com- mon order, pass without due animadversion and punish- ment ; truth, whose signification also may be wholly con- tained under tho.se former more general terms, but more directly contains sincerity, unaptness to deceive, and con- stancy to one's word: for these may properly be styled good "things in a moral sense ; as many other things might, in another notion of goodness, which it belongs not to our present design to make mention of But these are men- tioned as more directly tending to represent to ns an amia- ble object of religion ; and are referred hither, as they fitly enough mav, out of an unwillingness to multiply, with- out necessity, particular heads or subjects of discourse. In the meantime, as was said, what we principally in- tend, is, That the Being who.se existence we have been endeavouring to evince, is good, as that imports a ready inclination oi' will to communicate unto others what may be good to them ; creating, first, its own object, and then issuing forth to it, in acts of free beneficence, suitable to the nature of every thing created by it. Which, though it be the primary or first thing carried in the notion of this goodness, yet because that inclination is not otherwise sood than as it con.sists with holiness, justice, and truth, these therefore mav be esteemed, secondarily at least, to belong to it, as inseparable qualifications thereof Wherefore it is not a merely natural and necessary ema- nation we here intend, that prevents any act or exefci.se of counsel ordesi?n; which would no way consist with the liberty of the divine will, and would make the Deity as well a necessary Affent, as a necessarj- Being; yea, and would therefore make all the creatures merely natural and necessary emanations, and so destroy the distinction of nece.s.sary and contingent beings: and, by consequence, bid fair to the makin? all things God. It would infer not only the eterniiy of the world, but would seem to infer either the absolute infinity of it, or the perfection of it, and of every creature in it, to that degree, asthatnothingcould be more perfect in its own kind, than it is ; or would infer the finiteness of the divine Beinj. For it would make what he h/ilh done the adequate measure of what he can A), and would make all his administrations necessar>'. yea. and all the actions of men, and consequently take away all law and srovemment out of the world, and all measures of ri?hl and wrone, and make all punitive justice, barbar- ous cruelly: and consequently, give us a notion of good- ness, at length, plainly inconsistent with itself All this is provided against, by our having first asserted 30 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PiRT 1. the wisdom of that Being, whereunto we also attribute goodiKSS ; which guides all the issues of it, according to those measures or rules which the essential rectitude of the divine will gives, or rather is, unto it ; whereby also a foundation is laid of answering such cavils against the divine goodness, as they are apt to raise to themselves, who are wont to magnify this attribute to the suppression of others ; which is, indeed, in the end, to magnify it to nothing. And such goodness needs no other demonstra- tion, than the visible instances and effects we have of it in the creation and conservation of this world; and parti- cularly, in his large, munificent bounty and kindness to- wards man, whereof his designing him for his temple and residence, will be a full and manifest proof And of all this, his own self-sufficient fulness leaves it impossible to us to imagine another reason, than the de- light he lakes in dispensing his own free and large com- munications. Besides, that when we see some semblances and imitations of this goodness in the natures of some men, which we are sure are not nothing, they must needs pro- ceed from something, and have some fountain and original, which can be no other than the common Cause and Au- thor of all things. In whom, therefore, this goodness doth firstly and most perfectly reside. CHAPTER IV. necessary being ; which is shown to import, in the general, the utmost ful- ness ol^lieing Also divers things in particular that tend to evince that gene- nil. As that it ui at the remotest distance from no Ijeing. Most purely actual. Most abstracted iH-ing. The prfHluctive and conserving cause of all things else- Undimini?hnble. Incapable of addition. BecondJtj. Hence is more expressly deduced, the infinitenesB of this being. An inquiry whether it \ie possible the creature can be actually infinite^? I>itiicullie9 ' "' I. Some account has been thus far given of that Being, whereunto we have been designing to assert the honour of a temple. Each of the particulars having been severally insisted on, that concur to make up that notion of this being, which was at first laid down. And more largely, what hath been more opposed, by persons of an atheistical or irreligious temper. But because, in that fore-mentioned account of God, there was added to the particulars there enumerated, (out of a ju.st consciousness. of human inabili- ty to comprehend every thing that may possibly belong to him,) this general supplement, " That all other supposa- ble excellences whatsoever, do in the highest perfection appertain also originally unto this Being," it is requisite that somewhat be said concerning this addition. Espe- cially in as much as it comprehends in it, or may infer, some things (not yet expressly mentioned) which may be thought necessary to the evincing the reasonableness of religion, or our self-dedication as a temple to him. For instance, it may possibly be alleged, that if it were admitted there is somewhat that is eternal, uncaused, in- dependent, necessarily existent, that is self-active, living, powerful, wise, and good ; yet all this will not infer upon us a universal obligation to religion, unless it can also be evinced, 1. That this Being is every way sufficient to sup- ply and satisfy all our real wants and just desires. And, 2. That this Being is but on*, and .so that all be at a cer- tainty where their religion ought to terminate ; and that the worship of every temple must concentre and meet in the same object. Now the eviction of an absolutely perfect Being would include each of these ; and answer both the fiurposes which may seem hitherto not so fully satisfied. t is therefore requisite that we endeavour, f\rst, To show that the Being hitherto described is ab- solutely or every way perfect. Secondly, To deduce, from the same grounds, the abso- lute jn/ni'i/, and the unity or the nnliness thereof II. And for the former part of this undertaking, it must b« acknowlcdfjed absolute or universal ]icrlV'clion cannot be pretended to have been expressed m any. or in all the works of God together. Neitner in number, for aught we know, (for as we cannot conceive, nor consequently speak,. of divine perfections, but under the notion of many, what- soever their real identity may be, so we do not know, but that within the compass of universal perfection there may be some particular ones, of which there is no footstep in the creation, and whereot we have never formed any thought,) nor (more certainly) in degree; for surely the world, and the particular creatures in it, are not so perfect in correspondence to those attributes of its great Architect, which we have mentioned, vix. his power, wisdom, and goodness, as he might have made them, if he had pleased. And indeed, to say the world were absolutely and univer- sally perfect, were to make that God. Wherefore it must also be acknowledged that an abso- lutely perfect being cannot be immediately demonstrated from its effects, as whereto they neither do, nor is it within the capacity of created nature that they can, adequately correspond. Whence, therefore, all that can be done for the evincing of the absolute and universal perfection of God, must be in some other way or method ol discourse. And though it be acknowledged that it cannot be imme- diately evidenced from the creation, yet it is to be hoped that mediately it may. For from thence (as we have seen) a necessary self-originate being, such as hath been descri- bed, is, with the greate.st certainty, to be concluded; and, from thence, if we attentively consider, we shall be led to an absolutely perfect one. That is, since we have the same certainty of such a necessary self-originate being, as we have that there is any thing existent at all ; if we seriously weigh what kind of being this must needs be, or what its notion must import, above what hath been already evinced; we shall not be found, in this way, much to fall short of our present aim, though we have also other evidence that may be produced in its own fitter place. Here therefore let us awhile make a stand, and more distinctly consider how far we are already advanced, that we may with the better order and advantage make our further progres.s. These two things, then, are already evident: 1. That there is a necessary being that hath been eternally of itself, without dependence upon any thing, either as a productive or conserving cause ; and, of it.self, full of activity and vital energy, so as to be a productive and sustaining cause to other things. Of this any the most confused and indis- tinct view of this world, or a mere taking notice that there is any thing in being that lives and moves, and withal that alters and changes, (which it is impossible the necessary being itself should do,) cannot but put us out of doubt. 2. That this necessary, self-originate, vital, active being, hath very vast power, admirable wisdom, and most free and large goodness belonging to it. And of this, our nearer and more deliberate view and contemjilation of the world do equally ascertain us. For of these things we find the manifest prints and foot.steps in it. Vea, we find the derived things ihcmselves, power, wisdom, goodness, in the creatures : and we are mo.st assured they have not sprung from nothing ; nor from any thing that had them not. And that which orisinally had them, or was their first finmtain, must have them necessarily and essentially, (together with whatsoever else belongs to its being,) in and of itself So that the asserting of any other necessary being, that is in itself destitute of these things, signifies no more towards the giving any account how these things came to be in the world, than if no being, necessarily existing, were asserted at all. We are therefore, by the exigency of the case itself, constrained to acknowledge, not only that there is a necessary being, but that there is such a one as could be, and was, the fountain and cause of all those several kinds and degrees of being and per- fection that we take notice of in the world besides. Ano- ther -sort of necessary being should not only be asserted to no purpose, there being nothing to he gained by it, no imaginable use to be made of it, as a principle that can serve imy valuable end ; (for suppose such a thing as ne- cessary matter, it will, as halli been .shown, be unalterable; and therefore another sort of matter must be supposed be- sides it, that may be the matter of the universe, raised up out of nothing for that purpose, unto which this so un- wieldy and unmanageable an entity can never serve :) but also it will be impossible to he proved. No man can be able with any plausible show of reason to make it out. :b»p. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 31 Vea, and much may be said, I conceive with convincing evidence, against it. As may perhaps be seen in the sequel of this discourse. In the meantime, that there is, however, a necessary being, unto which all the perfections whereof we have any footsteps or resemblances in the creation do originaliy and essentially belong, is umicniably evident. Now, that we may proceed, what can self-essentiatc, underived power, wi.sdom, goodness, be, but most perfect power, wi.sdom, goodness? Or such, as than which there can never be more perfect? For since there can be no wisdom, power, or goodness, which is not either original and self-essentiate, or derived and participated from thence ; who sees not that the former must be the more perfect 1 Yea, and that it comprehends all the other (as what wa-s from it) in itself, and consequently that it issimply the most perfect 1 And the reason will be the same, con- cerning any other perfection, the stamps and characters whereof wc find signed upon the creatures. But that the being unto which these belong is absolutely and universally perfect in every kind, must be further evi- denced by considering more at large the notion and import of such a self-originate necessary being. Some indeed, both more anciently,* and of late, have inverted this course; and from the supposition of absolute perfection, have gone about to infer necessity of existence, as being contained in the idea of the former. But of this latter we are otherwise assured upon clearer and less ex- ceptionable terms. And being so, are to consider what improvement may be made of it to our present purpose. And in the general, this seems manifestly imported in Ihe notion of the necessary being we have already evinced, that it have in it (some way or other, in what way there will be occasion to consider herealler) the entire sum and titmcst fulness of being, beyond which or without the compass whereof no perfection is conceivable, or indeed (which is of the same import) nothing. Let it be ob.served, that we pretend not to argue this fi"om the bare terms ncccssan/ bcin^; only, but from hence, that it is such as we have found it ; though indeed these vcrv terms import not a little to this purpose. For that which is necessarily of itself, without U'ing beholden to anv thing, seems as good as all things, and to contain in itself an immense fulness, being indigent of nothing. Nor by indigence is here meant cravingness, or a sense of want onlv ; in opposition whereto, every good and virtuous man hath or may attain a sort of doriip«ia or self-fulness, and be satisfied from himself: (which yet is a stamp of di- vinity, and a part of the image of God, or such a partici- pation of the divine nature, a.sis agreeable to the slate and condition of a creature:) but we understand by it (what is naturally before that) want itself really, and not in opinion, as the covetous is said to be poor. On the other band, we here intend not a merely rational, (much less an imaginary,) but a real self-fulness. And so we say, what isoithat nature, that it is, and subsists wholly and only of itself, without depending on any other, must owe this absoluteness to so peculiar an excellency of its own nature, as we cannot well conceive to be less than whereby it comprehends in itself the most boundless and unlimited fulne.ss of being, life, power, or whatsoever can be con- reived under the name of a perfection. For taking notice of the existence of any thing whatsoever, some reason must be assignable, whence it is that this particular being dolh exist, and hath such and such powers and properties be- longing to it, as do occur to our notice therein. When we can now resolve its existence into some cause that put it into being, and made it what it is, we cease so much to admire the thing, how excellent soever it be, and turn our admiration upon its cause, concluding that to have all the perfection in it which we discern in ihecflect, whatsoever imknown perfection (which we mav suppose is very great) it may have besides. And upon this ground wc are led, when we heboid the manifi)ld excellences that lie dispersed among particular beings in this universe, with the glory of the whole resulting thence, to resolve their existence mlo a So that wbatet-er there u of flnmfth in that way of or^nf, iho glorr of it cannot bo without irvjunr approphatpd to the present age, much kM to anx iwrticular pcrwm tnerrin : it havinc, iinoe Annelni. been vontilalwi Iqrdivnra othuta horetoloro- D. ^cuL liijL 3. U. I 'Hi. Aqitin. P. 1. Q. 2. a common cause, which we design by the name of God. And now considering him as a wise Agent, (which hath been proved,) and consequently a free one, that acted not from any necessity of nature, but his mere good pleasure herein, we will not only conclude him to have all that perfection and excellency in him which we find him to nave displayed in so vast and glorious a work, but will readily believe him (supposing we have admitted a con- viction concerning what hath been discoursed before) to have a most inconceivable treasure of hidden excellency and perfection in him, that is not represented to our view in this work of his : and account, that he who could do all this which we see is done, could do unspeakably more. For though, speaking of natural and necessitated agents, which always act to their uttermost, it would be absurd to argue from their having done some lesser thing, to their power of doing .somewhat that is much greater ; yet as to free agents, that can choose their own act, and guide them- selves by wisdom and judgment therein, the matter is not so. As when some great prince bestows a rich largess upon some mean person, especially that deserved nothing from him, or was recommended by nothing to his royal favour, besides his poveriy and miser)'; we justly take it for a ver)' significant demonstration of that princely mu- nificence and bounty, which would incline him to do much greater things, when he should see a proportionable cause. But now, if taking notice of the excellences that appear in created beings, and inquiring how they come to exist and be what they arc, we resolve all into their cause; which, considering as perfectly free and arbitrary in all his communications, we do thence rationally conclude, that if he had thought fit, he could have made a much more pompous display of himself; and that there is in him, besides what appears, a vast and most abimdanl store of undiscovered perfection. When next we turn our inquir)' and contemplation more entirely upon the cause, and bethink ourselves, But how came he to exist and be what he isl Finding this cannot be refunded upon any superior cause; and our utmost inquiry can admit of no other result hut this, that he is of himself what he is, we will surely .say then. He is all in all. And that perfection which before we judged vastly great, we will now conclude aliogeiher absolute, and such beyond which no greater can be thought. Adding, I say, to what prc-conceptions we had of his greatness, from the works which we see have been done by him, (for why should we lose any ground we might have esteemed ourselves to have gained before 1) the con- sideration of his nece,s,sar)' self-subsistence : and that no other reason is assignable of his being what he is, but the peculiar and incommunicable excellency of his own na- ture ; whereby he was not only able to make such a world, but did possess eternally and invariably in himself all that he is, and hath: we cannot conceive that nil to lie less than absolutely uni%'er.sal, and comprehensive of whatsoever can lie within the whole compa,ss of being. For when we find that among all other beings, (which is most certainly true not only of actual, but all possible beings al.so,) how perfect soever they are or may be in their own kinds, none of them, nor all of them together, are or ever can be of that perfection, as to be of themselves with- out dependence on somewhat else as their productive, yea tmd sustaining, cause; we see besides, that their cause hath all the perfection, some way, in it that is to be found in them all : there is also that appropriate perfeciion be- longing thereto, that it could be ; and eternally is (yea and couid not but be) only of itself, by the underived and in- communicable excellency of its own being. And surely, what includes in it all the perfection of all actual and pos- sible beings, besides its own, (for there is nothing possible which some cause, yea and even ihis, cannot produce, J and inconceivably more, must needs he absolutely ana every way perfect. Of all which perfections this is the radical one, that belongs to Ihis common Cause and Author of all things, that he is necessarily and only self-subsisting. art 1- contra Gentil. I. 1. c. 10. Bradwonlia. 1. 1. c. 1. And b; divan of late, aia is sufficientlr known, some reiectiuc. otben much conndinx iD it, both orUiosc Ibiroer, and of modem writen. 33 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PlKT I. For if this high preroeative in point of being had been wanting, nothing at all had ever been. Therefore we at- tribute to Gild the greatest thin^ that can be said or thought, (and not what is wholly diverse from all other perl'ectiiin, but which contains all others in it,) when we aflirm of him that he is necessarily of himself. For though when we have bewildered and lost ourselves (as we soon may) in the contemplation of this amazing subject, we readily indulge our wearied minds the ea*e and liberty of resolving this high excellency of self or necessary existence into a mere negation, and say that we mean by it nothing else than that he was not from another; yet surely, if we would take .some pains with ourselves, and keep our slothful shifting thoughts to some exercise in this matter, though we can never comprehend that vast fulness of per- fection which is imported in it, (for it were not what we plead for, if we could comprehend it,) yet we should soon see and confess that it contains unspeakably more than a negation, even some great thing that is so much beyond our thouijhts, that we shall reckon we have said hut a little in saymg we catmot conceive it. And when we have stretched our understandings to the utmost of their line and measure, though we may suppose ourselves to have conceived a great deal, there is inhnitely more that we conceive not. Wherefore that is asober and most important tnith which isocc.rsionally drawn forth (as is supposed) from the so admired Des Cartes by the urgent objections of his very acute, friendly adversary,b that the mexhaustible power of God is the rea-son for which he needed no cause ; and that since that unexhausted power, or the immensity of his es- .sence, is most highly positive, therefore he may be said to be of himself positively, i. e. not as if he did ever by any positive efficiency cause himself (which is most manifestly impossible) but that the positive excellency of his own being was such, as could never need, nor admit of, being caused. And that seems highly rational, (which is so largely in- sisted on by Doctor Jackson,': and divers others,) that what is without cause must also be without limit of being; be- cause all limitation proceeds from the cause of a thing, which imparted to it .so much and no more; which argu- ment, though it seems neglected by Des Cartes, and is opposed by his antagonist ; yet I cannot but judge that the longer one meditates, the less he shall understand, how any thing can be limited ad intra, or from itself, &c. As the author of the Tentam. Phys. Theol. speaks. But that we may entertain ourselves with some more particular considerations of this necessary being, which may evince that general assertion of its absolute plenitude or fulness of essence : it appears to be such, III. As is first, at the greatest imaginable distance from non-entity. For what can be at a greater, than that which is necessarily, which signifies as much as whereto not to be is utterly impossible 1 Now an utter impossibility not to be, or the uttermo.st distance from nn being, seems plainly to imply the absolute plenitude of all being. And, if here it he said that to be necessarily and of itself needs be understood to import no more than a firm possession of that being which a thing hath, be it never so scant or mi- nute a portion of being; I answer, it seems indeed so, if we measure the signification of this expres.sion by its first and more obvious appearance. But if you consider the matter more narrowly, you will find here is also signified the nature and kind of the being po.ssessed, as well as the manner of possession, viz. that it is a being of .so excellent and noble a kind, as that it can subsist alone without being beholden : which is so great an excellency, as that it man- ifestly comprehends all other, or is the foundation of nil that can be conceived besides. Which, they that fondly dream of necessary matter, not considering, unwariiigly make one single atom a more excellent thing than the whole frame of heaven and earth : tlwt being supnoseil simply ni'iessary, this the merest niece of hap-hazard, the strangest chance imaginable, ann beyoml what any but themselves could ever liave imagined. And wliich, being considered, would give us to understand that no minute or &ute being can be necessarily. b Ad ot). in Med. reap, qiiarla. And hence we may see what it is to be nearer, or at a further distance from not-being. For these things that came contingently into being, or at the pleasureofafreecau.se, have all but a finite and limited being, whereof some, havmg a smaller portion of being than others, approach so much the nearer to not-being. Proportionably, what hath its being necessarily and of itself, is at the furthest distance fromnoieing, as compre- hending all being in itself Or, to borrow the expressions of an elegant writer, translated into our own language,'! " We have much more non-essence than essence ; if we have the essence of a man, yet not of the heavens, or of angels." " We are confmed and limited within a parti- cular essence, but God, who is what he is, comprehendeth all possible essences." Nor is this precariously spoken, or as what may be hoped to be granted upon courtesy. But let the matter be rigidly examined and dlscassed, and the certain truth of it will most evidently appear. For if any thing be, in this sense, remoter than other from no-being, it must either be, what is necessarily of itself, or what is contingently at the plea- sure of the other. But since nothing is, besides that self- originate nece.s.sary being, but what was from it ; and no- thing from it but what was within its productive power; it is plain all that, with its own being, was contained in it. And therefore, even in that sense, if is at the greatest dis- tance from no-being; as comprehending the utmost fulness of being in itself, and consequently absolute perfection. Which will yet further appear, in what follows. We there- fore add, IV. That necessary being is most unmixed or purest being, without allay. That is pure which is full of itself. Purity is not here meant in a corporeal sense, (which few will think,) nor in the moral ; but a.s, with metaphysicians, it signifies simplicity of e.s,sence. And in its present use is more especially intended to signify that simplicity which is opposed to the composition of act and possibility. We say then, that neces.sary being imports purest actuality; which is the ultimate and highest perfection of being. For it signifies no remaining possibility', yet unreplete or not filled up, and consequently the fullest exuberancy and en- tire confluence of all being, as in its fountain and original source. We need not here look further to evince this, than the native import of the very terms themselves; tu- ccssitij and possihilifi/; the latter whereof is not so fitly said to be excluded the former, as contingency is, but to be swallowed up of it; as fulness takes up all the space which were otherwise nothing but vacuity or emptines.s. It is plain then that necessan,' being engrosses all possible being, boththat is, and (for the same rea.son) that everwas so. For nothing can be, or ever was, in passibility to come into being, but what either must spring, or hath sprung, from the necessary self-subsisting being. So that unto all that vast possibility, a proportionable actuality of this being must be understood to correspond. Else the other were not possible. For nothing is possible to be produced which is not within the actual productive power of the neces.sary being; I say within its actual pro- ductive power; for if its power for such production were not already actual, it could never become so, and so were none at all : inasmuch as ncces,sary being can never alter, and consequently can never come actually to be what it already is not; upon which account it is truly said. In (■■ttrnis posse ctcssc sunt idem. Wherefore in it, is nothing else but pure actuality, as profound and vast as is the ut- most possibility of all created or producible being; i. e. it can be nothing other than it is, but can do all things, of which more hereafter. It therefore stands opposed, not only, more directly, to impossibility of being, which is the most proper notion of no-being, but some way, even to possibility also. That is, the possibility of being any thing liut what it is; as being every way complete and perfectly full already. V. Again, we might further add, that it is the most ab- stracted being, or is being in the very abstract. A thing much insisted on by some of the schoolmen. And the notion which with much obscurity they pursue afier their manner, may carry some such .sense as this, (if it may, c Of the Essence and Attributes ofGod. d Cauiin. Cb»». IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 33 throughout, be called seuse,) that whereas no created na- ture IS capable of any other than mere mental abslraclion, but exists always m concretion with some subject, that, be It never so refined, is grosser and less perfect than itself; so that we can distinguish the mentally abstracted essence, and the thing which hath that essence ; by which concre- tion, essence is limited, and is only the panicalar essence of this or that thing, which hath or possesses that essence. The necessary being is, in strict propriety, not so truly said to have essence, as to be it, and exist separately by itself; not as limited to this or that thmj. Whence it is, in itself, uuiveisiil essence, containing therefore, not for- mally, but eminently, the being of all things in perfect simplicuv. Whence all its own attributes are capable of being atiirmed of it in the abstract,* that it is wisdom, power, goodness; and not only hath these, and that upon this account it is a being, which is necessarily and of itself For that which is necessarily and of itself, is not whatso- ever It is by the accession of any thing to itself, whereof necessary being is incapable; but by its own simple and unvariable essence. Other being is upon such terms powerful, wise, yea, and existent, as that it may cease to be so. Whereas to ncce.s,sar)' being, it is manifestly repug- nant, and impossible either simply not to be, or to be any thmg else but what and as it is. And though other things may have properties belonging to their essence not separa- ble from it, yet they are not their ver)' essence itself And, whereas they are in a po.ssibilily to lose their very exist- ence, the knot and ligament of whatsoever is most intimate to their actual being, all then falls from them together. Here, e.ssence, properties, and existence, are all one simple thing that can never cease, decay, or change, becau.se the whole being is neces-sary. Now, all this tx;ing supposed, of the force of that form of speech, when we athnn any thing in the abstract of another, we may admit the common sense of men to be the interpreter. For every body can tell, though they do not know the meaning of the word abstract, what we intend when we use that phrase or manner of speaking. As when we say, by way of hyper- bolical commendation, Such a man is not only learned, but learning iLself ; or he not only hath much of virtue, ju.stice, and goodness in him, but he is virtue, justice, and goodness itself, (as was once said of an excellent pagan virtMoso, that I may borrow leave to use that word in the moral sense,) every one knows the phra.se intends the ap- propriating all learning, virtue, ju.slice, goodness, to such a one. Which, becau.se thev know unappropriable to any man, they easily underslancj it to be, in such a case, a rhetorical strain and form of speech. And yet could not know that, if also they did not understand its proper and native import. And so it may as well be understood what is meant by saying of Gfod, He is being iLseU". With which .sense may be reconciled that of (the so named) Dionysius the Areopagiie ;f that (Sod is not so properly said to be of, or be in, or to have, or partake, of being, as that it is of him, &c. Inasmuch as he is the pre-existent Being to all being ; t. e. if we understand him to mean all besides his own. In which sen.se taking being for that which is communicated and imparted, he may truly be said, (as this author and the Plaioni.s!.s generally speak.f) to be super-essential or super-substantial. But how fitly being is taken in that restrained sen.se| we may say more hereafter. In the meantime, what hath been said concerning this abstractedness of thenecessary being, hath in it somethings so unintelligible, and is accompanied with so great (im- menlioned) difficulties, (which it would give us, perhaps, more labour than profit to discuss,) and the absolute per- fection of God appears so evidenceable otherwise, bv what hath been and may be further said, that we are no way concerned to lay the stress of the cause on this matter only. VI. Moreover, necessary being is the cause and author of all being besides. Whatsoever is not necessary, is caused; for not having being of itself, it must be put into ? To which piiTpiKipwp martske notim of thewwdi ofo not thclna I ordiT. Si turn ntitld at) ip«o, turn ip«o pTiuf . Quim) sano imMum wt, qiure iipque ons nt lod fpcjitia.iwiuo bonus ••yItioiiitjM OIL Jul Soot £Mfr. 3C5. i Kai avTtf ci T9 Uinii t» rmt npoomt, voi ovrw ctfri it to being by somewhat else. And ina.smuch as there is no middle sort of being berwiit necessary and not neces-sary, and all that is not necessary is caused, it is plain that which is necessary mtist be the cause of all the rest. And surely what is the cau.se of all being besides its own, must need.s, one way or other, contain its own and all other in itself, and is con-seiiuently comprehensive of the utmost fulness of being ; or is the absolutely perfect being, (ns mu.st equally be acknowledged,) unless any one would imagine himself to have got the notice of some perfection that lies without the compass of all being. Nor is it an exception worth the mentioning, that there may be a conceptiun of possible being or perfection, which the necessarj' being hath not caused. For it is, manifestly, as well the possible cause of all possible being and per- fection, as the actual cause of what is actual. And what it is po.ssible to it to produce, it hath within its productive power, as hath been said before. And if the matter did require it, we might say further, that the same necessary t)eing which hath been the pro- ductive cause, is also the continual root and basis of all being, which is not neces.sarv. For what is of itself, and cannot, by the special privilege of its own being, but be, needs nothing to sustain it, or needs not trust to any thing besides its own eternal stability. But what is not so, seems to need a continual reproduction ever)' moment, and to be no more capable of continuing in being by itself, than it was, by itself, of coming into being. For (as ia frequenlly alleged by that so oflen mentioned author) since there is no connexion beiwixt the present and future time, hut what is easily capable of rupture, it is no way con.se- quent that, because 1 am now, I shall therefore be the next moment, further than as the free Author of my being .shall be pleased to continue his own most arbitrary in- fluence, for my support. This seems highly probable to be true, whether that reason signify any thing or nothing. And that thence, also, continual conservation differs not from creation. Which, whether (as is said by the same author) ii be one of the things that are manifest by natural light, or whether a positive act be needle.ss to the annihi- lation of created ihmgs, but only the withholding of in- fluence, let them examine that apprehend the eaitse to need it. And if, upon inquiry, they judge it at least evidenceable by natural light lo be so, (as I donbt not they will,) they will have this further ground upon which thus 10 reason : that, inasmuch as the nece.s.sar>- being subsists wholly by itself, and is that whereon all other doth lotally depend, it hereupon follows, that it must, some way, contain in itself all being. We may yet fur- ther add, That the necessary being we have evinced, though it have caused and do continually sustain all things, yet doth not itself in the meantime suflfer any diminution. It is not possible, nor consistent with the very terms ne- cesMry bctn^, that it can. It is true, that if such a thing as a r.eces.sary atom were admitted, that would be also undiminishable, it were not else an atom. But as nothing then can flow from it, as from a perlect parvitude nothing can, so it can eflect nothing. And the rca.son is the same of many as of one. Nor would nndiminishableness, upon such terms, signify any thing to the magnifying the value of such a trifle. But this is none of the present case : for our eyes tell us here is a world in being, which we are sure is not itself neccssarilv; and was therefore made bv him that is. And that, without mutation or change in him -. against which the very notion of a neccs.sary being is most irrecuncilably reluctant ; and therefore without diminution, which can- not be conceived without change. h Wherefore how inexhaustible a fountain of life, being, and all perfection, hare we here represented to our thoughts i from whence this vo-st universe is spning, and is continually .springing, and that in the meaniime receiving no recruits or foreign supplies, yet suffers no impairment or lessening of itself! What is this but absolute all-fulnessi And it is rof ror ttvat. xai £V QVTfM tvrt ro livoi. «2f tfwr OfrffC ty rwi ttrat. *ai Tov nit ro tit^t, rat owe avTOi exu ro nvat. De DMnit tujmin. Oft. L J Procliu in Plat Thml. 1 1 c < h E* « Mt.rin TfH x^Of la. KavopA, irrjyijif fUr ^tMK. ^rvyjy « wv, «fx^ • ti/v\ni oif€ tA xtofuviav aw' avrov eif iKftrom THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part I. so far from arguing any deficiency or mutability in his nature, that there is this continual issue of power and virtue from him, that it demonstrates its high excellency that this can be without decay or mutation. For of all this, we are as certain as we can be of any thing : that many things are not necessarily, that the being must be necessary from whence all things else proceed, and that with neces.sary being change is inconsistent. It is therefore unreasonable to entertain any doubt that things are so, which most evidently appear to be so, only because it is beyond our measure and compa.ss to apprehend how thty are so. And it would be to doubt, against our own eyes, whether there be any such thing as motion in the world, or composition of bodies, because we cannot give a clear account, so as to avoid all difficulties, and the entanglement of the common sophisms about them, how these things are performed. In the present ca,se, we have no difliculty but what is to be resolved into the perfection of the divine nature, and the imperfection of our own. And how ea.sily conceivable is it, that somewhat may be more perfect, than that we can conceive it. If we cannot conceive the manner of God's causation of things, or the nature of his causa- tive influence, it only shows their high excellency, and gives us the more groimd (since this is that into which both his own revelation and the reason of things most naturally lead us to resolve all) to admire the mighty efficacy of his all-creating and all-sustaining will and word ; that in that easy unexpensive way, by his mere fiat, so great things should be performed. VII. We only say further, that this necessary Being is such to which nothing can be added ; so as that it should be really greater, or better, or more perfect, than it was before. And this not only signifies, that nothing can be joined to it, so as to become a part of it, (which necessary being, by its natural immutability, manifestly refuses,) but we also intend by it, that all things el.se, with it, contain not more of real perfection than it dolh alone. Which, though it carries a difficulty with it that we intend not wholly to overlook when it shall be seasonable to consider it, is a most apparent and demonstrable truth. For it is plain that all being and perfection which is not necessary, proceeds from that which is, as the cause of it ; and that no cause could communicate any thing to another which it had not, some way, in it.self Wherefore it is manifestly consequent that all other being was wholly before com- prehended in that which is necessary, as having been wholly produced by it. And what is wholly comprehended of another, i. e. within its productive power, before it be produced, can be no real audition to it, when it is. Now what can be supposed to import fulness of being and perfection, more than this impossibility of addition, or that there can be nothing greater or more perfect 1 And now these considerations are mentioned, without solicitude whether they be so many exactly distinct heads. For admit that they be not all distinct, but some are in- volved with others of them, yet the same truth may more powerfully strike .some understandings in one form of re- presentation, others in another. And it suffices, that (though not severally) they do together plainly evidence that the necessary being includes the absolute, entire ful- ness, of all being and perfection actual and possible within itself Having therefore thus despatched that former part of this undertaking, the eviction of an every-way perfect being, we shall now need to labour little in the other, viz. Vni. Secondly, The more express deduction of the in- finitencss and onliness thereof For as to the former of these, it is in effect the same thing that hath been already provcil; since to the fullest notion of infinitcne.ss.ab.solulepcrfVrtion seems evert' way most fully to correspond. For alisohite perfection includes all conceivable perfection, leaves nothins; excluded. And what doth most simple infinitencss import, but to have nothing for a boundary, or, which is the same, not to be bounded at all 1 We intend not now, principally, infinitencss extrinsi- calbj considered, with respect to time and place, as to be eternal and tmmcn.w do import; but 7H/ri7«jMHy, as im- porting bottomless profundity of essence, and the full con- fluence of all kinds and degrees of perfection, without bound or limit. This is the same with absolute perfec- tion : which yet, if any should suspect not lo be so, they might, however, easily and expressly prove it of the neces- sary being, upon the same giounds that have been already alleged for proof of that: — as that the necessary being hath actuality answerable to the utmost possibilitv- of the crea- ture; that it is the only root and cause of all other being, the actual cause of whatsoever is actually ; the possible cause of whatsoever is possible to be: which is most ap- parently true, and hath been evidenced to be so, by what hath been said, so lately, as that it needs not be repeated. That is, in short, that nothing that is not necessarily, and of itself^ could ever have been or can be, but as it hath been or shall he put into being by that which is necessa- rily, and of it.self So that this is as apparent as that any thing is, or can be. But now let sober reason judge, whether there can be any boimds or limits set to the possibility of producible being; either in respect of kinds, numbers, or degrees of perfection 1 Who can say or think, when there can be so many sorts of creatures produced, (or at least individuals of those sorts,) that there can be no more^ Or that any creature is so perfect as that none can be made more per- fect ■? Which indeed, to suppose, were to suppose an actual intiniteness in the creature. And then it being, however, still but somewhat that is created or made, how can its maker but be infinite 1 For surely nobody will be so ab- surd as to imagine an infinite effect of a fiiite cause. Either therefore the creature is, or some time may be actually made, so perfect that it cannot be more perfect, or not. If not, we have our purpose ; that there is an infinite po.ssibility on the part of the creature, always imreplete ; and consequently, a proportionable infinite actuality of power on the Creator's part. Infinite power, I say; other- wise there were not that acknowledged infinite possibility of producible being. For nothing is producible that no power can produce, be the intrinsic possibility of it (or its not-implying in itself a contradiction that it should exist) what it will. And I say, infinite actual power, because the Creator, being what he is necessarily, what power he hath not actually, he can never have, as was argued before. But if it be said, the creature either is, or may some time be, actually .so perfect as that it cannot be more perfect ; that, as was said, will suppose it then actually infinite ; and therefore much more that its cause is so. And there- fore in this way our present purpose would be gained also. But we have no mind to gain it this latter way, as we have no need. It is in itself plain, to any one that considers, that this possibility on the creature's part can never actu- ally be filled up;' that it is a bottomless abyss, in which our thoughts may still gradually go down deeper and deeper, without end: that is, that still more might be pro- duced, or more perfect creatures, and still more, everla.st- ingly, without any bound; which sufficiently infers what we aim at, that the Creator's actual power is proportion- able. And indeed the supposition of the former can neither consist with the Creator's perfection, nor with the imper- fection of the creature; it would infer that the Creator's productive power might be exhausted ; that he could do no more, and .so place an actual boundar)- to him, and make him finite. It were to make the creature actually full of being, that it could receive no more, and so would make that infinite. But it may be said, since all power is in order to act, nnd the veiT notion of possibility imports that such a thing, of which it is said, may, some time, be actual; it seems very unreasonable to .say, that the infinite power of a cause cannot produce an infinite effect; or that infinitepossibility can never become infinite actuality. For thai wore lo say and un.say the same thing, of the same; to affirm omnipotency and impotency of the same cause; possiliilily and impossibility of the same effect. How urgent soever this difficulty may seem, there needs nothing but patience and attentive consideration to disen- tangle ourselves and get through it. For if we will but allow ourselves the leisure to consider, we .shall find that pmrrr and possiUlily must here be taken not simply and nbsiractediv, but as each of them is in conjunction with infinite. And what is infinite, but that which can never be travelled through, or whereof no end can be ever arrived unto? Now suppose infinite power had produced all that Ciup. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. A it could produce, it were no longer infinite, there were an and of it: i. e. it had found limits and a boundar)- beyond which it could not go. If inlinile pcssibiliiy were filled up, there were an end of that also ; and so neither were infinite. It may then be further urged, that there is therefore no such thing as infinite power or possibility. For how is that cau.se said to have infinite power, which can never piotUice its proportionable effect, or that etTect have infinite pos.sibility, which can never be produced! It would follow then, that power and possibility, which are said to be in- finite, are neither power nor possibility ; and that infinite must be rejected as a notion either repugnant to itself, or to any thing unto which we shall go aoout to aflix it. I answer. It only follows, they are neither power nor possibility, whereof there is any bound or end; or that can ever be gone through. And how absurd is it that they shall be said, as they cannot but be, to be both very vast, if they were finite ; tind none at all, for no other reason but their being infinite I And for the pretended repugnancy of the very notion of infinite, it is plain, that though it can- not be to us distinctly comprehensible, yet it is no more repugnant than the notion of finiteness. Nor when we have conceived of power, in the general, and in our own thoughts set bounds to it, and made it finite, is it a greater ditficulty (nay, they that try will find it much ea.sier) again to think away these bounds, and make it infinite ^ And let Ihem that judge the notion of infinilene.> tney wcil f ' effects °tid"as'ro'"theVe'^!That infinite being should seem to exdudeal finite -I confess that such as are so disposed, S he e even wrangle continually,, as they might do Xut anything in which infiniteness is concerned; and yet Therefn show themselves (as Seneca I remember sp^ak in another ease) not a wit 'l**^,,'""'? ?w, wo k of it and troublesome. 6ut if one would ■"'^'^'^ .^l^"" 7,"'^'^ °!i'' Cs barely deny that infinite being excludes finite, (as hcu us do h little else ;■ besides denying the .^onsequenee of the arsumem by which it was before enforced, i i-^[that an fnireEody would exclude a finite ; for where shouUUhe finite be when the infinite should fill up all space ? And fhe efore by parity of reason, why should not infinite being exclude finite^] sLwing the disparity of the two caseO t would perhaps give them some trouble ^1^° ° P™^^^'^; For which way would they go to work I I"fi"'« ^f ""^7^ sisting being includes all being very true ; ^""^ Jerefore we say, it includes finite. And what then l D"'h ' . "« cause t includes it, therefore exclude it 1 A^ '''^ "^^ matter be soberly considered; somewhat of ■finite be ng and Dower we say, (and apprehend no knot or tlitticulty L the matter,) ca^'extendSS far as to Produce ^^^e pro- portionable effect, or can do such and ^i^h l^h.ng^^ And what doth it seem likely then, that infinite bemg ana power can therefore do just nothing ? Is n not a reason of mic-hty force, and eonfoundingly demonstrative, that an ^ent can do nothing, or cannot possibly produce any the kast thing, only because he is of infinite power '■ For i -there be a simple inconsistency between an mfinite being and a finite, that will be the case ; that, Ifcati^'^ 'he former is infinite, therefore it can produce nothing tor what it should produce cannot consist with it, ). e. e\en not being finiteUni then certainly if we could suppose the eft-ec7 injinik, much less. But what, therefore, is pow er the less for being infinite 1 or can infinite power even be- cause it is infinite, do nothing? What can be said or thought more absurd, or void of sense? Or ^hall be said ^hat the infiniteness of power is no hinderance, bu the infiniteness of being 1 But how wild an imagination uere that of a finite being, that were of mfiti.te P^" f"d besides, is that power somewhat, or no hing ! feureiy ii will not be saiii it is nothing. Then it is some bemg; and if some power be some being, what 'heij '^ mfin. e power 1 IS not that infinite being 1 And now, therefore, if this infinite can produce any thing, which it were a '^'""?Je madness to deny, it can at least produce .some fi"'te thing. Wherefore there is no inconsistency between the inhnite and finite beings, imless we say the effect produced, even by being produced, must destroy, or even infinitely impa r, its cause, so as to make it cease at least to be infinite. But that also cannot possibly be said of that which is inti- niteandnecessarv-; whi.h.as hath been shown, cannot, bv whatsoever productions, suffer any diminution or dt ca\^ li here it be further urged, But here is an infinile being now supposed ; let, next, be supposed the P""'"^"'';" ;' ^'^ finite : this is not the same wilb the other; for Muely in- finile and finite, are distinguishable enough, and do e%en infini'telv difl"er. The finite is either something or nothnvg : nothing'it caniu.t be said; for it was sunposed a being, and produced; but the production of nothing is no pro- duction. It is somewhat .hen ; here il,lherefore ati infi- nite being, and a finite now besides. The '°fin"^> "J^'^' said, cannot be diminished ; the finite, a real something, is added. Is there therefore nothing more of existent hein ^han there wa.s before this production 1 Y/^e'^Ze Nothing more than virtually wns^ before; ''T wWu we suppose an infinite being, and afterwards a finite, this iSSSxrwKrafi^^^^:slsr^ finite IS not to be looked npon as emerging or springing np of iLs<^lf out of nothing, oVas proceeding from some third ,n?^as Its cause, but as produced by that infinite, or sDrmg.ng out of that, which it eould not do but as being belbJf virtually contained m it. For the infinite produces no h^ng which it could not produce. And what it coidd nrodnce was before contained in it as m the power uf its cause And to any one that attends, and is not disposed [o be qufrrelsome, this is a. plain and easy to be under- wood as how any finite thmg may produce another or rather more plain and easy, because a finite agent do h not en',i>ely contain its efi-ect within itself, or in its own powe° as an infinite doth. If yet it be again said that Th ch is limited .snot infinite, but suppose any finite thmg nroduced mio being after a pre-exis.ent infinite, this infi- n^e becomes now limited ; for the being of the finite is not fhat of the infinite, each hath its own distmct bemg. And H ca^noVbe said of the one, it is the other; therefore each s hmUed to itself I answer ; tha; -vhich was mfini e be- comes not hereby less than it wa*, for it hath produced nTh'ng but what was before virtually eontamed in it, and sd'Sr It still totally sustains ^f^-^'^^^ ever it actually doth, it can do, or hath withm iis power, 'herefore ir it were ilifinUe before, and is not now become '"therefore ISf uue reason why the position of a finite -^-ii^u^r^^dSi^f^f^ Sive 4finity>, that it was formerly contained, and stiU is within the virtue and power of the other. 'us true that if we should suppose any thing besid^ tha supposed infinite to be of itself, that would ,n^r a ^°UeJe onfy we may bv the way annex, as a just eorolla- Sr^w^:Si^|am.y.obe^^-^^^ ,Mc, ^^V?of^ZjAJ^^<^vrehen!n-e^<^nd if matter "■7 .".If s^lb is'fn.'^ven- Sa-le oT it must be so. And and «-lf-'="°^^''"- not „^,V ,wo, but an infinite number of then we shall have not ™ f '" ' ^- ^ b^ bemg, only general notion w^rein "' he'ng a re . anrt ^_ y^^^ ^^^ '''"''itn'^^rorve'andd^ h^^^^^ unequally ''^ever, anu uei. • -whereupon the ex- the distinct sorts do P.a"a';VX"",,ke i, spoken of God, ''"^fb^.X,;^." rs'Vheto S strains,^mV must be unrtersioo i »;- ■■■ hvcssfnce as was for- merlv sairt, onl\ "lai « ""^'', ' , . , f po„,,nce were intended onlv a purer and morenoblekind of^-t^^^^^^^ Cbap. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 37 nothing but the shadow, ralher, of being. And that thev who would seem zealously concerned to appropriate all being unto GSod, should, in the height of iheir tran.sport, so far forget themselves as to s^el him above all being, and so deny him any at all. For surely that which simply is above all being is no being. X And as lo Ihe uniiy, or onliness rather, of this being, or of ihe God-head, Ihe deduction thereof seems plain and easy from what hath been already proved ; that is, from the absolute perfection thereof For though some do toil themselves much about this matter, and others plainly conclude that it is not lo be proved at all in a rational way, but only by divine revelation ; yet I conceive, they that follow the method (having proved some necessary self-sub- sisting being the root and original spring of all being and perfection, actual and possible, which is as plain as any thing can be) of deducing from thence the absolute, all- comprehending perfection of such necessary being, will find their work as good as done. For nothing seems more evident, than that there cannot be two (much less more) such bcingSj inasmuch as one comprehends in itself all being and perfection; for there can be but ohe all, without which is nothing. So that, one such being supposed, another can have nothing remaining lo it. Yea, so far is it therefore, if we suppose one infinite and abwhitely perfect being, that there can be another, independent thereon, (and of a depending infinity, we need not say more than we have, which if any such could be, cannot possibly be a distinct Go^,) that there cannot be ihe minutest finite thins: inia. ginable, which thai supposed infinity doth not comprehend, or that can stand apart from it, on any distinct basis of its own. And that this matter may be left as plain as we can make it; supposing it already most evident. That there is, actually existing, an ab.solute, entire fulness of wisdom, power, and so of all other perfection — That such alxsoluto entire fulness of perfection is infinite — Th.it this infinite perfection must have its primary seat somewhere — That lis primary, original seat can be no where, but in necessary sell-subsisting being. We hereupon add, Ihat if we sup- pose multitude, or any plurality of necessary self-originate beings, concurring to make up the seat or subject of lliis infinite perfection ; each one must either he of finite and partial perfection, or infinite and absolute. Infinite and absolute it cannot be, because one self-origina'e, infinitely and absolutely perfect being, will necessarily compiehend all perfection, and leave nothing to the rest. Nor finite, because many finiles can never make one infinite ; much less can many broken parcels or fragments of perfection ever make infinite and absolute perfection ; even ihoush their number, if thai were possible, were infinite. For the perfection of unity would still be wanting, and their com- munication and concurrence to any work (even such as we see is done) be infinitely imperfect and impossible. We might, more at large, ana with a much more pomp- ous number and apparatus of arguments, have shown that there can be no more gods than one. But In such as had ralher be inlbrmi-d, than bewildered and lost, clearpioofiliat is shorter, and more comprehensive, will be more grateful. Nor doth this prcmf ot the vnilti of ihe God-head any way imptign the trinihj, which is by Christians believed, therein, (and whereof some heathens, as is known, have not been wholly without some apprehension, however they came bv it,) or exclude a sufficient, uncreated ground of trinal disliiiclion. As would be seen, if that great differ- ence of beings, Tuasniry and contingent, be well slated, !ind what is by eiemal, necessary emanaiion of the divine rAture, l>e duly distinguished from the arbiirarv products of the divine will; and the mailer be thoroughly examined, whether herein benot a sufficient distinction of that which is increated, and that which is created. In this way it is mssible il might be cleared, how a trinilii in the God- lead may be very consistently with the unity thereof But that it is, we cannot know, but by his telling us so. It being among the many things of God, which .are not lobe known, but by the Spirit of God revealing and testifying them, in and according lo ihe Holy Scriptures : as' the things of a man are not known but by the spirit of a man. And what further evidence we may justly and reasonably take from those Scriptures, even in reference to .some of the things hitherto discoursed, may be hereafter shown. 7 CHAPTER V. exul£nc€. It mujr br, in any way suitable T., '• tnodo Iuiowt) lo u9 Umt It doth cxint T Proved, 1. Thar ii i ' Mint, any other lit way that cun l)e thourht oni* nsmuch II 1 ^ -i . i liat we lm»e alrcaay, lAw must !«, therelbre, nifikk-nt .-t,,: i. ;:i , > .-ii,ii«. Glorioui appahtionA. Teiriblt.- vuicca. SurpfiMDf ^'annriimiatinn. It' theae are ne. ceaiary, ia it noedlii) they t>r uniTcnal } frequent T It' not, niot« me tbioi* of thin sort not wanting 2. Demand. Can nittiectj, remote from their prince, sufllcivntly lie aj9UTed of liis exuteocel S. Demaiid. Can we be lufe thece an} men on earth 1 I. And if any shoald in the meantime still remain either doubtful, or apt to cavil, after all that hath been said for froof of thai being's existence which we have described, would only add these few things, by way of inquiry or demand ; viz. First, Do thev believe, upon supposition of the exist- ence of such a Being, that it is possible it may be made knowTi to us, in our present slate and circumstances, by means not unsuitable thereto, or inconvenient lo the order and government of the world, that il doth exist 1 It were strange lo say or suppose, that a Being of so high perfec- tion as this we have hitherto given an account of, t/ he is, cannot in any fit way make it known that he is, lo an in- telligent and apprehensive .sort of creatures. If indeed he is, and be the common Cause, Author, and Lord of us and all things, (which we do now but sup- pose: and we may defy cavil to allege anv thing lhat is so much as colourable against the possibifitv of the sup- position,) surely he hath done greater things ijian the mak- ing of it known that he is. It is no unapprehensible thing. There hath been no inconsistent notion nilherlo given ol him; nothing said concerning him, but will well admit that it is possible such a Being may be now existent. Yea, we not only can conceive, but we actually have, and cannot but have, some conception of the several attributes we have ascribed to him: so as lo apply them, severtUly, to somewhat else, if we will not apply them, jointly, lo him. We cannot but admit there is .some eternal, neces- san,' being; somewhat that is of itself active; somewhat that is powerful, wi.se, and good. And these notions have in lliem no repugnancy to one another; wherefore it is not impossible they may meet, and agree together, in full per- fection to one and the same existent bein?. And hence it is manifestly no unapprehensible thing, that such a Being doth exi.st. Now supposing thai il dolh exist, and hatn been lo us the Cause and Author of our being; hath given us Ihe reasonable, inlelligeni nature which we find our- selves possessors of; and ihat very power whereby we apprehend the existence of such a Being as he is to be pos- sible, (all which we for the present do still but suppose,) while also his actual existence is not unapprehensible; were il not the greatest madness imaginable to say, that if he do exist, he cannot also make our apprehensive nature understand this apprehensible thing that he doth cxi.sl'! We will therefore take it for sranted.and as a thing which no man well in his wils will deny, ihat up Now werr not Oal a nip«( bniiropet coune, vhI urauilaMe to Uw nn »nvj^c."iu' '*'"''«°<'l'l'>"»'ta«"" rnilily or tnio airnilicancjr of such portontj, yet «p(lr tendi lo mv«nl or corrrct thr ill um oflhcm. c n Arrop. I. do tnjitar. Thool. c. 1. d Tti o $£toi > yo^i. 0 Prod. inPiAt THgiA. yvaavTai€vifpvte€at rifayvw^ui Kai xpv^itM ruv 40 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PlRT I. Not that they tended (otherwise than on the by) to prove God's existence: much less, was this so amazing an ap- pearance needful, or intended Ibr that end; and least of all, was it necessary that this should be God's ordinary way of makmg it known to men that he doth exist: so as that for lliis purpose he should often repeat so terrible representations of himself And how inconvenient it were to mortal men, as well as unnecessary, the astonishment wherewith it possessed that people, is an evidence ; and their passionate affrighted wish thereupon, " Let not God any more speak to us, lest we die." They apprehended it impossible for them to outlive such another sight ! And if that so amazing an appearance of the Divine Majesty (sometime afforded) were not necessary, but .some way, on the by, useful, for the confirming that people in the persuasion of God's existence, why may it not be useful also, for the same purpose even now, to usl Is it that we think that can be less true now, which was so gloriously evident to be true four thousand years ago 1 Or is it that w^e can disbelieve or doubt the truth of the his- tory 1 What should be the ground or pretence of doubt 1 If it were a fiction, it is manifest it was feigned by some person that had the use of his understanding, and was not beside himself, as the coherence and contexture of parts doth plainly show. But would any man not beside him- self, designing to gain credit to a forged report of a matter of fact, ever say there were six hundred thousand persons present at the doing of it 1 Would it not rather have been pretended done in a corner 1 Or is it imaginable it should never have met w'ith contradiction 1 That none of the pre- tended bystanders should disclaim the avouchment of it, and say they knew of no such matter 1 Especially if it be considered that the laws said to be given at that time, chiefly those which were reported to have been written in the two tables, were not so favourable to vicious inclina- tions, nor that people so strict and scrupulous observers of them; but that they would have been glad to have had any thing to pretend, against the authority of the legisla- ture, if the case could have admitted it. When they dis- covered, in that and succeeding time, so violently prone and unretractable a propension to idolatry and other wickednesses, directly against the very letter of ihat law, how welcome and covetable a plea had it been, in their frequent, and, sometimes, almost universal apostacies, could they have had such a thing to pretend, that the law itself that curbed them was a cheat ! But we always find, that though they laboured, in some of their degene- racies, and when they were lap.sed into a more corrupted slate, to render it more ea,sy to themselves by favour- able glosses and interpretations; yet, even in the most corrupt, they never went about to deny or implead its divine original, whereof they were ever so religious as- sertors, as no people under heaven could be more; and the awful apprehension whereof prevailed .so far with them, as that care was taken (as is notoriously known) by those appointed to that charge, that the very letters should be numbered of the sacred writings, lest there should happen any the minutest alteration in them. Much more might be said, if itxvere needful, for the evincing the truth of this particular piece of history: and it's little to be doubted but any man who, with sober and impartial reason, con- siders the circumstances relating to it; the easily evidence- able antiquity of the records whereof this a part; the certain nearness of the time of writing them, to the time when this thing is said to have been done ; the great re- putation of the writer even among pagans; the great mul- titude of the alleged witnesses and spectators; the no- contradiction ever heard of; the universal con^^ent and suffrage of that nation through all limes to this day, even when their practice hath been most contrary to the laws then given; the securely confident and unsuspicious refer- ence of later pieces of sacred Scripture thereto, (even some parts of the New Testament,) as a most known and un- doubted thing; the long series and tract of time through which that people are said lo have had extraordinary and sensible indications of the divine presence; (which, if it Bad been false, could not, in so long a lime, but have been evicted of falsehood ;) their miraculous and wonderful eduction out of Egypt, not denied by anv, and more ob- scurely acknowledged by some heathen writers ; their con- duct through the wilderness, and settlement in Canaan; their constitution and form of polity, known for many ages to have been a theocracy; their usual ways of consulting God, upon all more important occasions : — whosoever, I say, shall soberly consider these things, (and many more might easily occur to such as would think fit to let their thoughts dwell awhile upon this subject,) will not only, from some of them, think it highly improbable, but from others of them, plainly impossible, that the history of this appearance should have been a contrived piece of falsehood. Yea, and though, as was said, the view of such a thing with one's own eyes would make a more powerful impres- sion upon our fancy, or imagination, yet, if we speak of rational evidence (which isquite another thing) of ihetruth of a matter of fact that were of this astonishing nature, I should think it were as much (at least if I were credibly told that so many hundred thousand persons saw it at once) as if I had been the single unaccompanied spectator of it myself. Not to say that it were apparently, in some respect, much greater; could we but obtain of ourselves to distinguish between the pleasing of our curiosity, and the satisfyng of our reason. So that, upon the whole, I see not why it may not be concluded, with the greatest confidence, that both the (supposed) existence of a Deity is possible to be certainly known to men on earth, in some way that is suitable to their present stale; that there are no means fitter to be ordinary, than those we already have, and lhat more extraordinary, additional con- firmations are partly, therefore, not necessary, and partly not wanting. V. Again, it may be further demanded, (as that which may both immediately serve our main purpose, and may also show the reasonableness of what was last said,) Is it sufficiently evident to such subjects of some great prince as live remote from the royal residence, that there is such a one now ruling over theml To say No, is lo raze the foundation of civil government, and reduce it wholly lo domestical, by such a ruler as may ever be in present view. Which yet is upon such terms never possible to be preserved also. It is plain many do firmly enough believe that there is a king reigning over them, who not only never saw the king, but never heard any distinct account of the splendour of his court, the pomp of his attendance, or, it may be, never saw the man that had seen the king. And is not all dutiful and loyal obedience Wont to be challenged and paid as such, as well as his other subjects'! Or would it be thought a reason- able e.tcuse of disloyalty, lhat any such persons should say they had never seen the king, or his court ■? Or a reasonable demand, as the condition of required subjection, that the court be kept, sometime, in their village, that they might have the opportunity of beholding at least some of the insignia of regality, or more splendid appearances of lhat majesty, which claims subjection from theinl Much more would it be deemed unreasonable and insolent, lhat every subject should expect to .see the face of the prince every day, otherwise they will not obey, nor believe there is aiiy such per.son. Whereas it hath been judged rather more expedient and serviceable to the continuing the vene- ration of majesty, (and in a monarchy rf no mean reputa- tion for wisdom and greatness,) that ihe prince did very rarelv offer himself to ihe view of the people. Surely more ordinary and remote discoveries of an existing prince and ruler over them, (the effects of his power, and the influences of his government,) will be reckoned sufficient, even as to many parts of his dominions that possibly through many succeeding generations never had ether. And yet how unspeakably less sensible, less immediate, less constant, less necessarj', less numerous, are Ihe effects and instances of regal hurnan power and wisdom, than of the divine; which latter we behold which way soever we look, and feel in every thing we touch, or have any sense of, and may reflect upon in our very senses themselves, and in all the parts and powers that belong to us; and so certainly, that if we would allow ourselves the liberty of serious thoughts, we might soon find it were utterly impossible such eflecis should ever have been without lhat only cause: that without its influence, it had never been pos- sible that we could hear, or see, or speak, or think, or live, or be any thing, nor lhat any other thing could ever have Chap. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 41 been, when as the effects that serve so justly to endear and recommend to us civil government, (as peace, safely, order, quiet possession of our rij^lils,) we cannot but know, are not inseparably and incommunicably approriate, or to be attributed to the person of this or that particular and mor- tal governor, but may also proceed from another: yea, and the same benefits may (for some short lime at least) be continued without any such government at all. Nor is this intended merely as a rhetorical scheme of speech, to beguile or amuse the unwary reader ; but, without arro- gating any ihin?, or attributing more to it, than that it is an altogether inartificial and very defective, but true and naked, representation of the very case itself as it is. It is professedly propounded, as having somewhat solidly argu- mentative in it. That is, that (whereas there is most con- fessedly suliicient, yet) there is unspeakably less evidence to most people in the world, under civil government ; that there actually is such a government existent over them ; and that they are under obligation to be subject to it; than there is of the existence of a Deitv, and the consequent reasonableness of religion. If therefore the ordinary effects and indications of the former be sufficient, which have so contingent and uncertain a connexion with their causes, (while those which are more extraordinary are so exceeding rare with the most,) why shall not the more certain ordinary discoveries of the latter be judged suffi- cient, though the mo.st have not the immediate notice of any such extraordinary appearances as those are which have been before mentioned"! VI. Moreover, I yet demand further, whether it may be thought possible for any one to have a full rational cer- tainly that another person is a reasonable creature, and hath in him a rational soul, so as to judge he hath suffi- cient ground and obligation to converse with him, and carry towards him as anianl Without the supposition of this, the foundation of all human society and civil conversation is taken away. And what evidence have we of it, whereunto that which we have of the being of God (as the foundation of religious and godly conversa- tion) will not at least be found equivalent. V?'ill we say that mere human shape is enough lo prove such a one a man 1 A philosopher would deride us, as the Stagyrite's disciples are said to have done the Platonic man. But we will not be so nice. We acknowledge it is, if no circumstances concur (as sudden appearing, va- nishing, transformation, or the like) that plainlv evince the contrary ; so far as to infer upon us an obligation not to be rude and uncivil ; that we use no violence, nor carry ourselves abusively towards one that onlv thus appears a human creature. Yea, and to perform any duly of jus- lice or charily towards him within our power, w-hich we owe to a man as a man. As suppose we see him wronged or in necessity, and can presently right or relieve him ; though he do not or cannot represent to us more of his case than our own eyes inform us of And should an act of murder be committed upon one whose true humanity was not otherwise evident, would not the offender be ju.sily li- able to the known and common punishment of that event l ^or could he acquit himself of transgressing the laws of humanity, if he should only neglect any .seasonable act of justice or mercy towards him, whereofhe beholds the pre- sent occasion. But if any one were disposed to cavil, or play the sophist, how much more might he said, even bv infinite degrees, to oppose this single evidence of any one's true humanity, than ever was or can be brought against the entire concurrent evidence we have of the existence of God. It is, here, most manifestly just and equal, thus to Slate the ca.se, and compare the whole evidence we have of the latter, with that one of the former; inasmuch as that one alone is apparently enough to oblise us to carry towards such a one as a man. And if that alone be suffi- cient to oblige us to acLs of justice or charily towards man, he IS strangely blind that cannot see infinitely more to oblige him to acts of piety towards God. But if we would lake a nearer and more strict view of this parallel, we would slate the general and more obvious aspect of this world on the one hand, and the external aspect and shape of a man on the other ; and should then see the former doth evidence lo us an in-dwelling Deity diffused through the whole, and actuating every part with incomparably greater certainty, than the laller doih an in-dwelling reasonable soul. In which way we shall find what will aptly serve our present purpcse, though \vc are far from apprehending any such union of the blessed God with this world, as is between the .soul and body of a man. It is manifestly possible to our understandings, that there may be, and (if any history or testimony of olhers be worthy to be believed) certain to experience and sense, that tiiere oflen hath been, the appearance of humtm shape and of agreeable actions without a real man. But it is no way possible such a world as this should have ever been without God, That there is a world, proves that eternal Being to exist, whom we lake to be God, (.suppose we it as rude a heap as at first it was, or as we can sup- pose it,) as external appearance represents tons that crea- ture which we lake lo be a man ; but t>uit as a certain in- fallible discovery, necessarily true ; this but as a probable and conjectural one, and (though highly probable) not im- po.ssible to be false. And if we will yet descend lo a more particular inquiry into this matter, which way will we fully be ascerlainei that this supposed man is truly and really what he seems lo be 1 This we know not how to go about, without recol- lecting what is the dilTerencing notion we have of a man ; that he is, viz. a reasonable, living creature, or a reason- able soul, inhabiting, and united with a body. And how do we think lo descry that, here, which may answer this common notion we have of a man i. Have we any way besides that discovery which ihe acts and effects of reasoa do make of a rational or intelligent being"! We will look more narrowly, i. e. unio somewhat else than his external appearance; and observe Ihe actions that proceed from a more distinguishing principle in him, that he reasons, dis- courses, doth business, pursues designs; in short, he talks and acts as a reasonable creature : and hence we conclude him to be one, or lo have a reasonable soul in him. And have we not the same way of procedure in the other case 1. Our first view or taking notice of a world full of life and motion, assures us of an eternal active Being, be- sides it, which we lake lo be God. having now before our eves a darker shadow of him only, as the external bulk of the human body is only the shadow of a man. Which, when we behold it stirring and moving, assures us there is somewhat besides that grosser bulk, (that of itself could not so move,) which we lake lo be the soul of a man. Yet, as a principle that can move the body makes not up Ihe entire notion of this soul, so an elernal active being, that mo%-cs the mailer of the universe, makes not up the full notion of God. Wc are thus far sure in both ca.ses, i. e. of some mover distinct from what is moved. But we are not vet sure, by what we hitherto see, what the one or the other is. But as when we have upon the first sight thought it was a reasonable soul that was acting in the former, or a man, (if we will speak according lo their sense who make the .soul the man,) in order lo being sure, (as sure as the case can admit,) we have no other way, but lo consider what belongs more disiinguishingly to the notion of a man, or of a reasonable soul ; and observe how actions and efft'cis, which we hare opportunity lo take notice of, do answer thereto, or serve to discover that. So when we would be sure what that eternal active Being is (which that it is, we are already sure, and) which we have taken lo he God, that, I say, we may be sure of that also, we have the same thing to do. That is, to consider what more peculiarly belongs to the entire notion of Grod, (and would even in the judgment of opposersbe acknowledged to helons 10 it,) and. see whether his works, more narrowly inspected, do not bear as manifest correspondency to that notion of God, as the works and actions of a man do to the notion we have of him. And ceriainlv we cannot but find they do correspond as much. And that upon a seri- ous and considerate view of Ihe works and appearaucesof God in the world ; having diligently observed and pon- dered the vastness andbeauly of this universe, the variety, the muliilude, the order, the exquisite shapes and numer- ous parts, the admirable and useful composure, of parti- cular creatures; and especially the constitution and powers of the rea-sonahle soul of man itself; we cannot, surely, if we be not under the possession of a very voluniary and obstinate blindness, anci the power of a most vicious pre- THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part I. judice but acknowledge the makin?, suslaining, and go veiniiig such a world, is as god-like, as worthy of God, and a.s much becoming him, according to the notion that hath been assigned of him, as at least the common actions of ordinary men, are of a man; or evidence the doer of them 10 be a human creature. Yea, and with this advan- tageous difl'erence, that the actions of a man do evidence a human creature more uncertainly, and so as ii is possible the matter may be otherwise. But these works ol God do with so plain and demonstrative evidence discover hira the Author of them, that it is altogether impossible they could ever otherwise have been done. Now therefore, if we have as clear evidence of a Deity, as we can have in a way not unsuitable to the nature and present state of man ; (and we can have in a suitable way, that which is sulficient ;) if we have clearer and more certain evidence of God's government over the world, than most men have or can have, of the existence of their secular rulers; vea, more sure than that there are men on earth, and that thence (as far as the existence of God will make' towards it) there is a less disputable ground for re- ligious than for civil conversation ; we may reckon our- selves competently well ascertained, and have no longer reason to delay the dedication of a temple to him, upon any pretence of doubt, whether we have an object of wor- ship existing, yea or no. Wherefore we may also bv the way lake notice how im- pudent a thing is atheism, that by the same fulsome and poisonous breath wherebv it would blast religion, would despoil man of his reason and apprehensive power, even in reference to the most apprehensible thing ; would blow away the rights of princes, and all foundations of policy and government, and destroy all civil commerce and con- versation out of the world, and yet blushes not at the at- tempt of .-jo foul things. VII. And here it may perhaps prove worth our while (though it can be no pleasant contemplation) to pause a little, and make some short rejledions upon the aiheislical temper and genius, so a.s therein to remark some few more obvious characters of atheism itself And first, such as have not been themselves seized by the infatuation, cannot but judge it a most unreasonable thing, a perverse and cross-gramed humour, that so oddly writhes and warps the mind of a man, as that it never makes anv effort or offer at any thing against the Deity ; but it therein doth (by a certain sort ol serpen! ine invo- lution and retortion) seem to design a quarrel wuh itsell : that is, with (what one would think should be most inti. mate and natural to the mind of man) his very reasoning power, and the operations thereof So near indeed was the ancient alliance between God and man, (his own Son, his likeness and living image,) and consequently betw-een reason and religion, that no man can ever be engaged in an opposition to God and his interest, but he must be equal- ly so to him,self and his own. And any one that lakes no- tice how the business is carried by an atheist, must think, in order to his becoming one, his fir.st plot was upon liim- self: to assassine his own intellectual tacultv, by a sturdy resolution, and violent imposing on himself, not lo consi- der, or use his thoughts, at least wiih any indifferency,biit with a treacherous predelcrminaiion lo the part resolved on before-hand. Othciwise, il is hard lo be imagined how it should ever have been possible that so plain and evident proofs of a Deitv as everv where offer themselves unto observation, even such a.s have been here proposed, (that do even lie open, for the most part, lo common apprehen- sion, and needed lillle search lo find them out ; so that it was harder to !Hicf,) how incon- sidernble will Ihevbe, to anv one that bethinks him.sell, with how perfect and generous a liberty ihis world was made, by one that needed it not; who had no de.-ign, nor by „ . could have inclination to a fond, self-indulgent glorying Chap. V. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 43 and vaunting of his own work ; who did it with the great est facility, and by an easy, unexpensive vouchsafemcnt of his good pleasure ; not with an opcrosc curiosity, studious to approve itself to the peevish eye of every froward Mo- mus, or to the nauseous, squeamish gust ol' every sensual Epicure. And to such as shall not confine their mean thoughts to that verj- clod or ball of earth on which they live; which, as it is a very small pan, may, for aught we know, but be the worst or most abject pan of Grod's creation; which yet is full of his goodness, and hath most manifest prints of his other excellences besides, as hath been observed; or that shall not look upon the present state of things as the eternal state, but upon iMs world only as an antechamber to another, which shall abide in most unexceptionable perfection fur ever ; — how fond and idle, I say, will all such cavils appear to one that shall but thus use his thoughts, and not think himself bound to measure his conceptions of God by the uncertain, rash dictates of men born in the dark, and that t.ilk at random ; nor shall affix anv thing to him, which plain reason doth not dictate, or which he do'.h not manifestly assume, or challenge to himself But that because a straw lies in my way, I would attempt to overturn heaven and earth, what raging phrensy is ttiis ! Again, it is a base, abject temper, speaks a mind sunk and lost in carnality, and that having dethroned and ab- jured reason, hath abandoned itself to the hurry of vile appetite, and sold its liberty and sovereignty for the insipid, gustless pleasures of sense; an unmanlv thing — a degrad- ing of oneself For if there be no God. what am 11 A piece of moving, thinking cloy, whose ill-compacted parts will shortly fly asunder, and leave no other remains of me than what shall become the prey and triumph of worms ! It is a sad, mopish, disconsolate temper; cuts off and quite banishes all manly, rational joy ; all that might spring from the contemplation of the divine excellences and glor)', shining in the works of his hands. Atheism clothes the world in black, draws a dark and du^ki.sh cloud over all things; doth more to damp and stifle ail relishes of intellectual pleasure, than it would of sensible, loeitinguish the sun. What is this world (if we should suppose it still to subsist) without God ! How grateful an entertainment is it to a pious mind to behold his glory itaraped on every creature, sparkling in every providence; and by a firm and rational faith to believe (when we can- not see) how all events are conspiring to bring about the most happy and blissful slate of things ! The atheist may make the most of this world; he knows no pleasure, but what can be drawn out of its dry breasts, or found in its cold embraces; which yields as little satisfaction, as he tinds, whose arms, aiming to enclose a dear friend, do only clasp a stiff and clammy carcass. How uncomfortable a thing is it to him. that having neither power nor wit to order things to his own advantage or content, but finds himself liable to continual disappointments, and the ren- counter of many an unsuspected, cross accident, hath none to repose on that is wiser and mightier than him.self! But when he finds he cannot command his own atfairs. to have the settled apprehension of an Almightv Ruler, that can with the greatest certainty do it for us the best wav, and will, if we trust him— how satisfying and peaceful a'repose doth this yield ! And how much the rather, inasmuch as that filial. unsu.spicious confidence and trust, which natu- rally tends to and begets that calm and quiet rest, is the very condition required on my pan; and that the chief thing I have to do, to have my affairs brought to a good puss, is to commit them to his rnanasement; and my only care, to be careful in nothing The atheist hath nothing to mitigate the greatness of this lo.'vs, but that he knows not what he loses; which is an allay that will serve but a little while. And when the most unsupponable, pressing miseries befall him, he must in bitter agonies groan out his wretched soul without hope, and sooner die under his burden, than say, Where is my God and Maker ? At the best, heexchanges all the pleasure and composure of mind which cenainly accompanies a dutiful, son-like trust, sub- ( Wliich stonf t conSdmllr >»frr Uk tiMn» of late datr. and liaiini liad a ™rtiLin and arcumitanUal accvHuit of it. br ow (a •.tij tatxr aiid inU-lli«ml rmonl wlw If d Ihc n-lation Irom him to wlioin list dreadful womuu wai imn. br hu Uwd lalfir dcoewnl aaaorule Bui I shall not by a iKulicular mission, and resignation of ourselves, and all cur coneern- inenis, to the disposal of fatherly wisdom and Icve, for a sour and sullen succumbency loan irresistible fate or hard necessity, against which he sees it is vain to contend. So that at the best he not only rages, but tastes nothing of consolation ; whereof his spirit is as incapable, as his des- perate affairs are of redress. And if he have arrived to that measure of fortitude, as not to be much discomposed with the lighter crosses which he meets with in this short time of life, what a dreadful cross is it that he must die! How dismal a thing is a certain, never to be avoided death ! Against which as atheism hath not surely the ad- vantage of religion in giving protection ; so it hath greatly the disadvantage, in ati'ording no relief What would the joy be worth in that hour, that arises from the hope of the glory to be revealed ! And is the want of that, the total sum of the atheist's mi>ery at this hour"! What heart can conceive the horror of that one thought, if darted in upon him at that time, (a.s it is strange, and more sad, if it be not,) What becomes nowof me, if there prove to be a God 1 Where are my mighty demonstrations, upon which one may venture, and which may cut offall fear and danger of future calamitv in this dark, unknown state I am going . into"! Shall I be the next hour nothing, or miserable 1 Or if I had opportunity, shall I not have sufficient cause to proclaim, (asf once one of the same fraternity did, by way of warning to a surviving companion) — A great and a terrible God! A great and a terrible God ! A great and a terrible God. I only add, 'tis a most strangely mysterious and unac- countable temper; such as is hardly reducible to its pro- per causes: so that it would puzzle any man's inquir^' to find out or even give but probable conjectures, how so odd and preternatural a disaffection as atheism should ever come to have place in a human mind. It must be con- cluded a very complicated disease, and yet, when our thoughts have fa.-, omniiH>. tcncy. unlimited goodness, immensity. Curcetlsus's argulnenU against ttiis last considea-d. I. Nor is the thing here intended less nece.ssary to a temple and religion than what we have hitherto been dis- coursing of For such a sort of deity as should shut up itself, and be reclu.'ied from all converse with men, would leave us as disfurnished of an object of religion, and would render a temple on earth as vain a thing, as if there were none at all. It were a being not to be worshipped, nor with any propriety to be called God, more (in some re- spect less) than an image or statue. We might with as rational design worship for a god what were scarce worthy to be called the shadow of a man, as dedicate temples to a wholly unconversable deity. That is, such a one as not only will not vouchsafe to converse with men, but that cannot admit it ; or whose nature were altogether incapa- ble of such converse. For that measure and latitude of sense must be allowed unto the expression, [conversableness with men,] as that it signify both capacity and propension to such converse : thai God is both oy his nature capable of it, and hath a gracious inclination of will thereunto. Yea and we will add, (what is also not without the compass of our present theme, nor the import of this word whereby we generally express it,) that he is not only inclined to converse with men, but that he actually doth it. As we call him a con- versable person that upon all befitting occasions doth freely converse with .such £is have any concern with him. It will indeed be necessary to distinguish God's converse with men, into That which he hath in common with a// men,. so as to sustain them in their beings, and some wav intiuence their actions; (in which kind he is also conversant with all his creatures;) and That which he more peculiarly hath with fiood men. And though the consideration of the latter of these will belong to the discourse concerning his temple itself which he hath with and in them ; yet it is the former only we have now to consider as presupposed thereto, and as the ^ound thereof; together with his gracious propension to the latter also. As the great apostle, in his discourse at Athens, lays the same ground for acquaintance with God, (which he intimates should be .set afoot and continued in another sort of temple than is made with hands,) that he hath given to all breath and being and all things, and that he i.< near and ready, (whence thev should therefore .seek him, if hanly they might feel aher him, and find him out,) in order to further converse. And here, our business will have the less in it of labour and difiiculty; for thai we a Ac dcsiciurc fniidcm non licet nuibus in lucii Dii dcfiul. Cum nc shall have little else to do, besides only the applying of principles already a.sserted (or possibly the more express adding of some or other that were implied in what hath been said) to this purpose. From which principles it will appear, that he not only can, but that in the former sense he doth, converse with men, and is graciously inclined thereto in the latter. And yet because the former is more deeply fundamental, as whereon all depends, and that the act of it is not denied for any other rea.son than an ima- gined impossibility ; that is, it is not said he doth not sus- tain and govern the world upon any other pretence, but that he cannot, as being inconsistent with his nature 2md felicity. This we shall therefore more directly apply our- selves to evince, That his nature doth not disallow it, but necessarily includes an aptitude thereto. Nor yet, though it may be a less laborious work than the former that we have despatched, is it altogether need- less to deal somewhat more expressly in this matter ; inasmuch as what opposition hath been made to religion in the world, hath for the most part been more expressly directed against this ground of it. I .say more expressly; for indeed by plain and manifest consequence it impugns that also of God's existence : that is, through this it strikes at the other. For surely (howsoever any may arbitrarily, and with what impropriety and latitude of speech they please, bestow titles and eulogies here or there) that being is not God, that cannot converse with men, supposing them such as what purely and peculiarly belongs to the nature of man would bespeak them. So that they who have imagined such a being, and been pleased to call it God, have at once said and unsaid the same thing. That deity was but a creature, and that cmly of their own fancy; and they have by the same breath blown up and blasted their own bubble, made it seem something and signify nothing: have courted it into being, and rioted it again quite out of it. In their conceit, created it a god ; in their practice, a mere nullity. And it equally served their turn, and as much favoured the design of being wicked, to ao- knowledge only a god they could imagine and dis-imagine at their own plea-sure, as to have acknowledged none at all. It could do no prejudice to their affairs to admit of this fictitious deity, that they could make be what or where they pleased ; that should atTect ea.se and pleasure, and (lest his pleasure and theirs should interfere) that they could confine to remote territories, and oblige to keep at an obedient and untroublesome distance. Nor, though no imagination could be more madly extravagant than that of a (>od no way concerned in the forming and governing of the world ; and notwithstanding whom, men might take their liberty to do what they listed ; yet (as hath been observed long ago, that no opinion was ever so monstrously absurd, as not to be owned by some of the philosophers) hath not this wanted patronage, and even among them who ha%'e obtained to be esteemed (not to say idolized) under that name. Which would be seen, if it were worth the while to trouble the reader with an ac- count of the Epicurean deity. As it can only be with this design, that the representation may render it (as it cannot but do) ridiculous to sober men ; and discover to the rest the vanity of their groundless and self-contradict- ing hope, (still too much fostered in the breasts of not a (ev!,) who promise themselves impunity in the most licen- tious course of wickedness, upon the security only of this their own idle dream. That is, if there be a God, (which they reckon it not so plausible flatly to deny,) he is a being of either so dull and phlegmatic a temper that he cannot be concerned in the actions and affairs of men, or so .soft and ea-sj- that he will not. But because his good will alone was not so safely to be relied on, it was thought the securer way not to let it be in his power to iiiiermed- dle with their concernments. And therefore being to frame their own God, to their own turn, thus the mauer was of old contrived. First, Great care was taken. That he be set at a dis- tance remote enough ; that he be complimented out of this world, as a place too mean for his reception, and unwor- thy such a presence ; they being indeed unconcerned where he had his residence, so it were* not too near them, □octcr quidetn hie tnuijdus, digna ut illorum Ndes.— Phil. Epicur. Syntac, 46 THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part I. So that a confinement of him somewhere, was thought altogether necessary. Secondly, And then, with the same pretence of great observance and rc. i.i. mi • I ..iiiriia oil SO porlinerc ptilainlrm, riiri«8iirn rt piriiiitii tiruotii l)< iiiii Veil iihl nupra Hu. mniiD anie onilo^ CcihIo cum vita jncprt-t In tonis oppn'wa ^iivi Hub mlipono Primum Omiui h'.mo Uneanintr Kpicunui, tfi^Jtrft champion qf irreJiflon.) Liicret To tohtcA purpose baiaea leluu tre have in Larrt T-i ^a>ntpioi/ Kai afOaprou. oi.rt iivru !r/)U);iara rv". """ "^X"" 7:apt\tt i.ij-l oym opyati. ovTt \aptci avvcycrar if aoUtvct yap nav rfi r'ninnin\ t. lO, Much nu/rf (* coUccted in the St/nla^n. Nam pt pnrntnna Di-cmim iintiira homi- Ijimi nictate cijloretiir. rum ipternn e«iM»t i-t l)Ciili»Bimn. Unhii pnim voiii*rn. *.'uiMm juitam quicquid cxccllit. Et inctui omnii. a vi atquc ira Dcorum pulsus nor would it answer any valuable end or purpose to revive the mention of such horrid opinions, or tell the world what such a one .said or thought iw-o thousand years ago; if their grave had been faithful to its trust, and had retain- ed their filthy poisonous savour within its own unhallowed cell. But since (against what were so much to have been de- sired, that their womb might have been their grave) their grave becomes their womb, where they are conceived, and formed anew, and whence by a .second birih they spring forth afresh, to the great annoyance of the world, the de- bauching and endangering of mankind; and that il is ne- cessary some remedy be endeavoured of so morlal an evil, it was also convenient to run it up lo its original, and con- tend against it as in its primitive slate and vigour. Wherefore this being a true (though it be a verj' short) account of the Epicurean god, resulting all into this shorter sum. That he is altogether unconversable with men, (and such therefore as cannot inhabit their'iemple, and for whom they can have no obligation or rational design to provide any,) it will be requisite in reference hereto, and suitable lo our present scope and purpose, severally to evince these things: — 1. That Ihe existence of such a being as this were impossible ever lo be proved unto men, if it did exist — 2. That being supposed without any good ground, it is equally unimaginable that the supposition of it can intend any valuable or good end — 3. That this suppo.sed being cannot be God, and is most abusively so called; as hereby, the true God, the Cause and Author of all things, is intended lo be excluded— 4. That it be- longs to, and may be deduced from, Ihe true notion of God which halh been given, (and proved by parts of a really existent Being,) that he is such as can converse with men. For the first. That there is no way to prove the existenco of such a being, is evident. For what ways of proving it can be thousht of, which the supposition itself doth not forbid and reject 1 Is it to be proved by revelation 1 Bui that supposes converse with men, and destroys what it should prove, that such a being, having no converse with men, dolh exist. And where is that revelation ■? Is it written or unwritten ; or who are its vouchers 1 Upon what authority doth it rest 1 Who was appointed to inform the world in this matter 7 Was Epicurus himself the common oracle? Why did he never tell men so ! Did he ever pretend to have seen any of these his vogued godsl No, Ihey are confessed not to be liable lo our sense, any more than the inane itself And what miracles did he ever work to confirm the truth of his doctrine in this matter 1 Which sure was reasonably to be expected from one who would gain credit to diciates so contrarj' to the common sentiments of the rest of mankind, and that were not to be proved any other way. And what other way can be devised? Cari it admit of rational demonstration ? What shall be the medium ? Shall it be from the cause? But what cause can (or ever did') he or his tbllowers a.ssign of God? Or from efli-cts? Ana what shall they be, when the matter of the whole tmiversc is supposed ever to have been of itself, nnd the particular frame of every thing made thereof, to have resulted only of the ca.sual coalitioa of Ihe parts of that matter, and no real being is supposed besides ? Or shall it be that their idea, which Ihey have of God, includes exislence, as so belonging lo him Ihat he cannot but exist ? But by what righl do ihey affix such an idea to their pelite and fictitious deities? How will Ihey prove their idea irue ? Or are we bound to take iheir words for it ? Yea it is easily proved false, and repugnant Allot munihim fecit, ot in munilo iHUninos lit ah tioniiitibuB cclerrlurt At >f opKOv, o'i ev\riy, oif Ovatav, (iii npoaicvvTutty, pqpart xat \oyMt. «a( rwi ^avai Kai rpooKoitioQat Kttt oyiipa^cty, a rati apxatf «ai Toti f»yftaety ayatpovoir. i'nio rrfn'rh purpoae is that aluo in Tullj/. Aloliamdciajicti. tatii, de I'l'' ''' 1 ii.'.M. I irns tibmii RcriiHiit Rpiciinis. Ad quoinodo in hi* 1o- (HiitiirT ijM I s,.ii>%.oliim Pontiticef inaJtinnw teaudiredicasnon ouin, nut '■•I I liiiidituii rcliffioncm ; Nee manibus ut Xcrxn, sihI mtionibu^ 1. u i ., 1. . .Mil. > i iinisevcrtcriL De Saturn Deot^in. Ch»p. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE, 47 to itself, while they would have that to be necessarily eiistcni (as they must if they will have it existent at all, unio which, in the meanlime, they deny the other perfec- tions which necessary existence hath been proved to include. But how vain and idle irillin? is it, arbitrarily and by a random fancy to imagine any thing what we please, and attributing ol our own special grace and favour necessary existence to it,-thence to conclude that it doth exist, only because we have been pleased to make that belong to ihe notion of it 1 What so odd and uncouth composition can we form any conception of, which we may not make exist, at this rale t But the notion of God is not arbitrary, but is natural, proleptical, and common to men, impressed upon the minds of all ; whence they say it ought not to be drawn into con- troversy. What ! thef Epicurean notion of him 1 We shall inquire further into that anon. And in the mean- time need not doubt to say, any man might with a.s good pretence imagine the ridiculous sort of gods described in Cicero's ironical supposition, and affirm them to exist, as they those they have thought lit to feign, and would impose upon the belief of men. And when they have fancied these to exist, is not that a mighty proof that they indeed do so 1 But that which for the present we allege, is, that supposing their notion were ever so absolutely universal and agreeing with the common sentiments of all other men, they have yet precluded themselves of any right to argue, from its commonness, to the existence of the thing itself Nor can they upon their principles form an argument hence, that shall conclude or signify any thing to this pur- pose. None can be drawn hence, that will conclude im- mediately, and itself reach the mark, without the addition of some further thing, which so ill sorts wilh the rest of their doctrine, that it would subvert the whole frame. That is, it follows not, that bccau.se men generally hold that there is a God, that therefore there is one ; otherwise than as that consequence can be justified by this plain and irre- fragable proof^That no reason can be devised of so gene- ral an agreement, or of that so common an impression upon the minds of men, but this only ; that it must have proceeded from one common cause, viz. God himself; who having made man .so prime a part of his creation, hath stamped with his own signature this nobler piece of his workmanship, and purposely made and framed him to the acknowledgment and adoration of his Maker. Bui how shall they argue so, who, while they acknow- ledge a God, deny man to be his creature, and will have him and all things to be by chance, or without dependence on any Maker"? What can an impression infer to this purpose, that comes no one can tell whence or how; but IS plainly denied to be from him, whose being they would argiie from il ^ The ob.servation of so common an apprehension in the minds of men, might (upon their supposition) beget much wonder, but no knowledge ; and may perplex men much, how such a thing should come to pa.ss, without making them any thing the wiser; and would infer astonishment, sooner than a good conclusion, or than it would solidly prove any important trulh. And do they think they have salved the business, jnd given us a satisfying accoimt of this matter, by telling us, This impression is from nature, as they speak T It were to be wished some of them had told us, or could yet tell us, what they meant by nature. Is it any intelligent principle, or was il guided by any such ? If yea, whence came this impression, but from God him- self ? For surely an intelligent Being, that could have this universal influence upon ihe minds of all men, is much liker 10 be God than the imaginary entities ihcy talk of, that are bodies, and no boilies, have blood, and ho bloott, members, and no members, are some where, and no where ; or if ihey be any where, are confined to .some certain places remote enough from our world ; with the alTaifs whereof, or any other, ihey cannot any way concern them.selves, without quite undoing and spoiling their felicity. If they say No, and that nature, which put this stamp upon (he minds of men, is an utterly unintelligent thing, nor was ever governed bv any thing wiser than itself— strange '. that blind and undesigning nature should, without being prompted, become thus ignorantly officious to these idle, Voluptuary godlings ; and should so effectually take course they might be known to the world, who no way ever obliged it, nor were ever like to do ! But to regress a liitle, fain I would know what is this thing they call na- ture ■? Is It any thing else than the course and inclination of conspiring atoms, which singly are not pretended to bear any such impression ; but as they luckily club and hit together, in the composition of a human soul, by the merest and strangest enance that ever happened 1 But would we ever regard what they say whom we believe to speak by chance 1 Were it to be supposed that characters and words serving to make up some proposition or other, were by some strange agitation of wind and wa \cs impresseti and figured on the sand; would we, if we really believed the matter came to pa-ss only by such an odd casualty, think that proposition any whit the truer for being there, or take this for a demonstration of its truth, any more than if we had seen it in a ballad 1 Because men have casu- ally come to think so, therefore there are such beings, (to be called gods,) between whom and them there never was or shall be any intercourse or mutual concern. It follows as well, as that because the staff stands in the comer, the morrow will be a rainy day. The dictates of nature are indeed most regardable things taken as expressions of his mind, or emanations from him, who is the Author and God of nature: but abstracted from him, they are and signify as much as a beam cut off from the body of the sun ; or a person that pretends himself an ambassador, without cre- dentials. Indeed, (a-s is imported in the words noted from that grave? pagan a little before,) the principles of these men destroy quite nature itself, as well as every thing of reli- gion ; and leave us the names and show ol'^lhem, but take away the things themselves. In sum, though there be no such impression upon the minds of men as that which they talk of, yet if there were, no such thing can be inferred from it, as they would infer; their principles taking away all connexion between the argument, and what they would argue bj' it. •2. We have also too much reason to add. That as the supposition of such a being, or sort of beings, can have no sufficient ground ; so it i.s equally unconceivable that it can be intended for any good end. Not that we think the last assertion a sufficient sole proof of this ; for we easily aclcnowledge that it is passible enough, men may harm- lessly and with innocent intentions attempt the building very weighty and important truths upon weak and insuffi- cient foundations; hoping they have offered thai as a sup- port unto truth, which proves only a useless cumber. Nor were il just to impute treachery, where there is ground for the more charitable censure, that the mi.sadventure pro- ceeded only from want of judgment and shortness of discourse. But it is neither needful nor seemly, that charity which can willingly wink in some cases, should therefore be quite blind; or that no difference should be made of well-meant mistakes, and mischief thinly hid and covered over with specious pretences. And let it be so- berly considered, what can the design be. afler the cashier- ing of all solid grounds for the proving of a Deiiy, at length to acknowledge il upon none at all 1 As if their acknowledgment must owe iLself not to their reason, but their courtesy. And when they have done what they can to make the rest of men believe ihey have no need to own any GikI at all, and ihey can tell how all that concerns the making and governing the world may well enough be des- patched wiihoui any, yet at last they will be so generous as to be content there shall be one, however. What, I say, can the design of this be, thai they who have coniended wilh all imaginable obstinacy against the most plain and convincing evidences, that do even defy cavil ; luive quite foughl Ihemselves blind, tind lost their eyes in the en- counier ; so that ihey are ready to swear the sun is a clod of din, and noon-day light is to them the very blackness of darkness? They cannot see a Deity encircling ihem with the brightest beams, and shining upon them wilh the mo.sl conspicuous glor)' through everj- Ihing that occurs, and all things that encompa.«s ihem on even,' side. And ( Plularch. 48 THE LIVING TEMPLE. FiJtTl. yet when all is done, and iheir thunder-struck eyes make them fancy they have put out the sun ; they have won the day, have cleared tnc field, and are absolute victors ; they have vanquished the whole power of their most dreaded enemy, the light that reveals God in his works — after all this, without any inducement at all, and having triumphed over every thing that looked like an argument to prove it, they vouchsafe to say however, of their own accord , There is a God. Surely if this have any design at all, it must be a very bad one. And see whither it tends. They have now a god of their own making; and all the being he lialh, depends upon Iheir grace and favour. They are nut his creatures, but he is theirs; a precarious deity, that shall be as long, and what, and where, they please to have him. And if he di.splease them, they can think him back into nothing. Here seems the depth of the design. For see with what cautions and limitations they admit him into being. There shall be a god, provided he be not meddlesome, nor concern himself in their affairs to the crossing of any inclinations of humours which they are pleased shall command and govern their lives ; being con- scious that if they admit of any at all that shall have to do with their concernments, he cannot but be such as the ways they resolve on will displease. Their very shame will not permit them to call that God, which if he take any cognizance at all of their course will not dislike it. And herein that they may be the more secure, they judge it the most prudent course, not to allow him any part or interest in the affairs of the world at all. Yet all this while they court him at a great rate, and all religion is taken away under pretence of great piety : wor- ship they believe he cares not for, because he is full and needs nothing. In this world he mu,st not be, for it is a place unworthy of him. He must have had no hand in framing, nor can they think fit he should have any in the government of it. F*or it would be a great disturbance to him, and interrupt his pleasures. The .same thing as if certain licentious courtiers, impatient of being governed, should address themselves to their prince in such a form of speech, that it is beneath him to receive any homage from them, it would too much debase majesty; that his dominions afford no place fit for his residence, and there- fore it would be convenient for him to betake himself into some other country, that hath better air and accommoda- tion for delight; that diadems and sceptres are burthen- some things, which therefore if he will quit to them, he may wholly give up himself to ease and pleasure. Yea, and whatsoever would any way tend to evince his necessary existence, is with the same courtship laid a-side ; (although if he do not exist necessarily and of himself, he cannot have any existence at all ; for as they do not allow him to be the cause of any thing, .so they a.ssign nothing to be the cause of him ;) that is, with pretence there is no need it should be demonstrated, becau.se all men believe it without a reason, nature having impressed this belief upon the minds of all; or (which is all one) they having agreed to believe it because they believe. Bui though they have no reason to believe a Deity, they have a very good one why they would seem to do so, that they may expiate with the people their irrcligion by a collusive pre- tending against atheism. And because "they think ii less plausible plainly to deny there is a God, thcv therclbre grant one to please the vulgar, yet take care it shall be one as good as none, lest otherwise they should displease them.selves : and so their credit and their liberty are both cared for together. V. But this covering is too short, and the art by which they would fit it to Iheir design, when it should cheat others, deceives themselves. For it is most evident, 3. That the being with the pretended belief whereof they would mock the world, is no God ; and that conse- quently, while they would .seem to acknowledge a deity, they really acknowledge none at all. Our contest haih noi, all this while, been a strife about words, or con- cerning the name, but the thing itself And not whe- ther there be such a thing in being to which that name may, with whatsoever impropriety, be given, but whether h Offoi iitf 001' rai aOtovf amaviTi ^cXoreMlr iWTi ho Inww alt tiw noldioni ., •nnumUnrlomoanitorUMiroalccn, (Ibr.niUilw, ho reckoiwd it i It imports greater perfection to know all things, than to be ignorant of .some — and here surely whosoever shall think tlie determination difficult, accounts the wit of man so exceeding great, that he discovers his own to be very little. For what can the pretence of evidence be in the former assertion ■? Was it neces,sary that he, in whose choice it was whether we should ever know any thing or no, should make us capable of knowing every thing belonging to his own being ^ Or will we adventure to be .so assuming, as while we deny it to God that he knows all things, to attri- bute to ourselves that we dol But if we will think it not altogether unworthy of us to be ignorant of something, what is there of which we may with more [irobability, or with less disparagement be thought so, than the manner of God's knowing things'! And what place is there for com- plaint of inevidence in the latter 1 Is not that knowledge more perfect, which so fully already comprehends all things, as upon that account to admit of no increase; than that which shall be ever\' day growing, and have a continual succession of new objects emerging and coming into view before altogether unknown 1 And will not that be the case, if we suppose future contingencies to lie concealed from the penetrating eye of God 1 For whaLsoever is fu- ture, will some time be present, and then we will allow such contingencies to be known to him. That is, that God may know them, when we ourselves can ; and that nothing of that kind is known to him, which is not know- able some way or other to ourselves, at least successively, and one thing at^er another. We will perhaps allow that prerogative to God, in point of this knowledge, that he can know these things now fallen out, all at once; ic«, but by degrees ; while yet there is not any one that is ab- .solutely unknowable to us. But why should it be thought iinrea.sonable, to attribute an excellency to the knowledge of God above ours ; as well in respect of the manner of knowing, as the multitude of objects at once kno«Ti ? We will readily confess, in some creature.^, an excellency of their visive faculty above our own ; that they can see things in that darkness, wherein they are to us invisible. And will we not allow that to the eye of God, which is as ajiame of fire, to be able to penetrate into the abstriLsest darkness of futurity, though we know not the way how it is done ; when vet we know that whatsoever belongs to the most perfect being, must belong to hisi And that knowledge of all things imports more perfection, than if it were lessened by the ignorance of any thing. Some, who have thought the certain foreknowledge of future contingencies not attributable to Got learned Dr. More,' whereto ii would be needless and vain lo allempt lo add any thing. Nor is that the thing pretended lo W the sort of persons I now chiefly intend. And for the former, I would inquire, Is amplitude of essence no perfection 1 Or were llie confining of this Being to the ver)' minalesl space ^ye can imagme, no de- traction from Ihe perfection of it 7 What if the amplitude of that glorious and ever-blessed Essence were said lo be onlv of Ihat cxieni (may il be spoken with all reverence, and resentment of the unhappy necessity we have of ma- I Both in hia DiaJocucs ajtd Enchindion MetAphn- THE LIVING TEMPLE. PiRTL king so mean a supposition) as to have been confined unto that one temple to which of old he chose to confine his more solemn worship; that he could be essentially pre- sent, only here at once, and no where else; were this no detraction ! They ihai think him only to replenish and be present by his essence in the highest heaven, (as some are wont to speak,) would they nut confess it were a meaner and much lower thought to suppose that presence circum- scribed within the so unconccivably narrower limits as the walls of a house"! If ihey would pretend to ascribe to him some perfection beyond this, by supposing his essen- tial presence commensurable to the vaster territory of the highest heavens; even by the same supposition, should they deny to him greater perfection than they ascribe. For the perfection which in this kind they should ascribe, were/mile only; but that which they should dent/, were infinite. Again, they will however acknowledge omnipotency a perfeclion included in the notion of an absolutely perfect Being; therefore they will grant, he can create another world (for they do not pretend to believe this infinite; and if they did, by their supposition, they should give away their cause) at any the greatest distance we can conceive from this ; therefore so far his power can e.xtend itself But what, his power without his being'! What then is his power? something, or nothing'! Nothing can do no thing; therefore not make a world. It is then some be- ing; and whose being is it but his own'! Is it a created being! That is to suppose him, first, impotent, and then to have created omnipotency, when he could do nothing. Whence by the way we may see to how little purpose that distinction can be applied in the present case of essen- tial and virtual contact, where the essence and virtue can- not but be the same. But shall it be said, he mu.st, in order to the creating such another world, locally move thither where he designs if! I ask then. But can he not at the same time create thousands of worlds at any dis- tance from this round about it t No man can imagine this to be impossible to him that can do all things. Where- fore of such extent is his power, and conseijuently his being. Will they therefore say he can immensely, if he please, ditfuse his being, but he voluntarily contracts it 1 It is answered. That is altogether impossible toabeing, that is whatsoever it is by a simple and absolute necessity, for whatsoever it is necessarily, it is unalterably and eter- nally, or is pure act, and in a possibility to be nothing which it already is not. Therefore since God can every where e.tert his power, he is necessarily, already, every where: and hence, God's immensity is the true reason of his immobility; there being no imaginable space, which he doth not necessarily replenish. Whence also, the sup- position of his being so confined (as was said) is imme- diately repugnant to the notion of a necessary being, as well as of an absolutely perfect, which hath been argued from it. We might moreover add, that upon the same supposition God might truly be said to have made a crea- ture greater than himself (for such this universe apparently were,) and that he can make one (as they must confess who deny him not to be omnipotent) most unconceivablv greater than this univer.se now is. Nothing therefore seems more manifest than that God is immense, or (as we mav express it) cxlrinsUalbj infinite, with respect to place ; as well as hUrinsicaUy, in respect lo the plenitude of his perfeclion. Only it may b:- rc(|uisiie to consider brieflv what is said against it by the otherwise minded, that pre- tend not to deny his infinity in that other sense. Wherein that this discoiirse swell not beyond just bounds, ihcir strength of argument, (for it will not be so seasonable here to discuss with them the te.-cis of Scripture wont lo be in- sisted on in this matter,) shall be viewed as it is collected and gathered up in one of them. And that shall be, Cur- cellsE'is," who gives it as succinctly and fully as any I have met with of that sort of men. The doUrinc itself we may lake from him thus. First, On the negative part, by way of denial of what we have been hitherto asserting, he says, " The foundation," (that • I>0 Vociliiln Trinit, Ac. t Vruo which pnrprm ipm'cf at large Valkfllut dr. vera Rcllg Quia enim Del cl potenUa tjt aapintitia nd rM oninM t'Monfljtiir. iiti ct pot«il«i •ivo inapontim; idoo utiiqiic nnM<'ni. omniaiuc niiminn jmn romnloro di- tilul, *c. *. I. c. 37. SUcJUliiJlu.t Arllc. iejlllo Del. Ai. P«. 13S. 6, 7. is, of a distinction of Maresins's to which he is replying, for so occasionally comes in the discourse,) "rt.i. the in- finity of the divine essence, is not so firm as is commonly thought." And that therefore it may lie thought less firm, he thinks fit to cast a slur upon it, by making it the doc- trine of the Stoics, exprest by Virgil, Mvis omnia plena ; (as if it must needs be false, because Virgil said it. though I could tell, if it were worth the while, where Virgil speaks more agreeably to his scn.se than ours, according to which he might a.s well have interpreted this passage, as divers texts of Scripture; and then his authority might have been of some value;) and by Lucan, who helps, it seems, to disgrace and spoil it; JnpiUr est qvodainque rides, i[Uocunqve movcris. He might, if he had a mind to make it thought paganish, have quoted a good many more, but then there might have been some danger it should pass for a common noti;eth*r to exvreulv a$ the rest) Vontliu, CreUliu, 4-c Ciup. VI. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 55 a .-lelf-evidenl principle, that whatsoever is in another, is that in whidi it is; and so his consequence were most un- deniable. But though we acknowleclge God to be in every thing, yet so to worship him in any thing, a.s if his es.sen- tial presence were confined thereto, while it ought to be conceived of as immense, this is idolair)- : and therefore they who so conceive of it, as confined, (or tied in any re- spect, wherein he haih not so tied it himself,) are concern- ed to beware of running upon this rock. 3. Nor can the opinion of fanatics be solidly refuted, who call them.selves .spiritual, when they determine God to be all in all ; to do not only good but evil things, be- cause he is to be accounted to be es,sentially in all the atoms of the world, in whole; and as a common soul, by which all parts of the universe do act. Answ. Wc may in time make trial wheiher they can be refuted or no, or whether any solid ground will be left for it ; at this time it will suffice to say, that though he be pre- sent every where as a necessarj' being, yet he acts as a free cause, and according as his wisdom, his good pleasure, his holiness and juslice do guide his action. 4. So God will be equally present with the wicked, and with the holy and godly, with the damned in hell, and devils, a.s with the blessed in heaven, or Christ himself. AnsTC. So he will, in respect of his es.seniial presence. How he is otherwise (dislinguishingly enough) present in liis temple, we shall have occasion hereafter to show. 5. That I say not bow shameful it is to think, that the a In hu Di&loffuc*. most pure and holy God should be as much in the most nasty places a.s in heaven, &c. (I forbear to recite the rest of this uncleanly argument, which is strong in nothing but ill savour.) Biii for A71SV. How strange a notion was this of holiness, by which It is set in opposition to corporeal filihiness ! As if a holy man should lose or very much blemish his sanctity, by a casual fall into a puddle. Indeed, if sense must give us measures of God, and every thing must be reckoned an offence to him that is so to it, we shall soon frame to our- selves a God alioKother such a one as ourselves. The Epicureans thcm.selves would have been ashamed to reason or conceive thus of God, who tell us the Divine Being is as little capable of receiving a stroke, as the inane ; and surely (in proportion) of any sensible offence. We might as well suppose him in danger, as Dr. More" fitly expre.sses it, to be hurt with a thorn, as offended with an ill smell. We have then enough lo a.ssure us of God's absolute immensity and omnipresence, and nothing of that value against it as ought to shake our belief herein. And surely the consideration of this, added to the other of his perfec- tions, (and which tends so directly lo facilitate and strengthen our persuasion concerning the rest,) may render us assuredly certain, that wp shall find him a conversable Being; if we seriously apply ourselves to converse with him, and will but allow him the liberty of that temple within us, whereof we are hereafter (with his leave and help) to treat more distinctly and at large. LIVING TEMPLE PART II. CONTAINING ANIMADVERSIONS ON SPINOSA, AND A FRENCH WRITER PRETENDING TO CONFUTE HIM. A RECAPITULATION OF THE FORMER PART, AND AN ACCOUNT OF THE DESTITUTION AND RESTITUTION OF GOD'S TEMPLE AMONG MEN. A PREFACE, ■BOVriNO THE INDUCEMENT AND GENERAL CONTENTS OF THIS SECOND PART. THE OCCASION OF CONSIDERING SPINOSA, AND A FRENCH WRITER WHO PRETENDS TO CONFUTE HIM. A SPECIMEN OP THE WAY AND STRENGTH OF THE FORMEk's REASONING, AS AN INTRODUCTION TO A MORE DISTINCT EXAMINATION OF SUCH OF HIS POSITIONS, AS THE DESIGN OF THIS DISCOURSE WAS MORE DIRECTLY CONCERNED IN. It is not worth the while to trouble the reader with an account why the progress of this work (begun many years ago, in a former part) hath been so long delayed ; or why it is now resumed. There are ca.'=es wherein things too little for public notice, may be sufficient reasons to oneself: and such self-satisfaction is all that can be requisite, in a Blatter of no more importance than that eircumsiancc only, of the lime of sending abroad a discourse, of such a nature and subject, as that if it can be useful at any time, will be so at all times. The business of the present discourse, is religion ; wluch is not the concern of an age only, or of this or that time, but of all times ; and which, in respect of its grounds and basis, is eternal, and can never cease or varj'. Bui if in ius use and e.xercise it do at any time more visibly languish, by attempts against its foundations, an endeavour lo establish them, if it be not altogether unfit to serve that purpose, will not be liable to be blamed a? unseasonable. Every one will imderstand, that a design further to establish ihe grounds of religion, can have no other meaning, than only to represent their stability unshaken by any attempts upon them; that being all that is either possible in this case, or needful. Nothing more is possible : for if there be not already, in the nature of things, a suifieient foundation of religion, it is now too late ; for their course and order cannot begin again. Nor is any thing, besides such a representation, needful: for have the adventures of daring wits (a-s they are fond of being thought) aliered the nature of things 1 Or hath their mere breath thrown the world off from its ancient basis, and new-moulded ihe universe, so as to make things be after the way of their own hearts? Or have they prevailed upon themselves, firmly to believe things are as they would wish 1 One would be ashamed to be of that sort of rrealure, called Man, and count it an unsufi'erable reproach to be long unresolved, Whether there ought to be such a thing in the world as religion, yea, or no. Whatever came on't,or what- soever I did or did not besides, I would drive this business to an issue ; I would never endure to be long in suspense about so weighty and important a question. But if I inclined lo the negative, I would rest in nothing short of the plainest demonstration : for I am to dispute against mankind ; and eternity hangs upon it. If I misjudge, I run counter to the common sentiments of all the world, and am lost for ever. The oppo.scrs of it have nothing but inclina- tion to oppose it, with a bold jest now and then. But if I consider the unrefuted demonstrations brought for it, with the consequences, religion is the last thing in all the world upon which I would adventure to break a jest. And I would ask such as have attempted to argue against it. Have their .strongest arguments conquered iheir fear 1 Have they no suspicion lefl, that the other side of the question may prove true 1 They have done all they can, by often repeating their faint despairing wishes, and the mutterings of their hearts, " No God ! no God !" to make themselves Believe there is none ; when yet the restless lossings to and fro of their iinea-sy minds ; their tasking and torturing that little residue of wit and common sense, which their riot hath left them, (the excess of which latter, as well shows as causes the defect of the former,) to try every new method and scheme of atheism they hear of implies their distrust of all ; and their suspicion, that do what they can, things will still be as they were, ;'. c. most adverse and unfavourable to that way of living, which however at a venture, ihev had before resolved on. Therefore, they find it neces,sarj' to continue their contrivances, how more etrcctuallv to disburden themselves of any obligation to be religious ; and hope, at least, some or other great wit may reach further than Iheir own ; and that either by some new model of thoughts, or by not thinking, it may be possible at length to argtie or wink the Deity into nothing, and all religion out of the world. And we are really to do the age that iii,'ht, as to acknowledge, the genius of il aims at more consistency and agree- ment with itself, and more cleverly to reconcile notions with common practice than heretofore. Men seem to be grown ■weary of Ihe old dull way of praciisin;; all manner of lewdness, and pretending to repent of them; to sin, and say they are sorrv for it. The running this long-beaten circular tract of doing and rejientingthe same things, looks ridicu- lously, and lliev begin to be ashamed on't. A less interrupted imd more progressive course in their licentious wa^-s, looks braver ; and ihcy count il more plausible to disbelieve this world lo have any ruler at all, than to suppose il to have PREFACE, S7 such a one as ihcy can cheat and mock with so easy and ludicrous a rcpeniance, or reconcile to their wickedness, only by calling ihem'^lves wicked, while they still mean to continue so. And perhaps of uny other rcncniance tliey have not heard much; or if they have, they count it a more heroical, or feel it an ea.>.ier ihinj; lo laugh away the fear of any future account or punishment, than lo endure the severities of a serious repentance, and a repilar lil'e. Nor can they, however, thnik ihe torments of any hell so little tolerable as ihost- ol a sober and pious life upon earth. And for their happening to prove everlaating, they think they may run the hazard of that. For as they can make a sufficient shit\ to secure theni.selves from the latter sort of torments, so they believe the champions of their cau^e have taken sufficient care to secure ihem from the former. As religion hath its gospel and evangeli.sts, so hath atheism and irreligion too. There are tidings of peace sent to such as shall repent and turn to God ; and there have been those appointed, whose business it should be to publish and expound them to the world. This also is the method for carr>'ing on the design of irreligion. Doctrines are invented to make men fearless, and believe they need no repentance. And .some have taken the part to assert and defend such doctrines, to evangelize the world, and cry " Peace, peace," to men, upon lhc.se horrid terms. And these undertake for the common herd, encourage them to indulge themselves in all manner of liberty, while they watch for them, and guard the coasts : and no faith was ever more implicit or resigned, ihan the inlidelity and disbelief of the more unthinking sort of these men. They reckon it is not every one's prt lo ihink. It is enough for the mast to be boldly wicked, and credit their common cause, by an open contempt ol God and religion. The other warrant them .safe, and confidently tell them they may securely disbelieve all that ever hath been said, to make a religious regular lil'e be thought necessary; as only invented frauds of sour and ill-natured men, that en\'y to mankind the felicity whereof their nature haih made them capable, and which their own odd preternatural humour makes them neglect and censure. And for these defenders of the atheistical cause, it being their part and province to cut off the aids of reason from religion, lo make it seem an irrational and a ridiculous thing, and to warrant and justify the disuse and contempt of it, and as it were, to cover the siege, wherewith the common rnut have begirt ihe temple of God ; they have had less leisure themselves, to debauch and wallow in more grossly sensual impurities. Herewith the thinking part did less agree: and they might perhaps count it a greater thing to make debauchees than to be such, and reckon it was glory enough to iheni to head and lead on the numerous throng, and pleasure enough to see them they had so thoroughly disciplined to the service, throw dirt and .squibs at the sacred pile, the dwelling of God among men on earth, and cry, ." Down with it even to the ground." Nor for this sort of men, whose business was only to be done by noise and clamour, or by jest and laughter, we could think ihem no more fit to be discoursed with than a whirlwind, or an ignis fatutts. But for such as have a.ssumcd to themselves the confidence to pretend to reason, it was not fit they should have cause to think theinselves neglected. Considering therefore, that if the cxisicnre of a Deity were fully proved, (i. e. such as must be the fit object of religion, or of the honour of a temple,) all the liille cavils against it must signify nothing, (because the .same thing cannot be both true and false,) we nave in the former part of this discourse, en- deavoured to a.s.sert so much in an argumentative way. And therefore first laid down such a notion of God, as even atheists themselves, while they deny him to e.xist, cannot but grant to be the true notion of the thing they deny ; rix. summarily that he can be no other than a being absolutely perfect. And thereupon next proceed to evince the exist- ence of such a being. And whereas this might have been attempted in another method, as was noted Part 1. Ck. 1. by concluding the existence of such a being first from the idea of it, which (as a fundamental perfection) involves ex- istence ; yea, and necessity of existence, most apparently in it. Because that was clamoured at as sophistical and captious, (though very firm unsliding steps might, with caution, be taken in that way.'jyet we rather chose the other as plainer, more upon the square, more easily intelligible and conviclive, and less liable lo exception in any kind; i. e. rather lo begin at the bottom, and rise from necessity of existence, to absolute perfection, than to begin at the lop, and prove downward, from absolute perfection, necessity of existence. Now, if it do appear from what hath been said concerning the nature of necessary, self-existing being, that it cannot but be absolutely perfect, even as it is such, since nothing is more evident than that some being or other doth exist necessarily, or of ii.self, our point is gained without more ado ; i. e. we have an object of religion, or one lo whom a temple duly belongs. We thereupon used some endeavour to make that good, and secure that more compendious way to our end ; as may be seen in tlii; former Part. Which was endeavoured as it was a nearer and more expeditious course; not thai ihe main cause of religion did depend upon the immediate and self-evident reciprocal connexion of the terms nectssary exisUnce . and absobiie perfection, as we shall see hereafter in the following discourse ; but because there areoiher hypotheses, that proceed either upon the denial of any necessarj- being that is absolutely perfect. or upon the a.ssertion of some necessary being that is not absolutely perfect ; it hence appears requisite, to undertake the exa- mination of what is .said to either of these purposes, and to show with how little pretence a neccs.sar>- most perfect being is denied, or any such imperfect necessary being, is either asserted or imagined. We sliall Ihereforc'in this Second Part, first', take into consideration what is (with equal absurdity and impiety) asserted by one author, of the identity of all substance, of the impossibiliiy of one substance being nroduced by another, and consequently of one nece.s>ar\' self-existing being, pretended with gross self-repugnancy, lo be endued with infi- nite perfections, but really represented the common receptacle of all imaginable imperfection and confusion. — Neil, what is as.serted by another in avowed op|">sition to him, of a necessary self-existent being, that is at the same time said to be essentially imperfect. — Then we shall recapitulate what had been discoursed in the former Part, for proof of such a necessarily existent and absolutely perfect being, as is there a.s.serted. — Thence we shall proceed lo show how reasonably Scripture testimony is lo be relied upon, in reference lo some things concerning God, and the religion of his temple, which either are not so cicarlv demonstrable, or not at all discoverable the rational way. — And shall lastly show how it hath come to pa.sss, if God be such as he hath been represented, so capable of a temple with man. so apt and inclined to inhabit such a one, that he should ever not do so ; or how such a temple should ever cease, or be unin- habited and desolate, that the known way of its restitution may be the more regardable and marvellous in our eyes. The authors against whom we are to be concerned, are Benedictus Spinosa, a Jew, and an anonymous French writer, who pretends to confute him. And the better to prepare our way, we shall go on to preface something concerning the former, viz. Spinosa, whose scheme,t though, with great pretence of devotion, it acknowledges a Deiiv, yet .so con- founds this his fictitious deity with every substantial being in the world besides, that upon the whole it appears al- together incun^istent with any rational exercise or sentiment of religion at all. And indeed, the mere pointing with the finger at the most discernible and absurd weakness of some of his principal supports, might be sufficient to over- turn his whole fabric; though perhaps he thought the fraudulent artifice of contriving it geometrically must confound all the world, and make men think it not liable to be attacked in any part. But whether it can, or no, we shall make some present trial ; and for a previous essay, (to show that he is not in^-ul- nerable. and that his scales do not more closely cohere, than those of his brother-leviathan,) do but compare his defi- nition of an attribute,? "That which the understanding perceives of substance; as constituting the essence thereof,'' J Ilia Inltllttlual Syifrm, we finil u donr, ' Al i> l>id douo in lib Potthutr.Mt Eihta. 58 PREFACE. with his fifth Proposition, " There cannot be two or more suhslances of the same nature or attribute ;" which is u much as to say that two substances cannot be one and the same substance. For the attribute of any substance (saith he) constiiulcs its essence ; whereas the essence therefore of one thing, cannot be the essence of another thing, if such an attribute be the essence of one substance, it cannot be the essence of another substance. A rare d'scovcry ! and which needed mathematical demonstration! Well, and what now 7 Nothing, it is true, can be plainer, if by the same attribute or nature, he means numerically the same ; it only signifies one thing is not another thing. But if he mean there cannot be two things or substances, of the same special or general nature, he hath his whole business yet to do ; which how he does, we shall .see in time. But now compare herewith his definition of what he thinks fit to dignify with the sacred name of God : " Bv God (saith he*) I unclcrstand a being absohiiely infinite ; i.e. a substance consisting of infinite attributes, every one wtereof expresses an infinite es.sence." And behold the admirable agreement ! how amicably his definition of an attribute, and that mentioned proposition, accord with this definition (a-s he calls it) of God ! There cannot be two substances, he saith, that have the same attribute,!, e. the same es.sence. But now it seems the same sub.'^iance may have infinite attributes, i. e. infinite essences ! O yes, very conveniently : for he tellst you that two attributes really distinct, we cannot conclude do constitute two divers substances. And why do they not ? Because it belongs to the nature of substance, that each of its attributes be conceived by it.self, &c. Let us consider his a.ssertion, and his reason for it. He determines, you see, two really di.stinct attributes do not constitute two divers substances. Yon must not here take any other man's notion of an attribute, according to which, there may be accidental attributes, that, we are sure, would liot infer diversity of substances for their subjects; or, there may be also essential ones, that only flow from the essence of the thing to which they belong; so, too, nobody doubts one thing may have many properties. But we must take his own notion of an attribute, according whereto it constitutes, or (which is all one) is, that very essence. Now will not such attributes as these, being really distinct, make divers substances 1 Surely what things are essentially diverse, must be concluded to be most diverse. But these attributes are by himself supposed to be really distinct, and to constitute (which is to be) the essence of the substance. And how is that one thing, or one substance, which hath many essences 1 If the essence of a thing be that, by which it is what it is, surely the plurality of essences must make a plurality of things. But it may be said. Cannot one thing be compounded of two or more things essential diverse, as the sou! and body of a man ; whence therefore, the same thing, riz. a man, will have two essences 1 This is true, but impertinent. For the very notion of composition signifies these are two things united, not identified, that are capable of being again separated ; and that the third thing, which results from them both united, contains them still distinct from one another, not the same. But it may be said, though these attributes are acknowledged and asserted to be distinct from one another, they are yet found in one and the same substance common to them all. And this no more ought to be reckoned repugnant to common rea.son, than the philosophy heretofore in credit, which taught that the vast diversity of forms throughout the universe, which were cotmted so many distinct essences, do yet all reside in the same first matter, as the common re- ceptacle of them all. Nor yet doth this salve the business, were that philosophy never so sure and sacred. For you must consider he asserts an attribute is that which constitutes the essence of the substance in which it is. But that philosophv never taught the forms lodged in the same common matter were its essence, though they were supposed to essentiate the composita, which resulted from their union therewith. Yea, it did teach they were so little the essence of that common matter, that they might be e.tpelled out of it, and succeeded by new ones, and yet the matter which received them sliil remain the sanie. But that an attribute .should be .supposed to be the essence of the substance to which it belongs ; and that another superadded attribute, which is also the essence of substance, should not make another substance essentially distinct, is an a.s.serlion as repugnant to common sense, as two and two make not four. But that which completes the jest, (though a tremendous one upon so awful a subject,) is. that this authort should so gravely tell the world, they who are not of his sentiment, being isrnorant of the causes of things, confound all things ; imagine trees and men speaking alike, confound the divine nature with the human, &c. Who would imagine this to be the com- plaining voice of one so industriously labouring to mingle heaven and earth ! and to make God, and men, and beasts, and stones, and trees, all one and the same individual substance ! And now let us consider the reason of that assertion of his ; why two attributes really distinct, do not constitute two beings, or two distinct substances; because, saith he,§ it is of the nature of substance that each of its attributes be conceived by itself, &c. A marvellous rea.son ! Divers attributes, each whereof, as ticfore, constitutes the essence of substance, do not make divers substances; because those attributes may be conceived apart from each other, and are not produced by one another. It was too plain to need a proof, (as was observed before.) that there cannot be two substances of one attribute, or of one essence, (as his notion of an attribute is.) i. e. two are not one. But that two attributes or essences of substance, cannot make two substances, because they are diverse, is very surprisingly strange. This was (as Cicero upon as good an occasion speak.s) not to consider, but to cast lots what to say. And it deserves observation too, how well this a.ssertion, "That two distinct attributes do not constitute two distinct .suKstances," agrees with that, II " Two substances bavins; divers attributes, have nothing common between them." This must certainly supposethediversily of attributes to make the greatest diversity of substances imaginable; when they admit not there should be any thing (not the least thing) common between them I And yet they make not distinct .suKstances ! But this was only to make way for what was to follow, the overthrow of the creation. A thing he was so over- intent upon, that in the heat of his zeal and haste, he makes all fly asunder belbre him, and overturns even his own batteries as fast as he raises them; says and unsays, does and undoes, at all adventures. Here two sub.stnnces are supposed having di.stinct attributes, that is, distinct cs.sences, to have therefore nolhing common between them ; and yet presently afier, the l«o, or never so many distinct attributes, give unto snbslance two, or never .so many di.stinct essences, yet they shall nut be so much as two, but one onlv. For lo the query put by himself. By what sign one may discern the diversity of substances'! he roundly answers.H The following propositions would show there was no other substance but one, and that one infinite, and therefore how .substances were to be diversified would be inquired in vain. Indeed, it would be in vain, if knowing them to have different essences, we mu.st not yet call them different substances. But how the following propositions do show there can be no more than one suKstance, we shall see in time. We shall for the present take leave of him, till we meet him again in the following discourse. • nsfinit. «. » Schol. in Prop 10. I adml. S in Prop. 1 Port l. i Scliol. in Prop. 10. » Prop, i H Schol. in Prop. 10. THE LIVING TEMPLE. PART II. CHAPTER I. WllKREIN IS SHOWN, THE DE3TR0CTIVENESS OP SPINOSA S SCHEME AND DESIGN TO REUOION AND THE TEMPLE OP GOD. THE REPIO.VANCY OF HIS DOCTRINE TO THIS ASSERTION — THAT WHATSOEVER EXISTS NECESSARILY AND OP ITSELF, IS ABSOLCTELT perfect; WHICH IS THEREFORE FURTHER WEIGHED. HIS VAIN ATTEMPT TO PROVE WHAT HE DESIGNS. HIS SECOND PROPO- SITION CONSIDERED. HIS DEFINITION OP A SUBSTANCE DEFECTIVE. PROVES NOT HIS PURPOSE. HIS THIRD, FOURTH, AND FIFTH PROPOSITION. HIS EIGHTH SCHOLIA. THE MAXUDVCTtO AD PANTOSOrHIA.M. Hitherto we have discoursed only of the Owner of this temple, and shown to whom it rightfully belongs ; riz. That there is one only necessarj', self-existing, and most absolutely-perfect being, theglonous and ever-blessed God —who is capable of our converse, and inclined thereto; whom we are to conceive a.s justly claiming a temple with us, and ready, upon our willing surrender, to erect in us, or repair such a one, make it habitable, to inhabit and re- plenish it with his holy and most delectable presence, and converse with us therein suitably to himself and us; i. e. to his own excellency and fulness, and to our indigency and wretchedness. And now the orderof discourse would lead us to behold the sacred structure rising, and view the surprising methods by which it is brought about, that any such thing should have place in such a world a-s this. But we must yield to stay, and be detained a little bv some things of greater importance than merely the more even shape and order of a discourse; that is, looking back upon what halh been much insisted on in the former Part — That some being or other doth exist necessarily and of itself, which is of absolute or universal perfection — and taking notice of the opposite .sentiments of some hereto; because the whole design of evincing an object of religion would manifestly be much served hereby, we could not but reckon it of great importance to consider what is said again.st it. We have observed in the Preface a two-fold opposite hypothesis, which therefore, before we go further in the discourse of this temple of God, require to be dis- cussed. I. The first is that of Spinosa, which he hath more ex- pressly stated, and undertaken with great pomp and boast to demonstrate,, in his Posthumous Ethics; which we shall therefore so far consider, xs doth concern ourpresent design. He there, as hath been noted in the preface, as- serts all " subsiance to be .self-existent, and to tie infinite ; that one substance is improdiicible bv another; that there is but one, and this one lie calls God,' &c." Now this hor- rid scheme of his, though he and his followers would cheat the world with names, and with a specious show of piety, is as directly levelled against all religion, as any the most avowed atheism : for, as to religion, it is all' one whether we make nothing to be God, or every thing; whether we allow of no God to be worshipped, or leave none u, worship him. His portentous attempt to identify and delly all substance, attended with that strange pair of attributes, txUnsion and Ihouuht. (and an infinite number of others besides,) hath a manifest design to throw reli- gion out of the world that way. II. And it most directly opposes the notion of a .self- existent Being, which is absolutelv perfect: for such a being must be a substance, if it be anv thing ; and he allows no subsiance but one, and therefore none to be perfect, unless all be so. And .since we are sure some is imperfect, it will be consequent there is none absolutely perfect ; for that the same should be imperfect, and abso- lutely perfect, is impossible. Besides, that he makes it no way possible to one substance to produce another, and what is so impotent must be very imperfect : yea, and whatsoever is not omnipotent, is evidently not absolutely perfect. We are therefore cast upon reconsidering this proposition — What.soever being exists neces-sarily and of Itself, is absolutely perfect. It is true that if any being be evinced to exist necessarily and of itself, which is al^ solutely perfect, this gives us an object of religion, and throws Spinosa's farrago, his confused heap and jumble of self-existent being, into nothing. But il we carry the universal proposition as it is laid down, though that will oblige us afterwards as well to confute his French con- futcr, as him ; il carries the cause of religion with much the greater clearness, and with evident, unexceptionable self-consistency. For indeed that being cannot be under- stood to be absolutely perfect, which do'.h not eminently comprehend the entire fulness of all being in itself; as that must be a heap of imperfection, an everlasting chaos, an impossible, self-repugnant medley, that should be pre- tended to contain all the varieties, the diversifications, compositions, and mixtures of tiling in itself formally. And for the universal proposition : the matter it.sclf re- quires not an immedialc, self-evident, reciprocal connex- ion of the terms — necessarily self-existent, and absolutely perfect. It is enough that it however be brought about by gradual steps, in a way that at length cannot fail ; and I conceive haih been in the method that was followed in the former Part. For, to bring the business now within as narrow a .compass as is possible : nothing is more evident than that some being exists neces,sarily, or of iuself; o:herwise no- thing at all could now exist. Again, for the same reason, there is some necessary or self-exislent being that is the cause of whatsoever being exists not of itself; othe^^vise nothing of that kind could ever cortie into being. Now that necessary being, which is the cau.se of all other being, will most maiiifesily appear to be absolutely perfect. For, if it be universally causative of all other being, it must both have been the actual cause of all being that doth actuallv exisi, and can only be the possible cause of all that is possible to exist. Now so universal a cause can be no other than an absolutely or universallv perfect being. For it could be the cau.se of nothing, which it did not virtually or formally comprehend in itself And that being which comprehends in it.self all perfection, both actual and possible, must be absolutely or univei-sally perfect. And such a being, as hath also further more particularly been made apparent, must be an intelligent and a designing agent, or cause; because, ujion the whole universe of pro- duced beings, there arc most manifest characters of design, in the pa-ssive sense. They are designed to serve ends to which they have so direct and constant an aptitude, as that the attempt to make it be believed they were forced or fell in that posture of subserviency to such and such ends, by any pretended necessity upon their principal cau.se or causes, or by mere casually, U>oks like the most ludi- c rous trifling to any man of sense. And because that among produced beings there are found to be many, that are them- 60 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PiBT II. selves actively desiguinp, and that do understandingly intend and pursue ends; and consequently that they themselves must partake of an intelligent, spiritual nature, since mere matter is most manifestly incapable of thought or design. And further, by the most evident consequence, that their productive caii.se, {fiz. the necessary, self-ex- isting Being, whereto all other things owe themselves,) must be a mind or spiril, inasmuch as to suppose any effect to have any thing more of excellency in it than the cause from whence it proceeded, is to suppose all that ex- cellency to be effected without a cause, or to have arisen of itself out of nothing. See former Part, Chap. III. Sect. XII. &c. Therefore if it did not immediately appear that neces- sary being, as such, is absolutely perfect being; yet, by this series of discourse, it appears that the main cause of religion is still safe; inasmuch as that necessary Being which is the cause of all things else, is however evinced to be an absolutely perfect Being, and particularly a neces- sary self-existent Mind or Spirit, which is therefore a most apparently fit and most deserving object of religion, or of the honour of a temple ; which is the sum of what we were concerned for. Nor needed we be solicitous, but that the unity or onlincss of the nece.ssary Being, would afterwards be made appear, as aUo we think it was. For since the whole universe of produced being must arise out of that which was necessary self-existent Being, it must therefore comprehend all being in itself, its own formally, and eminently all other; i. e. what was its own, being for- mally its own, must be eminently also all being else, con- tained in all possible simplicity, within the productive power of its own. This Being therefore containing in Itself all that exists necessarily^ with the power of pro- ducing all the rest, which together make up all being, can primarily be but one, inasmuch as there can he but one all. Upon the whole therefore, our general proposition is suf- ficiently evident, and out of question — That whatever ex- ists necessarily, and of itself, is absolutely perfect. Nor is it at all incongruous that this matter should be thus argued out,bysuchatrain and deduction of consequences, drawn from effects, that come under our present notice ; for how come we to know tliat there is any self existing Being at all, but that we find there is .somewhat in being that is subject to continual mutation, and which therefore exists not neces.sarily, (for whatsoever is what it is neces- sarily, can never change, or be other than what it is,) but must be caused by that which is necessary and self-exist- ent. Nothing could be more reasonable or more certain than the deduction from what appears of excellency and perfection in such being as it is caused ; of the corres- pondent and far-transcendent excellency and perfection of its cause. But yet, after all this, if one set himself at- tentively to consider, there must appear so near a con- nexion between the very things themselves, self-cristeiicc and absolute perfection, that it can be no easy matter to conceive them separately- Self-existence ! Into how profound an abyss is a man cast at the thought of it! liow doth it overwhelm and swallow up his mind and whole soul ! With what satis- faction and delight must he see hiiiLself comprehended, of what he finds he can never comprehend ! For content plating the self-existent Being, he finds it elcrnallv, neces- sarily, never not existing ! He can have no thought of the self-existing Being," as such, but as always existing, as having existed always, as always certain to exist. Inquir- ing into the spring and source of this Being's existence, whence it is that it doth exist ; his ovra notion of a self-existing Being, which is not arbitrarily taken up, but which the reason of things hath imposed upon him, gives him his answer; and it can be no other, in tiiat it is a self- existing Being, it hath it of itself, that it doth exist. It is an eternal, everlasting spring and fountain of perpetually- existent being to il.scU". What a glorious excellency of being is this! What can this mean, but the greatest re- moteness from nothing that is possible; i. e. the most absolute fulness and plenitude of all being and perfection 1 And wherea-s all caused being, as such, is, to every man's understanding, confined within certain limits; what can the uncaused seif-existent Being be, but most imlimited, infinite, all-comprehending, and most absolutely perfect I Nothing therefore can be more evident, than that the self- exislent Being must be the absolutely perfect Being. And again, if you simply convert the terms, and let this be the proposition, — That the absolutely-perfect Being is the self-existent Being — it is most obvious to every one, that the very notion of an absolutely-perfect Being carries necessity of existence, or self-existence, in it ; which the notion of nothing else doth. And indeed one great mas- ter'' of this argument for the existence of God, hath him- self told me, " That though when he had puzzled divers atheists with it they had been wont to quarrel at it, as so- phistical and fallacious, he could never meet with any that could detect the sophism, or tell where any fallacy in it lay ; and that, upon the whole, he relied upon it as most solid and firm." And I doubt not but it may be managed with that advantage as to be very clearly concluding; yet, because I reckoned the way I have taken more clear, I chose it rather. But fmding that so near cognation and reciprocal connexion between the terms both ways, I reck- oned this short representation hereof, annexed to the larger course of evincing the same thing, might add no unuseful strength to it; and doubt not to conclude, upon the whole, that — whatsoever Being exists necessarily, and of itself, is absolutely perfect — and can, therefore, be no other than an intelligent Being; i. e. an infinite, eternal Mind, and so a most fit, and the only fit, deserving object of religion, or of the honour of a temple. III. But now, be all this never so plain, it will, by some, be thought all false, if they find any man to have contrivance enough to devise some contrary scheme of things, and confidence enough to pretend to prove it ; till that proof be detected of weakness and vanity, which must first be our further business with Spinosa. And not intending to examine particularly the several parts and junctures of his model, inasmuch as I find his whole de- sign is lost, if he fail of evincing these things, — That it belongs to all substance, as such, to exist of itself, and be infinite — And, (which will be sufllciently consequent here- upon,) That substance is but one, and that it is impossible for one substance lo produce another. I shall only attend to what he more directly says to this effect, and shall par- ticularly apply my.self to consider such of his propositions as more immediately respect this his main design: for they will brine us back to the definitions and axioms, or other parts of his discourse, whereon those are grounded, and even into all the darker and more pernicious recesses of his labyrinth; so as every thmg of importance to the mentioned purpose will be drawn under our considera- tion, as this thread shall lead us. His first proposition we let pass; " That a substance is, in order of nature, before its afi'ections ;" having nothing applicable to his purpose in it, which we shall not other- wise meet with. His second, " That two substances, having divers attri- butes, have nothing common between them; or, which must be all one, Ao agree in nothing, I conceive it will be no great presumption lo deny. And since he is pleased herein to be divided from himself, it is a civility to his later and wiser self to do so, who will afierwards have substance, having a multitude of distinct attributes, i. «. essences,': and which therefore cannot but be manifold, tc have every thing common. So little hath he commca with himself. And it will increase the ooiigation upon him, to deliver him from the entanglement of his demonstration, as he calls it, of this proposition ; as I hope we shall also of the other too, for no doubt they are both false. Of this pro- position his demonstration is fetched from his third defini- tion, viz. of a substance, " That which is in itself, and conceived by ii.self; i. c. whose conception needs the con- ception of nothing else, whereby it ought to be formed;'' so is his definition defined over and over. We are here lo inquire : — 1. Into his definition of a substance. 2. Whether it sutficiently prove his proposition. IV. First, For his definition of a substance. He himself tells us,'i " A definition ought lo express nothing c Scliol. ill P[0]>. 10. d SchoL in Prop, a Chap. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 61 bat the simple nature of the thitig defined ;" and we may as well expect it distinctly to express that. Doth this definition express the simple nature of a substance, "That which is in itself," when it is left to divination what is meant by is, whether essence, or existence, or subsistence 7 And when we are to be at as random a ^ess, what is in- tended by being in itself? Whether being only ccntained, or being also sustained in, and by, or of itself 1 And sup- posing this latter to be meant, whether that self-subsist- ence exclude dependence only on another, as a subject, which we acknowledge true of all substance ; or depend- ence as on an efficient, which if he will have to be taken for true of all, he was in rea.son to expect it should be so taken from his elfectual proof, not from the reverence of his authority only : for what he adds, "And that is con- ceived by itself; and whose conception needs not the conception of any other thing by which it ought to be formed ;' — would he have us believe this to be true, when afterward his tenth proposition is, "That every attribute of substance ought to be conceived by itself!" Where- upon then so many attributes, so many substances, it be- ing the nature of a substance to be conceived by itself V. But passing from his notion of a substance, let us consider, secondly. How it proves his proposition, that " Two substances, having difierent attributes, have nothing common between them." According to him, every attri- bute of substance is to be conceived by itself; and yet hare one and the same substance common to them all : , therefore the distinct conception of things is, even with hun, no reason why they .should have nothing common between them. But as to the thins itself, he must have somewhat more enforcing than his definition of a sub.siance, to prove that two (or many) individual substances may not have the same special nature common to them, and yet be conceived by themselves; having ditlerent indivi- dual natures or attributes, or ditlerent special natures, having the same general nature. Yea, and an equal de- pendence on the same common cause, which is a less ingredient in the conception of a thing, than the general or special nature is. And 1 doubt not, we shall find he hath not disproved, but that there is somewhat, in a true sense, common to them and their cause, that is of a con- ception much more vastly ditferent from them both. Whereupon, it is necessary to lake distinct notice of his third proposition, " What things have nothing common between them, of them the one cannot be the cause of the other." In which nothing is to be peculiarly animadverted on, besides the contradiction in the very terms wherein it is proposed, Wkiil tkings hare nothing common between them. How can they be things, and have nothing com- mon between them ! If they be things, they have sure the general notion of things common to them; there can there- fore be no such things, that have nothing common. And let this be supposed to have been absurdly set down on purpose; yet now, for his demonstration hereof, it rests upon a palpable falsehood — that causes and effects must be mutually imderstood by one another ; as we shall see more hereafter. His fourth we let pass; what it hath regardable in it, being as fitly to be considered under the VI. Fifth ; " There cannot be two or more substances, in the whole universe, of the same nature or attribute ;" unto which, besides what hath been said already, we need only here to add, that (whereas he hath told us, by the attribute of a substance, he means the essence of it) 'if he here speak of the same numerical essence or attribute, it is ridicuiou.sly true ; and is no more than if he had said. One thing is but one thing. If he speak of the same special or general attribute or essence, it is as absurdlv fal.se ; and for the proof of it, in the latter sense his demonstration signifies nothing. There may be more than one (as a stone, a tree, an animal) that agree in the same general attribute of corporeity, and are diversified by their special attributes; and there may be many of the same special attribute, {riz. of rationality,) as John. Peter, Thomas, &c. that are dis- tinguished by their individual ones. He might as well prove, by the same method, the ideniilvof his modi, as of .substances; as that there cim be but one individual tri- angle in all the world, of one attribute or property, as but one substance. Let (for instance) one at Pari.s, aiiother at Vienna, a third at Rome, a fourth at London, describe each an equilateral triangle of the same dimensions, or in a thousand places besides; each one of these do only make one and the same numerical triangle, because they have each the .same attribute. But how are the attributes of these several triangles the samel What! the same nu- merically 1 Then indeed they are all the same numerical triangle; for one and the same numerical essence makes but one and the same numerical thing. But who that is in his right wiis would say sol And if it be only said they have all attributes of one and the same kind, what then is consequent, but that they are all triangles of one kindl Which who in his right wits will deny 1 And if the attri- bute of a substance be that which constitutes its essence, the attribute of any thing else is that which constitutes its es.sence. See then how far Spinosa haili advanced with his demonstration of the identity of substance ! If he prove not all substance to be numerically the same, he hath done nothing to his purpose. And it is now obvious to every eye how effectually he hath done that. Whence also it is further equally evident, his demon- stration dwindles into nothing; and gives no support to VII. His sixth proposition, which contains the malig- nity of his whole design, ri>. "That one substance cannot be produced by another substance," which rests (as yoa see) partly upon the fifth, " That there cannot be two sub- .siances of the same attribute," which in his sense is, as hath been shown, most absurdly false, and the attempt of proving it as absurd; partly upon his second, "That two substances, of different attributes, have nothing common between them," which might be said of whatsoever else, as truly a.s of substances ; hut which is also most evidently untrue; and partly, upon his third, " That such things as have nothing common between them, the one of them can- not be the cause of the other," which depends upon two false suppositions, — I. " That there can be two things, which have nothing common between them ;" which, as hath been noted, comradicts itself, and needs not be fur- ther stood upon. 2. " That whatsoever things are cau.se and effect, the one to the other, must be mutually understood by one another," which we shall here more distinctly con- sider, it being also his second demonstration of the corol- lary of this his sixth proposition, (which nothing but a disposition to trifle, or having nothing to say, could have made him mention, as a corollary from this proposition, it being in effect but a repetition of the same thing,) viz. '• That if one substance can be produced by another, (agent, or substance, which you please,) the knowledge of it must depend upon the kiiowledge of its cause, (by the fourth axiom,) and thereupon (by definition third) ii should not be a substance." We are here to consider, 1. This his fourth axiom, " That the knowledge of an effect depends upon the knowledge of its cause, and doth involve it." An effect may be considered two ways; abso- lutely, as it is in itself or relatively, as it is the effect of an efficient cause It cannot, it is tnie, be understood to be the effect of such an efticient, but the knowledge that this was its efficient, is involved therein ; for it is the same thing, and so much may be known, without knowing any thing of the nature of either the efficient or effect. But this signifies nothing to his pnrpase. He must therefore mean, that the knowledge of an enect absolutely considered, and in its own nature, depends upon and involves the know- ledge of the nature of its efficient. Surely, the nature of a thing may be competently known by its true definition. But is the efficient cause wont to be universally put into defini- tions T He tells us himself, (Schol. 2. upon Proposition 8.) "A true definition contain-s, or expres-se.s, nothing, besides the mere nature of the thing defined." And let any man that thinks it worth it, be at the pains to examine his own definition in the .several parts of this eihir,>-:Tei.melrical tract, and see whether he always puts the eiiicicnt cause into every definition. And (no doubt) he thought him- self to define accurately. If all other men, who have so generally reckoned the efficient and end. external causes, and only matter and form internal, and ingredient into the nature of things, and therefore only fit to be put into definitions, were thought by him mistaken and out in their reckoning, it was, however, neither modest nor wise, to lay down for on axiom a thing so coiuiary to the THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part U. common sentiments of mankind ; and without the least attempt to prove it, go about to demonstrate by it, in so Dortentous a cause ; and lay the whole weight of his hor- rid cause upon it ; expecting all the world should be awed into an assent, by the authority of his bare word ; and not oresume to disbelieve or doubt it, only because he is pleased to stamp the magisterial name of an axiom upon It. If therefore any man assume the boldness t« deny his axiom, what is become of his demonstration 1 And whereas it is commonly apprehended, that definitions are not of individual things, but of special kinds, and is ac- knowledged by himself," " That the essence of things Droduced by God, involves not existence, and the produc- ion of a thing is nothing else but the putting it into actual existence;" why may not the abstract essence, or nature of things, be well enough conceived and defined, without involving the conception of their productive cause"? And this enough shows, 2dly, That his definition of a substance proves nut, that one substance cannot be produced by an- other, viz. " That which can be conceived bv itself," for so it may, without involving the conception of" that which produces it; and so be a substance sufficiently according to his definition. Though there can be no inconvenience in admitting, that things understood apart, by themselves, may be afterwards further and more clearly understood, by considering and comparing them in the habitude and references which they bear as causes and effects (or other- wise) to one another. And now is his, VIII. Seventh proposition, " That it belongs to the na- ture of substance to exist," which is so great a pillar, left itself without support ; and being understood of substance as such, as his terms and design require it to be, it is manifestly impious, communicating the most fundamental attribute of the Deity to all substance. And is as little befriended by reason, as it befriends religion; for it rests upon nothing but the foregoing baffled proposition : and this definition,? of that which is its own cause; which is, " That whose essence involves existence, or which cannot be conceived otherwise than as existing;" whereas, it is sufficiently plain we have a conception clear enough of the general nature of a substance as such, abstracted from existence, or non-existence, conceiving it only to be such, as if it exist, doth subsist in and by itself, ;. c. without having a subject to support it ; though it may be such as to have needed a proauctive, and continually to need a sustaining, efficient cause. Nor is there less clearness in this abstract conception of a substance, than there is in that of a modus, or accident, which we may conceive in an equal ab>lraction, from actual existence, or non-exist- tence ; understanding it to be such, as that if it exist, it doth incxist, or exist only in another. And now is mir way suffiuienlly prepared to the consideration of his eighth proposition; " That all substance is necessarily infinite." And how is it demonstrated 1 Why, by his fifth proposi- tion,— " That there can be but one substance, of one and the same attribute," — which hath been sufficiently unra- velled and exposed, so as not to be left capable of signi- fying any thing here, as the reader will see by looking back to what has been said upon it. And now it must quite sink; its next reliance failing it, viz. the foregoing .seventh proposition, — " That it belongs to it, to exist neces-sarily." I grant the consequence to be good, and reckon it a truth of great evidence and concernment, " That whatsoever exists necessarily, is infinite." I heartily con- gratulate Spinosa's acknowledgment of so very clear and important an a.ssertion ; and do hope, as in the foregoing discourse I have made some, to make further, good use of it. But for what he assumes, that all "substance neces- sarily exists ;" you see it re^ts upon nothing, and so conse- quently doth what he would lonclude from it, that all substance is infinite. And Ins further proof of it avails as little, rir. that it cannot be finite; because (by his second definition) if it be so, it must be limited by some- thing of the same nature, &c. Which would be absurd by proposition fifth, — "That there cannot be two sub- stances of the same attribute:" for that there be two, of the same individual attribute, to bound one another is un- necessary, (as well as impossible,) and absurdly supposed for this purpose. For if there were two of the same indi- vidual nature and attribute, they would not bound one another, but run into one; inasmuch as having but one attribute, they should, according to him, have but one and the same es,sence ; and so be most entirely one, and that there cannot be two, or many times two, of the same spe- cial or general nature, is unproved; and the contrary most evident, as may be seen, in what hath been said upon thai fifth proposition. IX. No man needs wish an easier task, than it would be to show the falsehood or impertinency of his Scholia upon this proposition, and of his following discourse, to the purpose above mentioned. But I reckon it unneces- sary, his principal supports being (I will not say over- thrown, but) discovered to be none at all. I shall there- fore follow his footsteps no further, only lake notice of some few things that have a more direct aspect upon his main design, and make all the haste I can to take leave of him, that I may be at liberty to pursue my own. What is in his first Scholium follows, he says, only upon his seventh proposition, which itself follows upon nothing; and therefore I further regard it not. His second Schol. would have his seventh proposition pass for a common notion ; and so it will, when he hath inspired all man- kind with his sentiments. But why must it do sol Be- cause substance is that which is in itself, and is conceived by itself! Now compare that with his tenth proposition, — " Ever;' attribute of substance ought to be conceived by itself" There the definition of substance is given to every attribute of substance ; therefore, ever)- attribute of substance is a substance, since the definition? of substance to which he refers us in the demonstration of that propo- sition, agrees to it; therefore, so many attributes, so many .substances. What can be plainer 1 AVe have then his one .substance multiplied into an infinite number of sub- stances. By his sixth definition, we shall see his own confession of this consequence, by and by. And whereas in this Schol. he would make us believe, that modifications men may conceive as not existing, but substances they cannot. Let the reason of this assigned difference be considered; "That by substance they must understand that which is in itself, and is conceived by itself, its knowledge not needing the knowledge of another thing. But by modifications they are to understand that which is in another, and whose conception is formed by the conception of that thing in which they are: wherefore, we can have true ideas of not-existing modifications, in- asmuch as though they may not actually exist, otherwise than in the understanding, yet their essence is so compre- hended in another, that they may be conceived by the same. But the truth of substances is not otherwise with- out the understanding, than in themselves, because thej' are conceived by themselves," &c. Which reason is evi- dently no reason. For with the same clearness, wherewith I conceive a substance, whensoever it exists, as existing in itself; I conceive a modification, whensoever it exists, as existing in another. If therefore any thing existing in another, be as truly existing, as existing in itself, the existence of a substance is no more necessary than the existence of a modification. And if we can have true ideas of not-existing modifications, we may have as true, of not- existing subslanecs: especially since (according to him) we cannot conceive a substance, without conceiving in it some or other modifications. For he tells us, "The essence of modifications is so comprehended in another, that they may be conceived by the same." Now, what means he by the essence of modifications being compre- hended in another? By that other, he must mean .sub- stance: for modifications do modify substances, or nothing; and if the essences of modifications be contained in sub- stances, they must (according to him) be contained in the essence of substances. For there is. sailh he, nothing in nature, besides sub- stances and their affections or modifications (demonstra- tion of prop, fourth, and def fifth.) Therefore, since nothing can be conceived in substance, antecedent to these modi- fications, besides its own naked essence, they must be contained immediately in the very essence of substance, ( Der >. Chap. I. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 63 or in subslance itself; wherefore if all substance be neces- sarily existent, they must be necessarily ineiisteot. And if the essence of substance contains the inexisting modi, the essence of the modi doth equally contain their ineiist- ence in subslance. Whereupon, by consequence also, the essence of these modifications doth as much involve ex- istence (since no one can affirm ineiistence to be exist- ence) as the essence of subslance doth, in direct contradic- tion to prop, tweniv-fourth, which expressly (and most truly) says, " The essence of things produced by God" (which he, as untruly, intends of these modifications alone) " do not involve existence." And now for his notanda in this Schol. by which he would conclude, that there is no other than thin one infi- niteh subslance in being. It is true indeed, that the defini- tion of a thin? (which we have before said is of specific nature, not of individuals) expresses not any certain num- ber of existing individuals, (be it man, or triangle, or what else you please,) nor any at all. For surely ihe defijiition of man, or triangle, would be the same, if ever)' individual of each should oe aboli.shed and cease. But that, if any do exi.st, some cause must be assignable why they exist, and why so many only. What is to be inferred from this 1 That the reason being the same, as to every substance whose es.sence involves not existence in it, (which that the essence of every substance doth, or of subslance as such, he hath not proved, nor ever can) when any such substance is found to exist, the cause of its existence, not . being in iLs own nature, must be external. And there- fore, so many only do exist, because a free agent, able to produce them, (for the vert' subslance of created beings itself, owes not its production to a merely natural, unde- signing, or to any .subordinate agent only,) was pleased to produce so many, and no more. And so hath this unhap- py author himself, with great pains and sweat, reasoned out for us the very thing we assert. Bui that it may be further seen, how incurious a writer this man of demonstration is, and how fatally, while he is designing the overthrow of religion, he overthrows his own design, I shall not let pa.ss what he says, in demon- strating his twelfth prop. — " That no attribute of substance can be truly conceived, from which it may follow, that substance can be divided." How he proves it by prop, eighth, and after by the sixth, I shall not regard, till I .see ihase propositions belter proved. But that which I at pre- sent remark, is his argument from prop, fifth, — " That if .substance could be divided, each part must consist of a different attribute; and so of one substance many might be constituted." A fair confession, that many attributes will constitute many substances. And himself acknow- ledges many auributes of substance, (def sixth, and prop, eleventh.) And therefore, though he here call this an absurdity, it is an absurdity which he hath inevilablv now fastened upon himself, having here allowed, plainly, the conscouence (a<^ was above promised to be shown) that if there he diversity of attributes, they will constitute a di- versity of substances, which it was before impassible to him to disallow, having defined an attribute (as was form- erly noted) to bei that which constitutes the essence of sub- stance. Therefore, his whole cause is here fairly given away ; for his one subslance is now scattered into many, and the pretended impossibility of the creation of aiiy substantial being, quite vanished into thin and empty air. The many inconsistencies to be noted also in his annexed letters, with .several parts of his discourse, it is not niv business particularly to reflect on. It is enough, to viy ;>Hrpo.w, to have shown he comes short of Ai'.!. X. Upon the whole, little more seems needful for the refutation of this hLs horrid doctrine of the unity, self- existence, and infinity- of all subslance, than only to oppose Spinosa to Spinosa. Nor have I ever met with a discourse so equally inconsistent with all principles of rea.son and religion, and with itself And so frequently doth he over- throw his own ill design, in this verv discourse, thai it is oliogether unnecessary to insist on the inconsistencies of this, with his demonstrations of Des Canes's principles, li P 31; i IVL «. k A« JiU &-<*?r1in( Go-i lo bo a mo*! aimple tiMrw. nnd Unit hid attrilKiU>«». now. ho makrahuallritiutn n« ilinTn. a) i-Mra •ion anil thoiiiclil. and nay', ttn-y nurhtin twc«oc«id, is to as.sert an impotent, imperfect Ge supposed to fill up infinite space, we shall have an infinite number of independent entities, civexisting for ever ; for a finite number cannot replenish infinite space : or lei it be supposed (more agree- ably to the pretended sentiments of this author) confined within the limits of the formed imiverse: and how ao- 66 THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part IL 'easonably is such a thing as independent matter, sup- posed to be of itself, limited to one spot of immense space! For let the universe be supposed Imite, though ever so vast, it must yet be conceived but as a minute spot, to the infinite unbounded vacuity that lies without it ; and which yet he seems to acknowledge replenished with the Divine Being. Now let a man set himself to consider, and trj- how easy it will be to his thoughts to conceive one little portion of boundless space, taken up with a mean being, next to nothing, that is of itself there, and cannot but be there, and no where else, impo.sed upon the infinitely per- fect Being ; the all-wise and almighty God, who fills up all space unavoidably and from all eternity, so that he could not, if he thought it a cumber, disencumber or rid himself of it ; and rather .seemed of necessity, than of choice, to have made a world of it, as not knowing else what to do with it ; with which imagination also the youth of the world so ill agrees, for why then was it so lately madel (5.) But it further seems very endent, and more fully evidential of the absurdity of this conceit, that if there were such matter, the world could never have been made of it. For how great alterations must such rude, undi- gested, unformed matter have undergone, in forming of such a world as thisi But what greater inconsi.stency can we imagine, than that what exists necessarily, or of itself, should be alterable 1 What is of itself what it is, must be eternally and without change what it is. So absurd, as well as profane, it will be to ascribe to dull and senseless matter, or to any thing else, so peculiar and appropriate an attribute and name as that ot the Deity, / am thai I am. For, hereupon, such matter were not only supposed vainly and to no purpose, being never possible to be the matter of the world, but destructively, and against the very pur- pose that should be served by it. For such matter being supposed to occupy the space of the formed world, must exclude thence any other matter of which it could be formed ; and make it, consequently, impo.ssible there should ever have been any such world as this, where the supposition itself makes it be. This see discoursed more at large. Part I. Chap. 2. (6.) And whereas his great reason for such self-originate, independent matter, viz. the imagined impossibility of creation, or that any thing can be produced out of nothing, (which so far as is needful, we partly have and further shall consider, in its proper place,) doth a-s much oppose the creation of any spiritual being, as material. If all that hath been said in the former part of this discourse, and by many authors besides, do sufficiently prove there are such spiritual or immaterial beings that are created, or are not of themselves ; and that, of the property of thought, which is found belonging to them, matter is not capable, (which I shall think to have been done till I see the contrary evinced,) we must judge him very absurdly to have as- serted such self-originate, independent matter. And as he hath a.s.serted it very inconsistently with the Indh of the thing ; so, VI. '2. It will appear he hath done it as little consist- ently with himself For, (1.) He acknowledges God to be Velre infinimcnl far- fail, toul pulssani, el k prinripe ile loutc pcrfrctim — a Being infinitchj perfect, iilmii:htii, and the prin'cipU nf all perfection. Now how is he inlln'ilely perfect, if his being include not all perfeclion ? Ilnw is he almighty, if lie cannot create 1 How is he the fountain or principle of all perfection, if the perfeclion of matter (which, as liath been .said, though he make it cs.sentially imperfect, must have some perfection belonging to it, since it is not mere no- thing) be not eminently comprehended in his being'! Besides that here acknowledging God to be omnipotent, and having denied the necessary, eternal, independent matter, which he imagines to be infinite, but limited and confined to the created universe only ; I would hereupon demand of him, Cannot the blessed God, if he please, cre- ate many worlds'! If he say. No, then how is he omni- potent ! — If Yea, of what matter must they be made? Not of his(imagined)neces,sary,indcpendeni matter, for of that really none could : but according to him the present uni- verse is made : it is already taken up, and pre-engaged therein, and it is limited thereto. Therefore the matter is yet to be created, of which the other worlds are to be made: and it can be so, otherwise no more worlds can be made : and thereupon the great God is, not without blasphemy, said to have gone to the utmost of his power, to have done in this kind all that he can. And this must be said, by this author, in express contradiction to the truth of the thing, to the most common and agreed idea or notion of the Divine Being ; and now, most apparently, to himself. And therefore his high rant against Spinosa,!- (in this point more orthodox than himself,) That he confounds in his philosophy being and perfection, Pretendanl que, ce fui est, el tie renferme aucune negatitm d'etre, est unc perfco- lion, iructed and wi.ser pagans, long before ChrLst's time, did believe all things lo have sprang from one iniel- iigenl, self-snbsisiing original, matter itself not bemg ex- cepted. As, with the Egyptians, the inscription of the temple at Sais shows, " I am all that is, or was, or shall be," &c. and with Ihe Grecians, their worshipping God, under the name of Pan : which could mean no other thing, than that they thought the Deity to cbmprehend eminently or virtually all beings besides, in its creative or produclive power. And we have rea.son to think that pagan philosophers since Christ, such as Hierocles, Jam- blichus, Porphyry, Plolinus, &c. who (as others have observed) were manifestly of ihis sentiment, understood the minus of the more ancient ph ilo.sophers as well as Ihis Monsieur; nor do ihey pretend to contradict them . herein. And for the rea.son of the thing it.self, he hath not the least appearance of any on his part, but that, because the finite power of a creature cannot bring a thing nut of no- thing, therefore omnipotency cannot ; which is so far from concluding for him, inat (as hath been intimated) it mani festly contradicts itself, and concludes the contrary. For how is that omnipotency, which cannot do every thing that implies not a contradiction 1 And how is that a con- tradiction, that what once was not, should afterwards come to be \ there being no objective impossibility or intrinsic repugnancy in the thing itself loe.xisi, but that it were truly tm possib)lc ; (and we are out of doubt concerning matter for instance, or whatsoever else we are sure doth exist, ■.hat it could exist;) and supposing also that there be a suf- ficient, causative power, to make it exist, or produce it into being : and what cause can be more sufficient than an om- nipotent one, such as our author confesses God to be*? Nor doih he deny that there are intelligent spirits, that were not of themselves; only he would have us think them hut finer matter, impres.sed with intellectual power. But what akin is a mind to matter, except his own 1 And supposing a mind or intellect be stamped upon matter, it is then but added lo it, not drawn out of il, as if matter had before contained it. And even thus, since mind or iniellecl is not nothing, (unless he will say, himself differs by nothing from unthinking clay,) we have .something out of nothing. And who can think it more impossible to Omnipotency, to create matter, than a mind 1 But if he reckon thought, or intellect, is contained in mailer, or included in ihe notion of il, then matter, as .such, must be intelligent, and consequently all matter; and this will lie absurdity enough, to give h'im as good a title to Ihe privilege of not being reasoned against, as, from his magisterial way of wriiinp, we may count Spinosa thought himself lo have. Nor indeed will it leave any man so much as a conjecture at the reason why he shoulH pretend lo differ from him. For who can imagine, why his matter, endued with the attributes of extension and thought, inighl not do as well as Spinosa's substance 1 Or if he think mailer, as such, lo have only seminal reason or intellect in it, anieccdentiv lo his supposed di- vine impn-ss upon it, how will that agree with his making it essfnhellrmrnl imi>fiT/mt,'—esscnli(it/i/ imperfect ? Or what means his added capable iieunrnoins, its being ncrtr- tkfUa capable of all such perfections bv the impression of God upon 111 Is ihal capacity .something, or nothing ■? Or what .sense is it lomake it capable of having those per- fections, which il is essential lo it not lo have I And surely, as he will attribute lo matter more perfec- tion than he intended, so he will attribute less lo God, For he will, at ihis rate, altribule no more lo him, than hath been generally ascribed lo ordinary natural agents ; i.e. to produce into actual being, out of matter, that whereto there was in it some .seminal di-sposition before. And here, indeed, is the source of his error, his reducing infinile power lo the measures of finite ; an insolent pre- suming to circumsciibe Omnipotency, and making that simply impossible even lo Almighliness it.self, which is only so lo crealed agents. And to this purpose, I find some reasonings in Sexlus Empiricus, who tells us how the .sceptics ailemplcd lo prove (besides their disputing against the oiher three sons of causation) thai ic^^aroi — an incorporeal Ikin/;, cannot be iirio» (Kuuaroj — the cause of any thing corporeal ; arguing (and sligntly enough) from Ihe common methods of subordinate agents, lo the opera- lions of the Supreme Cause. Nor is it apprehensible, how one can find a medium; or while Ihey make matter in- dependent, how not lo make God dependent. And when Ihe Monsieur we are concerned with took a friendly notice of Hermogenes's consent with him upon Ihis subject, he mighl as well have been at the pains to consider somewhat of what Terlullian wrote anainst him, that hereby, in some respect, God is made inferior and suhjeet to matter, vhm without it he could not hare made a world. Materia superior inrenitur, qua illi coyiam ope- randi mbministravit, el Deus subjeclus materite ridelur, cupis substantia epuit ; nemo nletiesii lat.rfp(lion of the Pivine Nature The infinite, tiess of God's knnwled^, power. giKxInes^. and |ir(.sence. His proiiensions towards men. and a|itness (supiiosing there wea- no ulistruction) to human converse. Matters of doubt herein resohiKj. I. And having thus far established and vindicated so principal a ground-work in this important cause, — That what IS necessarily, or of itself is an absolutely perfect Being, distinct fiom all things else ; and a proper Object of religion, orwherelo a lemple, and all the worship there- of, duly belong, I shall now only suffer myself to be a lillle furlher diverted from my intended course, apprehend- ing thai Iheir case is also lo be considered, who nave been less accustomed lo this course, of rca.^oning out to them- selves the principles of Iheir religion : unlo whom there- fore what hath been hilhcrto allempled may seem, if no' ob.scure in ils pans, yet .so tiresome in Ihe whole, as not lo meet with patience enough lo trace ihe design ihal halh been driven on, lo its issue and period; il being very in- cident lo unexercised and less attentive readers, to lose their thread, and forget ihe scope of a discourse, and .so slill have Ihe truih In seek even in the midsi of il. And if whal haih been hitherto said, prove unsatisfying lo any, that justice must be done lo the cause ilself and lo them, as loavow il must rather proceed either from this infirmity in the reader, or from ihe unskilfulness of ihe writer lo propound ihings happily and lo advanlage ; than either from the inevidence of the ihings themselves, or frrra want of capacity, even in an ordinary understanding. Nor doth any unileriaking .seem more feasible, or less lo be despaired of than pininlvand salisfvingly lo evince, loan unprejudiced underslamling thai shall ailend, these first foiindnlions of a religion and a lemple, ii2. That God is; anil — Thai he is conversable wiili men, or is such as is capable and apt lo receive worship from men, and impart blessedness lo ihera. We shall iherefore so far inlernipt the current of this discourse, as to endeavour ihis, by giving a brief and plain sum of the more principal ihings thai have been said to this purpose already. And lo pre- f Totull. contra Honno(. 68 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PiRT IL pare for it, must desire you thai have not been, as yet, wont to employ your minds this way, to observe the fol- lowing directions ; FHrst, That you would not give place to discouraee- menl, nor think too meanly of the understanding whereby God hath distinguished you from the inferior creatures. There is that mind and spirit in man, which doth compa.ss many things of far greater difficulty than it is here to be employed about ; though it can be exercised about nothing of so great consequence. That apprehensive power that can lake in the orderly frame of sucn notions as are requi- site to the exact skill of numbering or of measuring things, of navigation, of trade, of managing the common affairs of human life ; that can lay down to itself such prudent maxims and rules whereby the inconveniences may in great part be avoided which are incident to coiimion con- versation, and the advantages gained which may serve one's own private and secular interests ; that understand- ing which can do all this, would far more easily compre- hend as much as is needful to the certain knowledge of God's exi.stence, and that he is such as we ought to wor- ship, and may enjoy, if it apply itself hereto. Do not so despair as not to make an attempt ; you know not the strength of your own mind till you nave tried it. Secondly, That you indulge not, or do not suffer your- selves to be insensibly seized by, a mean and sordid sloth. Set your thoughts a-work with vigorous diligence. Give not out before you have well begun. Resolve, since you have a thinking power about you, you will use it to this most nece.ssary purpose ; and hold your thoughts to it. See that your minds do not presently tire and flag; that you be rationally peremptory, and .soberly obstinate, in this pursuit: yield not to be diverted. Disdain, having minds that can reach up to the great Original and Author of all things, that they should be confined to this dirty earth, or only to things low and mean. Thiriilii, Look on the things that are rationally evident to your understandings, as equally certain with what you see with your eyes. Are you not as sure that two and two make four (which judgment is the act of your mind) as that this thing which you look upon is black or while, or of this or that shape or figure ■? Do not so deba.se your own understandings, as to think nothing certain that comes under their judgment. It is true, they are apt enough to be deceived in many things, and so is your sense too ; but if your sense could make you certain of nothing, what would become of justice and government among men "! Who could take an oath before a m.agistrate 1 AVhat would become of the common actions and aflairs of life'! How could you eat or drink, or buy or sell, if you could not certainly distinguish one thing from another ! Some things are so plain as that you can be in no doubt about them, as that this is bread, not a stone; that a horse, not a sheep ; otherwise all the world must stand still, and all commerce and action cease. And if there were not .some things sure to your minds, that you may certainly say, in some plain cases at least, this is true and that false, this right and that wrong, you would be at as great a loss. Otherwise, you might be apt to think a part of a thing greater than the whole, or that the same man might be at London and at Rome at the same time; and you might be as ready to kill your own father as to do him rever- ence, or to commit robbery upon your rich neighbour as relieve the poor, and judge the one as good an action as the other. Fintrt-khi, As any particular thing is offered to you, for the purpose we are here aiming at, consider it well by itself, before you go further; and think thus, Is this plain and certain, yea or no 1 If at the firsl .sight you think it not so, observe diligently what is brought for the proof of it, ami see whpther now it be not manife.stly certain ; and wlicn you once find it is, fix it in your mind as a certain- ty ; sav, Thus far I am sure. Let not your thoughts run back 111 this as a doubtful thing any more, or unravel their own work; but make use of it as a certainty, to your further purpose. II. Being thus prepared, take this brief account of what hath before been discoursed more at large. And, First, As to this first and great principle, — That there is a God. Be but patient of being led by the hand a few easy steps in a way that is in some part sufficiently beaten, however, that is sufficiently plain, and it is to be hoped you will soon see that matter put out of all doubt. Let this then be your first step : 1. That somewhat or other there is, that hath been from all eternity neces.sarily and of itself, without dependence upon any tiling else. If this be not at the firsl view evi- dent to you, or if it seem too large a step, we will divide it into parts ; and consider well what is said for the proof of it, by these degrees. (1.) Somewhat or other must ever have been ; for other- wise, how could any thing come to be at alii Do you think it was possible, if ever there was nothing at all in being, of one sort or other, that any thing should have come into being 1 No surely, for which way should it be I It could not be made by another, there being no other to make it; and it could not make itself, itself oeing as yet nothing. But sure you can easily apprehend, that to make a thing be, is to do something; and as easily, thai what is nothing, can do nothing. Therefore, when your eyes tell you that something now is, you may tie as sure, as of what you see with your eyes, that somewhat or other hath ever been. Say with yourself, Somcvhal ■nair is, therefore some- what halh ever been. If you discern not the clearness of this consequence, take the opposite to it : frothing now ii, therefore nnthing mil ever be ; it is as broad as long. (2.) You may next proceed thus, that something or other hath been o{ itself ; that is, without depending upon any thing else, or being beholden to any other thing for its being. Now here pause awhile, and consider what is said to make this plain to you. Either you must acknow- ledge something hath ever been of itself, or you must say that all things that are, or ever have been, were fromarto- ther, without any exception. But mark now, if you say that all things that are, or ever have been, without except- ing any, were from another, you contradict yourself; tor besides all things that are, or ever have been, without ex- cepting any, there is not another from whom they could be. Therefore it is impossible that all thines without ex- ception should have been from another ; whence then it is plain that something must have been of itself, without de- pending for its being upon any thing else : for it will come to the same contradiction, if you say all things depend upon some other ; since there is nothing beyond all things : therefore, to say that all things depend, is to say they de- pend on nolhiiig, that is, they do not depend. And to saylhev have all depended on one another for their being, or made one another, is altogether as absurd ; for it will make the whole compass or circle of all being to depend upon nothing, or come at length to this, that some one made it.self, or even (which is more grossS made its own maker; unless you wilt rest in some one tnat made all the other, and was it.self not made by any of them. If you do not apprehend this yourself desire any one that halh a better understanding to explain it to you, and you will soon see the matter intended by it to be as evident as your heart can wish. And so this will be out of question with you — That somewhat was oi itself ; which added to what was proved befoie, comes to this — That somewhat was ever of it.self And both the.se thus conjoined, plainly ap- pear from what hath been said. For we have seen that nothing could possibly make it.self, (which would absurdly implv, that before, it both was and was not.) and therefore, whatsoever was of itself, must crcr have been, or never had beginning of being. So much, then, I suppose you take 10 be mast certain, thai something hath ever been of it.self Whereupon vou may further add, (o.) That what was ever of itself, was ■neeesMrily. I hope vou understand what is meant by being necessarily, that is, being .so as that it could not possibly but be. You may perceive that some things are so as that it was possi- ble they might not have been, as a house, a town, a gar- ment, or what.soever was made by such makers as might have chosen whether they would have made it, or no. Yea, or whatsoever is any way made to be, having before not been ; for what once was not, it is manifest it was then possible for it not to be. But to be necessarily, is to be so as that it could never possibly but have been; that is, what is neces.sarilv, is somewhat of so excellent a nature, as that it could never be out of being. Now what was Caxr. in. THE LIVING TEMPLE. » ever of itself, it was in this sense neces.sarily ; riz. so as that the excellency of its nature was such, a.s could never permit that it should not be ; whence the name I AM agrees peculiarly and always thereunto. Nothingcan other- wise be of itself, (not by making itself, which you have seen is impossible,) but by an everlasting possession of that excellency of being, which excludes all possibility of not being. It depends upon no one's choice or power, whether that which is of itself shall be or not be. (■1.) What hath thus ever been necessarilij, still is, and will ever be; which is plain upon the same ground. What could never but be, can never but be ; for its nature is such, as whereto not to be is impossible. Olherwi.se, if its nature had not been such, there being nothing else by which it should be made, it could never have been. Wherefore thus far you have firm fooling in this first step; no part of the ground which it mea.sures shakes un- der you. You may say you are sure of this — That some- what there now is, that hath been from all eternity neces- sarily and of itself, without dependence upon any thing else, and that can never cease to be. — Set this down there- fore for a certainty, and then add to it, 3. That whatsoever is not necessarily and of itself, is from and by that which is necessarily and of itself, as the first Author and Cause thereof. This is so certain, that nothing needs to be said for the proof of it more than hath been said already, so that you do but understand the meaning of it; which you cannot but do, if you consider that all things that are, or ever were, must be of one of these two .sorts, viz. what was of itself, and what was not of itself, but from another ; therefore, what is ntit of the first sort, must be of the second; that is, what was not of itself, must be from another; and then, what other must it be from ? Surely from what was of itself, as its first and chief cause, whatsoever inferior or secondary causes it may have had besides, that were before it, caused by that first. So that you have now plainly before you, and in view, some or other eternal, necessary Being, not only to be con- sidered as it is in itself, but as the original and root of all besides. Then go forward a little, and further add, 3. Neither this visible world, nor any thing of it, is ne- cessarily, or of itself, without depending upon any thing else; and was therefore created and made by some more excellent Being that wxs so, and is quite distinct and diverse from it. That this may be evident to you, con- sider, (1.) That whatsoever is changeable or imperfect, and capable of becoming more perfect, is not neces-sarily, and of it-self, without dependence on any thing else. For what is of itself necessarily, and without depcn lonce on any other, must have whatsoever belongs to it, all at once ; for from whence should any addition or change hajipen any way to it 1 Not from any other, for it no more depends on another for addition, than it is liable to diminution by another, being what it is necessarily, or from itself: for nothing can impart or add what it hath not ; and what it hath was in it before, and was in it ncce.s.-arily, and there- fore unalteraMy, and without possibility of any change. Now you know this visible world is continually changing, and in an imperfect slate ; and we may add, that there is somewhat invisible, of whose present being we are certain, that was not of itself, and that did not make this world. For insiance, we are certain of the present being of our own mind and spirit, which we cannot .see with our eyes, but by self-refleciion we are sure we have somewhat in us that can think. Nor is there nnv thing that comes under our immediate, certain observation, more excellent than man himself, especially his mind and soul. And do vou not yourself k-now, and find how changeable, indigent, and imperfect that isl Therefore you mav be sure it is not of it.self, or the maker of this visible world. If all the men in. the world should join all their wit and pov,-er together, which way would they go to work to make such a world as thisl yea. or even to make one single pile of gra.ss, or grain of sand 1 Which way can vou devise, then, they should make the sun or stars, or .such an earth as this! It is plain, then, that all this world had a maker, distinct from iLself (2.) Whatsoever being is of iLself, is more excellent than what is not of itself. This you cannot but assent to at the first sight : for besides that you must needs acknowledge it better to live of oneself, than to be beholden to another, you must also know ihat whatever being is not of itself, hath no excellency in it, but what was in that being that was of itself before; and therefore it had in it all the ex- cellency that is in such things as proceeded from it, (una- bated because in it necessarily,) together with the proper excellency of its own being, whereas the other .sort of beings have but their own derived excellency only. Wherefore this also is most evident, lh.it this world had a maker distinct from and more excellent than iLself, that changes not, and whereto lhat name most properly agrees, I AM THAT I AM. Being sure of this, you may pro- ceed, and conclude, 4. That the things which arc manife.stly not of them- selves, but created and made, do plainly show that the Maker of them doth excel in power, wisdom, and good- ness. The greatness of his worts shows his mighty power; the nature, exactnc-s, and order of them, his admirable wisdom ; and his own self-sufficiency, and independency on the things made, show his rich and vast goodness in making them, as you may see more at large in Pari I. Now therefore, if j'ou have attended, you cannot but find you are suic and at a plain certainty concerning these four things : (1.) That somewhat was ever, and is neces,sarily. (•2.) That what was not so did arise ficm that which was. (3.) That ibis world being not so, did therefore .spring from that elernnl, necessarv, self-subsisting Being. (-1.) And lhat this Being hath those particuhir excellences, whereof there are ihe manifest appearances and footsteps in the works lhat are made bj* him, (riz. especiallj' power, wis- dom, and goodness,) in himself Ana thus the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things lhat are made, even his eternal power and godhead ; so that they who see them not are without excuse. Rom. i. 20. If vou be sure that any thing is, you may be sure somewhat was ever of itself: if )'0u be sure any thing lhat was not of itself hath appearances of power, wisdom, and goodness in the frame of ii, you maj- be sure that Being which was of itself is the powerful, wise, and good Creator and Maker of it. It is to be hoped, then, you are at a certainly, — That God is. III. Secondly, And now as to the second principle, that hath been in.sisted on also in the former Pan, — That this God is conversable with men. You cannot surely doubt, but that he lhat made you, and gave you all lhat any way belongs to your being, can apply himself to you, or any of his creatures, in a wav suitable to the natures which he hath put into you and them; nor that he is ready to con- verse with you, in a way suitable to the nature he hath given you, if you be such towards him, and so apply yourself to him, as you ought. For it is not a greater thins to do so, nor more exceeding or going beyond the reach of his power, wisdom, and goodness, as you cannot but see, than to have given being to you, and all things. But now if what is further discoursed in that former Part, concerning the oneness of the Divine Being, and Ihe infinitene.ss thereof, or concerning any other perfec- tions there particularly a-sserled unto it, seem not so plain to you as is requisite to guide and facilitate your applica- tions to him; what hath been more plainly said in this, is however suliicieni, as more primarily fundamental and pre-requisiic to that further knowledge of his nature and will towards you, which in another way is lo be had and souglit after. A cloud and darkness are now drawn over the world of mankind; and though it be still verj* easily discernible that Cod is, it is yet more difficult to attain 10 so distinct apprehensions vhat he is, as arc necessary to our convers- ing wiih him. Against this difficulty, he hath afforded a gracious relief ; that is, he hath pi ovidcd there should be a more express discovery of him exiant among men, than can be collected by their making observations upon this world. The case was such with man. (grown now so great a stranger to God,) as lo require a written revelation of his nature and will ; and we have it in those scriptures which bear with us the name of the word of God. It were in- deed very unseasonable and absurd, lo urge their authority in the inquiry, whether there be a God or no 7 For what 70 THE LIVING TEMPLE. PibtIL authority liave tliev more than oilier writings, but as tliey are God's word f Therefore to expect or give assent to ihem as such, while yet it remains an undecided contro- versy, whether there be any such one, or no, for whose sake the assent should be !,'ivcn, were to expose our reli- gion, not to prove it. These holy writings were not in- tended, by their anirmatiuii of it, to inform us of God's existence, which they suppose, and do not prove, as a thing we may otherwise be certain of; but to teach us our duty towards' him, and what our expectations may be from hini; and do therefore give us a true representation and discovery of his nature, (so far as it wa.s needful for us preparat'ively first to know it,) and then next, of the pre- sent state ol things between him and us, that we might be directed how lo apply ourselves to him suitably to '.)oth the one and the other. It is true, that we can never know that there is a God, without knowing somewhat of his nature, or what a one ho is. We cannot so much as in- quire whether he be or no, but we must have some notion in our minds of the thing we inquire about ; and su much as is necessary to this purpose, may be plainly gathered in the way we have gone hitherto. For if we understand the difierence between something and nothing, between being and no being, and find that something is, or that there is some being ;" and again, if we understand the difference between a thing's being of itself, and being of or from another, and find the former must be the original of the latter, we cannot but understand ourselves, when we say there is an Original Being. And having some under- standing what is meant by power, wisdom, and goodness; withal finding that not only the effects of these, but these very things themselves, are inthe world, we cannot but be sure (because these things come not of nothing) that the Original Being is powerful, wise, and good. And now when we have thus found out an Original Being, that is of wisdom, power, and goodness sufficient to lie the Author of such a world as this, we at once know both what God is, (su(Eciently to distinguish him from all things else,) and are at a certainty that he is. When we perceive that he hath given to all breath and being and all things ; we have sought, and even felt and found him out, and found that he is not far from any one of us, since in him we live and move and have our being ; that he is every where present, in this his creation, as the great SustaineV and the Life of the universe ; and foras- much especially as we are his offspring, (as even the light of a heathen poet could reach to discover, a sort of mtelli- gent, designing, active beings,) that therefore the Godhead is not like silver, or gold, &e., but of a nature more nearly resembling that o-f our own souls, and the higher excel- lences of the best of his creatures ,although eminently con- taining in himself also all the real perfections, virtues, and powers of all the rest. When we understand so much of God, (as we may by the light of our own reason,) wc un- derstand enough to give a foundation to religion, and to let us see he ought to have a temple, and worship ; and another sort of temple than is made by men's hands, other worship than can be performed by the hands of men ; as is there clearly argued, and inferred by the apostle, upon those plain grounds. Now when we are arrived thus far, it is .sea-sonable to make use of the further help which we may observe the great, and wise, and good God to have most condescendingly, mo,5t aptly, and most mercifully afforded us, for our'more distinct understanding of his nature, and our own state ; and how we arc to behave our- selves towards him tlicreu]ion. IV. Taking notice therefore that there is a written reve- lation of him extant in the world, that bears his name, and gives itself out lo be from him; if now we look into it, observe the import and design of it, compare it with what we before knew of his nature and our own ; consider what is most obvious to an easy self-rcllection in our own state and case, and how exactly tills written revelation agrees and corresponds to those our former notices ; taking in withal the many considerations that concur be.sides, to evidence to us the divine original and authority thereof: we eajinot but have much rational inducement and obliga- B I/wo Inko notico thit in nnmfi pnrti of Uiit voliimft I predielioni, of thR ulronir^flt nnd most unllkuly rvoiitM, Ui flUed in tlir uthrr inrti. tion lo receive, with all reverence and gralinide, this rere- lation, as from God ; and to rely upon it, as a sure and sacred light sent down from heaven, to direct us in all our concernments God-ward. For finding our own great need of such additional light, and apprehending it sufficiently agreeable to the divine goodness to afford it, and expecting it lo be such, in its scope and design, as we find it is: if we further consider it must have had some author, and perceiving it not easy, with any plausible pretence, lo affix it to any other than io God himself: if we consider that it was impossible ii could be invented by men, without some design of self-advantage, either in this world or in the other; and how absurd any such expectation must be, either from men here, (the contents thereof being so re- pugnant to the common inclinations of men, as to oblige those that owned them to the severest sufferings on that account,) or from God hereafter, who could not be expected to reward forgery, falsehood, and the usurpation of his name : if, again, we further observe the positive attesta- tions whereby he hath challenged and owned it as his own, and wherein the divine power hath borne witness to the divine truth contained in it : if the matters of fact on which all depends appear not less certain than that there were men nnd nations in the world, that we have not seen, and before we were born; if we see it not only improbable, but even next to impossible, that the records of those mi- raculous attestations should have been forged, and nations imposed upon thereby ; and amongst them, many of the wisest of men in those verj' times when the things recorded were alleged to have been done, and in a matter wherein their eternal hope was concerned ;' we shall upon the whole .see cause to judge. That as it were most absurd to suppose such a revelation given by God, and no suflicient rational evidence withal given that it is from him, (without which it cannot .serve its end, and so would signify no- thing,) so that there is nothing wanting, in divine estimate itself, to make up such a sufficient, rational evidence ; nor in our own, unless we would ,suppose it necessary that every man should have a Bible reached him down by an immediate hand from heaven, or make some other suppo- sition as fond and vain as that; or that we count not that sufficient evidence, which ought to satisfy our reason, if it do not gratify our fancy and curiosity too. It is not fit, here, to say more of the divine original of those holy writings, nor needful ; so much being written already ,i> with so great clearnes.s, on that subject, by many. That therefore being out of question what you cannot reason out yourselves, or apprehend from the reasonings of others, concerning God's nature, tending to represent him worthy ot a temple with you, and capable of receiving and re- warding your sincere and spiritual worship, fetch out from that 'divine volume ; for you maybe sure, though you cannot search him out unto perfection, he perfectly understands him-^^elf, and is certainly such, as he there tells you he is : and he there reveals himself lo be such, as to whom the temple and worship we here intend, cannot be doubted (as he hath ordered things) to be both due and grateful. Whatever might be otherwise matter of doubt, is, by his express discoveiT of himself, taken away. V. If it were slill a doubt, after all that hath been for- merly said for the reasoning out of these things, whether the Deity be one only, or manifold; whether the world had but one, or had not many makers; and so, whether there be no danger of misapplying our religion, or of mistaking the object of our worship. This word plainly tells us, There is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things. 1 Cor. viii. G. That he is God, and there is none else. Isa. xiv. 01, 'ii. And that however there be three that bear witness in heaven, and the stamp of whose name is, in our baptism, distinctly and solemnly init upon us; Malt, xxviii. 1 John v. yet (as in many other instances, that may be in some respect three, which in some other respect is but one) without the unnecessary, punctual de- claration, how these are three, and how but one, it ei- presslv tells us, Ificu- three are oiu. And if it be yet a doubt with us (in which the reasonings of some may lie too short lo determine and resolve them) CBiP. IV. THE LIVliNG TEMPLE. whether this one God be so absolutely and every way per- fect as to be sufficient for us all ; whether he can under- stand all our concernments, relieve us in all our necessi- ties, hear our prayers, satisfy our desires, receive our ac- tnowled^enls and thanksgivings, and take notice with what love and sincerity they are tendered unto him; or, if he can do for us accoixling to our necessities, and rea- sonable desires ; whether we have any ground to helieve that he will ; this word of his plainly a.ssures us, That he is God all-sufficient, Gen. xvii. 1. ; that he hath all fulness in him. It olten represents him to us, under the name of the Lord God Almighty ; tells us that he can do every thing, and that he doth whatsoever it pleascth him. It tells us his understanding is infinite, and particularly as- sure.s that he searches the hearts of men, and tries their reins; that they cannot think a thought, or speak a word, but he understands them afar off', and knows them alto- gether : that his eyes are upon all the ways of men ; that he knows all things, and therefore knows if they love him. And that we may be the more fully put out of doubt how ea.sy it is to him to do so, we are a.ssured. That he is every where present, that he fills heaven and earth, that the heaven, and heaven of heavens, cannot contain him ; that there is no going from his Spirit, or Hying from his presence: that if one go up to heaven, he is there; lie down in hell, he is there; go to the uttermost part of Ihe sea, yet there his hand shall lead, and his right hand hold liim. VI. And that all doubt may vanish, concerning his will and gracious inclination, how expressly doth he make himself known by his name 1 viz. That he is the Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suflering, and abundant in goodness and truth, &c. Exod. xxxiv. 7. And by the same blessed and inspired penman of a part of these holy writings, (the beloved discii)le, who lay in the bosom of nis only-begotten Son ; who also is in the bosom of the Father, and hath declared him,) we are not only told that God is Light, whereby the knowledge, purity, simplicity, and glory of the Divine Being are represented ; but also, once anti again, that God is Love, that we might under- stand him as a Being not of more glorious excellency in him.sell', than of gracious propcnsiuns towards his creatures. And lest it should be thought our meanness should ex- empt us, and put us beneath his regard, we are told, He lakelh care for sparrows, he hearcth the ravens when they cry; and generally, that the eyes of all wait upon hini, and he gives them their meat in season, Psal. cxlv. (which even the brute creatures are emphatically .said lo seek of God,) and that he opens his hana, and satisfies the desires of every living thing. Psal. civ. And besides what he hath so expressly testified concerning his own nature, his favourable inclinations towards men'might sufficiently be collected from that very nature which he hath given to man, considered in comparison and reference to his own; that he made him in his own image ; and that he being the Father of spirits, haih placed a spirit in man, so agree- able to his own spiritual nature; and by his own in.spira- tion given him that understanding, that the mind begotten corresponds, bv its most natural frame and constitution, to the mind that begot, the nft rarfiKit,' (as it was anciently calleil,) his crn Eternal MimI ; and that if its own origi- nal be remembered, it turns ii.self towards him, seeks his acquaintance by an Instinct he hath himself implanted in it, and cannot i-est till he have such a temple erected in it, where both he and it may cohabit together. By all this, his aptness to that converse with men, which is'imported in the notion of a temple, doth so far appear, that at least it is evident such converse cannot fail to ensue, supposing that there were nothing in the way that might be a present obstruction thereto. And it will more appear, when we have considered (since there is somewhat that obstructs this converse) what he hath done to remove the obstruc- tion, and how he hath provided that the intercourse may be restored, and his temple be resettled with men, upon everlasting foundations. I Ponii and Pania CHAPTER IV. Thnl Uiore is an ubntniclion lo tliij intprroumc. The method of the foIlowinK diKonurae. Mtui'ii aitoMiucy from God. and Ihe ntialpd Hliitf of hia nature ; not only rcpn^Mi-nled in ihv Mcrod wrilingi. bill aljo ocknowleditcd and la- iiii'iilvd by pBk'aiHi ;— vi-ry mistukenty, in soiiuj reii[H*clji : wliiTein ptirliapii ftonie of tlicm not juitly underatood. This not the pnniilivo Btate of man : therefore not lo be imputed lo Ihe Author of nature. Tlio temple ol God hereby liecame until for Um' divine presence. I'ltsuitable. Dualtected. Here- upon forsaken, and inoiit justly. I. BcT so far it is, that there should want probability of a very inward commerce between God and man, that we have reason to think it rather strange, considering his na- ture and our own, it should not have been continual; and that his unbounded and self-communicative ftilne.ss was not by him always atforded, and always imbibed and drawn in by so capable and indigent a creature. One would wonder what should have discontinued this intercourse ! What can be so apt to give and flow out, as fulness 1 What should be so apt to receive and lake in, as want and emptiness? Such a commerce then as can be supposed between one" that is rich and full, and them that are poor and nece,>^siiou.s, one would think should have never failed. So a fabulous dream may be significant, and not unin- structive, touching the reason and way of commerce be- tween God and creature. We arc therefore put upon at new inquiry, and need no longer spend ourselves in anxious thoughts. Can there be any converse between God and men i. That we may rather say, How can it not be 7 or. How strange is it there is not more I thnt he hath not a ternple in every human breast, replenished with his vital presence ! that there are nothing but niins and desolation to be found, where one would expect a fabric worthy of God, and an in-dwelling Deity ! This must therefore be the sad subject of our thoughts awhile, What hath render- ed the blessed God so much a stranger on earth, and occa- sioned him in so great part to forsake his terrestrial dwelling 1 Whence we shall have the advantage (seeing how just cause there was, on his part, for this deplorable distance) to adore the grace that returns him to us, and inclined him to lake that strange course, which we find he did, to repair his forlorn temple, and fill this desolate, forsaken world with the joyful sountl of those glad tidings, " The tabernacle of God is with men." II. We shall find he is no further a stranger in this world, than as we have made and continued him .so : no further a home-dweller in it, than as by an admirable con- trivance of wisdom and love, that will be the eternal won- der of the other world, he hath made way for himself: whereby his propensioiis towards men, prevailing against so great an oostruction, do even now appear at once both evident and marvellous, and ought to be not only the matter of our belief, but admiration. Wherefore our discourse must here proceed by these steps, to show — I. That mankind ha'h universally revolted, and been in a state of apostacy from Gtid ; — 2. That hereby the temple of God in man hath been generally made waste and desolate; — 3. That he hath laid both the new founda- tions and the platform of his present temple in Immanuel, God with us, (lis own incarnate Son, who rebuilds, beau- tifies, furnishes, inhabits it, and orders all the concern- ments of it. III. 1. The Jirst we do little need to labour in — every man's ot\n reflection upon the vitiated powers of his own soul, would soon, as to himself, put the matter out of doubt ; whence each one's te.stimony concerning his own case, wonld amount to a universal testimony. No man that takes a view of his own dark and blinded mind, his slow and dull apprehension, his uncertain staggering judg- ment, roving conjectures, feeble and mistaken rea.sonings about matters that concern him most ; ill inclinations, propension to what is unlawful to him and destructive, aversion to his truest intercit and best good, irresolution, drow.sy sloth, exorbitant and ravenous appetites and de- sires, impoient and self-vexing passions— can think human nature, in him, is in its primitive integrity, and so pure as when it first issued from its high and most pure original. By such reflection, every man may perceive his own ill THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part IL case, in these and many more such respects; and by ob- serving the complaints of the most serious, and such as have seemed mo^t to study themselves, collect it is gene- rally so with others also. IV. They that have read the sacred volume, cannot be ignorant that 'all Hcsh have corrupted their way ; that the great God, looking a down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, that did seek God, hath only the unpleasing prospect before his eyes even of a universal depravation and aefection ; that every one of them is gone back ; they are altogether be- come filthy, there is none that doeth good, no not one; that all have sinned,' and come short of the glory of God ; that this world lieth in wickedness ;r and that this was not the first state of man, but that he is degenerated into it from a former and better state; that s "God made him upright," but that he is become otherwise, by his own " many inventions ;" that by trying conclusions to better a state already truly good, he brought himself into this woful plight ; and by aiming at somewhat above, sunk so far be- neath himself into that gulf of impurity and misery, that is now become to him as his own element and natural state. Yea and the matter hath that evidence, that even many of them who, for ought we know, never conversed with those sacred records, have no le.ss clearly discovered their sense of the present evil stale of man, than their ignorance of the original of that evil,h though some of them carefully acquit God of it. We find their complaints of thf malig- nilp of ignorance,! surrounding all the earth, and that cor- rupts the soul shut up in the body ; that, as a garment and web, inwraps the minds of men, that they cannot look to him whose pleasure it is to be known, and who is not to be heard with ears, nor seen with eyes, nor expressed by words. That till it be rent in pieces, they have upon them t/ie bond nf corruption,^ the dark coverture, the living deaih, the sensible carcass, a moving sepulchre, which thev carry about with them. We find complaints, that by bonds and chains' ovr mind is held, from our infancy: of certain "mean and debasing passions, that do fasten and even nail the soul to the hody :" of much greater evils,'" and more grievous, than the most painful bodily diseases, gouts, stranguries, dysenteries, and ■myriads of the like ; viz. all manner of sins, wickednesses, transgressions, ungodlinesses, which ice have to lament osthe maladies or disaffections of our sovl. Of certain old or inreterale spots," that are by all means to be washed and purged out : that there are certain yji-ni- ciples of viciousness,'' as pleasures, griefs, lusts, fears, en- kindled from the body, but mixed with the soul, and that absurdly bear rule over it. And the naturalness p of these is more than intimated, while they are said to be rather from parents and our first elements than onrsclves : or, rather to be imputed, as is else- where 1 said, to those thai plant, than those that arc planted. Whence also, rice is said to be involuntary :' (being rooted in our natures :) that whosoever are vicious, become so from such things as do even prevent our choice. And c Gen. vi. d Psal. xiv. and liii. e Rom. iii. f 1 Juhn v. I Eccl. in. h IHax. Tyr. Diss. 23. I The so controverted Merc. Trismeif. c. 7. Sccund. M. Picio. Interpret n K ri)? ( OvTjTiM ovvtp\optvov adavaTov. Plut. de Solert. Anim. p. 9M. c D Laert. L 7. But perhnps they haw been somewhat misimderstood by their prejudiced opposers, or some unwary expression of tlieirs been strelctied beyond what was meant. For though lltey reckon tUoi aninn? the distenipera of Ihe mind : yet so at^erwards they ioavt\tritiomvi) loo Whence it is proba- ble fliey intended to r lace f Xrof amon^ the evils of man's nature no otherwise than as it should inchule undue pert urltntton in tl.oras it mi^ht urge those who ore more otil to bir i'iu»»i..iiiii.- lu ml -n.h urv.^-t.llls. than juiil and wise, to Ihe doincof unfilor uns.^ninniiMi itir. . t 'li. :''. ■ .1 p-r^on's relief: tlian which iiollunir IS nu>rrKupi'. siihl. v^lu , hi! famous penerftl Agesdaus, when bis Hiok Iriei,.i iiiuMrtu, , i ;. in stop the (ihen necessary) marcltnf lii« aniiy lor 111- >.iki 1.. ki . -n n uk utnin him.) tosay. ('>i xu- Xt-^oviriv iXtttik^t y.,..ntu, Hn« tiiiril i<< i( lu be pitiful and wiser Plutai. Apoplithec Lacon. And that afterwanis mnkmc ui'fXf ')^'>iTe»"? vicious too, their meoninc was. that a calm and sedate w ill or proiM>nsion to rrlieiv persons in distress was tl^ virtue, ttoth the other the opposite vices. Which te*m» more likely Hum .MeMULUn's way of salving the i»octio^jk(. by •upinsmt actXrrj/io.T 1 III ri. t I hn,. l.rrn misprinted for cXci7/io(ri'i'i7, by some very as- suminirlno ' ' u . r.. willing rather to exprcs* their own mind than theirautliMi r I inm , „ . d And 1 1 II II "hii i.iiL.ws they ore sharply taxed, as laymf all tho evils of (li<> uutUl < i.il HM well as other) upon God and nalun-. thia seems to ban* prociHiled I'mm aome lavish spe*'ches of Chosippus. tliat justly fell under Hie nim-ticnsion of Plutarch's seven-t and more sound juditrneiit. Yet sundy they litd supiMjse another and ptir»-r state of na- tun». out of which man was lapsed ; otber\vise, liow eimie Ibey. when they assiini the common notion of \icioiis |H>rturbalitin or i>as^ion. to call it an irrational and (t-u/in tpx^oiv Kivnoii] preternatural molion ? Wliat nature is that, which it is supposed to swen-o from) Reside* that, they Cwp. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 1% •That God doth what they attribute to him in this matter, for the punishment of wicked men; (alieffin:; it were a grievous matter that God should will and revenge the same thing, that wickedness should both be, and be pu- nished, according to the mind of God. eSome do,_ with great reverence of the divme majesty, confess the ri.sc of all this evil to be from man himself, ri:. even that .sort of evil which is called by the name of wickedness, is said to be from an innate principle, which the arbitrary power of a man's own soul halchelh and fosters, and the fault is his who admits it ; but God is faultless : ii that God did place the soul over a terrene body, as a charioteer over a cha- riot, which it might govern or neglect, &c. So another says, thai nchaisoerer things come into this world from God, are good; but evils proceed from a certain aitcienl nature, if-c. By which what could he mean, but the hereditary pravily which hath in a long series de- scended from depraved progenitors, so as no longer to be a new thing; but of a forgotten original, and from of old reigning in the world 1 They of this famous sect, the Plalonists, seem often to attribute vicious inclination to the soul's being united with the body; (as supposing it to have existed pure and sin- less before ;) yet even they appear also not to have thought it impossible a human soul should sometime have been in an earthly body without sin. For their renowne rrfiit. lnlmil« contni.li.lion To himK'lf And aiim no man Mn hold Iwlli iwru of • conlmliclKKi. II u caiiilid lo rappoK lhe» would !>•>« chuae- raUnr lo lil «o Uie o-oritt i Iherr procewl*. i oca JT.ioii Otovayada, ra^ 1, lib s p. - k TIk^km. "'-"Ix '" "'''i"* """■ q "O ro I. > u inrtXaiii> iiXXa, *c. Ipiol Eniw f. till I. r Marin Procl. ■ ranTnc roiioSrriKmf ItafniuStTa roi( i;>rxoi<. HwnxL n It rrtf ofr^aias ^wCLtf. Plot. Enoead. Tov 8tot> ^pffit avTvtf t^rjptti. 74 THE LIVING TEMPLE. Part II. itself^ This I should do, but that which is clean contrary I have a mind to. Were these ever like to be impressions, both signed ui)()n him by the same hand 1 Nothing is plainer, therelore, than that he is corrupted from his pri- mitive integrity, and become a depraved and a degenerate thing. VIII. 2. We go on then, in the next place, to show, — That by this degeneracy, the temple of the living God among men became waste and desolate; viz. both unin- habitable or unfit for his blessed presence : and, thereupon, deserted and forsaken of it. And (because in breaches and disagreements man hath the first hand and part) we shall therefore treat, First, Of the unaptne.ss of man, in his state of apostacy, to entertain the divine presence, or be any longer God's temple ; Second, Of the ble.ssed God's absenting himself, and estrangement from him hereupon. 1. That the spirit of man, by his having apostatized, be- came unfit to answer the purposes of a temple, will too plainly appear, by considering the nature of that apostacy ; which, what was it but a severing himself from God ; a recess and .separation 1 Not in re.spect of place, (which was impossible,) but the temper of his mind and spirit ; or not by a local removal, but by unsuitableness and disaf- fection, departing m heart from the living God. 'Tis true indeed, that by this his revolt, he became indi.sposed to all other converse which belonged to him as a creature intel- ligent and virtuous, but chiefly to divine : the blessed God being the chief term of this defection and revolt. For man, by his original rectitude, wa.s principally dclerrained towards God : and by the same due bent and frame of spirit by which he stood rightly postured towards him, he was in a right disposition to everything besides wherewith he had any concern. And adhering to him as his centre and prime object, he kept his due order towards all other things: whence by forcing and relaxing the bonds that held him united to God, and by changing his posture towards him, lie came to stand right no way. Turning to hiin the back, and not the face, all tilings are inverted to him. He is now become most directly opposite to God, and unduly disposed towards other things only by means of that opposition. As then he is unfit for every other good use, so most of all for that of a temple ■, and that upon both the above-mentioned accounts, as being first imsuitable to the blessed God, and then thereupon disaf- fected. 1st. Man was become most imsuitable to him; the di- vine image (which where should it be but in his temple) being now defaced and torn down. We speak not now of the natural image of God in man, or the representation the soul of man hath of its Maker in the .spiritual, intelli- gent, vital, and immortal nature thereof, which image we know cannot be lost ; but its resemblance of him in the excellences which appear to be lost, and which were his duty, a dcbitum inessc, and could not be lost but by liis own great default. And those are both such as wherein the soul of man did imitate and resemble God, a.s know- ledge, purity, ju.stice, benignity, &c. and .such ns wherein though it could not imitate him, yet was to bear itself correspondciilly towards him; as he being the absolute Sovereign, to tie subject to him, obey and serve him : and he being the all-sufficient Good, to trust in him. depend upon him, know, love, and delight in him, unite with him, and expect blessedness only in and from him. How milike and disagreeable to God in all these respects is apostate man ! That whereas the notion given us of God, is, that he is Light, and with him is no itarkness at all ; (1 John i.) it is said of such as have been involved in the common apostacy, in reference to that their former stale, " Ye were darkness;" a.s if that were the fittest and truest account that could be given of this revolted creature : not that he is in darknes,s, or there is much darkness in him, but, " He is darkness," Ephes. v. He and darkness may define one another — That is he ; and he is that. A dismal horrid cloud halh inwrappcd his soul, that resists and yields not easily to the most piercing beams, excludes light, whereMiever it would insinuate iiself This hath made the soul of man a most unmeet receptacle for the divine presence, and more like a duns: on tnan a leraple. And as he is now sunk into carnality, and a low, abjeei, earthly spirit, how unfit is he for divine converse ! How unapt to savour the things of God ! How unlike the Father of Spirits! And whereas he was of a middle na- ture, partaking .somewhat of the angelical, somewhat of the animal life, how is he .swallowed up of the latter, and become like the beasts that perish ; as the hor.sc and mule without understanding, as the dog and swine both for fierceness and impurity ; as the one is both apt to bite and devour, and return to his own vomit, and the other both to rend such as stand in his way, and wallow in the mire. We might add the sundrj' other Scripture resemblances of wolves, bears, lions, serpents, adders, vipers, &c. where- by many brutes seem to meet in one man ; and to have made a collection, and contributed their worst qualities, and all the venom of their natures, to the making up of one mischievous compo.sition in him. So that instead of a temple, he is a cage of every unclean and hurtful thing : he is, in short, of a reprobate mind, full of all unrighteous- ness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness, envj', murder, debate, deceit, malignity, &c. How repug- nant, in all respects, to the holy, pure, benign, merciful nature of God ! How remote from the imitation of his Maker, wherein he hath oflered himself as his most imitable pattern ! And wherein he is not imitable, but requires a proportionable and correspondent deportment or conformity ; a.s by trust to his all-sufficiency, by subjec- tion to his sovereign power and government. How dismal is the case, and how horrid the effects, of the apostacy in these regards! How preposterous and perverse are his dispositions and the course he hath run 1 For wherein it was permitted to him to imitate and afiect likeness to a Deity ; where he was put under no restraints, and his highest o.spirings had been not only innocent, but most worthy of praise, (as to imitate God in wisdom, righteous- ness, sincerity, goodness, purity, &c.) here nothing would please but utmost dissimilitude, and to be as unlike God as he could devise. But in those things that were within the enclosure, and appropriate most peculiarly to the God- head; to be the 'first ami the last, the Alpha and Omega ; the only one on whom all must depend, and to whom all must be subject and obey : these sacred regalia, the h Ighesl rights and flowers of the eternal crown, these are thought fine things, and beheld with a libidinous devouring eye, caught at by a profane sacrilegious hand. Nothing would satisfy but to be Godlike in this most disallowed and im- possible sen.se. Man, when he hath reduced himself to the lowest pitch of vileness, misery, and penury, now will be self-sufficient ; and when he is become the most abject slave to ignominious lusts and passions, now he will be supreme : that is, having made himself viler rban the meanest creature, and worse than nothing, he will be a goil, even his own, a god to himself. Having severed and cut himself off from God, he will supply the room, and live only within himself: be to himself what God was, and should ever be. He now moves wholly in his own sphere, di.sjoined from that of the whole world, and is his own centre. All he does is from himself and for himself. Thus is the true image of God lorn down from his own temple, and that alienated, and become the temple of a false god, dedicate lo that abominable idol, self lX"'2nd. Whence it eniies to pa.-:s, that man is most dis- affcclcd to God, and full of enmity. So Scripture testifies concerning the carnal inind, Rom. viii. 8. And whom it had before represented (eh. ii.) full of all malignity, it afierwards speaks of as directing it (most horrid to think) against this ble.ssed object; "Haters of God, despiteful,'' &c. Nor is any thing more natural ; for, in pari, the con- trariety of their nature lo his, more immediately begets this enmity, which always rises out of dissimilitude ; and partly it is fomenied and iiicreased lo a great degree, by a secret consciousness of that dissimilitude, and the misgivings ol their own guilty fears thereupon; which must lell them, whensoever they have so much communication with them- selves, that they are \inlike, and cannot but be unpleasing to him; and this infers some Irind of dread; whence (as halh been commonly observed) the passage is short and ea.sv uulo ha'red. And though ihe more positive workings of t)iis enmity do not (perhaps with the most) so ordinarily discover iheinselves; and they do not see or .suspect that Ihev hate liiin, while they are" not urged to self-reflection; and when they arc, hardly adroit a conviction that they do; Ciup. IV. THE LIVING TEMPLE. 75 yet the matter carries its own evidence with it, and would soon be put beyond a questicm, if men were willing to understand the truth of their cn\n case. For whence else do they .so slowly entertain the knowledge of God, when the whole earth is full of his glory"! When »o manifest Srints anil footsteps of his wisdom, power, and goodness, o offer themselves to view in every creature, whence can it be, but that they like not to retain him in their know- ledge ! Rom. i. And that their very hearts say to him. Depart from us, we desire not the knowledge of thy ways ! Job xii. Why is so bright a light not observed, but that It shines amidst a malignant darlcness, that, resisting, com- prehends It not 1 Why are the thoughts of God so un- pleasant to men, and unfrequent, that when one would suppose no thoughts should be so obvious, none so \ve^ come, vet it is become the character of an unrenewed man to forget Go(rt ©oS ori(( tmu. Enough appears of the admi- rable frame and structure of the soul of man, to show the divine presence did someiimes reside in it; more than enough of vicious deformity, to proclaim he is now retired and gone. The lamps are extinct, the altar overturned; the light and love are now vanished, which did the one shine with so heavenly brightness, the other burn with so pious fervour; the golden candlestick is displaced, and thrown away as a useless thin;.', to make room for the throne of the prince of darkness ; the sacred incense, which sent rolling up in clouds its rich perfumes, is exchanged for a poisonous, hellish vapour, and here is, " instead of a sweet savour, a stench." The comely order of this house is turned all into confusion; "the beauties of holiness" into noisome impurities ; the " house of prayer to a den of thieves," and that the worst and most horrid kind; for everi' lust is a thief, and ever>- theft sacrilege: continual rapine and robbery- is committed upon holy things. The noble powers which were designed and dedicated to divine contemplation and delight, aic alienated to the semce of the most despicable idols, and employed unto vilest intu- itions and embraces ; to behold and admire lying vanities, to indulge and cherish lust and wickedncs.s.' What have not the enemies done wickedly in the sanctuary ! How have they broken down the carved work thereof, and that too with axes and hammers, the noise whereof was not to be heard in building, much less in the demolishing this sacred frame ! Look upon the fragments of that curious sculpture which once adorned the palace of that great king; the relics of common notions; the lively prints of Some undefaced truth; the fair ideas of things; the yet Icffihle precepts that relate to practice. Behold ! with what accuracy the broken pieces show these to have been engraven by t)ie finger of God, and how^ they now lie torn and scattered, one in this dark comer, another in that, buried in heaps of dirt and rubbish ! There is not now a system, an entire table of coherent truths to be found, or a frame of holiness, but .some shivered parcels. And if any. with ereat toil and labour, apply themselves to draw out here one piece, and there another, and set them toge- ther, they serve rather to show how exquisite the divme workmanship ^vas in the original composition, than for present use to the excellent purposes for which the whole was first designed. Some pieces aerce, and own one an- other; but how soon are our inquiries and endeavours n