J -JlStf' .12— £ %^. r ytt 4 <2.^^-vt-. ^^Ji^ LIBRARY OP THE Theological Seminary, PRINCETON, N.J. _______ Bv"A^3rTL355 1822 "^ Law, William, 1686-1761. ?. A practical treatise upon Christian perfection / PRACTICAL TREATISE UPON mmmii^ mmm'smi^i By WILLIAM LAW, A. M. TO WHICH IS ADDED SOME ACCOUNT OF JHE AUTHOR. J^ot as though I had already attained, either ruere aU ready perfect. phil. iii. 32» fIRST AMERICAN EDITION. PORTSMOUTH : Published by charles MORORiDCEk R. Foster, Piintcf. 1822. SOME ACCOUNT Of THE REV. WILLIAM LAW. THE Rev. William 'Law was born in the Town of King's Cliffe, in the county of Northampton, iu the year 1686 ; his education, and the early yrars of his life, were very serious ; at what time he en- tered the University, or when he took his degree of A. M. cannot be exactly ascertained, but his leaving that place was about the year 1712 ; after having made great proficiency in every branch of human literature, afterwards taking the advice of our Saviour to the rich young m.an, he totallj?- re- nounced the world, and follov/ed Christ, in incek- nf ss, humility, and self-denial. Mr. Law lived a single life : in person, he was a well set man, and rather of a dark con^.plpxion, though remarkably cheerful in his temper ; ?i]( h was his love of privacy, and a state of recollection, that it was very seldom indeed that he passed more than two hours in the company of any person ; with a very small pntrimony, he was rcmprk?bly charitable, particularly to his poor neighbors in and about King's Chffe. Such also was the little value he set on money, that he gave the copies of all his works intended for publication to his book- sellers ; but for one of them they insisted on his acceptance of one hundred guineas. He was well known to the world by a number of truly christian, pious writings, exemplified by a life spent in a manner suitable to a worthy and true disciple of his heavenly, divine, cruciticd Master and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who lived and spoke iu IV. him and by him. In his younger days, he suffi- ciently distinguished himself byiiis parts and pro- gress in human literature. And in iis last years, he was wholly absorbed in his love to God and man]?;ind ; so that virtue in him was nothing but heavenly love and heavenly flame. The pious and catholic Doddridge, in a sermon to ycnng persons, has the following passage con- cerning William Law. " It is an awakening saying of one of the most lively and pathetic, as well as most pious writers which our age has produced, • that the condition of man in his natural state, seems to be like that of a person sick of a variety of dis- eases, knowing neither his distemper nor cure, but unhappily enclosed in a place where he could hear, or see, or taste, or feel nothing, but what tended to inflame his disorder."* The Rev. John Wesley in his sermon on the wisdom of God's counsels speaks thus concerning William Law : — '• What little religion was left in the land, receive ed another deadly wound at the restoration, by one of the worst princes that ever sat on the English throne, and by the most abandoned Court of Eu- rope. And infidelity now broke in amain, and over- spread the land as a flood. Of course, all kind of immorality came with it and increased to the end of the century. Some feeble attempts were made to stem the torrent during the reign of Qur^n Ann. But it still increased till about the year 1725, when^ Mr. Law published his Practical Treatise on Chris- tian Perfection ; and not loner after, his Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life. Here the seed was sown, which soon grew up, and spread to Ox- ford, London, Bristol, Leeds, York, and within a few years, to the greatest part of England, Scotland and Irelnnd." A writ<^r under the signature of Christcphihs. in ♦ Sec page f f>. Lloyd's Evening Post, in tiie year 177 2, speaking of William Law, and recommending his writings, say>. "Though I had no long acquaintance with him, yet u few months before his decease, i was indulged with an ample and intimate conversation with him, upon the state of religion in our time and nation, and on many other the most interesting subjects. This I re- gard as a favour of God bestowed on me, and which i would not have been w ithout on any consideration. I only wish to make the best use of it, in all respects. Mr. Law lived as he wrote, and died as he lived. I am pretty credibly informed, that amidst .the most excruciating pains of the stone, and at the age of seventy-five years, immediately before his dissolu- tion, rising up in his bed, he said, "Take away these filthy garments ; T feel a fire of love v.ithin, which has burnt up every thing contrary to itself, and transformed every thing into its own nature." Oh ! might every minister, and each of their flocks, of every denomination, live the life, and die the death of this truly righteous man ! In such a triumph of holy joy did this extraordi- nary servant of God resign his blessed spirit into the hands of his beloved Lord and Master, at the place of his nativity, the town of King's Cliffe, in the County of Northampton. And in the church- yard of that parish, he lies interred, under a hand- some tomb, erected to his memory, by a particular and dear friend, who lived many years with him, and therefore had long known, and highly and justly esteemed his singular worth : w hich was expressed in the foUowIno; lines, ensrraved bv the diroction of the same friend, on the top-stone of his tomb : HERE LYETH THE BODY OF THE LATE REV. WILLI AM LAW, A.M. WHO DIED APniL 9, 1761, AGED 75. Vi. Farewell, good man ! whose great and lieatenlj mind In love einbrAc'd the whole of human kind, From earth's dark scene, to realms of joy and light. Thy soui con:^f^nial, took her happy flight ; With kindred spirits mix'd, nnd bright as they, Thou drin]:"st with them the streams of endless day : While we below lament thy absence most, Like all true worth, then dearest, when 'tis lost. Bound to no sect, to no one party tied, To sons of God in every clime allied : Like light's great orb, to no one realm confin'd. Thy heaven-taught soul,cnpacious, grasp'd mankind. Of pains severe, thou felt'st the tort'ring smart, While grace pour'd comfort on thy better part. Thy will resign'd, with breath unmurmuring bore, Th}^ last sharp passage ^o the heaA^enly shore. Thy heart's best image, still, thy writings, shine, One spirit breathe, the dove and lamb divine. Tho' stopt thy tongue, thy soul's strong breathings charm, Tho' cold thy clay, thy ardent thoughts still warm. Awak'd by thee, we feel the heavenly fire, And with seraphic flames to God aspire ; Thy pious zeal transfus'd to other hearts. New springs of bliss, and nobler life imparts. No time, no numbers, can exhaust thy mine, Thy gifts are full ; posterity is thine. Through future ages shall thy labours go, Like streams, enriching nations as they flow ; Who, whi^e perusinq;, catch the sacred fire. Fetch the deep sij^h, and pant with strong desire, For glory lost : heaven lent thy pencil rays, . To paint that glory, and r]iff*'!se its blaze. Tho' for these days thy colours are too bright, And hurt weak eyes bv their too radiant lio-ht ; Vet wisdom's sons, though few, to s:ood awake, Drink thy sweet sprin^r, and bread celesfial break. •Midst Babel's various ton.o-ues, tho' thousands stray, In thee, the wanderer finds his master's way. THE INTRODUCTION. CHAP. f. PAGE. The nature and design of Christianity^ that its sole end is to deliver ns from the misery and disorder of this present state^ and raise us to a hlissful enjoyment of the divine nature .9 CHAP. II. Christianity requires a change of nature^ a nezo life perfectly devoted to God - - 26 CHAP. III. Christianity requireth a renunciation of the iDorld^ and all worldly tempers - 43 CHAP. IV. A continuation of the same subject - - 60 CHAP. Y. A further continuation of the same subject 79 CHAP. VI. Christianity calleth all men to a state of self- denial and mortification - - - 103 CHAP. VII. Some farther considerations upon the reasonable- ness of self-denial - - - 130 Vill. CHAP. Vlil. PAGE. The subject of self-denial far tl er continued 156 CHAP. IX. Of the necessity of divine grace, and the several duties to zvhich it calleth all Christians 178 CHAP. X. The necessity of divine grace obligeth all Chris- tians to a constant purify and holiness of con- versation ; zvherein is shown the great dan- ger and great impiety of reading vain and impertinent books - . - _ oqq CHAP. XI. ■A further consideratioji of that purity and holi- ness of conversation, to unhich the necessiiy of divine grace calleth all Christians ; rvherein is shoiem, that the entertainment of the stage is a corrupt and sinful entertainment, con- trary to the cvhole nature of Christian piety^ and constantly to be avoided by all sincere Christians . . - 228 CHAP. XII. Christians are called to a constant state of prayer and devotion _ _ - - 263 CHAP. XIII. All Christians are required to imitate the life and example of Jesus Christ - 291 CHAP. XIV. j^n exhortation to Christian perfection 315 PRACTICAL TREATISE. UPON CHUlSTiaK PEFv¥ECT10K INTRODUCTION. CHRISTIAN Perfection will, perhaps, seem to the common reader to imply some state of life which every one need not aspire after ; that it is made up of such strictness, retirements, and par- ticularities of devotion, as are neither necessary, nor practicable by the generality of Christians. But I must answer for myself, that I know of only one common Christianity, which is to be the common means of salvation to all men. If the writers upon Christian Perfection have fancied to themselves some peculiar degrees of piety, or extraordinary devotions which they call by that name, they have not done religion much service, by making Christian Perfection to consist in any thing, but the right performance of our necer-sary duties. This is the perfection which this Treatise endea- vours to recommend ; a perfection that does not consist in any singular state or condition of life, or in any particular set of duties, but in the holy and religious conduct of ourselves in every slate of life. It calls no one to a cloysttr^ but to a right and full performance of those duties, which are neces- sary for all Christians, and common to all states of life. 1 call it perfection^ for two reasons ; first, bccauge 10 A PRACTICAL TREATISE I hope it contains a full representation of thafc height of holiness and purity, to which Christianity calls all its members : secondly, that the fitle may invite the reader to peruse it with the more dili* gence, as expecting to find not only a discourse upon moral virtues, but a regular draught of those holy tempers which are the perfect measure and standard of Christian piety. Now as perfection is here placed in the right performance of our necessary duties, in the exer- cise of such holy tempers as are equally necessary and equally practicable in all states of life, as this is the highest degree of Christian Perfection, so it is to be observed, that it is also the lowest degree ©f hoh'ncss which the Gospel alloweth. So that though no order of men can pretend to go higher, yet none of us can have any security in resting in any state of piety that is lower. And I hope this Avill be taken as a sign that I have hit upon the true state of Christian Perfection, if I shew it to be such, as men in cloystcrs and reli- gious retirements cannot add more, and at the same time such, as Christians in all states of the world must not be content with less. For consider, what can Christian Perfection be, but such a right performance of all the duties of life, as is according to the laws of Christ ? What can it be, but a living in such holy tempers, and acting with such dispositions as Christianity re- quires ? Now, if this be a perfection, who can ex- ceed it ? And yet what state, or circumstances of life, can allow any people to fall short of it ? Let us take an instance in some one particular temper of Christianity. — Let it be the love of God. Christians are to love God with all their heart and all their strength. Now can any order of Christians exceed in this temper ? Or is there any order of (Christians who may be allowed to be defective m tPON CHRISTIAN PERfECTION. 11 Now what is thus true of the love of GoJ, is quail J true of all other religious duties; and con- sequently all .those holy tempers of heart which con- stitute the perfection of Christian piety, are tem- pers equally necessary for all Christians. As there is but one faith and one baptism, so there is but one piety and one perfection, that is common to all orders of Christians. It will, perhaps, be here objected, that this sup- poses that all people may be equally good, which seems as impossible in the nature of things, as to suppose that all people may be equally v/ise. To this it may be answered, that this is neither •altogether true, nor altogether false. For to instance in charitj^, it is true that all peo* pie may be equally charitable : if we understand by charity that habit of the mind which stands rightly disposed to all acts of charity ; in this sense all peo- ple may be equally charitable. But if we take charity for alms-giving, or a liberal assistance of the poor, in this sense it is false, that all people may be equally charitable. Now as it is the habit of the mind, that consti- tutes the excellency of charity, so this is the cha- rity to which Christians are called^ and in which they may be all equally perfect. Again, are not all people obliged to be equally honest, just, and true and faithful ? In these vir- tues all are to be eminent and exact in the some degree ; there are no abatements to be made for any rank or order of people. Now as to the external exercise of these duties, there may be a great diiTerence. One man may have great business in the world, and be honest and faithful in it all ; another may have small dealings, and be honest in them ; but provided that th^re be in both of them the same justice and integrity of niind, they are equally honest, though their instan- 12 A TRACTICAL TREATISE ' ces of honesty, as to external acts of it, are as dit ferent as great things are different from small. But as it is the habit of the mind, which is the justice which religion requires, so in this respect ^11 people may be equally just. Now this may serve to show us in what respect all people may be equally virtuous, and in what respect they cannot. As to the external instances or acts of virtue, in these they must differ according to the difference of their circumstances, and condition in the w^orld ; but as virtues are considered as habits of the mind, and principles of the heart, in this respect they may all be equally virtuous, and are all called to the same perfection. A man cannot exercise the spirit of martyrdom till he is brought to the stake ; he cannot forgive his enemies till they have done him wrong, till he suffers from them. He cannot bear poverty and distress till they are brought upon him. All these acts of virtue depend upon outward causes. But yet he may have a piety and heroic spirit equal to those who have died for their religion. He may have that charity of mind which prays for its ene- mies ; he may have that meekness and resignation to the will of God, which disposes people to bear po- verty and distress with patience and humble sub- mission to the divine providence. So that they are only the external instances and acts of virtue, which depend upon outward causes and circumstances of life ; a man cannot give till he has something to give ; but the inward piety of the heart and mind, which constitutes the state of Christian Perfection, depends upon no outward cir^ cumstances. A man need not want charity because he has no rich?Si nor be destitute of a forgiving spirit, because ho has no persecutors to forgive. Although, therefore, we neither are, nor can be UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. l^ all in the same circumstances of life, yd we are to be all in the same spirit of religion ; though we cannot be all equal in alms-giving, yet we ai-e to be all alike in charity ; though we are not all in the same state of persecution, yet we must be all in the same spirit that forgives and p-ays for its persecu- tors ; though we are not all in poverty and distress, yet we must all bt3 full of that piety of heart which ju'oduces meekness, patience, and thankfulness in distress and poverty. From these considerations it is easy to appre- hend how persons may difter in instances of good- ness, and yet be equally good ; for as the perfection of piety is the perfection of the heart, so the heart ■may have the same perfection in all states and con- ditions of life. And this is that perfection which is common to all states, and to which all orders of Christians are equally called. Again, there may be another difference of virtue founded in the different abilities of persons ; one may have a more enlightened mind than another, and so may see farther into his duty, and be able to prac- tise it with greater exactness, but then as his good- ness seems to consist in this, that he is true and faithful to what he knows to be his duty, so if another is as true and faithful to that measure of light and knowledge which God has given him, he seems to be as good a man, as he that is true and faithful to a greater light. We can hardly reconcile it with the divine good- ness to give one man two talents, and another five, unless we suppose that he is as high in his master\s pleasure who makes the right use of two, as he that makes the right use of five talents. So that it still holds g6od, that it is the perfec- tion of the heart that makes the perfection of every state of life. It may, perhaps, be farther objected, that the 14 A PRACTICAL TREATISE (liffercrkt degrees of glory in another life, supposes that good men, and such as are accepted of God, do yet dirlcr in their degrees of goodness in this life. I grant that it does. But then this is no proof that all men are not railed to the same goodness, and the same perfec- tion. Perhaps it cannot be said of the best of men that ever lived, that they performed their duty in such perfection in all instances, as they might have done. Now as it suits with the divine mercy to admit men to happiness, who have not been, in every re- spect, so perfect as they might have been, notwith- J^tanding that he gave them such a rule of perfec- tion ; so it equally suits with the divine mercy to admit men to different degrees of happiness, on ac- count of their different conduct, though he gave them all one common rule of perfection. Did not God pardon frailties and infirmities, the. best of men could not be rewarded. But consider now, does God's pardoning of frailties and infirmi- ties, in the best of men, prove that the best of men were not called to any other perfection, than that 10 which they arrived ? Does this prove that God did not call them to be strictly good, because he receives them to mercy with some defects in good- ness ? No, most surelj^ Yet this is as good an argument, as to say, that all men are not called to the same state of goodness or perfection, because they are admitted to differ- f;nt rewards in the other life. For it is as right reasoning, to say, God rewards frail and imperfect men, therefore they were called to no higher perfection ; as to say, that because God rewards different degrees of goodness, therefore men are not called to one and the same goodness. For as God could reward none, unless he would reward such as had failings, so their difference in fheir failings may make them objects of his diffc* UPON CHRISTIAN PEIIFECTION. l5 rent mercy and rewards, though the rule from which they failed, was common to tliem all. It therefore plainly appears, that the diifercnt degrees of glory in another life, arc no more a proof that God calls some persons to different and lower states of goodness than others, than his pardonin^^ variety of sinners is a proof that he allowed of those kinds of sin, and did not require men to avoid them. For it is full as good an argument to say, God par- dons some sinners, therefore he did not require them to avoid such sins, as to say, God rewards dif- ferent degrees of goodness, therefore he did not call people to higher degrees of goodness. So that the different degrees of glory in the world to come are no objection against this doctrine, that all Christians are called to one and the same piety and perfection of heart. Lastly, it may be further objected, that although the law of God calls all men to the same state of perfection, yet if there are different degrees of glory given to different degrees of goodness, this shows that men may be saved, and happy, without aspir- ing after that perfection to which they were called. It may be answered, that this is a false conclu- sion : For though it may be true, that people will be admitted to happiness, and different degrees of happiness, though they have not attained to all that perfection to which they were called ; yet it does not follow that any people will be saved who did not endeavour after that perfection. For surely it is a very different case, io fall short of our perfection, after our best endeavours, and to stop short of if. by not endeavouring to arrive at it. The one practise may carry men to a high reward in heaven, and the other casts them with the unprofitable servant into outer darkness. There is, therefore, no foundation for people to content them.selves in any lower degrees of good- 16 A i'RACTlCAL TKFaTISE iiess, as being suflicicnt to carry them to heavcii-. J hough not to the highest happiness in heaven. For consider, thou hearest there are different de- grees of glory ; that they are proportioned to differ- ent states of goodness in this life, thou wilt there^ fore content thyself with a lower degree of good- ness, being content to be of the lowest oixler in heaven. Thou wilt have only so much piety as will save thee. But consider how vainly thou reasonest ; for •ijiough Cod i^iveth different rewards, it is not in the power of man to take them of himself. It is tiot for any one to say, I will practise so much goodness, and so take such a reward. God seeth different abilities and frailties in men, which may move his goodness to be merciful to their different improvements in virtue : I grant that there may be a lower state of piety wliich, in some per- sons, may be accepted by God. But consider, that though there is such a state of piety that may be acccptech yet that it cannot be chosen, it ceases to be that state as soon as thou choosest it. God may be merciful to a low estate of piety, by reason of some pitiable circumstances that may at- tend it ; but as soon as thou clioosest such a state of piety, it loses those pitiable circumstances, and instead of a low state of piety, is changed into a higli state of impiety. So that though there are meaner improvements in virtue, which may mj.ike some persons accepted by God, yet this is no ground for content or satis- faction in such a state ; because it ceases to be such a state, and is quite another thing, for being chosen and satisfied with. It appears therefore, from these considerations, that notwithstanding God may accept of different degrees of goodness, and reward them v-ith diffe- UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTfON. 17 rent degrees of glory in another life, yet that all Christians are called to one and the same perfec- tion, and equally obliged to labour after it. Thus much may suffice to give the reader a ge- neral notion of perfection, and the necessity of en- deavouring after it. What it is, and ^vhat holy tempers it requires, will, 1 hope, be found sufficiently explained in the following chapters. CHAP. I. The Nature and Design of Qiristianily^ that its sol^ end is to deliver us from the Misery and Disorder i of this present stale^ and raise us to a hlisful en- joyment of the Divine Nature, THE wisdom of mankind has, for several ages of the world, been enquiring into the nature of man, and the nature of the world in which he is placed. The wants and miseries of human natwre, and the vanity of worldly enjoyments, have made it difficult for the wisest men to tell what human happiness ivas, or wherein it consisted. It has pleased the infinite goodness of God, to satisfy all our wants and entjuiries by a revelation made to the world by his Son Jesus Christ. I'his revelation has laid open the great secrets of providence from the creation of the world, ex- plained the present state of thinfi:^, aud given mnn all the information that is necessary to quiet his anxieties, content him with his condition, and lead him safely to everlasting rest and h.Tpir.^^s. ^ It is now only necessary, that the poor wisdgia 2* t^ A PRACTICAL TREATlgE of man do not exalt itself against God, that we suf-' for our eyes to be opened by him that made them, and our lives to be conducted by him, in whom wt- live^ move^ and have our being. For light is now come into the world, if men are but willing to come out of darkness. As happiness is the sole end of all our labours, so this divine revelation aims at nothing else. It gives us right and satisfactory notions of our- ^ f^elves, of our true good and real evil ; it shows us- the true state of our condition, both our vanity and excellence, our greatness and meanness, our felicity snd misery. Before this, man was a mere riddle to himself, and his condition 'full of darkness and perplexity. A restless inhabitant of a miserable disordered ivorld, UH(lking in a vain shadozu^ and disquieting him'- ^c//' in tain. But this light has dispersed all the anxiety of his vain conjectures ; it has brought us acquainted with God, and by adding heaven to earth, and eternity to time, has opened such a glorious view of things, I'i^ makes man, even in his present condition, full of a peace of God which passes all understanding. This revelation acquaints us, that we have a \Y- spirit Avithin us, that was created after the divine image, that this spirit is now in a fallen corrupt c'bndition, that the body in which it is placed is its <^rave, or sepulchre, where it is enslaved to fleshly thoughts, blinded with false notions of good and arate us from the world and worldly tempers, to deliver us from the fo^ly of our passions, the sla- very of our own natures, the power of evil spirits, and unite us to God, the true fountain of all real good. This is the mighty change which Chris- tianity aims at, to put us inio a new state, reform our whole natures, purify our souls and make them the inhabitants of hcavenlv and immortal bodies. 20 A PRACTICAL TREATISE It does not leave us to grovel on in the desires ot^ the flesh, to cast about for worldly happiness, and wander in darkness and exile from God, but pre- pares us for the true enjoyment of a divine life. The manner by which it changes this whole state- of things, and raises us to an union with God, iS equally great and wonderful. I am the Tu«;y, the truths and the /i/e, saith our blessed Saviour, no man comefh unto iJu Father but by me. As all things were at first created by the Son of God, and without him was not any thing made that 7oas made^ so are all things again restored and re- deemed by the same divine person. As nothing could come into being without him, so nothing can enter into a state of happiness or enjoyment of God but by him. The price and dignity of this redemption at once confounds the pride, and relieves the misery of man. How fallen must he be from God, how disordered and odious his nature, that should need so great a Mediator to recommend his repentance ! — And on the other hand, how full of com.fort, that so high a method, so stupendous a means should be taken, to restore him to a state of peace and favour v.ith God! This is the true point of view in which every Christian is to behold himself. He is to overlook the poor projects of human life, and consider him- splf as a creature, through his natural corruption, falling into a state of endless misery, but by the mercy of God redeemed to a condition of everlast- ing felicity. K« All the precepts and doctrines of the Gospel are ^ founded on these two gre?t truths, the deplorable corruption of human nature, and its new birth in Christ Jesus. The one includes all the misery, the other all fke happiness of man. t)PON CimiSTIAN PERrECTrO??. '21 It is on these great doctrines, that the ^vho]e frame of Christianity is built, forbidding only such things as fasten us to the disordeiT of sin, and com- manding only those duties which lead us into the liberty and freedom of the sons of God. The corruption of our nature makes mortifica- t'ion, self-denial, and the death of our bodies neces- sary. Because human nature must be thus unmade, Hesh and blood must be thus changed before it can enter into the kingdom of heaven. Our new birth makes the reception of God's Spi- rit, and the participation of the holy sacraments necessary, to form us to that life to which the re- surrection of Jesus Christ has entitled us. So that would we think, and act and live like Christians, we must act suitably to these terms of our condition, fearing oud avoiding all the motions of our corrupted nature, cherishing the secret inspi- rations of the Holy Spirit, opening our mxinds for the reception of the divine lieht, and pressing after the graces and perfections of our new birth. We must behave ourselves conformably to this double capacity, we must fear, and watch, and pray, like men that are always in danger of eternal death, and we must believe and hope, labour and -aspire, like Christians, that are cal'cd to fight the good fight of fpith, and lay hold on eternal life. 1'his knowledge of ourselves, makes human life a slate of infinite importance, placed upon so dread- ful a point betwixt two such eternities. Well might our blessed Saviour soy to one, that begged first to go and bury his father, follow mr, and let the dead hiiry their dead. For what is all the bustle and hurry of the world but dead show, and its greatest agents but dead men, when compared with that state of greatness, that real life, to which the followers of Christ are redeemed ? Had wc been made only for this world, worldly ^ A PRACTICAL TREATIS-E wisdom had been our highest wisdom ; but scemg Christianity has redeemed us to a contrary state, since all its goods are in opposition to this life, worldly wisdom is now our greatest foolishness. It is now our only wisdom to understand our new state aright, to let its goods and evils take posses- sion of our hearts, and conduct ourselves by the principles of our redemption. The nature and terms of our Christian calling is of that concern as to deserve all our thoughts, and is indeed only to be perceived by great seriousness and attention of mind. The Christian state is an invisible life in the Spi- rit of God, supported not by sensible goods, but the spiritual graces of faith and hope ; so that the natural man, especially while busied in earthly cares and enjoyments, easily forgets that great and heavenly condition in which religion places him. The changes which Christianity maketh in the present state of things, are all invisible, its goods and evils, its dignities and advantages, which are the only true standards of all our actions, are not subject to the knowledge of our senses. In God lye live^ and niove^ and have our beings but how unseen, how unfelt is all this ! Christ is the Lamb slain from the foundation of th% zoorld^ the true light, that lighteth every man that Cometh into the world. He is the alpha and ome^a^ the beginning and end of all things. The whole creation subsists in him and by him ; nothing is in any order, nor any person in any favour with God, but by this great Mediator. But how invisible, how unknown to all our senses, is this state of things ! The apostle tells us, that we Christians arc come unto mount Sion^ and unto the city of the livins^ God^ k) the heavenly Jerusalem^ and to an innumerable com^ pany of angels^ and to the general assembly of thefrstt tJPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. Q3 'born^ xcJiich arc written in heaven^ and to God tJic judge of nil, and lo the spirits of just nun jj^^_ ^..^ 22. made perfect^ and to Jesus the Me- diator of the nezv covenant^ ^x. But our senses see or feel nothing of this state of glory, they only show us a society amongst vain and worldly men, labouring and contending for the poor enjoyments of a vain world. We are temples of the Holy Ghost, consecrated to God, members of Christ's mystical body, of his flesh and of his bones, receiving life, spirit, and motion from him our head. But our senses see no farther than our parents and kindred according to the flesh, and fix our hearts to earthly friendships and relations. Religion turns our whole life into a sacrifice to God, a state of probation, from whence v/e must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christy that every one may receive the things done 2 Cor. V. 9. in his hody^ ^c. But our senses, the maxims of this life, and the spirit of the world, teach quite another turn of mind ; to enjoy the good things of life as our portion, to seek after riches and honours, and to dread nothing so much as poverty, disgrace, and persecution. Well may this life be deemed a state of darkness, since it thus clouds and covers all the true appear- ances of things, and keeps our minds insensible, and unaffected with matters of such infinite moment. We must observe, that in scripture, Christianity is constantly represented to us, as a redemption from the slavery and corruption of our nature, and a raising us to a nearer enjoyment of the divine glory. It knows of no misery, but the death and misery which sin has made, nor of any happiness but the gifts and graces of the Holy Ghost, which forms us It) a greater likeness of God# 'M A PRACTICAL TREATISB Thus saith the apostle, Jesus Christ gave himself for us^ that he might re- Tit. ii. 13. deem us from all inirjuily. He 2vas manifested to take aivay our 1 John iii. 5* •sins. Who gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from this evil icorld. The same scriptures teach us, that as we are re- deemed from this state of sin, so we are raised to a new life in Christ, to a participation of the divine nature, and a fellowship with him in glory. Thus our blessed Saviour prayeth for all his fol- lowers, That they may all be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee ; that they also may he one in us, And the glory which thou gavest me, I have given them, that they may be one even as toe are one. I in them, and thou in me, that John xvii. 21. they may be made perfect in one. Happy he that hath ears to hear, and a heart to feel the majesty and glory of this description of our new life in Christ ! For surely could we understand what our Saviour conceived, when he sent up this prayer to God, our hearts would be always praying, and our souls ever aspiring after this state ot perfection, this union with Christ in God. To proceed, In my Father''s house, saith Christ, are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you, that rvhere 1 am there ye John xiv. 23.. ■may be also. The apostle tells us, that as roe have borne the image of the earthly, zi^e shall 1 Cor. xv., also bear the imuge of the heavenly. And that 7chen Christ rvho is our life shall appear, then shall ice also appear Col. iii. 4. zoifh him in glory. Beloved, saith St. John, nozu are rue the sons of Godj and it doth not yet appear, tvhat ^ ice shall be : but ice knozc, that zchcn he 1 John iiit 2. UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 25 shall appear^ xoe shall be like him : for ivc shall see him as he is, I cannot leave this passage, without adding the apostle's conclusion to it. And evo-y man that hath this hope in him^ pnrifeth himself even as he is pure. Which Icachcth us this lesson, that no man, whatever he may think of his Christian improve- ment, can be said to have this hope in him, unless he shews it by such a purification of himself, as may resemble the purity of Christ. — But to return. St. Paul thus breaks forth into the praises of God, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christy ^cho hath blessed us Ephes. i. 3. icith all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ, And again, God^ who is rich in mercy^ for his great love luherewith he loved us^ even 7chen ice zvere dead in sins^ hath quickened us together zvith Christ: and hath raised us up to- gether and made us sit together in Ephes. ii. 4. heavenly places in Christ Jesus, These passages teach us, that Christianity intro- duceth us into a new state, made up of invisible goods and spiritual blessings, that it so alters our condition as to give us a new rank and degree even in this life ; which the apostle expresses, by mak- ing us sit tos:cther in heavenly places. So that though we are still in the flesh, yet, as the apostle saith, need we know no man after the flesh ; though we are still inhabitants of this vale of misery, yet are we ranked and placed in a certain order amongst heavenly beings in Christ Jesus. Would we, therefore, I' now our. true rank and condition, and what place we belong to, in the order of beings, we must search af'er a life that is Jtid with Christ in God, We must consider ourselves as parts of Christ's mystical bodv, and a? members of a king- dom of heaven. In vain do we consider the Iseauty and strength of »:ur bodies, our alliances with rnenj the privileges of birth, and the distinctions of this 3 26 A PRACTICAL TREATISE. world, for these things no more constitute the state of human iile, than rich coffins^ or beautiful monu- ments^ constitute the slate of the dead. We justly pity the last poor efforts of human greatness, when we see a breathless carcass lying in Hate. It appears to us to be so far from any real honour, that it rather looks like ridiculing the mis- ery of our nature. But were religion to form our judgments, the life of a proud voluptuous, and sensual man, though shining in all the splendor of the world, would give us no higher an idea of hu- man dignity, than a poor lifeless corpse laid in state. For a sinner^ when glorying in the lust ofthejfesh^ the lust of the eyes^ and the pride of life shows us a more shocking sight of misery ridiculed than any pageantry that can expose the dead. We have an apostle's authority to sa}^, that lie 7i.'holheth in pleasure is dead ivhile he Uveth, This shows us, that when wc enquire what our life is, or wherein it consists, we must think of something higher than the vigour of our blood, the gayety of our spirits, or the enjoyment of sensil)le pleasures ; since these, though the allowed signs of living men, are often undeniable proofs of dead Christians. When therefore we would truly know what our life, our state, our dignity, our good, or our evil is, wc must look at nothing that is tempoi'al, worldh% or sensible. We may as well dig in the earth for wisdom, as look at flesh and blood to see what we are, or at worldly enjoyments to find what we want, or at temporal evils to see what we have to fear. Our blessed Saviour })ut an absolute end to all enquiries of this kind, when he said. Be not afraid of them that kill the hody^ Luke xii. 4. and after that have no more that they can do, litre our bodies, and all bodily enjo^^ments, are^ a*t: one dash, struck out of the account of happiness, UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 27 arid the present state of things made so very low and insignificant, that he who can only deprive us of them, has not power enough to deserve our fear. We must therefore, if we would conceive our true state, our real good and evil, look farther than the dim eyes of flesh can carry our views, we must, with the eyes of faith, penetrate into the invisible world, the world of spirits, and consider our order and condition amongst them, a world which (as St. John speaks) has no need of the snn^ neither of the moon^ to shine in it^ for the glory of God doth lighten it, and the light of the Lamb. For it is there, amongst eternal beings, that we must take an eternal fellow- ship, or fall into a kingdom of darkness and ever- lasting misery. Christianity is so divine in its nature, so nolile in Its ends, so extensive in its views, that it has no less subjects than these to entertain our thoughts. It buries our bodies, burns the present world, triuDiphs over death by a general resurrection, and ODcns all into an eternal state. It never considers us in any other respect, than as fallen spirits : it disregards the distinctions of liuman society, and proposes nothing to our fears, but eternal misery, nor any thing to our hopes bu:, an endless enjoyment of the divine nature. This is the great and important condition in which Christianity has placed us, above our bodies, above the world, above death, to be present at the dissolution of all things, to see the earth in ilames, and the heavens wrapt up like a scroll, to stand at the general resurrection, to appear at the universal judgment, and to live for ever, when all that our eyes have seen is passed away and gone. Take upon thee, therefore, a spirit and tempci' suitable to this greatness of thy condition ; remem- ber that thou art an eternal spirit, that thou art. for a few months and years, in a state of flesh and blogd, only to try whether thou shall be for ever 28. A PRACTICAL TREATISE happy with God, or fall into cvci'lasting misery with' the devil. Thou wilt often hear of other concerns, and other greatness in this world ; thou wilt see every order oi" men, every family, every person pursuing some fan- cied happiness of his own, as if the world had nor only happiness, but a particular kind of happiness for all its inhabitants. But when thou seest this state of human life, fancy that thou sawest all the world asleep, the prince no longer a prince, the beggar no longer begging, but every man sleeping out his proper state ; some linppy, others tormented, and all changing their condition as fast as one fooli.»h dream could succeed tuiouier. V/licii tliOLi hast seen this, thou hast seen all that the world awake can do for thee ; if thou wilt, thou may est go to sleep for a while, thou may est lie down and dream ; for be as happy as the world can make ihee, all is but sleeping and dreaming, and what is still worse, it is like sleeping in a ship when thou shouldest be pumping out the water ; or dreaming thou art a prince, when thou shouldest be redeem- ing thyself from slavery. Now this is no imaginary flight of a melancholy fancy, that too much exceeds the nature of things, but a sober reflection justly suited to the vanity of worldly enjoyments. For if the doctrines of Christianity are true, if ihou art that creature, that fallen spirit, that inmiortal nature which religion teaches us, if thou art to meet death, resurrection, and judgment, as the forerun- ners of an eternal state, what are all the little flashes of pleasure, the changing appearances of worldly felicities, but so many sorts of dreams ? How canst thou talk of the happiness of riches, the advantages of fortune, the pleasm'os of apparel, of state and equipa2;o, v.ithout being in a dream ? 1% the hcsraar asleep, when he fancies he is build- UPON CHRISTEN . I'ERFECTIO.V. i^i> mg himself fine houses ? Is the prisoner in a dream when he imagines himself in open fields and lino groves ? And canst thou think that thy immortal spirit is awake, whilst it is delighting itself in the shadows and bubbles of worldly happiness ? For if it be true, that man is upon his trial, if the trial is for eternity, if life is but a vapour, what is there that deserves a serious thought, but how to get well out of the world, and make it a right pas- sage to our eternal state ? How can we prove that we are awake, that our ej^es are open, but by seeing and feeling, and living according to these important circumstances of our life? If a man should endeavour to please thee with fine descriptions of the riches, and pleasures, and dignities of the world in the moon, adding that its air is always serene, and its seasons always pleasant, wouldest thou not think it a sufficient answer, to say, / am not to Ike there ? When thy own false heart is endeavouring to please itself with worldly expectations, the joy of this or that way of life, is it not as good a reproof to say to thyself, / am not to stay here ? For where is the ditlerence betwixt an earthly happiness, from which thou art to be separated for ever, and a happiness in the moon to which thou art never to go ? Thou art to be for ever separated from the earth, thou art to be eternal, when the earth itself is lost, is it not therefore the same vanity to project for happiness on earth, as to propose a happiness in the moon ? For as thou art nexev to go to the one, so thou art to be eternally separated from the other. Indeed the littleness and insignificancy of the boasted honours of human life, appear stifficienlly from the things themselves, without comparing them with the subjects of religion. For see what they ^re in themselves. 3* 3Q A PRACTICAL TREATISE Ahasucrus^ that great prince of the eastern world, puts a question to Hainan^ his chief minister of state, he asks him, ivhat shall he done unto the man^ whom the king delighteth Esther vi. 6. to honour. Haman imagining that he was the person whom the king had in his thoughts, answered in these Vv'ords : Let the royal apparel be brought which the king used to loear^ and the horse that the king ridelh tipoji^ and the croicn royal zvhich is set upon his head ; and let this apparel and horse be delivered to the hand of one of the king's most noble princes, that they may array the man icithal, rchom the king deli ghtelh tohononr, and bring (hem on horseback thro^igh the street of the city. and proclaim before him^ thus shall it be done to the man 7Phom the king delighteth to honour. Here you see the sum total of worldly honours. An ambitious Haman cannot think of any thing greater to ask ; Ahasuems, the greatest monarch in the world, has nothing greater to give to his great- est favourite ; powerful as he is, he can only give such honours as these. Yet it is to be observed, that if a poor nurse was ta please her child, she must talk to it in the same lan- guage, she must please it with the same fine things, and gratify its pride with honours of the same kind. Yet these are the mighty thina;s, for which men forget God, forget their immortality, forget the dif- ference betwixt an eternity in heaven, and an eter- nity in hell. There needs no great understanding, no mighty depth of thought, to see through the vanity of all Worldly enjoyments ; do but talk of them, and you. will be forced to talk of gewgaws, of ribbons, and feathers. ; Every man sees the littleness of all sorts of ho- nours, but those which he is looking after himself. UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 31 . A private English gentleman, that is half dis- tracted till he has got some little distinction, does,, ot the same time, despise the highest honours of other countries, and would not leave his own con- dition to possess the ridiculous greatness of an Indian king. He sees the vanity and falseness of their honours, but forgets that all honour placed in external things, is equally vain and false. He does not consider that the difference of great- ness is only the difference of flowers and feathers ; and that they who are dressing themselves with hrjids^ have as just a taste of what adorns their per- sons as they w ho place the same pride in diamonds. When we read of an Eastern prince, that is too great to feed himself, and thinks it a piece of gran- deur to 'have other people put his meat into his mouth, we despise the folly of his pride. But might we not as well des})ise the folly of their pride, who are ashamed to use their legs, and think it adds to their state to be removed from one place to another by other people. For he that thinks it stately to be carried, and mean to walk on foot, has as true notions of great-- ness, as he who is too haughty to put his meat into his own mouth. Again, h is the manner of some countries in the burial of their dead to put a staff, and shoes, and money in the SepuVhre along with the corpse. We justly censure the folly and ignorance of such a poor contrivance to assist the dead ; but if we did as truly understand what life is, we should see as much to ridicule in the poor contrivances to assist the living. For how many things in life do people labour after, break their rest and peace to get, which, yet, vvhen ^ot^en, are of as much real use to them as a staff and shoes to a c rpse under jErroimd ? Ihey are always adding sonicthing to their life, which is A PRACTICAL TREATISE only like adding another pair of shoes to a bodj iii the grave. Thou mayest hire more servants, new paint ihy rooms, make more fine beds, eat out of plate^ and put on richer apparel, and these will help thee to be as happy, as golden staves, ov painted shoes, will help a dead man to walk. See here, therefore, the true nature of all worldly skoro and figure^ it will make \is as great as those are, who are dreaming that they are kings, as rich as those who fancy that they have estates in the moon, and as happy as those who are buried with staves in their hands. Now this is not carrying matters too high, or im- posing upon ourselves with any subtleties of reason- ing, or sound of words 5 for the value of worldly )-iches and honor can no more be too much les- sened, than the riches and greatness of the other life can be too much exalted. We do not cheat ourselves out of any real happiness, by looking upon all worldly honours as bubbles, any more than we cheat ourselves by securing honours that are solid and eternal. There is no more happiness lost by not being great and rkh^ as those are among whom we live, than by not being dressed and adorned as they arc, who live in China and Japan. Thou art no happier for having painted ceilings, and marble walls in thy house, than if the same finery was in thy stuhies ; if thou eatest upon plate it maketh thee just as happy as if thy horses wore silver shoes. To disregard gold, jewels, and equipage, is no more running away from any real good than if we only despised a feather, or a garland of flowers. So that he v/ho condemns aU the external show tmd state as equally vain, is no more deceived, or- or happiness, but in getting away to the best ad- vantage. If tiiou rememberest that (his life is but a vapour, that thou art in the body, only to be holy, humble, and heavenly-minded, that thou standest upon the brinks of death, resurrection, and judgment, and that these great things will suddenly come upon thee, like a thief in the night, thou wilt see a vanity in all the gifts of fortune, greater than any words can express. Do but, therefore, know thvself, as religion has made thee known, do but see thyself in the . light, which Christ has brought into the world, and then 'thou wilt see that nothing concerns thee but ^vhd^i 34 A PRACTICAL TREATISE roncerns an everlasting spirit that is going to God ; and that there are no enjoyments here that arc worth a thought, but such as may make thee more perfect in those holy tempers which will carry thcjc lo heaven. €HAP. 11. Christianity requires a Change of Nature^ a new Lif& perfectly devoted to God, CHRISTIANITY is not a school for the teaching of moral virtue, the polishing our manners, or form- ing us to live a life of this world with decency and gentility. It is deeper and more divine in its designs, and hias much nobler ends than these ; it implies an entire change of life, a dedication of ourselves, our souls and bodies unto God, in the strictest and highest sense of the words. Our blessed Saviour came into the world not to make any composition with it, or to divide things between heaven and earth, but to make war with every state of life, to put an end to the designs of flesh and blood, and to show us, that we must cither leave this world tabecome^sons of God, or, by enjoying it, take our portion amongst devils and damned spirits. Death is not more certainly a separation of our souls from our bodies, than the Christian life is a separation of our souls from worldly tempers, vain induigencies, and unnecessary cares. No sooner are we baptized, but we are to consid- er ourselves as new and holy persons, that are en- tered upon a new state of things, that arc devoted to God, and have renounced all to be fellovv-hcirs vrith Christ, and members of his kingdom. tFON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 35 There is no alteration of life, no change of con dition, that implies half so much as that alteration which Christianity introduceth. It is a kingdom of heaven begun upon earth, and hj being made members of it, we are entered into a new state of goods and evils. Eternity aliereth the face and nature of every thing in this world, life is only a trial, prosperity becometh adversity, pleasure a mischief, and no- thing a good, but as it increaseth our hope, puri- fieth our natures, and prepareth us to receive high- er degrees of happiness. Let us now see what it is to enter into this state of redemption. Our own church, in conformity with Scripture, Jmd the practice of the purest ages, makes it neces- sary for us to renounce the pomps and vanitifs of the 7i'ortd, before we can be received members of Christian communion. Did we enough consider this, we should find that w^henever we yield ourselves up to the pleasures, profits, and honours of this life, that we turn apos- tates, break our covenant w^ith God, and go back from the express conditions, on which w^e were ad- mitted into the communion of Christ's church. If we consult either the life or doctrines of our Saviour, we shall find that Christianity is a cove- nant, that contains only the terms of changing and resigning this world for another that is to come. It is a state of things that wholly regards eternity, and knows of no other goods and evils but such as relate to another life. It is a kingdom of heaven, that has no other interests in this world than as it takes its members out of it, and when the number of the elect is com- plete this world will be consumed with fire as hav- ing no other reason of its existence than the furnish- ing members for that blessed society, which is to last forever. * 36 A PRACTICAL TREATISE I cannot here omit observing the folly and vanity of human wisdom, which, full of imaginary pro- jects, pleases itself with its mighty prosperities, its lasting establishments in a world doomed to destruc- tion, and which is to last no longer than till a sufli- cient number are redeemed out of it. Did we see a number of animals hastening to lake up their apartments, and contending for the best places, in a building that was to be beat down, as soon as the old inhabitants were safe out, we should see a contention full as wise as the wisdom of worldly ambition. To return. Christianity is therefore, a course of holy discipline, solely fitted to the cure and I'ecovery of fallen spirits, and intends such a change in our nature, as may raise us to a nearer union with ^ God, and qualify us for such high degree of happi- ness. It is no wonder, therefore, if it makes no provi- sion for the flesh, if it condemns the maxims of human wisdom, and indulges us in no worldly pro- jects, since its very end is to redeem us from all the vanity, vexation, and misery, of this state of things, and to place us in a condition where we shall be fellow-heirs with Christ, and as the angel* of God. That Christianity requires a change of nature, a new life perfectly devoted to Cod, is plain from the spirit and tenour of the Gospel. The Saviour of the world saith, that except a man he born again, of water and the Spirit, j^j^^^ ... ^^ he cannot enter into the k'gihmi of ' God, We are told, that to as many as received him, to them he gave power to become the sons of God^ 7vh}ch 7cei-e horn, net of hJood, nor cf the x \.y^ ■ 10 win of the fesh, nor of the will of n.an, hut of God, These words plainly teach us that Cl.ristianily implies some great change of nature; that as our (- UrON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 37 fcirth was to us the beginning of a new life, and brought us into a society of earthly enjoyments, so Christianity is another birth, that brings us into a condition altogether as new as when we first saw the light. AVe begin again to be, we enter upon fresh terms of life, have new relations, new hopes and fears, and an entire change of every thing that can be called good or evil. This new birth, this principle of a new life, is the very essence and soul of Christianity, it is the seal of the promises, the mark of our sonship, the earnest of the inheritance, the security of our hope, and the foundation of all our acceptance with God. He that is in Christ, saith the apostle, is a neio creature, and if any man hath not the r, ••• n Q^ ' '4 m • 4 J • /• 7 • Rom. vni. 9, ojoir/^ of Lanst he is none oj his. And again. He toko is joined to the ^ ^ r- -in T J • • •, 1 i^or. VI. 1 7» hord IS one spirit. It is not, therefore, any number of moral virtues, no partial obedience, no modes of worship, no ex- ternal acts of adoration, no articles of faith, but a new principle of life, an entire change of temper, that makes us true Christians. (/ If the Spirit of him v)ho raised up Jesus from the. dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you. For as -o ••• ^ .. J, 1 J I. 4-L Q! ' -, rn 1 Kom. VHi. II. many as are led by the Spirit of hod, they are the sons of God, Since, therefore, the Scriptures thus absolutely require a life suitable to the spirit and temper of Jesus Christ, since they allow us not the privilege of the sons of God, unless we live and act accord- ing to the Spirit of God ; it is past doubt, that Chrisiianity requires an entire change of .nature and trmper. a life p'^rfectly devoted to God. For whi^t can imp^y a greater change than from « carnal to a spiritual mind ? AVhat can be more 4 38 A PRACTICAL TREATISE contrary than the works of the flesh are to the works of the Spirit ? It is the difference of heaven and hell. Light and darkness are but faint resemblances of that great contrariety that is betwixt the spirit of God and the spirit of the world. Its wisdom is foolishness, its friendship is enmity with God. AH that is in the zcorld^ the lust of the fleshy the lust of the eyes^ and the 1 John ii. 16. pride of life^ is 7iot of the Father, Worldly opinions, proud reasonings, fleshly cares, and earthly projects, are all so many false judg- ments, mere lies, and we know v>ho is the father of lies. For this reason the Scripture makes the devil the god and prince of this world, because the spirit and temper which reigns there is entirely from him ; and so far as we are governed by the wisdom and temper of the world, so far are we governed by that evil power of darkness. If we would see more of this contrariety, and v.'hat a change our new life in Christ implies, let us consider what it is to be borri of God. St. John tells us one sure mark of our new birth, in the following words. He that is born - pi . of God overcomelh the rcorld, ■ i * * ' So that the nezi) birth, or the Christian life, is considered with opposition to the ivorld, and all that is in it, its vain cares, its false glories, proud designs, and sensual pleasures ; if we have overcome these, so as to be governed by other cares, other glories, oth^^'- designs, and other pleasures, then are we born of God. Then is the wisdom of this world, and the fi-icndship of this world, turned into the wisdom and friendship of God, which will, for ever, keep us hdrs of God, and joint heirs zoith Christ. Again, the same apostle helps us to another sign "of GUI' new life hi God. Whosoever , saith he, is born UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. .^9 of God doth not commit sln^ for his seed remaineth ;',i him, and he cannot sin, because he is . ^ " q horn of God, ^* * This is not to be understood, as if he that was -born of God was therefore in an absolute state of perfection, and incapa})le afterwards of falh'ng into any thing that w^as sinful. It only means, that he that is born of God is pos- sessed of a temper and principle that makes him utterly hate and labour to avoid all sin ; he is there- fore said not to co-mmit sin, in such a sense as a man may be said not to do that, which it is his constant care and principle to prevent being done. He cannot sin, as it maj^ be said of a man that has no principle but covetousness, that he cannot do things that are expensive, because it is his con- stant care and labor to be sparing; and if expense happen.it is contrary to liis intention : it is his pain and trouble, and he returns to saving Avith a double diligenre. Thus is he that is born of God ; puritj/ and holi- ness is his only aim, and he is more incapable of having any sinful intentions, than the miser is inca- pable of generous expense ; and if he finds himself in any sin, it is his greatest pain and trouble, and he labours after holiness with a double zeal. This it is to be born of God, v/hen we have a temper and mind so entirely devoted to purity and holiness, that it may be said of us in a just sense, that we cannot commit sin. When holiness is such a habit in our minds, so directs and forms our desi'^ns, as covetousness and ambition direct and govern the actions of such men, as are governed by no other principles, then are we alive in God, and living members of the mystical body of his Son Jesus Christ. Th\s is our true standard and measure by which we are to "udge of ourselves ; we are not true Chris- tians unless we are born of God, and v/e are not 4p A PRACTICAL TREATISE born of God unless it can be said of us in this sens^ that we cannot commit sin. When by an inward prmciple of holiness we stand so disposed to all degrees of virtue, as the ambitious man stands disposed to all steps of great- ness, when we hate and avoid all kinds of sins, as the covetous man hates and avoids all sorts pf loss and expense, then are we such sons of God as can- not commit sin. We must therefore examine into the state and temper of our minds, and see whether we be thus changed in our natures, thus born again to a new Bfe, whether we be so spiritual as to have overcome the world, so holy as that we cannot commit sin ; since it is the undeniable doctrine of Scripture, that. this state of mind, this new birth, is as necessary to salvation as the believing in Jesus Christ. To be eminent therefore for any particular virtue-, to detest and avoid several kinds of sins, is just no- thing at all ; its excellency (as the apostle saith of some particular virtues) is but as sounding brassj and a tinkling cymbal. But when the temper and taste of our soul is en- tirely changed, when we are renewed in the spirit of our minds, and are full of a relish and desire of all godliness, of a fear and abhorrence of all evil, then, as St. John speaks, may zee knojii that we are of the truths and shall assure our hearts before himj then shall we knorv that he abidelk ^ ^ | ... -q in us by the Spirit zvhich he hath giv- qa ' en us. We have already seen two marks of those that are born of God, the one is, that they have over- come the world, the other,, that they do not commit sin. To these 1 shall only add a third, which is given us by Christ himself, / say unto you^ love your ene- mies^ bless them that curse you^ do good to them that . hate you^ and pray for ilwn zohich dcsjiil/ fully usp- L'POX CHRISTIAN' PERFECTION. 4H you.) and persecule yon, thai you may ^r , . be the children of your Father zohich Is in heaven. Well maj^ a Christian be said to be a new crea- ture^ and Christianity an entire change of tcmpcrj since such a disposition as this is made so neces- sary, that without it we cannot be the cliildren of our Father which is in heaven ; and if we are not his children, neither is he our Father. It is not therefore enou2;h that we love our friends, benefactors, and relations, but Ave must love like God, if we will show that we are born of him. We must, like liim, have an universal love and tender- ness for all mankind, imitating that love, which would that all men should be saved. God is love^ and this we are to observe as the true standard of ourselves, that he who dzeelleth in God dzvelleih in Icve ; and consequently he wlip dwelleth not in love dwelleth not in God. It is impossible, therefore, to be a true Christian, and an puemy at the same time. Mankind has no enemy but the devil, and them who pariake of his malicious and ill-natured spirit. Thrre is perhaps no duty of religion that is so con-r 'ry to flesh and blood as this, but as difficult as it may seem to a worldij^ mind, it is still neces- sary, and wi1| easily }w performed by such as are in Christ new creatures. For tike but away earthly goods and evils, and you tak^ away all hatred and malice, for they are the oniy causes of those base tempers. He there- fore that ha'h overcome the vorld, hath overcome all th*^ occasions of ^nvv and ill nature; for having put himself in this sinialion, he cnn pity, pray for, and fo^'srive all his enemies, who w^ant less forgiveness from him than he pxpecfs from his heavenly Father. Let us here awhile contemplate the height and depth of Christian holiness, and that god-like spirit 4* 42 A PRACTICAL TREATISE which our religion requireth. This duty of univer* sal love and benevolence, even to our bitterest enemies, may serve to convince us, that to be Chris- tians we must be born again^ change our very na- tures, and have no governing desire of our souls, but that of being made like God. For we cannot exercise or delight in this duty, till we rejoice and delight only in increasing our likeness to God. We may therefore from this, as well as from what has been before observed, be infallibly assured that Christianity does not consist in any partial amendment of our lives, any particular moral vir- tues, but in an entire change of our natural temper, a life wholly devoted to God. To proceed, This same doctrine is farther taught by our bles- j^ed Saviour, when speaking of little children, he saith, Suffer them to come wito mc^ for of such is the kingdom of God. And again, Whoso- j , ... ever shall not receive the kirhgdoni of God \c as a little child, shall in no zcise enter therein. If we are not resolved to deceive ourselves, to have ej^cs and see not, ears and hear not, we must perceive that these words imply some mighty t^hange in our nature. For what can make us more contrary to ourselves than to lay aside lall our manly wisdom, our natural judgments, our boasted abilities, and become in- fants in nature and temper, before we can partake of this heavenly state ? We reckon it change enough, from babes to be men, and surely it must signify as great an altera- tion to be reduced from men to a state of infancy. One peculiar condition of infants is this, that they have every thing to learn, they arc to be taught by others what they are to hope and fear; and wherein their proper happiness consists. UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 43 It is in this sense that we are chiefly to become as infants, to be as though we had every thing to learn, and suffer ourselves to be taught what we are to choose and what to avoid ; to pretend to no wis- dom of our own, but be ready to pursue that hap- })iness which God in Christ proposes to us, and to accept it with such simpHcity of mind, as children that have nothing of our own to oppose to it. But now is this infant temper, thus essential to the Christian life ? Does the kingdom of God con- sist only of such as are so affected ? Let this then be added as another undeniable proof, that Chris- ^tianity requires a nezo nature^ and temper of mind ; and that this temper is such as having renounced the prejudices of life, the maxims of human wis- dom, yields itself with a child-like submission and simplicity to be entirely governed by the precepts and doctrines of Christ. . Craft and policy, selfish cunning, proud abilities, and vain endowments, have no admittance into this holy state of society with Christ and God. The wisdom of this world, the intrigues of life, the designs of greatness and ambition, lead to ano- ther kingdom, and he that would follow Christ must empty himself of this vain furniture, and put on the meek ornaments of infant and undesigning simplicity. IVhere is the urise ? Where Is ike scribe ? Where is the disputer of this 7corhl ? saith the ^ p * on apostle, hath not God made foolish the imsdcm of the world ? If therefore we will partake of the wisdom of God we must think and judge of this world, and its most boasted gifts, as the wisdom of God judgeth of them ; we must deem them foolishness, and with undivided hearts labour after one wisdom, one per- fection, one happiness, in being entirely devoted to God. This comparison of the spirit of a Christian hapilsm ; so that we entered into this state of death at our baptism, when we entered into Christianity. Know ye not^ says the apostle, that so many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christy were baptized into his death ? therefore we are buried with r, • . L- h h r • 4 1 4T, Kom. VI. 4. Mr/1, by baptism into death* Now Christians may be said to be baptized into rhe death of Christ, if their baptism puts them into A state like to that in which our Saviour was at his death. The apostle shows this to be the meaning of it, by saying, if we have been planted together in the Hkeness of his deaths that is, if our baptism has put us into a state like that of his death. So that Christian baptism is not only an external rite, by which we are entered into the externa} society of Christ's church, but is a solemn conse- cration, which presents us an offering to God, as Christ was offered at his death. We are therefore no longer alive to the enjoy- liients of this world, but as Christ was then nailed to the cross, and devoted entirely to God, that he might be made perfect through sufferin^s^ and a^ cend to the right hand of God ; so is our old man to be crucified, and we consecrated to God, by a conformity to the death of Christ, that like as Christ zcas raised from the dead, by the glory of the Father^ even so we also should walk in newness of Iife<, and being risen with Christ should seek those things which (ire above* This is the true undeniable state of Christianity; baptism does not make us effectually Christians, unless it brings us into a state of death, consecrates us to God, and begins a life suitable to that slate of things to which our Saviour is risen from the dead. This, '^nd no other than this, is the holiness and spiritual temper of the Christian life, which implies such a rf^sisinatlon of mind, such a dedica- tion of ourselves to God, as m.ny resemble the death of Christ. And on the other hand, such a ncwnc?,? 46 A PRACTICAL TREATISE of life, such an ascension of the sou], such a holy and heavenly behaviour, as may show that we are risen with Christ, and belong to that glorious state, where he now sits at the right hand of God. It is in this sense, that the holy Jesus saith of his disciples, they are not of this icorlcl, even as I am not of this zcorld ; being not left to live the life of the world, but chosen out of it for the purposes of his kingdom, that they might copy after his death, and oblation of himself to God. And this is the condition of all Christians to the consummation of all things, who are to carry on the same designs, and by the same means raise out of this corrupted state a number of fellow-heirs with Christ in everlasting glory. The Saviour of the wopid has purchased mankind with his blood, not to live in ease and pleasurable enjoyments, not to spend their time in softness and luxury, in the gratifications of pride, idleness, and vanity, but to drink of his cup, to be baptized with the baptism that he was baptized with, to make war with their corrupt natures, humble themselves, mortify the desires of the flesh, and like him be made perfect through sufferings. St. Paul so well knew this to be the design and spirit of reHgion, that he puts his title to the bene- fits of Christ's resurrection upon it, when he says, That 1 may knozo hirn^ and the pozoer of his resur" rection^ and the fellozcsh'p of his svf pr m ••• ^^ />• ]• *7 /• 7J.1' i nil. 111. 1 u« erme have ncilher run in -ja'yi-, nor laboured in vain. CHAP. III. Christianity requircth a Renunciation of the World\ and all worldly Tempers, THE Christian religion being to raise a nev.', spiritual, and as yet invisible world, and to place man in a certain order amongst thrones, principali- ties, and spiritual beings, is at entire enmity witU this present corrupt state of flesh and blood. '^ It ranks the present world along with the flesk and the devil, as an equal enemy to those glorious ends, and that perfection of human nature, which our redemption proposes. It pleased the wisdom of God to indulge the Jews in worldly hopes and fears. It was then said. Therefore shall ye keep all the commandments^ rvhich I command yon this day, that ye may be strong-^ and ^o in and possess the land, luhi- ther you s^o to possess it. The Gospel is quite of another nature, and is a call to a very dilTerent state, it lays its first foundation in the renunciation of the world, as a state of false goods and enjoyments, which feed the vanity and corruption of our nature, fill our hearts with foolish and wicked passions, and keep us separate from God the only happiness of all *^'rits. i'3. A PRACTICAL TREATISE My kingdom, saith our blessed Saviour, is not of this 7vorld ; by which we may be assured that no worldlinpis are of his kingdom. We have a farther representation of the contra^ piety that there is betwixt this kingdom and the concerns of this world. A certain man, saith our Lord, made a great shipper, and bade mcmy, and sent his servant at supper-time to say to them that were hidden^ come, for all things are nozo ready ; and they all, 7oith one consent, began to make excuse. The Jirstsaid, I have bought a piece of ground, and I must needs go and see it : another said, I have bought five ijokc of oxen, and I go to prove them, I prmj thee have me excused ; another said, I hctve married a wife^ and therefore I cannot come. We find that the master of the house was angry, and said, None of those men u-hich were t , • , /> r-jj i J] 4 i r Luke XIV. 16. bidden shall taste oj my supper. Our Ssrio'jr, a iiltle Lifter wards, applies it ail in this manner, Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not cdl that he hath, he cannot be my disciple* We are cold, that when the chief priests and pharistes heard our Saviour'' s parables, they perceived n.f _ x. • . r that he spake of tfiern. If Christians, hearing the above-recited parable, are not pricked in their hearts, and do not feel that our Saviour speaks of them, it must be owned that ihey are more hardened than Jews, and more insin- eere than pharisees. This parable teaches us, that not only the vices, the wickedness and vanity of this world, but even its most lawful and allowed concerns, render men unable to enter, and unworthy to be received into the true state of Christian'ty. That he who is busied in an honest and lawful calling, may, on that account, he as well reject ed by ^od, as he who is vainly employed in foolish and idle pursuits. That it is no i^^ pardonable to be less aflected UPON CHRISTIAN PERPECTION'. 5S^ to ihc tilings of religion, for the sake of anj worldlj business, than for the indulgence of our pride, or any other passion : it farther teaches us, that Chris- tianity is a calling that puts an end to all other cal- lings ; that we are no longer to consider it as our proper state or employment to take care of oxen, look after an estate, or attend the most plausible aifairs of life ; but to reckon every condition equally trilling, and fit to be neglected, for the sake of the one thing needful. Men of serious business and managcrricn^gcnc- rally censure those v.'ho trifle away their time in idle and impertinent pleasures, as vain and foolish, and unworthy of the Christian profession. But they do not consider that the business of the world, where they think they show such a manly skill and address, is as vain as vanity itself; they do not consider that the cares of an employment, an attention to business, if it has got -hold of the heart, renders men as vain and odious in the sight of God as any other gratilication. For though they may call it an honest care, a creditable industry, or by any other plausible name; yet it is their particular gratification, and a wisdom that can no more recommend itself to the eyes of God than the wisdom of an epicure. For it shovrs as wrong a turn of mind, as fiiise a judgment, and as great a contempt of the true goods, to neglect any deo;rees of piety for the sake of business, as for any of the most trifling pleasures of life. The wisdom of this world gives an importance, an air of greatness to several ways of life, and ridi- cules others as vain and contempuble, which dillcr only in their kind of vanity ; but the wi«;dom from above condemns all labour as equally fruitless, but that which labour? after everlasting life. L^t but religion determine th-:^ point, and .vhat can it sig- nify, whether a man forgets God ia his farm, or a 5* 64 A PRACTICAL TREATISE shop, or at a gaming-table ? For the world i.'^ fall as great and important in its pleasures, as in its cares ; there is no more wisdom in the one than in the other ; and the Christian that is governed by either, and made less affected to things of God by them, is equally odious and contemptible in the sight of God. And though we distinguish betwixt cares and pleasures, yet if we would speak exactly, it is plea- sure alone that governs and moves us in every state of life. And the man who, in the business of the Avorld, would be thought to pursue it, because of its use and importance, is as much governed by his temper and taste for pleasures as he who studies the gratitication of his palate, or takes his delight in running foxes and hares out of breath. For there is no wisdom or reason in any thing but religion, nor is any way of life less vain than another, but as it is made serviceable to piety, and conspires with the designs of religion, to raise man- kind to a participation and enjoyment of the divine nature. Therefore docs our Saviour equally call men from the cares of employments, as from the plea- sures of their senses ; because they are equally wrong turns of mind, equally nourish the corrup- tion of our nature, and are equally nothing, when compared with that high state of glory, which, by his sufferings and death, he has merited for us. .Perhaps Christians, who are not at all ashamed to be devoted to the cares and business of the world, cannot better perceive the weakness and folly of their designs, than by comparing them with such states of life as they own to be vain and foolish, and contrary to the temper of religion. Some people have no other care than how to give iheir palate some fresh pleasure, and enlarore the hap})iness of tasting. T desire to know now wherein consists the sin or baseness of this care 1 CPON CnRISTIAN rEnrECTICS'. 56 Others live to no other purpose than to breed dogs, and attend the sports of the field. Others think all their time dull and heavy which 15 not spent in the pleasures and diversions of the town. Men of sober business, who seem to act the grav^ part of life, generally condemn these ways of life. Now I desire to know upon what account they are to be condemned ? For produce but the true reason why any of these ways of life are vain and sinful, and the same reason will conclude with the same strength against every state of life, but that which is entirely devoted to God. Let the ambitious man but show the folly and irregularity of covetousness, and the same reasons will show the folly and irregularity of ambition. Let the man who is deep in worldly business but show the vanity and shame of a life that is devoted to pleasures, and the same reasons will as fully set forth the vanity and shame of worldly cares. So that whoever can condemn sensuality, ambition, or any way of life, upon the principles of reason and religion, carries his own condemnation within his own breast, and is that very person which he despi- ses, unless his life be entirely devoted to God. For worldly cares are no more holy or virtuous han worldly pleasures : f hey are as great a mistake in life, and when they equally divide or possess the heart, are equally vain and shameful as any sen- sual gratifications. It is gr mted that some cares are made necessary by the necessities of nature ; and the same also may be observed of some pleasures : the pleasures of eating, drinking, and rest, are equally necessary ; but yet if reason and reliction do not limit these pleasures by the necessities of nature, we fall from rational creatures into drones, sots, gluttons, and epicures. In like manner our care after some worldly 5^ A PTvACTlCAL TKEATISCi thing.5 is necessary ; b\U if this care is not boundecJ by the just wants of nature : if it wanders into unnecessary pursuits, and iiils the mind with false desires and cravings ; if it wants to add an imagi- nary splendour to the plain demands of nature, it is- vani and irregular ; it is the care of the epicure, a longing for sauces and ragouts, and corrupts the soul like any other sensual indulgence. For this reason our Lord points his doctrines at. the most common and allowed employments of life, to teach us that they may employ our minds ae falsely, and distract us as far from our true good, as any trifles and vanity. He calls us from such cares, to convince us that even the necessities of life must be sought with a kind of indifference, that so our souls may be truly sensible of greater wants, and disposed to hunger and thirst after enjoyments that will make us happy for ever. But how unlike are Christians to Christianity ! It commands us to take no ihojishf^ sayins;, ichaf shalT 7«e eat., or ivhat shall ive drmk ? Yet Christians are restless and laborious till thev can eat in plate. It commands us to be indinerent about raiment ; but Christians are full of care and concern to be clothed in purple and fine linen ; it enjo'-ns us to take no ihoupcht for the morrow, yet Christians think they have lived in vain, if they do not leave estates at their death. Yet these are the disciples of that T-ord,who saith, JFhosoever he he of you that foi'sakcih not all that he hath^ he cannot be my disci- It must not be said, that there is some defect in thpse doctrines, or that they are not plainly enou<]:h tau?^ht in Scripture, because the lives and behaviour ©f Christians is so contrary to them ; for if the spirit of the world, and the temper of Ch'*istirtns, might be alleged against the doctrines of Scrip- ture, none of them would have lasted to this day. UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTlOiT. 57 It is one of the ten commandments, Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in tain ; our Saviour has, in the most solemn manner, forbid swearing, yet where is more swearing than amongst Christians, and among such Christians as would think it hard to be reckoned a reproach to the Christian name ? The Scripture says of Christians, that they are born of God, and have overcome the ivorld ; can they be reckoned of that number who have not so much as overcome this flagrant sin, and to v/hich they have no temptation in nature ? Well therefore may the doctrines of humility, heavenly-mindedness, and contempt of the world be disregarded, since they have all the corruptions ©f flesh and blood, all the innate and acquired ju-idc, and vanity of our nature to conquer before they can be admitted. To proceed. I know it is pretended by some, that these doc- trines of our Saviour concerning forsakine: all^ and the like, related only to his first followers, who could be his disciples upon no other terms, mid who ■were to suffer with him for the propagation of the Gospel. It is readily ov,nod. thr^t there are different statos of the church, and thrjt such dilTcront states may call Christians to some particular duties, not com- mon to every ncre. It is owned also, th'^t this wns the case of the iirst Christians ; they differed from us in many respects. They wr.re personally called to follow Christ ; they received particular commissions from his moutli ; they w^ere empowered to work miracles, and cnlled to a certain expectation of hatred and sufferings from almost all the woi'ld. These are particulars in which the state of the ■fii'st church differed from the preacnt. 58 A TV. ACTUAL IPF/TT^E But then it is carefully to he observed, that thi6' fliffcrence in the state of the church is a difTerence in the external state of the church, and nor in the internal imvard state of Christians. It is a differ- ence that relates to the aflairs ond condition of the world, and not to the personal holiness and purity of Christians. The world mqy sometimes favour Christianity, at other times it may oppose it with persecution : now this change of the world makes two different states of the church, but without making any differ- ence in ihp inward personal holiness of Christians, which is to be always the same, whether the world smiles or frowns upon it. Whatever measure, therefore, of personal holi- ness, or inward perfection, was required of the first followers of Christ, is still in the same decree, and for the same reasons required of all Christians to the end of the world. Humility, meekness, heavenly affection, devo- tion, charity, and a contempt of the world, are all internal qualities of personal holiness ; they consti- tute that spirit and temper of religion which is required for its own excellence, and is therefore of constant and eternal obligation. There is always the same fitness and reasonableness in them, the same perfection in practising them, and the same rewards always due to them. We must, therefore, look carefully into the nature of the thinG:s, which we find were required of the first Christians ; if we find that they were called to sufferings from other people, this may perhaps not be our case ; but if we see they are called to suf- ferings from themselves, to vdimtai'y stlf-denials, and renouncing their oami ric^hts, we may judge •amiss, if we think this was their particular duty as the first disciples of Christ. -- For it is undeniable that these inst-ances of ipaking themselves suilcrcrs frgm themselves, of XTON CHRISTIAN PERIECTION. ii'd Voluntary sclf-dcnial, and renunciation of all world- ly enjoyments, are as truly parts of personal holi- ness and devotion to God as any instances of charity, humility, and love to God that can possi- bly be sup])0sed. And it will be ditlicult to show why all Chris- tians are now obliged, in imitation of Christ, to be meek and lordy in hearty if they, like the first Chris- tians, are not obliged to these instances of lowliness and meekness ; or if they are obliged still to imitate Christ, how can they be said to do it if they excuse themselves from these plain and required ways of showing it. If, therefore. Christians will show that they arc not obliged to those renunciations of the world which Christ required of his first followers, they must show that such renunciations, such voluntary self-denials, were not instances of personal holiness and devotion, did not enter into the spirit of Chris- tianity, or constitute that death to the world, that new }>irth in Christ, which the Gospel recjuireth. But this is as absurd to imagine, as to suppose that praying for our enemies is no part of charity. , Let us, therefore, not deceive ourselves, the Gospel preaches the same doctrines to us that our Saviour taught his first disciples, and though it may not call us to the same external state of the church, yet it infallibly calls us to the same inward state of holiness and newness of life. It is out of question that this renunciation of the world was then required, because of the excel- lency of such a temper, because of its suitableness to the spirit of Chi-istianity, because of its being, in some degree, like to the temper of Christ, because it was a temper that became such as were born again of God, and were made heirs of eternal glory, because it was a ri«:ht instance of their lo/ing God loitli all (Jieir hearty and irith a-I their souL and rvilh all their strength^ and li^ith all tktir mind, because GO A PRACTICAL TREATISE it was fi proper way of showing their disregarcl (o the vanity of earthly comforts, and their resolution to attend only to the one thing needful. If, therefore, we are not obliged to be like them in these respects, if we may be less holy and hea- venly in our tempers, if we need not act upon such high principles of devotion to God, and disregard of earthly goods as they did, we must preach a new Gospel of our own ; we must say that we need not be meek and lozdy as the first Christians were, and that those high doctrines of charity, of blessing, and doing good to our worst enemies, were duties only for the first state of the church. For this is undeniable, that if any heights of piety, any degrees of devotion to God, of heavenly aff'ection, were necessary, for the first Christians, which are not so now, that the same may be said of every other virtue and grace of the Christian life. All our Saviour's divine Sermon upon the Mount may as well be confined to his first disciples as these doctrines, and it is as sound in divinity, as w^ell founded in reason, to assert, that our Saviour had only regard to his first disciples, when he said, Ye cannot serve God and mamnion^ as when he saith, Whosoever he be of you thai forsaketh not all that he liath^ he cannot be my disciple* For let anj one think, if he can find the least shadow of a reason, wliy Christians should, at first, be called to higher degrees of heavenly aiVec- tion, devotion to God, and disregard of the world, than they are now. It will be as easy to show that they were obliged to a stronger faith, a more lively hope, than we are now. But if faith and hope are p;rares of too excellent a nature, too ess^nlial to the life and spirit of a Clirisliau, to admit of any abatements in any age VPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. Cl 6f the church, I should think that heavcnlv affec- tion, devotion to God, and dying to the world, are tempers equally essential to the spirit of religion, and too necessary to the perfection of the soul, to fee less required in one age than in another. Besides it is to be considered, that these tempers are the natural and genuine effects of faith and hope ; so that if they are changed or abated, faith and hope must have so far suffered abatements, and failed in their most proper and excellent effects. . All men will readily grant that it would be very absurd to suppose, that more articles of faith should have been necessary to be believed by our Saviour's first follov/ers than by Christians of after ages. Let il then be considered why this would be absurd, and it will plainly appear that the same reason which makes it absurd to suppose that any thing which was once necessary to be believed should ever lose that necessity, will equally show that it is alike absurd to suppose that any thing that was once necessary to be done should ever be lawful to be left undone. For it is absurd to suppose that articles of faith should not have always the same relation to salva- tion. And is it not equally absurd to suppose the same of any graces or virtues of the soul ? That the kingdom of heaven should, at such a time, be only open to such degrees of piety, of heavenly affection, and dying to the world, and at other times make no demand of them. Again, I believe all men will readily grant, thai whenever the church falls into such a state of per- s*cution as was in the beginning, that we are then to suffer for the faith as the first Christians did. Now I ask, Why we ore lo do as they did when •we fall into the like circumstances ? Is it because what they did was right and fit to %^ done ? Is it because their example is safe and C C2 ' A PRACTICAL TREATISE agreeable to the doctrines of Christ ? Is it because^ we must value our lives at no higher rate than they valued theirs ? Is it because suffering for the faith is always that same excellent temper, and always entitled to the same reward ? If these are the reasons, as undoubtedly they are, why we must suffer as they did, if we fall into sucli a state of the church as they were in ; do not all the same reasons equally prove that we must use the world as they did, because we are in the same v/orld that they were in ? For let us here put all the same questions in relation to their self-denials and renunciations of riches ; v/as not what they did in this respect right und fit to be done ? Is not their example safe and agreeable to the doctrines of Christ ? Are we to value our worldly goods more than they valued iheirs ? Is not the renouncing earthly enjoyments for the sake of Christ, always that same excellent temper, and always entitled to the same reward ? Thus w^e see that every reason for suffering as the first disciples of Christ did, when we fall into the same state of persecution that they were in, is as strong and necessary a reason for our contemn- ing and forsaking the w^orld as they did, because we are still in the same world that they were in. If it can be shown that the world is changed, that its enjoyments have not that contrariety to the spirit of Christianity that they had in the apostles' day, there may be some grounds for us Christians Xo t^ke other methods than they did. But if the world is the same enemy it was at the first, if its wisdom is still foolishness, its friendship still enmity with God, we are as m.uch obliged to treat this enemy as the first disciples of Christ did, as we are obliged to imitate their behaviour towards any other enemies and persecutors of the comxmon Christianity. And it would be very absurd to suppose hat we UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 60 were to follow the doctrines of Christ in renounc* ing the flesh and the devil, but might abate of their enmity in regard to the world, when it is by om* use of worldly goods that both the flesh and the devil gain almost all their power over us. Having said thus much to show that the Gospel belongs to us in all its doctrines of holiness and piety, I shall proceed to enquire what heavenly affection, what renunciation of the world, and devo- tion to God, is required of Christians in the Ploly Scriptures. We find in the passage already quoted, with several others to the like purpose, that our Saviour saith, as a common term of Christianity, that zoho- soever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple, St. Mark tells us. There came one running and kneeled to him, and asked him, good Master, What shall I do that I may inherit eternal life ? And Jesus said unto him^ Thou knozvest the command- ments, do not commit adultery^ do p,, 7iot kill, do not steal, do not bear ^^^P* x* false zoitness, defraud not^ honour thy father and mother. And he anszoered and said unto him, Master, all these have I observed from my youth, • Then Jesus beholding him, loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest, go thy zvay, and sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou jshalt have treasure in heaven, and come take up the cross, andfolloio mc. And he zoas sad at that saying, and icent aioay grieved, for he had great possessions. In St. Mattheio it is thus, Jf thou zuilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, &.c. Some have imagined, that from our Saviour,s using the expression, If thou ziult be perfect, tha!. th's was only a condition of some high uncommon perfection, which Christians, as such, were not 17. 64 A PRACTICAL TREATISE obliged to aspire after ; but the weakness of thi^ imagination will soon appear, if it be considered, that the young man's question plainly showed what perfection it was that he aimed at ; he only asked what he should do that he might inherit eternal life ; and it was in answer to this question that our Saviour told him, that though he had kept the com- mandments, yet one thing he lacked. So that when our Saviour saith, if thou wilt he. perfect^ it is the same thing as when he said, if thou wilt not be lacking in one thing, that is, if thou v/ilt practice all that duty which will make thee inherit eternal life, thou must not only keep the commandments hut sell that thou hast, and give to ihn poor. It plainly, therefore appears, that what is here commanded, is not in order to some exalted uncom- mon height of perfection, but as a condition of his being a Christian, and securing an inheritance of eternal life. This same thing is farther proved from our Saviour's general remark upon, it ; Hoio hardly shall (hey that have niches enter into the kingdom of God ? By which it appears, that it was the bare enterr ing into the state of Christianity, and not any extraordinary height of perfection, that was the matter in question. ^ This remark, and the other following one, where our Saviour saith, // is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a ricli man to tnter the kingdom of God, undeniably show us thus jnuch, that what is here required of this young man is also required of all rich men in all ages of the church, in order to their being true members of the kin,2;dom of God. For how could this be said of rich men, that they can hardly, and with more difficulty, enter into the kingdom of God, if they were not obliged to th^ «amc that this rich man was obliged to. UPON CmilSTIAN PERFECTION'. 6'3 Tor if they may enjoy their estates, and yet enter into the kingdom of God, the difficulty is vanished, and they may enter with ease, though this young man was put upon much harder terms. If, therefore, we will but use common sense in understanding these words of our Saviour, we must allow that they relate to all rich men ; and that the same renunciation of all self-enjoyment is required of them, that was required of this young man. His disciples plainly understood him in thi^ -Bense^ -by their sayings Who then can be saved ? And it appears by our Saviour's answer, that he did not thiptk they understood him amiss, for he seems to allow their remark upon the difficulty of the thing, and only answers, That with God all things we possible ; implying, that it w^as possible for the grace of God to work this great change in the hearts of men. Those who will still be fancying, for there is nothing but fancy to support it, that this command related only to this young man, ought to observe, •that this young man was very virtuous ; that he "was so eager after eternal life, as to run to our Saviour, and put the question to him upon his knees ", and that for these things our Saviour loved him. Now can it be imagined, that our Saviour would make salvation more difficult to one who was thus disposed than to others ? That he would impose particularly hard terms upon one whose virtues had already gained his love. And such hard terms as for their difficulty might justly be compared to a camel going through the eye of a needle. Would he make him lacking m one thing, which other men might lack in all ages, without ^ny hinderance of their salvation ? Would he send him away sorrowful on the account of sucK ^ A PRACTICAL TREATISE terms, as are no longer terms to the Christian world. As this cannot be supposed, we must allow what our Saviour required of that young man, was not upon any particular account, or to show his authority of demanding what he pleased ; but that he required this of the young man for the sake of the excellency of the duty, because it was a tem- per necessary for Christianity, and always to h& required of all Christians, it being as easy to con- ceive that our Saviour should "allow of less restitu- tion and repentance in some sinners than in others, as that he should make more denial of the world, more affections for heaven, necessary to some than to„ others, I suppose it cannot be denied, that an obedience to this doctrine had shown an excellent temper, that it was one of the most noble virtues of the soul, that it was a right judgment of the vanity of earthly riches, that it was a right judgment of the value of heavenly treasures, that it was a proper instance of true devotion to God. But if this was a temper so absolutely, so excel- lently right, then I desire to know why it has not the same degree of excellency still ? Hath heaven on earth suffered any change since that time ? Is the world become now more worth our notice, or heavenly treasure of less value, than it was in our Saviour'^s time ? Have we had ano- ther Saviour since, that has compounded things with this world, and helped us to an easier way to the next ? Farther, it ought to be observed, that when our Saviour commanded the young man to sell all and give to the poor ; he gives this reason for it, and thou shah have treasure m heaven. This manifestly extends the duty to all rich men, smce the reason that is given for it, either equally obliges all, or obliges none, unless a treaswe in VPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION, ^ heaven can be said to be a valuable consideration to some but not to others. The matter, therefore, evidently comes to this ; either we must say, that our Saviour did not make a reasonable proposal to the young man, that what he required of him, was not sufficiently excelr lent in itself, and advantageous to him ; or we must allow that the same proposal is as reasonable for us to accept of now, as it was in the first ages of the church. We must observe too, that if all the reasons which pressed this duty upon the young man equally recommend it to us ; if we neglect it, we are equally unreasonable with him who went away sorrowful. Let those who are startled at this doctrine, and think it unnecessary now, deal faithfully with their own hearts, and ask themselves, whether they should not have had the same dislike of it had they lived in our Saviour''s days ? or whether they can find any one reason why they should have been so spiritual and heavenly then, which is not as .good and as strong a reason for their being as spiritual and heavenly now. Let them consider whether if an apostle was to rise from the dead, calling all rich men to this doc- trine, they would not drive their coaches from such a preacher rather than be saved at such a price. To proceed : If this selling all, this renunciation of worldly wealth, was not required for the excel- lency of the duty, and its suitableness to the spirit of Christianity, it will be hard to show a reason why such voluntary self-denial, such renunciation of one's own enjoyments, such persecutions of one's self, should be required at a time when Christianity exposed its mcxYibers to such uncommon hatred and persecution from other people. Our Saviour allov.ed lis disciples when they should fall under persecution, to flee from one city 6i A PRACTICAL TREATISE to another ; though they were to be as harmless as doves, yet he commanded them to be as wise a-s serpents. If therefore the enjoyment of riches had been a thing that had suited with his religion, was not a renunciation of all worldly wealth, a temper neces- sary, and never to be dispensed with ; one WQuld suppose, that it would least of ail have been imposed at a time when there were so many other unavoid- able burdens to be undergone. Since therefore this forsaking and renouncing all by our own act and deed. ; since this degree of self- denial and self-persecution was commanded at a time when all the world were enemies to Chris- tians ; since they were not then spared or indulged in any pleasurable enjoyments of their worldly wealth, but were to add this instance of suffering to all the sufferings from their enemies ; we may be sure that it was required because it was a necessary duty-.; because it was a proper behaviour of such as were horn of God^ and made heirs of eternal glory. If this be true, then it must be owned, that it is still the same necessary duty, and is now as well that proper behaviour of those who are the sons of God, as ever it was. For Christianity is just that same spiritual heavenly state that it was then ; the dignity of Christians has suffered no alteration since that time, and a treasure in heaven, an eternal happiness, are still the same great and important things. CHAP. IV. A continuation of the same subject, ANY one that is at all acquainted with Scrip vure, must observe, that the doctrine of the fore- going chapter is npt barely founded on those UPOJi CHRISTIAN PERFECTIOK. ^ particular texts there considered, but that tlie same spirit of renouncing the world, is the mo,>t common and repeated subject of our Saviour\s heavenly in- structions. A certam man said unto /t?m, Lord^ 1 loill fcllozo ■■ thee 7(}hithersoe.ver thou i£oest* And t i,^ •, f.^ T J i I- 4' /- h . -Luke ix» 57, Jesiis said unto h'm, tne jo.ves have ^^ holes, afid the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not lohere to lay his . head. Another also said, Lord, I rvill foUozv thee, hut lei 7ne first go bid them farewell that are at home at my Jiouse. And Jesus said unto him, no man, havinf^ put hi>s hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the king^dom of God. These passages are all of a kind with Avhat our Saviour said to the young man ; they directly teach that same renunciation of the world, as the first and principal temper, the very soul and essence of Christianity. , . ^ This doctrine is pressed and urged upon us by various ways, by every art of teaching, that it might enter into the heart of every reader. The kingdom of God, saith our Saviour, is lihd unto a merchant-man seeking; goodly •»,, ••• . I 7 7 77iy»7 iviat. xni. 4o. pearls, 7imo when he had jound one pearl of great price^ went and sold all that he hady and, bought if. The doctrine of this parable needs no interpreta- tion, it is plain and strong, and presses home the advice that our Saviour gave to the rich young man. When it says, that the kingdom of God is n pearl of great price, I suppo?.e it means, that a great deal, ^s to be given for it ; and when it says, that the merchant went and sold all thnt he had and boudit It,. I suppose this is to teach us, that it cannot be bou2^ht at any less price. The n;iodcrn Jews vrould be upon much easier 70 .A PRACTICAL TREATISE terms than those who lived in our Saviour's tlays^ if we can now tell them thai the kingdom of God is no longer like one pearl of crreat price^ and that they need not sell all that they have and bu.? it^ but may .0:0 on seeking pearls as they used to do, and yet be good members of the kingdom of God. Now if we may not preach such a new Gospel as this to the present Jews^ I do not know how we can preach it to Christians. This parable does not suppose, that the merchant went to trading again, after he had sold a//, and bought this pearl of great price. He was content with that, and did not want any other riches. If the kingdom of God is not riches sufficient for us, but we must add another greatness, and another wealth to it, we fall under the condemna- tion of this parable. To proceed : The peaceful, pleasurable enjoy- ment of riches, is a state of life every where con- demned by our blessed Saviour. Woe unto you that are full, for ve y i , • o e t 77 1 in 1 7 "t Luke VI. 25. shall hunger ; zcoe untoyou that laugh noiv^for ye shall rveep and mourn. If we can think, that for all this, the joys of prosperity, and the gay pleasures of plent3%are the allowed enjoyments of Christians, we must have done wondering at the blindness and hardness of the Jerr^' hearts. Woe unto you that are rich^ for ye have received your consolation ! It is not said, woe unto you that are rich, for ye have enriched yourselves by evil arts and unlawful means, but it is the bare enjoy- ment^ the consolation that is taken in riches, to which this woe is threatened. This same doctrine is pressed upon us by a re- markable parable, so plain and lively, that one would think that every Christian that has heard it, should be afraid of every thing that looked like &elf-indulgence or expense in his own pleasures and pride. UPON e:^JIlISTlJ^N PERrECTi©^^ f\ There xcas a certain rkh f/ian, 7chich was clothed ni purple and fine linen^ and fired s\miptn vain gratifications, as his estate could y)rocure him. The Gospel has made no provision for dignity of birth, or dilTerence in fortune ; but has appointed the same straight m'^^ the common passage for all persons to enter into gloi*y. The distinctions of civil life have thfir u?,o, and arc, in some degree, necessary to sorif ty ; but if any one thinks he may be less devoted to God, less afraid of the corruptions of pleasures, the vanities of pride, because he was born of one family rather fhan another, he is as much mistaken as he that fancies he has a privilege to steal, because he was born of a father that was poor. Why may not poor people give themselves up to discontent, to impatience, and repining? Is it not bf'cause Christianity requires the same virtues in all states of life ? Is it tiot because the rewards of relijriori are sufficient to make us thankful in every condition ? But who sees not that these same reasons equally condemn the gratifications, the sensual indulgences UPON" christiah perfection. ^i of the rich, as the discontents and rcpinings of the poor ? So that a great man taking his swing in worldly pleasures, in the various gratitications which his plenty cm furnish, is as good a Christian, as care- ful of his duty to God, as the poor man who resigns- himself up to discontent, and spends his time and spirits in restless complaints and i-epinings. And if the joys of religion, our hopes in Christ, are sutlicient to make us rejoice in tribulation, and be thankful to God in the hardships of poverty ^ surely the same hopes in Christ must be equally sutlicient to make us forbear the luxury and soft- ness, and all other pleasures of imaginary great- ness. If, therefore, the rich and great man can find out a course of pleasures, that support no wrong turn of mind ; a luxury and indulgence, which do not gra- tify sensuality ; delights, and entertainments, which indulge no vain and weak passions; if they can find out such self-enjoyments of their riches as show that they love God with all their strength, and their neighbours as themselves ; if they can find out such instances of splendor and greatness, as gratify neither the /u.-j/ of the fleshy the lust of the ei/es^ nor the pr'ulc of life : religion has no comnjand against such enjoyments. But if this cannot be done, let it be remembered that the rich have no more jx'rmission to live in sensual pleasures, and vain indulgences, than the poor have to spend their time in anxious complaints and unthanktul rcpinings. Let it also be remembered, that if any distinc- tions of life make men forget, that sin is their only ba'^eness, and hohness their only honour ; if any conditio 1 makes them less dispo-^ed to imitate the low, humble estate of their su^rerinsj Master, or forget that they are to return to God by humilia- tion, repentance, and vself-denial : instead of being 92" A PTIACTIGAL TREATISE! any real advantage, it is their curse, their snare, and destruction. Had there been any other lawful way of employ-, ing our wealth, than in the assistance of the poor, our Saviour would not have confined the young man in the Gospel to that one way of employing all that he had. Was there no sin in pampering ourselves with our riches, our Saviour had not said, JVoe unto yotc that are rich^ for ye have received your consolation ! Had a delight in the splendor and greatness of this life been an innocent delight for people of birth and fortune, he had never said, Blessed are the poor in spirit^ for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Had worldly mirth, and the noisy joys of splen- dor and equipage, been any part of the happiness of Christians, he had never said, Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall h* comforted. Thus does it appear, from almost every part of Scripture, that a renunciation of the world, and all worldly enjoyments, either of pleasure or pride, is the necessary temper of all Christians of every state and condition. 1 know, that to all this it will still be objected, that the different states of life are things indifferent in themselves, ajid are made good or evil by the tempers of the persons that enjoy them. That a man is not necessarily vain and proud, because he lives in great show and fisjure, any more than a-no- ther is necessarily humble and lowly in mind, be- cause he lives in a low estate. It is granted that men may be of a temper con- trary to the state in which they live ; but then this is only true of such as are in .any state by tbrcc, and contrary to their desires and endeavours. A mrin in a low estate may be very vain and proud, because he is In such a state by force, and is restless and uneasv till he can raise himself out of it. If the ^ame can be said of any man that liyes UPOiy CHRISTIAN PERFEGTlOX. ' 9^3 m all the splendor and figure of life, that he is in it by force, and is restless and uneasy till he can lay all aside, and Hve in an humble, lowly state, it may be granted, that such a man, though in the height of figure, may be as humble as another in starving circumstances may be proud. But nothing can be more false than to tor;cludc, i-hat because a man may be in a low estate, without having lowliness of mind, which estate he is in by force ; that, therefore, another may live in all the j-»jight of grandeur, the vanity of figure, which his fortune will allow, without having any height of vanity of mind, though the state of life be accord- ing to his mind, and such as he chooses before ano- ther that has less of figure and show in it. Nothing can be more absurd than such a cort- elusion as this ; it is as if one should say, that because a man may be an epticure in his temper, though he is forced to live upon Ijread and w^ater ; therefore another, who seeks after all sorts of dain- ties, and lives upon delicacies out of choice, may be no epicure. Again, Who does not know that a man may give all his goods to feed the poor, and yet want cha- rity ? But will any one therefore conclude, that another may keep all his goods to himself, and yet have charity ? Ye4. this is as well argued as to say, that because a mnn has nothing to spend he may yet be proud ; therefore, though another may lay out his estate in vain expenses, he may yet have true humility of mind. For as the man in a low estate would be truly what liis estate is, if he liked it, nnd bad no desires that it should be otherwise than it is ; so for the same reason, if those who live in pleasure, in show and vain expenses, live in such a state out of choice ; we must talk nonsense, if we do not say that their * minds are ns vain as the vanity of ih^^ir sta(e. A^aipj Th^se who talk of people's being humble- 94 A 1*RACTIGAL TREATIES- in a state, that has all the appearance of prltle and vanity, do not enough consider the nature of virtue. Humility, and every other virtue, is never in a complete state, so that a man can say, that he has finished his task in such or such a virtue. No virtues have any existence of thi.< kind m human minds ; they are rather continual struggles with contrary vices, than any finished habits of mind. A man is humble, not for what he has already done, but brcause it is his continual disposition ;q oppose and reject every temptation to pride. Cha- rity is a continual struggle with the contrary qua- lities of self-love and envy. And this is the state of every virtue ; it is a pro- gressive temper of mind, and always equally la- bouring to preserve itself. Those therefore who suppose that people may be so finished in the virtue of humility, that they can be truly humble in the enjoyments of splendor and vanity, do not consider that humility is never fin- ished, and that it ceases to exist, when it ceases to oppose and reject every appearance of pride. This is the true state of every virtue, a resisting and opposing all the temptations to the contrary vice. To suppose therefore a man so truly humble^ that he may live in all the appearances of pride and vanity, is as absurd, as to suppose a man so in- wardly sober that he need refuse no strong liquors ; so inwardly charitable, that he need not avoid quarrels ; or so holy, that he need not resist temptations to sin. Lastly, The necessity of renouncing the Avorld hi whatever condition of life we are, besides what ap- pears from particular commands, may be proved from those great degrees of holiness, those divin6 ,^ ^ tempers, which Christianity requires. ^* ' (i^hfislians are to love God will) ull their Iturf^ UPO:^* CHRISTIAN PERFECTIOX. 95 'Aiiltli all their soul^ 7vith all their mind, and with all iheir strength, and their neighbour as themselves. Now it is absolutely impossible in the nature of tbe thing, that "vve should practise cither of these duties in any Christian sense, unless we are so born of God, as to have overcome the rrorld, A man that has his head and his heart taken up with worldly concerns, can no more love God with all his soul, and with all his strength, than a man who will have his eye* upon the ground, can be looking towards heaven with all the strength of his sight. Jf therefore we are to love God with all our heart, and with all our soul, it is absolutely neces- sary that we be first persuaded, that we have no happiness but in him alone ; and that we are capa- ble of no other good, but what arises from our en- joyment of the divine nature. But we may be assured, that we never believe this truth, till we resign or renounce all preten- tions to any other happiness. For to desire the hap- piness of riches, at the same time that we know that all happiness is in God, is as impossible as t® desire the happiness of sickness, when we are assur- ed that no bodily state is happy but that of health. It is therefore certain, in an absolute degree, that we are as much obliged to renounce the world with all our heart, and all our strength, as we are obliged to love God with all our heart, and all our strength. It being as impossible to do one without the other, as to exert all our strength two dilTerent ways at the same time. It is also certain, in the snme absolute degree, that we unavoidably love rvory thing in proportion as it appears to be our happiness ; if it appears t® be half of our happiness, it will necessarily have half the strenjjth of our love ; and if it appears t<> be all of O'lr happiness we shall naturally love it with all our strength. 90 A PRACTICAL TREATISE The Christian religion therefore, which requires ihe whole strength of our nature to aspire after God, lays this just foundation of our performing this duty, by commanding us to renounce the hap- piness of the world, knowing it impossible to have two happinesses, and but one love. And indeed what can be more ridiculous than to fancy that a man, who is labouring after schcmc«5 of felicity, that is taken up in the enjoyments of the world, is loving God with all his soul^ and all his strength ? Is it not as absurd, as to suppose a man that is devoted to the sports of the field is at the same time contemplating mathematical speculations with all the ardour of his mind ? Let any one but deal faithfully with himself, ronsult his own experience, the inward feelings of his mind, and consider whether, whilst his soul is taken up with the enjoyments of this life, he feels that his soul is loving God with all its force and strength ; let any man say that he feels this strong tendency of his soul towards God, whilst it tends towards earthly goods, and I may venture to depart from all that 1 have said. Nothing, therefore, can be more plain than this^ that if we are to fill our soul with a new love, we must empty it of all other affections, and this by as great a necessity as any in naturr% The love of 6od, as f have said of every other virtue, is nevtjr in any complete sf ate, but is to pre- serve and improve itself by a continual oppositioa and resistance of other affections. It is as necessary therefore continually to re- nounce the world, and all its objects of our affec- tions, in order to form the love of God in our hearts, as it is necessary to renounce nnd rf sist all motives of self-love and envy, to bec^et the hnbit of charily. And a man may as well pretend that little en- vies are consistent with true chariiy» as that littlo urOii CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. J* i4csires after llic vanities of the world arc consis- tent with an entire love of God with all our hearts. It may bo said, that though this appears true in the reason of the thing, as considered in specula- tion ; yet that this is a love for angels, and not suited to the state of man. J answer, it is what God has required, and the same objection may be made against all other Christian virtues, for they are all required in a per- fect degree. Sccondlj^, If it is a degree of affection hardly attainable, this makes for the doctrine which I have delivered, and shows the absolute necessity of having no more enjoyments in the world than such as necessity requires. For if it is so hard to raise the soul to this degree of love, surely it must be stupid to add to the diffi- culty by foolish and contrary aficctions. Thirdly, If this is the proper love of angels, this proves that it is as proper for us, who are taught by God to pray, that his will may be done on earth as it is in heaven. At least, if this is the love of angels, it shows us, that we are to imitate it as far as our nature will allow, and to stop at no degrees short of it, but such as we cannot possibly reach. But can he be said lo be doing his utmost to love like an angel, that is building schemes of fojicity on earth, and seeking satisfaction in its imaginary enjoyments ? As sure therefore as this is the love of angels, as sure as we arc called to an angelical state of life with God : so surely are we obliged to lay aside every hinderance, to part with every enjoynrnt that may stop or retard the soul in its rise and af- fection towards God. )Ve differ from angels, as we are in a state of probation, and loaded with flesh ; and though till the trial be over, wc must bear with iaiirniiiies and 9 98 A PRACTICAL TREATISE necessities, to which they arc not subject ; yet we must no more choose follies, or find out false de- lights for ourselves, than if we were, like them, free from all infirmities. The love of enemies is said to be a love that becomes the perfection of God ; but yet we see that we are so far from being excused from this manner of love, because it is divine, and suits the nature of God, that v/e are, for that reason expressly called to it, that we may be children of our Father zvhich is in heaven. If therefore we arc called to that spirit of love, which becomes the perfection of God, surely the manner of angelic love is not too high for us to aspire after. All therefore that we are to learn from this mat- ter is this, that a renunciation of the world is neces- sary, that this holy love cannot be attained, unless we only use the world so far as our needs and infir- mities require, and think of no happiness but what is prepared foi- us at the right hand of God. Fourthly, This entire love of God is as possible as the attainment of several other duties, which still are the rules of our behaviour, and such as we are obliged to aspire after in the utmost perfection. The sincere love of our enemies is, perhaps, of all other tempers the hardest to be acquired, and the motions of envy and spight the most ditlTult to be entirely laid aside ; yet, without this temper, we are unfjunlificd to say the Lord's Prayer. TVe see examples of this love of God in the lirst followers of our Saviour ; and though we cannot work mira- cles as they did, yet we may arrive at their per- sonal holiness, if we would but be so humble as to imitate theii* examples. Our Saviour told them the infallible way of arriving at piety, which wns by renoimcing the world, and taking up the cross, and follow ing him, .that they might have treasure in heaven. This was UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. Q9 the only wa}^ then, and it would still be as success- ful now, had we but the faith and humility to put it in practice. But we are now^, it seems, become so ii^isc and prudent^ we see so much farther info the nature of virtue and vice, than the simplicity of the first Christians, that we can take all the enjoyments of the world along with us in our road to heaven. They took Christ at his word, and parted with all ; but we take upon us to reason about the inno- eency of wealth and stately enjoyments, and to possess every thing, but the spirit of our religion. It is sometimes said in defence of the dulness of our affections towards God, that affections are tem- pers which we cannot command, and depend much upon constitution ; so that persons, who are pos- sessed of a true fear of God, may yet by reason of their constitution feel less vehemency of love, than others who are less piously disposed. This is partly true, and partly false. It is true, that our affections are very much in- fluenced by our constitutions ; but then it is f i!se, that this is any defence of our want of affection towards God. Two persons, that equally feel the want of some- thing to (jucnch their thirst, may show a different passion after water, by a difference in their constitu- tions ; but still, thirst after- water is the ruling desire in both of them. Two epicures^ by a difference in their constita- tion, may differ in the manner of their eagerness after dainties ; but still it is the love of daintic.^ that is the governing love in both of them. It is the s imc thing in th? case before us, two persons may equally look upon God as their sok^ happiness ; by reason of their different tempers, one may be capable of greater fervours of desire after him than the other, but still, it is the ruling de- sire of the other. 100 A PRACTICAL TREATISE Therefore though good men may content them- selves, though they have not such flames of dcsh-e, as tliey may see or hear of in other people ; yet there is no foundation for this content, unless they know that they seek and desire no other hrppiness than God, and that their love, though not so fervent as some others'*, is still the ruling and governing affection of their soul. Notwithstanding the difference in constitution^ we see all people rj-e affected v»'ith v.hat they reckon their happiness : if therefore people are not full of a desire of God, it is because they are fall of, or at least engaged with, another happiness ; it is not any slow- ness of spirits, but a variety of enjoyments, that have taken hold of their hearts, and rendered them insensible of that happiness that is to be found in God. A'Vhen any man has followed the counsels of our l>lessed Saviour, when he has renounced the world, rejected all the flattering appearances of worldly happiness, emptied himself of all idle affections, and practised all the means of fixing his heart upon God alone, he may be pardoned if he still Avants such warmth of affection as so great a good might justly raise. But till all this be done, we as vainly appeal to our constitutions, tempers, and infirmities of our state, as the unprofitable servant appealed to the hardness of his niaster, and therefore hid his talent in the earth. And as it is there said. Out of thine own mcuth v/iU I jndffc thec^ thou iriclcd servant : thnu kneircst that 1 7oas an austere man. See, Wherefore then gavest not thou my money into the hank ? &c. So we may jtlstly fear that we shall be judged out of our own mouths; for, if we know the loving God with all our heart and soul, to be so difl^cult to the temper and infirmities of our nnture, why therefore do we not remove every hinderance, re- UPON CIIRISTIAX PEHFF.CTION. tOt nouncc every vain affection, and with double dili- gence practise all the means of forming this divine temper ? For this we may be assured of, that the seeking happiness in the enjoyments of wealth, is as contrary to the entire love of God, as wrapping up the talent in a napkin is contrary to improv- ing it. He that has renounced the world, as having nothing in it that can render him happy, will find liis heart at liberty to aspire to God in ihe highest degrees of love and desire; he will then know wdiat the Psalmist means by those expressions, My heart is athirst for God ; zchen shall I appear before the pre- sence of God ? And till we do thus renounce the world, we are strangers to the temper and spirit of piety ; we do but act the part of religion, and are no more affected with those devotions which are put into our mouths, than an aclor upon the stage is really angry him- self, when he speaks an angry speech. Religion is only what it should be, when its hap- piness has entered into our soul, and filled our hearts with its proper tempers, when it is the settled object of our minds, and governs and affects us, as worldly ?ncn are affected with that happiness which governs their actions. The ambitious man naturally rejoices at every thing that leads to his greatness, and as naturally grieves at such accidents as oppose it. Good Chrislians, that are so wise as to aim only Tiione, happiness, will as naturally be affected in this mannrr, with that which promotes or hinders their endeavours after it. For happii^pss, in whatever it is placed, equally governs tlie heart of him that aspires after it. It is therefore as necessary to renounce all the satisfaction of riches and fortune, and place our sole happiness in God, as it is necessary to love hkni 9* . 10- A PRACTICAL TREATISE with all our heart, and all our soul, with all our mind, and all our strength. Another duly, which also proves the necessity of this doctrine, is the love of our neighbour : Tfiou shall love thy neighbour as thyself* Now he that thinks he can perform this duty, without taking our Saviour^s advice of forsaking all. and following him, is as much mistaken, as if hf imagines that he loves his neighbour as himself, though he heaps up treasures for his own self-en- joyments and self-gratifications. If a man would know what this love of his neigh- bour implies, let him look impartiall}^ into his own heart, and sec what it is that he wishes to himself, and then turn all those same wishes to his neigh- bour, and this will make him feel the just measure of his duty, better than any other description. This will also teach him, that this true love of his neighbour is as inconsistent with the love of the world, as duelling is inconsistent with meckrrcss and forgiveness of injuries. This love is a temper of mind that suits only such beings, as have one common undhlded happiness^ where they cannot be rivals to one another : now this is the state of Christians, who have as truly one common happiness, as they have one common God ; hut if we put ourselves out of this state, and project for ourselves other felicities in the uncertain enjoy- ments of this life, we make ourselves as incapable of this neighbourly love, as wolves and bears jLhat live upon prey. Now one common undivided happiness being the «nly possible foundation for the practice of this great benevolence, it is demonstrable, that if we seek any other happiness t'lan this, if we do not renounce all other pretensions, we cannot keep *?lear of such temper;;, as will show that we do not T©ve our neighbour as ourselves. cpo:; criRisTiAX rnnrECTioy. lO.") This love, as has been said of the entire love of (io:l, is suited to the state of angels, it being not to be imagined that they hav^ more benevolence than this for one another ; they can readily perform their duty, because they never vary from their one tnie happiness ; and as this makes it easy to them, so nothing dan make it possible for us, but by imitating them, in placing our only happiness in the enjoy- ment of our true good. ]f our happiness depends upon men, our tempers will necessarily depend upon men, and we shall love and hate people in proportion as they help or hinder us in such happiness. This is absolutely necessary, and we can nevci* act otherwise, till we are governed by a happiness where no men can make themselves our rivals, nor prevent our attainment of it. When we are in this state, it will be no harder to love oiu' neighl^our as ourselves, than it is to wish them the enjoyment of the same light, or the same common air ; for these, being goods which may be enjoyed equally by all, are not the occasion of envy. But whilst we continue eager competitors for the imaginary enjoyments of this life, we lay a neces- sary foundation for such passions, as are all directly contrary to the fruits of love. I take it for granted, that when our Saviour de- livered this doctrine of love, he intended it should be a governing principle of our lives, it concerns us therefore, as we have any regard to our salvation, to look carefully to ourselves, and to put ourselves in such a state, as we may be capable of perform- ing it. Now in this state we cannot be, till we are con- tent to make no more of th's world, than a supply of our necessities, and to wait for rnz onhj happiness in the enjoyment of God. I do not appeal to niggards and worldlinp"^ 104 A PRACTICAL TREATISE the proud and ambitious, let those who think them- selves moderate in their worldly desires and enjoy- ments, let such deal faithfully with their own hearts, and see whether their prosecution of world- ly affairs permits them to love all Christians as themselves. Their moderation may perhaps keep them from the bitter cnvyings and hatred to which ambitious worldlings are subject ; but still they have as cer- tainly, in their degree, and in proportion to their love of the world, their cnvyings and hatreds, and want of sincere love as other men. If any one's heart can bear him witness, that m thought, word, and deed, he treats all men with that love which he bears to himself, it must be one whose heart fervently cries aut, with the apostle, God for- bid that I should glory, save in the cross of Jesus Christy by ruhich the iiyorld is crucified unto me^ and I unto the 70 or Id, Any other glory than this, any other use of the world than being thus crucified to it, is inconsistent with this degree of brotherly love. For a farther proof of this truth, we nc^d only look into the world, and see the spirit that appears amongst almost all Christians. We need not go to wicked and loose people, let us go into any virtuous family what'-ver, wc shall find that it has itsparticular/r/enJs/iTJ^and hatreds^ its eyivifinss and evil speakmc^s^ and all founded in the interests and regards of the world. Now all this necessarily proceeds from hence : that all Christians are busy in attending to their worldly interests, intending onlv to keep clear of dishonest and scandalous pr:ictices, that is, they use the world as far os honest He.aiher.s^-ov Jt-i-s would do, and so consequently have such tempers as Jervs and ILa'hens have. For it is not only cheating and unlawful practi- ces, but the bare desire of worldly things, and the UPON CHRISTIAN TERFECTIOX. lOj placing happiness in tlicm, that hiys the fonnclation of ail these unchristian tempers, that begets particu- lar friendships and enmities, and divides Christians into more parties than there are families amongst them. Were there no dishonest persons amongst us, yet if Christians give themselves up to the happiness and enjoyments of this world, there would still be almost the same want of the loving our neighbour as ourselves. So that it is purely the eng-^ging so far in the world as sober Christians do, it is their false satis- faction in so many things that they ought to re- nounce, it is their being too much alive to the world, that makes all, even the devout and reli- gious, subject to tempers so contrary to the love of their neighbour. How comes it, that most people find it so easy to love, forgive, and pray for all men at the hour of their death ? Is it not because the reason of enmity, envy, and dislike, then ceases? All worldly interests being then at an end, all worldly tempers die away with them. Let this therefore teach us, that it is absolutely necessary to die to the world, if we would live and love like Christians. I have now done with this subject of renoicncing the n'orldi ^"^^^ ^^^ icorJdJy tempers* I hope I have been so plain and clear upon it, as is suiTicient to convince any serious reader, that it is a doctrine of Jesus Christ, that it is the very foundation of his re- ligion, and so nccrssarv, that wifhout it we can exorcise no Christian temper in the manner tliat we ought. Some people have imagined that they only re- nounce the world, as it ought to be renounced, who reti)-e to a clnisfer^ or a monasi try : but this is as un- reasonable, as to make it necessary to lay aside all use of clothes to avoid the vanity of dress. 106 A PRACTICAL TREATISE As there is a sober and reasonable use of particu- lar things, so there is a sober, reasonable use of the world, to which it is lawful to conform as it is law- ful to eat and drink. They renounce the world as they ought, who live in the midst of it without worldly tempers, who comply with their share in the olhces of hu- man life, without complying with the spirit that rcigncth in the world. As it is right to ^o (hus far, so it is wrong as soon as we take one step farther. There is nothing right in eating and drinking, but a strict and religious temperance. It is the same thing in other compliances * with the state of this life ; we may dress, we may buy and sell, we may labour, we may provide for ourselves and fam- ilies ; but as these things are only lawful for the same reasons that it is lawful to eat and drink, so are they to be governed by the sam.e religious strictness, that is to govern our eating and drinking; all variaticns ii'ora this rule is like glutton}'- and intemperance, and fills our souls with such tem- pers, as are all contrary to the spirit of Christ and his religion. The first step that our desires take beyond things of necessity, ranks us among worldlings, and raises in our minds all those tempers which disturb the- minds of worldly men. You think yourself very reasonable and confor- mable to Christianity, because you are moderate in your desires ; you do not desire an immense estate, you desire only a little finery in dress, a little state in equipage, and only to have things genteel about you. I answer, if this be your case, you are happy in this, that you have but little desires to conquer, but if these desires have as fast hold of you as greater desires have of other people, you are in the same stale of worldly-mindednes'^ that they are, and arc no more dead to the world than they that are: VPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTiO^. 107 fondest of it. A fondness for three or four hundred pounds a year is the same slavery to the world, as a fondness for three or tour thousand ; and he that craves the happiness of little fineries, has no more renounced the world than he that wants the splen- dor of a large fortune. You hate the extravagance of dress, but if you cannot depart from your own little finery, you have • as much lo alter in ^^our heart as they that like none but the finest of ornaments. Consider therefore, that what you call moderate desires, are as ori'eatcontrarietic s to religion as those which you reckon immoderate, because tliey hold the heart in the same state of false satisfactions, raise the same vain tempers, and do not suffer the soul to rest wdiolly upon God. When the spirit of religion is your spirit, when heavenly-mindedness is your temper, when your heart is set upon God. you will have no more taste for the vanity of one sort of life than another. Farther, imagine to yourself, that if this pretence in favour of moderate desires, and little fineries, had been made to our bl'^ssed Saviour wlien he was upon earth, ])reaching his doctrines of renouncing the world, and denying ourselves. I dare say your own conscience tells you, that he woj-ld have rebuked the author of such a pretence with as much indignation as he rebiikcd Pder^ Get thee hrkind mc, Sa^an^ for thou scrjourest not of t!ie ihin'xs that be of God, Now the spirit of Christianity is the .-^ame spirit, that was in Christ, when he was upon the earth ; and if we have reason to think such a pretence would have been severely condenmed by Christ, we have the same reason to be sure, that it is a* severely cond'^mned by Christianity. IT'vl our bl s^ed Saviour, a little before he left the \yoM, gi'vea estates to his apostles, with a pcrmis- 103 A PRACTICAL TREATISE sion for them to enjoy little fineries, and a mode- rate state in genteel show and equipage, he had undone all that he had said of the contempt of the world, and heavenly-mindedness, such a pcrmis- 8ion had been a contradiction to themost repeated and common doctrines that he had taught. 3 lad his apostles lived in such a state, how could they have gloried only in the cross of Christ, hy which the world was crucified unto them, and they unto the v/orld ? How could they have said, Lore vol the zvorld^nor the things in the zcorld^for all that is in the roorld^ the lust of the fleshy the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father <, hut is of the world ? Had they lived in a little estate, in a moderate show of figure, equipage, and worldly delights, how could they have said, that she that Irctth in pleasure is dead Tvhile she liveth 2 How could they have said, that they zcho rinll he rich., fall into a temptation and a snare., and into many foolish and hurtful lusts.^ zuhich drozvn men in destruc- ^iion ? For it is not the desire of great riches, hut i» is the desire of I'iches, and a satisfaction in ihe plca- awYd of them, that is the snare and the tem])tation ; and that fills men's minds with foolish and lun-tful lusts, that keeps them in the same state of worldly folly, as they are whose desires are greater. Lnstly, Had the aj^ostles lived in that manner, how could they have said, that ichatsctvcr is Lorn of God.ovcrcomcth the ivorld ? For certainly he v, ho is hnppy in the pleasure and figure of a small estate, has no more overcome the world than he that is happy in the splendor of one that is greater. Thus therefore matters stand with relation to our blessed Saviour and his apostles : the doctrines they taught made it impossible for them to lake any UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 105 p'^rt, or seek any pleasure, in the show, and figure, and riches of this world. One would think that this one reflection was alone sufficient to show us what contempt of the world, what heavenly affection, we are to aspire after. For how blind and weak must we be, if we can think that we may live in a spirit and temper which could not possibly be the spirit and temper of Christ and his apostles ? Another pretence for worldly care, and labour after riches, is to provide for our families. You want to leave fortunes to your children, that ihey may have their share in the Jigure and show of the world. Now consider, do ymi do this upon the principles of religion, as the wisest and best thing you can do, either for yourself or your chil- dren ? Can you be said to have chosen the one thing need* fid for yourself, or the one thing needful for them, who make it your chief care to put them in a state of life, that is a snare^ and a temptation^ and the most likely of all others, to fill their minds v*ith foolish and hurtful lusts ? Is it your kindness towards them, that puts you upon this labour ? Consider therefore what this kindness is founded upon, perhaps it is such a kind- ness, as when tender mothers carry their daughters to all plays and balls ; such a kindness, as when in- dulgent fathers support their sons in all the expense of their follies, such kind parents may more pro- perly be called the tempters and bctraijcrs of their children. You love your children, and therefore you would leave them rich. It is said of our blessed Saviour, 'that he loved the young rich man that came unto him, and, as an instance of his love, he ])id him sell all that he had. and give to the poor. What a con- trariety is here? The love which dwelleth in you^ is as contrary to that love which dwelt in Christ, as darkness is contrary to light. 10 iiO A PRACTICAL TREATISE We have our Saviour's express command to love one another as he hath loved us ; and can you think that you are following this love, when you are giving those things to your children, which he took away from his friends, and which he could not pos- sibly have given them, without-contradicting the greatest part of his doctrines ? But supposing that you succeed in your inten- tions, and leave your children rich. What must you say to them when you are dying ? Will you then tell them, that you have the same opinion of the great- ness and value of riches that you ever had ; that you feel the pleasure of remembering how much thought and care you have taken to get them ? Will you tell them, that you have provided for their ease and softness, their pleasure and indulgence, and figure in the world ; and that they cannot do better than to eat and drink, and take their fill of such enjoy- ments as riches afford ? This would be dying like an atheht* But, on the other hand, if you will die like a good Christian, must you not endeavour to fill their minds with your dying thoughts ? Must you not tell them, that they will soon be in a state, when the world will signify no more to them than it does to you ; and that there is a deceitfnlness, a vanity, a littleness, in the things of this life, Avhich only dying men feel as they ought ? Will you not tell them, that all your own failings, irregularity of your life, your defects in devotion, the folly of your tempers, the strength of your pas- sions, and your failure in christian perfection, has been all owing to wrong opinions of the value of worldly things ; and that if you had always seen the world iw the same light in which you see it now, your life had been devoted to God, and you would have lived in all (hosLc holy tempers and heavenly affections, in which you now desire to die ? Will you not tell them, that it is the enjoyment UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. Ill of the world that corrupts the hearts and })linds the minds of all people, and that the only way to know what good there is in devotion^ what excel- lence there is in piety, what wisdom in holiness^ what happiness in heavenly affection, what vanity in this life.) and what greatness in eternili/, is to die to the world and all worldly tempers ? Will you not tell them, that riches spent upon ourselves, cither in the pleasures of ease and indul- gence., in the vanity of dress, or the show of state and equipage, are the bane and destruction of our souk, making us blindly content with dreams of happiness, till death awakes us into real misery ? From this therefore it appears, that your kind- ness for your children, is so far from being a good reason why you should so carefully labour to leave them rich, and in the enjoyment of the state and shozv of the world, that if you die in a spirit of pietj^ if you love them as Christ loved his disciples, your kindness will oblige you to exhort them to renounce all self-enjoyment of riches, as contrary to those holy tempers, and that heavenly affection, whicJi you now find to be the only good and happiness ot human nature. CHAP. VI. Christianity calleth all Men to a Stale of Self-dcniid and Mortification* CHRISTIANITY is a doctrine of the cross, that leaches the restoration of mankind to the favour of God, by the death and sacrificv' of Jcbus Christ. This being the foundation of the Christian reli- gion, it shows us, that all persons, who will act con- formably to the nature and reason of Christianity, must make themselves sufferers for sin. For i-f there is a reasonableness between sin anci 112 A PRACTICAL TREATISE suffering, every Christian acts against the reason of things that does not endeavour to pay some part o£ that debt which is due to sin. Indeed it would be strange to suppose, that man- kind were redeemed by the sufferings of their Sa- viour, to live in ease and softness themselves ; that suffering should be the necessary atonement for sin^ and yet that sinn&rs should be excused from suf' ferings* Such an high-priesf hecame us^ says the apostle, rvko- is hely^ harmhs^^ unchy^d, separate from sinncn^. Kow if the holiness of Chrij^t rendered his sacrifice acceptable to God, does not this teach us that we must labour to be holy, in order to be accepted of God? But is there not the same reason, and the same example in the sufferings Of Christ ? If they made God more propitious to sin, must we not as wxll take this w^ay of suffering, to make ourselves fitter objects of divine pardon ? There is therefore the same reason, in the nature of the thing, for us sinners to endeavour to conform ourselves to the sufferings, as to labour after the holiness of Christ, since they both jointly conspired to recommend the great atonement for sin, and must jointly conspire to render us proper objects of the benefits of it. Nor is the sinless state of Christ a better reason for us to avoid and flee from sin, than his suffering state is a reason for renouncing all softness and in- dulgence in pleasures. Had Christ wanted eitlier holiness or sufferings, his sacrifice had been wanting in an essential part. If therefore we think to be accepted of God by holi- ness, without suffering, we seem to contradict the nature of our religion as much^a* if we thought ta be accepted through sutlerings without holiness. It may perhnps be said, in the w^ords of our IJturgy, Thai Christ, havivg hy his 021^71 oblation q^' UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTIGN. 11^ lihnself once offered, made a full, perfect, and suffi- cient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the ivhole icorld. Christians have no occasion to make any sufferings for sin. To this it may be answered, That the sacrifice of Christ is full and sufficient ; first, as it takes away the necessity of all the legal sacrifices : secondly, as it has no need to be repeat- ed again : and thirdly, as it fully reconciles God to accept of us upon the terms of the new covenant. Now there is no occasion to suffer for sin, in order to make the sacrifice of Christ more coinplete, or to add a further value to the atonement for sin ; but then it is to be considered, that if self-suffering for sin be a good and reasonable duty in itself, ana" proper for a sinner, that the fulness of Christ's sacrifice has no more taken away the necessity of it, than it has taken away the necessity of humility, or any other virtue. Christ is as well said to be our sanctification, our holiness and i-ighteonsness, as our atonement for sin ; yet "we should much mistake the Scripture, if w^e shou^ think, that because he is our holiness, there- fore we need not endeavour to be holy ourselves. Yet this is as good a conclusion, as to imagine, that we need not suflcr for our sins ourselves, be- cause Christ's sufferings are a full atonement for sin. For they are no other.vise a sufficient atonement for sin, than as Christ is our sufticinit holiness ; so that we may as well trust to his holiness, without labour- ing to be holy ourselves, as trust to his sufferings, withoirt making ourselves also sufferers for sin. Let it now therefore be observed, that were there no partic\ilar precepts or doctrines, that expressly called us to a state of self-denial and self-suffering, the vrrv nature of relicrion is an undeniable argu- ment, that the w^ay of suffering is the ri^'ht and cer- tain way for sinners to find God more propitious to their sin. 10* 114 A PRACTICAL Tft£ATl?£ He that can doubt of this, must suppose, that God required a way of atonement in Jesus Christ, that had nothing of atonement in it ; for if it had, if must be undeniable, that all, who, as far as their natures will allow, conform themselves to the simi- litude of Christ's sacriiiee, must make themselves more acceptable to God. That Christ's sufferings have not made all other sufferings for sin needless, is plain from hence ; that all ChristiaPJ5 are still left subject to death ; for surely it may with truth be affirmed, that death is a suffering for sin. Now since ail Christians are to offer up their bodies at death, as a sacrifice or suffering for sin, this plainly teaches us, that a state of self-denial and suffering is the proper state of this life : for surely it must be proper to make every part of our life suitable to such an tnd». Does God unmake us, and dash our very form into pieces, and can. we think that a life of pleasure and self-indulgence can become us under such a sentence ? What plainer proof can we have, that we are de-- voted sufferers for sin, than that we are devoted to death ? For death hath no place in a state of allowed pleasure and enjoyment. When the suffering for sin is over, there will be no more death ; but so long as death lasts, so long are all beings that are subject to death, in a state that requires humiliation and' suffering ; and they rebel against God, if they do not make their lives conformable to that mark of divine displeasure, which death signifies. Thus as the mortality of our condition is a certain proof that our life is in disorder^ and unacctptahle to God, so is it also a proof, that we ought to refuse pleasures and satisfactions, which are the pleasures of a state of disorder, and stay for joy and delights lill we are removed to such a state of perfection, as God will delight to continue to all eternity. t'PON CHRISTIAN i^ERFECTIO.V. 115 The aposllc tells us, that Jlesh and blood cannot enter into the kingdom of God ; must we not thercforo be very unreasonable, if we can cast about for mirth in such a condition, or give up ourselves to the vain pleasures and indulgences of a flesh and blood, which are too corrupt, too unholy to enter into the kingdom of God ? This iiiay suifice to show us the excellency and reasonableness of our Saviour's doctrine. He sdid unto tliem ally if any man will come after 7?ie, let him deny himself take up his cross daily, and folloiD me» For lohosoever zuill save his life shall lose it, and ichosoever will lose his life for my sake^ the same shall save if» Here is a common condition proposed to all that would be Christ's disciples, they are called to deny themselves, and take up their cross daily. To show us that this belongs to all Christians, the apostle saith, He said unto them all ; SuMark hath it thus, And ivhen he had called the people unto him, zoith his- disciples also, he said unlo them. The church of Rome refuses to give the cup in the holy sacrament to the laity. We reckon it a very good argumpnt against that custom, that our Saviour, when he delivered the cup, said unto theni, Drink ye all of this » Now if it be an argument that all Christians are to receive the cup, because in the institution of the sacrament it is said. Drink ye all of this^ is it not as good an argument that all Christians are here called to deny themselves, and take up their cross daily, because it is delivered in the s-une manner, He said unto them all ; and again, When he ca'ted the pe TO know as little of true religion, as if he doubted whether they were calkd to a daily repentance ; for when we may live in a state contrary to repen- tance, then, and then only, may we live in a state contrary to self-deniaL Let a Christian ever cease from self-denial, let hin. ever forbear the mortification of his appetites, and at that time he ceases to consider himself as a sinner, and behaves himself as though he were then free from the guilt and danger of sin. But as he never is in this state of freedom, so if he acts as if he were ^o, he acts as falsely as if he took himself to be an angel. There is, therefore, as much reason, that the daily cross^ or self-denial^ should be imposed upon Chris- tians as a daily prayer or repentance, and there is the same impiety, the same false judgment in refu- sing a daily self-denial, as in refusing or ceasing from a daily devotion and sorrow for sin. For a man may as well imagine that he prays, or gives thanks to God, when he only repeals the words of a jirayer or thanksgiving, as that he re- pents for his sins, unless his repentance be a real punishment, a true state of mortification. We'may now observe, that this docti-ine of self- suffering is founded upon the most important fun- damental articles of our religion. If we consider our redemption as an atonement made by suffering, does not this show us the neces" sity of seeking pardon by a fellowship in the suf- ferings of Christ ? Need we any other argument, that there is no state so suitable to a sinner as that of suliering^ when God has appointed suflbrings as the atone- ment for sin ? If we consider that we are devoted to death, ond under a necessity of falling into dust, as a sacrifice for sin, docs not this leach us the necessity of tVoK CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. lt\ leaking our life conformable I ihe intention of such a death ? For could there be any necessity that we sliould die as a saCriiice for sin, if we might lead a life of a contrary nature ? Or could we act more contrary to God, than by making that life a state of pleasure and indulgence, which he has laid under the curse of death ? Ought we to indulge a hfe, which God considers as too unholy to continue in being ? Lastly, If we consider that repentance is the chief, the most constant and perpetual duty of a Christian, that our holiness has hardly any other existence than what arises from a perpetual repen- tance, can it be doubted that mortiiication and self* denial are essential, perpetual parts of our duty ? For to suppose a repentance without the pain of ■mortification, and the punishment of self-denial, is as absurd as to suppose a labour after holiness, which takes not one step towards it. For if repentnnce be not an exercise of mortifi- -cation and self-denial, it is no more a state of repen- tance, than the lifting up o\u" hands without our hearts is a state of prayer and de\x)tion. Repentance is a fcarty sorrow for sin ; sorrow is a pain or punishment, which we are obliged to raise to as high a degree as we can, that we may -be fitter objects of God's pardon. So that self-denial and mortification is only ano- ther word for a real repentance. If Christians will still so far t'orget the nature and design of their religion, as to imagine that our Saviour's call to a daily cross and self-denial, was only a call to his first disciples to expect sufierings and death from their enemies ; they are governed by as little reason, as if they should think, Pepcnf ye. for the kinprdnni nf heaven is af hancl, only obliged -tliose to repentance, who first entered into the king- dom of God. 11 }2^ A PRAGTICAL TREATISE For there is notliii^^- in the nature of repcntaneip tliat shows it to be a more constant duty, or more essential to the Christian life, than there is in this mortilication and self-suffering. It is also very absurd to suppose, that a com- mand to deny themselves, and take up their own cross daily, should mean only the enduring and expecting of sufferings from others. Let us now suppose the contrary, that Christians are not called to this state of mortification, or de- nial of their appetites. Let us suppose that Chris- tian churches are full of fine g^y people, who spend their days in all the pleasures and indulgences which the spirit of the world can invent. Can it in any sense be said of such, that they live in a state of repentance and sorrow for sin ? May they not, with as much regard to truth, be said to live in sackcloth and ashes ? Can their hearts feel any sorrow, or be mourning for the weight and luisery of sin, who live only to the studied enjoy- ments of ease and pleasure ? Can they be said to grieve at guilt, or be afraid of sin, who pamper all their appetites, and seek all the enjoyments that lead to temptation ? Can they, who live in the gratifications of the flesh, and scenes of pleasure, be said to be working out their salvation zcith fear and IrcmhUn^ ? May they not as justly be said to be walking bare-foot to Jerusalem ? If therefore w^e will not destroy the whole state of religion, if we will but own it to be a stale of irial and probation^ we must also allow, that self- denial and abstinence from pleasures are daily essential duties of it. For a life of sorrow for sin, and mourning for the guilt of it, and a life of pleasure and indtilirence, arc inconsistent states, and as necessarily destroy one another, as motion puts an end (o rest. Repentance will have no place in lieaven because that will be a state of perfection ; and for the satne UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 12.^ reason it ought never to be laid aside on earth, be- cause there is no time when we are not under the- guih, and subject to the danger of sin. This does not suppose, that we are always to be uttering /orm5 of confeesion from our mouths ; but it supposes, that we are always to live with so much watchfulness as becomes penitent sinners, and never do any thing, but what highly suits with a state of repentance. So that whenever we can abate oiu- self-denials, without abating our sorrow for sin, when we can find pleasures that neither soften the mind, nor make it less fearful of temptation ; then, and so far only, may we seek our ease. For repentance, whilst it is only a lip-work at stated times, is nothing ; it has not had its effect, till it has entered into the state and habit of our lives, and rendered us as fearful of sin in every part of our lives, as when we are making our confessions. Now this state of penitence, which alone is suited to a state of corruption and infirmity, can no more exist without constant daily self-denial, than we can daily govern our appetites, without daily looking after them. To proceed : Our Saviour saith. Blessed are they that mourn^for they shall he comforted. Now this is another direct call to self-denial, and abstinence from pleasures, as must appear to every one that knows mourning to be different from plea- sure and indulgence. The blessedness that is here ascribed to mourn- ing, must be understood in relation to mourning, as it is a state of life, and not as to any transient acts, or particular times of mourning. For no actions are valuable or rewardable, but as they arise from a state or temper of mind that is constant and habitual. If it had been said. Blessed are the charitable, it must have meant, Blessed are they who live in a 1^4 A PRACTICAL TREATISE state and habit of charity. For the same reason, are we to understand the blessedness, which is due ta mourning, to be only due to a state and life of mournins:. Secondly, Blessed are they that mourn^ shows us, that this mourning concerns all men as such, with-* out any distinction of time or persons ; so that its (Excellency and fitness must be founded upon some* thing that is common and constant to all times and ■r\\\ y)crsons. For if there was any time when we might change this state of mourning, or were there \mj persons that might }3C excused from it, it could not be said in general, Blessed are they that mourn. If therefore this mourning be a reasonable and excellent temper, that equally leads all orders of men to blessedness, its reasonableness must be founded in the common state and condition of man j- that is, if mourning be good for all men, it must be because the state and condition of all men, as such, requires mourning. But if this mourning be founded in the present state of man, as suitable to his condition in this life, it must be always the same excellent and proper temper, till death changes his state, nnd puts him in a condition that requires another temper. Now what can this state of mourning be. but a godly sorrow founded upon a true sense and feeling of the misery of our state, as it is a state of fallen spirits^ living in sin and vanity, and separation from God ? What can it be, but a ceasing to enjoy, and rejoice in, the false goods and eniovments of this life, be- cause they delude and corrupt our hearts, increase our blindness, and ^ink us deeper in our distance from Cod ? Whnt mournino: can be blo.^sed, but such as mourns at that which disnleosrs God, which con« demns nnd rejects whnt the wisdom of God rejects, which loosens us from the vanity of the world, les- UPON CHRISTIAN PfiRP^CTlOl??. 125 s-cns the weight of our corruption, and quickens our motions and aspirings towards perfection ? This is not a mourninsr that shows itself in occa- sional Jits or" sorrow, or dejection of mind ; but it is a reguUir temper, or rather a right judgment, which refuses pleasures, that are not only the pleasures of a corrupted state, but such as also increase and strengthen our corruption. One constant property of a true mourning, i« abstinence from pleasures ; and we generally reck- on a sorrow very near its end, when diversions and amusements begin to be relished. This mourning therefore to which this blessedness IS ascribed, must be a constant abstinence from vain joys ; it must preserve itself by rejecting and disrelishing all those worldly delip;hts and satisfac- tions, which, if admitted, would put an end to its state of mourning. Now what is all this, but that state of self-denial and daily-cross^ to which our Saviour called his disciples ? For we may imagine any thing, if we can imag- ine that a state of religious mourning is not a state of religious self-denial » Unless therefore w^e will say, that the blessed- ness of mourning was also only preached to Christ's Tirst followers ; we n-ust allow, that all Christians are equally ca'-ed to that daili/ cross and self-denial which was then reqr.ircd. It ought also hrre to be observed, that we are called to these duties upon our hopes of happiness. For Blessed are they that mmirn^ for they shaU be comforted^ is the same thing as saying, miserable and cursed are they that do not mourn, for they shall not be comforted. Again, Bhssed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the king"' dom of heaven* Nothing can carry a greater denial and c©ntra- 11* 12re plainly, that he was hei-e a M-n; as the rreaf law s-iver of Christians, and delivering doctrines which shoulfl he penjctnal laTi's to all^ his disciples, and such ajs "jhguld cqr l'3d ▲ PRAGTIGAL TREATISE stantly distinguish them from all the world. Kov- is it possible for any one to evade the literal and open meaning of these doctrines, but in such a way as must destroy the sense of any other part of Scripture. If it could be shown, that we are not obliged by the plain and express doctrine of these passages, it might as well be shown, that the next doctrine, But 1 say unto you love your enemies^ bless tkem that curse you, does not oblige us in the plain and literal sense of the words. For both the passages are equally supported by the same authority of our Saviour, expressed in the same manner, / say unto you. This degree also of love which we are to show to our enemies, is as much a doctrine of the cross, as contrary to all our natural tempers and worldly interests, as that of patience, meekness, and submission, to those who treat us injuriously. These virtues are also neces- sary to one another : we cannot thus love, and do good to our enemy, unless we are thus patient un- der sufferings, and deny ourselves all instances of anger and uneasiness at them. It is pretended by some, that these passages only forbid our prosecution of spightful and malicious suits at law. But such people might as well pretend that the the eighth commandment only forbids zranton and fpighfful stealing, but allows it when it is done so- berly and with no spightful intention. For the case which our Saviour put, is directly intended against such a pretence as this. It is the case of a man who has a suit commenced against him for hi.s coat, he is not allowed to con- sider that it is his oirn coat, and that he enters no farther into the trial than to secure his coat ; he is not allowed to show (his degree of contention or pn^er at injustice, or impatience under suffering, bn.t^ VPO^ CHRISTIAN PERFECTIOK. \3t is patiently to permit his coat to be taken from him, though that patience be the means of losing his cloak alsb. It is not therefore spightful prosecutions, but the v most seemingly reasonable self-defence that is here forbidden. Further, malice and revenge were not allowed to the Jews, yet we are here commanded to deny ourselves such methods of self-defence, and rules of justice, as were allowed to them. If Christians will still think that they may defend all their rights, and enter into all such contentions for them, as the laws of the land will support thorn in ; if they will think that they need bear no other injuries, but such as courts of law cannot redress, they are as much mistaken as if they imagine they need practise no other charitj^ or worship of God^ but such as human laws demand. For Christian meekness, self-denial, and patience under suftc rings, arc no more to be formed by the standard of human laws, than our devotion to God. In these things Jesus Clu'ist is our only law-giver^ •and his lavrs are to be complied with as the certain terms of our salvation. Notwithstanding therefore we may be able, either by personal power, or legal contention, to repel in- juries, return evil for evil, and demand a tooth for a tooth ; yet as disciples of Christ, we are to tura our cheek to the smiter ; let him that would take our coat have our cloak also ; and })e rather content to suffer many injuries than, by defending ourselves, raise our piissions, embitter our tem):>ers, and de- stroy that charity wdiich we owe to our neighbour. Now this meekjiess and self-denial is highly suit- able to the spirit and temper of Christianity. It is highly suitable to a religion that restores sinners to God by sulFrrings ; it is suited to such as have forsaken all to foMow Christ ; it is suited to such as are to be dead and crucified to the world j to such as are to be meek and lowly as Christ ; it is J32 A rRACTlCAL tREAtlSt: suited to such as are commanded to love and do all good to their most violent enemies, and who arc to love their neighbours as themselves* And v*'hatever pride, self-love, or human wisdom may suggest against this doctrine, may, with equal strength, be objected against all those other doc- trines, which are thus of a spirit like unto it. But let Christians consider, that it is of these doc^ trines of the cross, that our Saviour saith. Whoever s^liall be ashamed of ine^ and of my zoord^ of him shall the Son of man be ashamed^ rohen he shall come in his 07on glorify and in his Father'' s^ and of the holy angels* Farther. This is my Commandment., saith Christ, that ye love one another .^ as I have loved you. Now this as plainly forbids all strife and angry contentions with others, as when w^e are commanded to part with our coat, rather than contend for it. For it is as impossible to love our adversary whilst we are con- tending with him, as Christ loved us, as to follow Christ, and at the same time depart from him. His love tow^ards mankind (which is the example for our love) knew of no enemies, nor refused any sufferings, but vvas a continual labour for the salva- tion of all men. If, therefore, Ave treat any persons as our enemies., or fly in the face of those who injure us, and are impatient under sufferings, we are fallen fron that love which is to govern all our actions. Men may fancy what they please of the charity of their tempers, whilst they are resisting evil, and carrying on the contentions of laAv, a-i others may think they hate their conversation in heaven., wdiilst they are labourina; after riches on earth ; but if they would consider, that Christian charity is to be like the charity of Chr'st, who died for his enemies, they would soon find, that it must be a charity of ano- ther kin'^, that allows them to contend with their enemies. 'Every resistance or contention of any kind is a ^>. "UPON CIimSTIAN TERFECTtOX. 1-35 'Quarrel, and necessarily begets some degrees oi" s,pight and itl-will ; and though they may often be carried on with some sJiovv of external decency, yet the inward temper partakes of the contention, is tainted with some little and ill-natured resentments, and destroys that divine spirit of love to which we are called. So that to talk of the charity of resisting, and contentious suits at law, is almost like talking of ihe charity of duels. The only Avay, therefore, to preserve our Chris- tian spirit, and show ourselves more like Christ than those who injure us, is to act as he did under injuries, and bear them with patience, for such rea- sons as rendered him patient. We are sure, that whilst we follow him w^e follow the zuay, the truths and the life ; but as soon as we resent, and form de- signs of conquering our oppressor, we partake of his spirit, and offend against meekness and charity, as he offended against justice. We must therefore bear with injuries and wrongs ; not because it is difficult to redress them, but be- cause it is difficult, and next to impossible, to resist and contend Vv^ith our adversaries, without forfeit- ing that humility, meekness, and divine love, to which we are called. We must suffer with patience, because such pa- tience is an exercise of our self-denial, that rendeits ;us more like our Lord and Master. This cannot be doubted of, since we are told of o\u' blessed Saviour, That though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the //img.f lohich he suffered. Now if this be true, is it not true in the same de- gree, that we arc not only to bear sufferings with patience, but even receive them with thankfulness, as pro'pcr means to teach us obedience to the lavrs of God ? Fo'- if he, who was a Son, who was without sin, and Sv» full of divine kno fledge, yet received instruc- 12 134 A PRACTICAL TREATlslL tioii from suflcrings, surely \vc, who are poor infirm creatures, must want that instruction which is to be learnt from them. For to suppose that we can be obedient to God without sufi'erings, is to suppose, that we can do our duty without such helps as the Son of God had. Sufferings are therefore lo be considered amongst the graces .of God, Vv hich purify our souls, enlighten our minds with divine knowledge, and prepare us to perfect holiness in the fear of God, But how contrary to the spirit of Christ do we act, if our sufferings provoke us into methods of retaliation ; and instead of teaching us obedience to God, lead us into a state of enmity towards our bre- thren ? Farther; it became him, saith the apostle, /cr TV'hom arc all things, and ly rchoni are t t i ••in ail things^ in bringing many so7is unto glory ^ to make the Captain of their salvation perfct through svfferings* \Vc are here plainly taught, not only thot Christ was made ])erfect through sufferings, but (hot it w^as fit he should be made perfect that way, as the only way that could bring many sons unto glory. So that we see one end of Christ's sufferings, be- fore his being crowlied with glorj^ and honour, was to teach us, that sufferings is the way to arrive at glory, and that those who desire to be sons of glory must iirst be made perfect through suflerings. We therefore for^^et the nature of our relisfion.. wc mistake the one great design of Christ's sunci-- ings, we go out of the road to glory, if Ave do not patiently submit to sufferings, if we are not thankful that wc suffer with Chris f^ that ice may reign 7cith him. Mq\\ in vain pretend that they only defend thcm- ,s<^lves against injustice. For ihese are the Ycry hardships which Christ suffered, and which they are, if they would be guided by his Spirit, -o suffer with patience. UrON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION* loiO St. Peter, speaking to servants, saiih, This ij thank'icorthy^ if a man for conscience tozcard God, endure grief suffering zorongfuUi/* If tvhen ye do zoell^ and suffer for it^yc take it patiently^ this w ac- ceptable roithv God* For e'cen hereunto were ye called, beciiuse Christ also suffered for us, having us ((a ex- ample that ye should follow his steps* Here the aposllc founds the duty of servants be- ing subject to masters that treat them injuriously, upon the common doctrine of Christianity, because to sufier wron(>;ful]y is thank worthy before Cod, and because Christ's example has called us to bear with patience those injurious and wrongful hard- ships. Let it therefore be carefully observed, that as sure as the apostle here speaks by the Spirit of God, so sure it is that our behaviour is not thank worthy, or acceptable with God, unless we endure Avronir- ful sufferings with patience ; and that if we lay aside this meekness, we leave the example of Christj who only saves such as follow his steps. I have now gone through several instances of that mortification, self-denial, and suffering, to which the Christian world are called. If the doctrines of this chapter seem hard and grievous, they can only seem so to such as have wrong notions of human life. Too many people imagine this life to bq some- thing that is substantial in itself, and valuable for its own goods, and look upon religion as something that is added to it, to make a worldly life more easy, regular, and happy ; and so embrace religion with no other spirit, nor to any farther decree thau as it complies with the ease, order, and happiness of that way of life in which they live. Our blessed Saviour has fully confuted this opin- ion, by teaching us that there is but one thing need- ful. If therefore we are but so far Christians, as idi believe that what our Saviour has here taugUt 136 A PRACVTICAL TREATISE is Strictly true ; then all the pretended grievances, of self denial and suffering are all struck off at once. For what though meekness, patience, and humi^ lity, may often make us sufferers, yet if such suffer- ings make us not only lose such things as are not ■needful for us, where is any ground for complaint ? But farther, such sufferings are not only without uny real hurt, but they promote our happiness, and become matter of real and solid joy. Blessed an ye. whm wen ffhall revile you, and pe'}> reciite yoqi^ and shall say all manner %t^.. „ i ■. (»f evil of you false ly Jar my sake., re" joke and be exceeding glad, for great is your rczcard^ in heaven, Christ does not endeavour to comfort us in this state, as if it was a hard or melancholy state, which we must bear, because it is made easier with pa- lience, or because God has pleased to impose it upon us, but he looks at it m quite another view, not as needing comfort, but as having matter fit for con- gratulation. What Christians are they therefore, what stran- gers to the Spirit of Christ, who reckon those things amongst the hardships of religion, which Christ re- commends to us as reasons of rejoicing, and being exceeding glad ? The whole matter therefore plainly comes to this ; if our sufferings, our injuries or hardships, be »uch as we undergo, because we dare not depart from that meekness, and patience, and charity, which Christ has taught, because we had rather love our enemies than be revenged on them, rather ."buffer like Christ, and be full of his Spirit, than avoid sufferings by a contrary temper, such suffer^ Ings are our greatest gains. If, on the contrary, you know of any meekness and patience which is not after the example of Christ, any injuries or suffenn.2:s vvhich you can resist, and yet show that yau follow th& example of UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 137 Christ's patience, and meekness, and charity, the doctrine of this chapter has no recommendation of such sufferings. You are only Here exhorted to bear such injuries and sufferings as make you more Hke Christ, such as are true instances of that meekness, patience, and clnrity, which were the principal tempers of his Spirit. Now be the hardships or self-denials what they will, if they make us more like to Christ, they have done more for us, than all the prosperity in the world can do, and he that defends himself at the expense of any temper, that was the temper of Christy has done himself an injury, greater than the worst and most powerful of his enemies can bring upon him. And all this is founded upon this one reason, be- cause there is but one thing needful^ the salvation of our souh. It is this that changes the natures of all human things, and makes every thing good or evil only so far as it promotes or hinders this one end of life. The salvation of the world is the only happi- ness of the world, and he that has secured his share in that, has secured to himself all the joy and glad- ness that can befal human nature. A Cliristian, therefore, that is not content with sanation, that wants to add a worldly joy and plea- sure to the great things of religion, is more sense- less than the man, that should think he had hard usage to be saved from a shipwreck, unless he was carried off upon a cedar plank. ! ''2:-^ iM A PRACTICAL TKEA n.?r CHAP. Yll. Some farther Considerations upon the reaso)>.ahkne!^^ of Self denial. ' BEFORE I proceed any farther in other instan- ces of self-denial, it may be proper to show in what the duty of self denial is founded, or wherein the reasonableness and necessity of it consists. Every duty of virtue of the Christian life is founded in tiTith and reason, and is required be- cause of Its fitness to be clonCy and not because God has power to command what he pleases. If we are commanded to be meek and humble, it is because meekness and humility are as true judg- ments, and as suitable to the truth of our state as it is a true judgment, and suitable to the state of every dependent being, to be thankful for mer- cies. If we are bid to rejoice, it is at something that is truly joyful ; if to fear, it is to fear something that is really dreadful. Thus we are called to no tempers but such as are so many true judgments, and as truly founded in the nature and reason of things, as if we were bid to believe two to be the half part of four. God is reason and wisdom itself, and he can no more call us to any tempers or duties, but such as •are strictly reasonable in themselves, than he can act against himself, or contradict his own nature. As we can say with assurance, that God cannot lie, so we may with the same certainty affirm, that he cannot enjoin any thing to rational creatures, that is contrary to the reason of their nature, no more than he can enjoin them to love things that are not lovely, or hate things that are in tb-cir na- ftire not hateful. When God speaks, we are as sure that infinite reason speaks, as we arc sure there is a God. UPOS CHRISTIAX PERFECTIO.T. 131> A little reflection upon this matter, will give vui the utmost assurance in such reasonings as this. .. As sure therefore as there is a God, so sure is it^ that a religion from God has only reasonable com- mands to reasonable creatures. No tempers can be . imposed upon us by way of task and imposition, which we might as reasonably be without, if it was not required of us. God can only will, that rea- sonable creatures should be more reasonable, more perfect, and more like himself, and consequently can enjoin us no duties, or temper of mind, but such as have this tendency. All his commands are for our sakcs, founded in the necessities of our na* tures, and are only so many instructions to become more happy, than we could be without them. A good man that enjoys the use of his reason, is o flended at madmen and /bo/5 because they both act contrary to the reason of things. The madman fan- cies himself, and every thing about him, to he dif- ferent from what they are ; the /bo/ knows nothing of the value of things, is ridiculous in his choices, and preferji a shell before the most useful things in life. Now a good man, merely through the love of reason, is offended at their conduct, and would do all that he could to abate the frensy of the one, and the stupidity of the other. Let this a little represent fo us the conduct of God towards fallen man, God is reason itself; how highly therefore must he be offended at the follies and stupidity of mankind ? Tf a madman s:'oms so unreasonable a creature to us, because he fancies himself to be something that he is not ; howunrea- sonable.must f^illen man, who is fallen from all true knowledge of himself, appear to him who is infinite reason ? Again, God is s:oodness itself ; therefore human goodaess is inclined to endeavour (he cure of mad- men and fools, must not goodness itself be much i'iO A PRACTICJAL TREATISE more inclined to correct the madness and folly of fallen man ? We see that men arc said to be mad, when they fancy themselves, and the things about them to be different from what they are ; they are said to be fools, when they mistake the value of things : now if this be true, as it most certainly is, it may serve to show us, that man in his present state of disorder and ignorance, must appear to God both asybo/and mad ; for every sinner is truly mad, as he imagines himself, and all things about him, to be what they are not : he is really a fool, as he is ridiculous m his choices, and mistakes the value of things. Now religion is oar cure ; it is God's merciful communication of such rules and discipline of life, as may serve to deliver us from the infjituation and ignorance of our fallen state. It is to teach us the knowledge of ourselves, and all things about us, that we may no longer act like madmen ; it is to- teach us the true value of things, that we may know our good and evil, and not be as idiols in the choice of things. Now fools and madmen have their paradise, and' are pleased with their imaginary happiness ; this- makes them averse from all methods of cure. For this reason, God presses his instructions upon Us with terro'^s and threatenings, and makes those virtues which are the natural good and cure of our souls, such duties to him, as he will punish ihe ne- glect of.- So that the power of God is mercifully employed to move us to such a reasonable way of life, as is 2iec'\ssiry for our h tpplness. Some people are so weak, as to wonder, that what we call sin, shoukl be so odious to God, or what it can signify to God, whether we arc iclse or fnsh» Let sucli consider, that God is icisdom and reason itself, and comsequently every thing that is contrary to reason and wisdom^ is contrary to his nature ; so IfrON GHRISTIAN FERPECTI©i. 141 Aat a state of sin, is a state of contrarictj to Gotl. To ask therefore why God hates all sin, is the same thing as to ask "vvhy God cannot tell any sort of He ; it is because every deviation from truth is contrary to his nature, which is truth itself; so every in- stance of sin, as it is an unreasonable act, is con- trary to his nature, who is reason itself. There is therefore a necessity, from the nature of things, that every creature be delivered from sin, before it can enter into the beatific presence of God : for if God could reward wicked beings, and make them happy by the enjoyment of his presence, he would as much cease to act according to the nature of things, as if he should punish a being that lived in innocence ; for to punish innocence, and to re- ward sin, are equally contrary to the nature and reason of things. This observation may teach us to admire the excellency of the Christian religion, which restores sinners to God by so great an atonement for sin, and which only admits the repentance and devotion of fallen man, through the merits ^ndi mediation of the Son of God. To return : Let such people also consider, that even reasonable men have a necessary dislike of fools and madmen, they cannot possibly make them the objects of their pleasure and affection. But now, if some things are so odious in them- selves, that even the reason of m^in cannot but abhor them, how much more odious, how nuich more con- trary to the perfection of the divine nature, must the folly and madne-^s of sin be ? Thus if we consider what reason is in oui-selves, that it necessarily dislikes unreasonaf)le persons as ■well as things ; we may have some notion how all sin and sinners, that is, all beings which act con- trary to reason^ must be in a state of the utmost con- t^'arioty to God, who is the kiphest reason, God is l^)ve, yet it is ccrtiin. that he can onl j lovt? 14S 4^ ?R ACT ICAL. TREATISE 5-*uch things as are lovely : so God is gGOclncss. yet he cannot make sinners happy, lJec^^usc there is as much contradiction to reason and perfection in making sinners happy, as in loving thin.'^s that are jftot truly lovely, or in hating things that are not hateful. This may serve to give us, in some mea- sure, a true idea of the nature of religion and the V-ature of sin. That religion is God's gracious method of deliver- ing us from the unreasonableness and corruption of pur natures, that by complying with its rules and discipline we may be so altered in our natures, so restored to reason, as to be fit for the rewards of an infinitely wise and perfect being. That sin is the misery and disorder, the madness and folly of our nature, which as necessarily sepa- rates us from God, as God is contrary to ail unrea- sonableness. I have just mentioned these things, to help us to conceive rightly, what is meant by the reasonable- ness and necessity of those tempers which religion requires. And I hope this is sufficient to give any one a positive assurance, that religion is so far from being an imposition upon us, consisting of needless duties, that it is founded in the nature and reason of things, and is as necessary to restore us to the enjoyment of God, as it is necessary that God should love things according as they are lovely. For let any one carefully consider this proposi- tion, whether it be not absolutely certain, that God. loveth all things, accordingly as they are lovely.. Is not this as certain, as that God is reason itself? Could he be infinitely reasonable, or reason in per- fection, if he did not regard things according to their natures ? hating only those things that are truly hateful, and loving things so far as they are lovely. To act by any other rule than the reason and nature of things, is to act by humour and Qapriccji Let this therefore teach us, that 8^ we arc UPON CHRISTIAN PERFEGTIO.\\ 113 m ourselves, so we ore necessarily either odious or acceptable to Cod. So far as wc cease from sin and suffer ourselves lo be made wise and reasonable by the wisdom and reason of religion ; so far v.e make ourselves objects of the love of that infniitely perfect Being, who ne- cessarily loves beings as they arc lovely in their na(ure. And so far as we continue in the madness and folly of sin, and neglect the rules of religion, which would deliver us from the guilt and slavery of it ; so far we make it necessary for that perfect Being to hate us, who cannot but hate things accordingly as they arc in themselves hateful. Some people, either through self-love, or some confused opinion of God and themselves, are always fancying themselves to be partkidar favourites of God, imagining all their little successes, or bles- sings, in their health and circumstances above other peo))le, to be distinguishing marks of God's par f/cit- lar kindness tovrards them. But such persons must consider, that God is rca- •son itself; that he is subject to no p«W/cM/ar fondness, no more than he is capable of weakness ; and that he can no more love them with any parlicular love, that is not an act of the highest reason, than he can lie, or act contrary to the truth. They should consider, tliat the things of this llfe^ its successes and prosperities, are so far from being marks of God's particular favour, that afflictions have a much better claim to it ; for vchom the Lord tovelh lit chas'oLeth., ^t. When such p-?ople fancy th.'^mselves in the parti' ciilar f ivour of God, they should consider, that to be loved by God, is to be loved by ijifinite reason and 7CLsdo>n^ and that reason c^m only love or ap- prove things as they are confoi'mable to it. To be approved by reason, we must act conformably to reason-5 nnd lobe nnnroved by the highest reason Weiaust act conformably io the highest reason. •4 44 A PRACTICAL tREATlSE So that when our lives arc conformable to tlic liighcst reason, then may wc believe that so far as •ihey arc such, so far arc they in the favour of God, who is the highest reason. To fancy that any thing else can make us favourites of God, is mere igno- rance and pride, and owing to the same vanity and self-love, which makes some people think that they are admired and esteemed by all that know them. For so sure as God is reason itself, so sure is it, that to be loved by God, and to be approved l)y the highest reason, is the same thing ; so that if he, w^hose life is not conformable to the highest reason, imagines that he is particularly beloved by God, he is guilty of the same absurdity, as if he believ- ed that God is not the highest reason, or reason in perfection. It is not more certain that there is but one God, than it is certain that there is but one way of making ourselves objects of his love, namely, by con- forming and acting according to the highest reason, when our lives are agreeable to reason, and the nature of things, then are our lives agreeable to God. Now so far as we act conformably to religion, so far wc act according to the highest reason, and draw near to God, by a wisdom that comes from God, and v^^as revealed unto us, that it might make us such reasonable beings, as to be fit objects of hi* eternal love. For a religion from God maist be according to the nature of God, requiring no other change of thoughts or actions but such as is conformable to truth and reason. Now the reasonableness of actions consists ia their fitness to be done ; there is a reasonableness in being thankful for mercies ; there is a reasona- bleness in rejoicing a^ things that are joyful ; and so in all other actions or tempers, they arc either reasonable or unreasonnble. ns they are agreeable or contrary to the nature of things. LFON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 146 This is what I would have understood by the reasonableness of all religious duties or tempers ; they are all required because they are as suitable to the nature and reason of things, as it is suitable to the reason of things to be thankful for mercies, or fear things that are truly dreadful. Thus, for instance, humility is nothing else but a right judgment of ourselves, and is only so far en- joined as it is suitable to the truth of our stale, for "to think worse of ourselves than we really are, is no •more a virtue than to make^rc to be less thanybw?-. On the contrary, he that is proud, oflends as much against truth and reason, and judges as false- ly of himself, as the madman who faneies himself to be a king, and the strazc, to which he is chained, to be a throne of state. Having observed thus much concerning the rea- sonableness of tempers or duties to which religion demands, I proceed now to show, wherein the reasonableness and necessity of self-denial consists. If a person was to walk upon a rope across some great river, and he was bid to deny himself the pleasure of walking in silver shoes, or looking about at the beauty of the waves, or listening to the snoise of sailors ; if he was commanded to deny himself the advantage of fishing by the way, would there be any hardship in such self-denial ? Would not such self-denials be as reasonable, as comman- ding him to love things that will do him good, or to avoid things that are hurtful ? Strait is the gate^ and narroxo is the way^ that lead- tth iinlo life^ saith our blessed Saviour. Now if Chrislians are to walk in a narroic way that leadeth to eternal life^the chief business of a Christian must be, to deny himself all tiiose things which may either stop or le id him out of his narrow way. And if they think that pleasures and indulg'-nces are con* sistcnt with their keeping this narrow way, they think as reasonably as if the man upen the rope 13 14G A PRACTICAL TREATISE Bhould think, that he might safely use silver shoes, or stop in his way to catch fish. Again, if a man that was a slave to sottish and rstupifying pleasures, that rendered him averse from all exercises of the mind, was yet obliged, in order To save his life, to attain to such or such a degree of mathematical knowledge, must it not be as ne- cessary for such a one to deny himself those indul- gences which increased his stupidity, as it would be necessary to study the relations of figures? Now this is the foundation of all Christian self- denial ; we are born and bred in slavery to sin and corrupt tempers, and are only to be saved by put- ting ofi'this old man, and being renewed in holiness and purity of life. The denials therefore of reli- j2;ion, are only the necessary means of salvation, as ihey are necessary to lessen the coiTuption of our nature, destroy our old habits, alter the taste and temper of our minds, and prepare us to relish and aspire after holiness and perfection. For since our souls are in a state of corruption, and our life is a state of probation, in order to alter and remove this corruption, it is certain, that every thing and every way of life, which nourishes and increases our corruption, is as much to be avoided, as those things which beget in us purity and holi- ness, are to be sought after. A man that wants his health, is as w ell, and for the same reasons, to avoid such things as nourish his illness, as he is to take medicines that have a healing quality. Self-denial is, therefore, as essen- tial to the Christian life as prayer is ; it being equally necessary to deny ourselves such things as support our corruption, as it is necessary to pray for those things which w ill do us good, and purify our natures. The whole of the matter is this, Christians are called from a state of disorder, sin, and ignorance, to a state of hoUness and resemblance of the divine tfPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION.. 147 nature. If, therefore, there are any things, or any ways, that corru})t our minds, support our vanity, increase our blindness, or nourish sensuality ; all these are as necessary to be avoided, as it is neces- sary to be holy. If there are any denials or mortifications that purify- and enlighten the soul, that lessen the power of bodily passions, tliat raise us to a heavenly aficc^ tion, and make us taste and relish the things that be of God, these are as necessary to be practised, as it is necessary to believe in Jesus Christ. So that the matter comes to this ; if there are no indulgences in eating to do us harm, then fasting is of no use ; but if there are, if they enslave the soul, and give it a sensual taste, then we are as mucli obliged to abstain from what docs us this harm, as we are obhged to pray for any .thing that can do us good. No Christian that knows any thing of the Gospel, can doubt whether fastui"=istnnce, as a most acceptable way of pleasing God, and securing, their eternal happiness, who arc not afraid to eat and drink till they are indisposed, and unwilling to attend to it ? If they^ still have just notions of the nature of divine service, let them think of these words o^ our blessed Saviour, If ?/e hnovo tbss6 things, happy are ye if ye do ihcm. UPON CHfllSTTAN PERFECTION. 1 d"3 But if they look upon it as of less concern than a full meal, if they think that there is no occasion hr exactness in it, it is time they were told, that they have not the love of God abiding in them. For if they did really hunger and thirst after righteousness, which is the true love of God, they would rejoice at every oppo7'tunity of entering far- ther into his favour ; they would go to the house of God, the abode of his presence, with more joy than to any other place, and think those days the most happy that were most dovorod to the cares and joys of a lite witli God to all c'ernity. They would cut oiT a right hand, or pluck out a right eye, rather than be hindered from those helps which are to raise their hope, enliven their faith, and form their souls to a delight ond joy in God. If they want this zeal towards God, they want a zeal, which is the life and spirit of a Christian^ which distinguishes a disciple of Christ from those. who live without God in the world. I have spoken the more home to this point, be- cause it is so allovv'ed a practice, which as unavoid- ably destroys the true spirit and temper of reli- gion, as any things that are notoriously sinful. Indeed a eotistant course ,of full feeding is the death of the soul, and every day, that is a day of such happiness, is a dav lost to religion. Wiien a man hasrnoiced himself with full eating and drinking, he is like any oth^r animal, disposed only to play or idleness. He has no more feeling of sin than he has of hiinc'pr, cnn no more perceive himself to be a y;vsr.'ablc fallen crenture. than he can p'^rcoive himrr'f to be a beggar, and conse- quently is no more affected with any forms of con- fession, or repf-ntance, than if he was, every day, to confess that he was a starving beggar. For this course of self enjoyment is as contrary to humility, contrition, and a true sense of sin, as it is contrary to a slate of beggai-y and want : and consc- 154 A PRACTICAL TREATISE quently a man in such happiness, can no more sin- cerely deplore the weight of 5m, than he can feel himself in the misery of poverty. If, therefore, religion is to be the state and tern* per of our minds ; if it is to be the ruling taste and relish of our souls ; if its goods and evils are to govern our actions, it is as necessary to renounce sensuality, and mortify our bodies, as it is necessary to resist temptations. For abstinence, or self- denial, is not only a good, advisable, and reasona- ble practice, but is a constant, necossory, and uni- versal duty, and enters farther into the cure of our souls than any other practice. It is as necessary for a Christian, that would get rid of the disorders of his nature, and lessen the weight of sin, as it is necessary for a man in a dropsy to abstain from drink^ or a man in ^ fever to refrain from sp-^' '^linga as infame his blood. Indeed this self-denial is the chief and most ge- neral exercise of the Christian life, and is the very form and svhsiance of every virtue ; so far as we deny our natural tempers, so far we seem to be advanced in virtue. We are so far humble, as we deny ourselves in the instances of pride ; so far heavenly-minded, as we deny our earthly inclinations ; so far charitable, as we deny our tempers of self-love and envy ; and so, in every virtue, it seems to have its chief foun- dation in the denial of some corrupt temper of our natnrcs. I know some people object i\\dL\ fasthig is not an universal duty, that it is rather like some particular medicine or remedy, thqit is only necessary f6r some particular cases, and particular constitutions. To this it may be answered, that if by fasting is meant an entire abstinence from all food, for such or such a certain space of time ; that fasting, in that sense, is not an universal and constant duty. But then it ought to be observed, that this is no tJPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 155 more the nature of fasting than any particular form of confession, of such or such a length, is the pre- cise nature of repentance. For as repentance docs not consist in any stated fixed degrees of sorrow and pain for sin, v/hich is to be the common repentance for all men, in all Slates, and at all times ; but is such an exercise of grief and contrition, as is suited to every one's par- ticular state : so fasting is not any fixed degree of abstinence from all food, which is to be the com- mon measure of fasting to all men, in ail states, and at all times ; but is such an exercise, abstinence, and self-denial, as is proper to every one's particu- lar state. Nov: if we understand fasting in this sense, in which it ought to be understood, as an abs'.inence from such food, and pleasures and degrees of feed-* ing, as are improper in every state of life ; such an abstinence as to destroy sensuality, lessen the corruption of our natures, and make us relish and taste spiritual enjoyments ; in this sense, fasting is as constant and universal a duty as repentance. For as repentance is an universal duty, because the reason of it is common to all men ; so this fast- ing is necessary to all men, because sensuality, fleshly lusts, and the corruption of bodily tempers, is the universal corruption of all men. It is sometimes also objected, that fasting cannot be an universal duty, because some people's consti- tutions will not suficr them to eat enough for their health. To this it may be answered, that some people may be so inlirm, that they cannot attend at the public xvorship of God ; yet surely public worship is an universal duty^ thouc;h some people's constitu- tions may make them incapable of going to it. Secondly ; This objection is only of weight against fasting, as it signifies an entire abstinence from all food for a certain space of time, but is of 156 A PRACTICAL TREATISE no force against such an abstinence, as I have shown to be the common duly of all Christians. Thirdly ; Persons of weak and infirm constitu- tions, have often as much necessity of self-denial as others of the most healthful bodies ; for their very state, it may be, has taught them indulgence ; by being accustomed to so much care of themselves, they become no better than perpetual nurses of them.selves, and consequently are too much devoted to that which is not the one thing needfuL AVeakly people may as well be epicures, and have the same sensuality to conquer, as other peo- ple, and consequently have the same necessity of their degree of abstinence and denial that others liave. Let such people have recourse to the example of Timothy^ who was an apostolical bishop. His his- tory teaches us, that he was weakly, and subject to frequent infirmities ; who notwithstanding he may be supposed to have enjoyed the extraordinary gifts of the Holy Ghost, yet in this state of divine great- ness, and bodily weakness, he wanted the authority and advice of an apostle, to persuade him to drink any thing besides water. This we are sufficiently taught by the apostle's givir.g this advice in his epistle to him, drink no longer water ; that is, nothing but water, but use a Httle loine for thy stomach'' s sake, and thine often infirmities. Lastly ; The world abounds w^th people, who are weakly and tender merely by their indulgences ; they have bad nerves, low spirits, and frequent indispositions, through irregularity, idleness, and indulgence. Now these people, it is true, are uoi fit for^ast^ i«g, and perhaps if th-ey were to deal faithfully with themselves, they would find, that they are as unfit for most other exercis'^s of relii^Mon, and con- sequently if their condition m\%\\\. be ]>leaded as an objection against the necessity of fasting, it might "tJPON CHRTSTIAN PERFECTION*. Ij7 /5rm, as mm that are dnink^ or in a passion, though not always in the same de2:ree. A man that is drunk has hr-^tcd his blood to that C^cgree, that it sends up spirits to the brain in loo 178 A PRACTICAL TREATISE violent a motion, and in too great a quantity. This violent motion of the spirits raises so many ideas in the brain, and in so disorderly a manner, that the man is every minute different from himself, as fast as different, or new ideas, are raised in his head, by the iinpetuQiis course of the spirits. This is the ilisorder of a man tliat is drunk. Now this is the state of all people, more or less, when they appear to one another as sober. For first drunkenness is a state of disorder and delusion, because our heads arc thon filled with a crowd of ideas, which w^e have little or no power over, and which, for that reason, distract our judg- ment. Now this is, in a certain degree, the state of all men wdiilst they are in the body : the constitution ef our bodies, and our commerce with the world, is constantly filling our heads with ideas and thoughts, that we have little or no power over, but intrude upon our minds, alter our opinions, and affect our judgments in the same manner as they disorder the minds of those that are drunk. Let any one but try to meditate upon any of the most important doctrines of religion, and he w^ill find the truth of this observation ; he will find a thousand ideas crowd in upon him, in spight of all his care to avoid them, which will hinder his medi- tation, and prevent his seeing things in that light in which he w^ould see them, if his mind was empty of other thoughts. Now it is the same cause that hinders him from thinking so well as he would, that hinders the drunken man from thinking at all, that is, an invo- luntary succession of ideas* So that every man, so long as he is in the body, is, in some degree, weak and disordered in his judg- ment, in the same manner, and for the same causes, as people that are drunk. Sacondly ; Another circumstance; of drunhnnesSx A PRACTICAL TREATISE 179 IS this, that ideas and thoughts ore raised in a disorderly manner, because the blood is too much heated. Now this is another constant circumstance that attends men in every state of life. For first, it is the same thing whether our spirits be heated with liquor, or any thing else ; if they are heated all the same eti'ects are produced. This is undenied^ly true, because we daily sec that passion will heat and disorder people in the same manner as they who are inflamed with liquor. Therefore our own thoughts and imaginations have the same effect upon our spirits as drink ; so that it is the same thing whether a man be drunk with passion, or any other violent set of thoughts, or heated with liquor. There is the same w eakness of mind, the same disordered imagination, and the same wrong apprehension of the nature of things. Now though all people are not at all times drunk with passion^ or some violent imagination, yet they are always in a disorder of the same kind ; they have something that aficcts and hurries their spirit*, in the same manner that a man's spirits are affected in some violent passion. And the reason is, because men are always in •some passion or other, though not to that degree as to be visible, and give offence to other people. We are always in a state either of self-love, vanity, pride, hatred, spight, envy, covetousness, or ambition ; some one or other of these passions is, in some degree, affecting our spirits, in the same manner that any violent passion, or heat of liquor, affects our spirits, differing only in the degree. A silent envy, a secret vanity, which nobody sees, raises thoughts in our heads, and disorders our judgments, in the same maimer as more violent passions. We may increase the vanity and envy, till it ends ift distraction and madness, as it sometimes hap- 180 UPON CHRlSTlAli/ PERFECTION'. pens ; but then we may be sure, that it disordered our understanding in the same manner and made us "foolish and extra vagAnt in some degree, long before it came to madness. Whilst, therefore, we are in the body, we are constantly in a state of disorder, like to those who are drunk, or in a violent passion ; we have some passion or other, either of self-love^ vanity, envy or the like, that aflects our spirits, and disorders our judgment, in the same manner-, though not in the same degree, as their spirits are aliecied who are in the heat of drink, or in some violent passion. Thirdly, Another circumstance of drunkenness is- this, that it forms us to a taste and temper peculiar to it, so as to leave a dulness and indisposition in the mind toward any thing else. A habitual drunkard has no pleasure like that confused hurry and heat of thoughts that arises from inflamed blood. The repeating of this pleasure so often has given him a turn of mind, that relishes nothing but what relates to intemperance. Now this is the state of all people, in some re- spect or other ; there is some way of life that has got hold of them, and given them a taste and relish for it, in the same manner that drinking has formed the drunkard to a peculiar liking of it. All people are not intemperate, but all are under habits of life^ that aiiect the mind in the same manner as intempe- rance. Some people have indulged themselves so lon^ in dressings others in pfoy^ others in sports of the held, others only in little gossiping' sto7'ies^ that thej are as much slaves to these ways of life, as the in- temperate man is a slave to liquor. Now we readily own, that a man who has en* slaved himself to the pleasures of drinking^ and in- temperance, has thereby rendered himself incapa- ble of being a reasonable judge of other happiness and pleasure ; but then we do not enough consider, tJrO\ CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. l8l 'liat wc are hurt in llie same manner, by any other way of life that has taken hold of us, and given us :.i temper, and turn of mind, peculiar to it. It is to as little purpose to talk of religion, or the happiness of piety, to a person that is fond of drcss^ Or plaij-i or sjjorts^ as to another that is intempe- rate : for the pleasures of these particular ways of life make him as deaf to all other proposals of hap- piness, and ^s incapable of judging of other happi- ness and pleasure, as he who is enslaved to intem- perance. A lady abominates a sot^ as a creature that has only the shape of a man ; but then she docs riOt consider, that, drunken as he is, perhaps he can be more content with the want of UfjUoy\ than she can Vr'ith the want oi fine clothes: and if this 1;C her ^ase, she only diflers from him as one intemperate inan differs from another. Thus it appears, that whether we consider the nature, circumstances, and effects of drunkenness, that all mankind are, more or less, in the same state of weakness and disorder. 1 have dwelt the longer upon this comparison, because it seems so easily to explain the disorder of our nature. For as every one readily sees how the bodily disorders of drunkenness, and violent, passion, blind and pervert our minds ; so it seems an easy step from thence to imagine how the body, though in a cooler stafe^ does yet disorder the mind in the same manner, though not in the same de- grees. It is also easy to conceive, that if violent passion^ or a heated imagination, confounds our judgments, and gives us wrong apprehensions of things, that therefore all passions^ though more stil! and secret, must yet influence om* minds, and make us weak and disordered in our judgments ; in the same manner, though not in tiie same degree, as those are who are in a violent passion. So that the 16 I 8:2 A PRACTICAL TREATISE tneancst capacity may, by this, apprehend, that s*o long as wc are in the body, we arc in a state of weakness and disorder that is full of such blindness raid delusion, as attends a state of drunkenness and passion. It is intended, by this account of human nature, to convince us of the absolute necessity of renounc- ing ourselves, of denying all our tempers and incli- nations, and resigning ourselves wholly to the light and w^isdom of God. For since, by our state of corruption and slavery to the body, we are always linder the power of its blind motions ; since all our inclinations and judgments arc only the judgments of heated blood, drunken spirits, and disordered passions, we arc under as absolute a necessity of •denying all our natural tempers and judgments as of refraining from intemperance. For must a man, that is in a fit of violent paS' sion, silence that passion before he can judge of the ordinary things of life ? Is it a state of such blindness as makes him blind in the plainest matters, and unable to judge rightly, even of things w^hich he is acquainted with ? And can we think, that our more still and secret passions of self-love, pride, vanitj^, envy, and the like, mi^ke us less blind as to the things of God, than a heated passion does as to the things of this world ? Will an inflamed passion disorder a man too much to judge of any thing, even in his own busi- ness ? And will not a passion of less violence disor- der a man's judgment in things of a spiritual nature, which he never was rightly accjualnted with, which He never saw, or understood, in the manner that he ought, and which are all contrary to the impression of his senses ? Every one sees people in the world, whom he takes to be incapable of 5o/j<>r judgments, and -' ise reflections, for this reason ; because he sees that UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 18^1 they are full of themselves, blinded with prejudice, violent in their passions, wild and extravagant in their imaginations. Now as often as we see these people, we should rcHect that we see ourselves ; for we as certainly see a true representation of ourselves, when we look at such people, as we sec a true picture of our state, when we sec a man in the sorrows and agonies of death. You are not dyins as this man is ; you arc not in his state of sickness and extremity ; but still his state shows you your own true picture ; it shows you, that your life is in the midst of death ; that you have in you the seeds of sickness and mortalit}^ ; that you are dying, though not in his degree ; and that you are only at a little uncertain distance from those who are lying upon their last 1>eds. When therefore you see men livins; in the disor- der of their passions, blhided with prejudices, swelling in pride, full of themselves, vain in tlieir imaginations, and perverse in their tempers, you must believe that you see as true a representation of your own state, as if you saw a man in his last sickness. You, it may be, are not in the extravagance of his disordered tempers, you are at some uncertain distance from his state ; but if you fanc}^ that you are not corrupted with setf-love, not W'eakened by prejudices, not blinded with pride, not vain in vour imaginations, not ridiculous in your temper," be- cause you are not in such disorders as you find some people, you think as absurdly as if you waste imagine yourself to be immortah liecause you are not in that extremity of death in which you see some people. And as the true way of knowing, and beins; rightly aflfected with the weakness and mortality of our state, is frequently to view the condition of dying men as pictures of ourselves 5 so the most 184 A PRACTICAL TREATISE likely means to aifect us with a just sense of t\iz^ eorruption and disorder of our hearts, is to consider the frailties, corruptions, and disorders of other- people, as certain representations of the frailty and corruption of our own state. When, therefore, you see the violence of other men''s passions, the irregularity of their tempers^ the strength of their prejudices, the folly of their inclinations, and the vanity of their minds, remem- ber that you see so- many plain reasons for denying yourself, and resisting your own nature, which hag in it the seeds of all those evil tcmpcrB which you me in the most irregular people. From the foregoing reflections upon human na- ture, we may learn thus much, that abstinence, as io eating and drinking, is but a small part of Chris- tian self-denial. The corruption of our nature has its chief seat in the irregularity of our tempers, the violence of pas- sions, the blindness of our judgments, and the va- nity of our minds ; it is as dangerous, therefore, ta indulge these tempers as to live in gluttony and intemperance. You think it shameful to be an epicure ; you would not be suspected to be fond of li(j'uor ; you think these tempers would too much spoil all your pretences to religion : you are very right in your judgment ; but then proceed a step farther, and think it as shameful to be fondof dress, or delighted- Vvith yourself, as to be fond of dainties : and that it is as great a sin to please any corrupt tem]/er of your heart as to please your paJaie : remember^ that blood, heated with passion, is like blood heated with Hfjiwr ; and that the grossness of gluttony is no greater a contrariety to religion than the polite- ness of pride, and the vanity of our minds. I have been the longer upon this subject, trying- every way to represent the weakness and corrup- tion of our nature ; because so far as we rightly UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 135 understand it, so far we see into the rcasonal)leness and necessity of all religious duties. If we fancy ourselves to be wise and regular in our tempers and judgments, we can see no reason for denying ourselves ; but if we find that our whole nature is ia disorder, that our light is darkness, our wisdom foolishness, that our tempers and judgments are as gross and blind as our appetites, that our senses govern us as they govern children, that our ambi- tion and greatness is taken up with gezogaws and irifes^ that the state of our bodies is a state of error and delusion, like that of drunkenness and passion. If we see ourselves in this true light, we shall see the whole true reason of Christian self-dewaU of meekness, and poverty of spirit, of putting oft* our old man, of renouncing our whole selves, that we may see all things in God ; of Vatching and pra3^er, and mortifying all our inclinations, that our hearts may be moved by a motion from God, and our wills and inclinations be directed by the light and wisdom of religion. Religion has little or no hold of us, till v^^e have these right apprehensions of ourselves ; it may serve for a little decency of outward behaviour, but it is not the religion of our hearts, till we feel the weak- ness and disorder of our nature, and embrace piety and devotion, as the means of recovering us to a state of perfection and happiness in God. A man that thinks himself in health cannot la- ment the sickness of It's state. If we are pleased with the pride and vanity of our minds, if we live in pleasure and self-satisfac- tions, we shall feel no meaning in our devotionS; when we lament the misery and corruption of our nature. We may have times and places to mourn for sins ; but we shall feel no more inward grief than hired monrntrs do at a funeral. So that as the corruption of our nature is the foundation and reason of self-denial, so a right 16* 186 A PRACTICAL TREATi>f sense and feeling of that corruption is necessary to. make us rightly affected with the otrices and devo- tion of religion. 1 shall now show, that the reasonableness and necessity of self-denial is also founded upon another fundamental doctrine of religion, namely, the ntces- sily of divine grace, which 1 shall leave to ha the subject of the following chapter. CHAP. IX. Of the Necessity of (lixine Graccy and the screral Duties to zvhich it calleth all Christians. I come now to another article of our religion-, namely, the absolute necessity of divine grace, which is another universal and constant reason of self- denial. The invisible operation and assistance of God*s Tloly Spirit, by which we are disposed towards that which is good, and made able to perform it, is a confessed doctrine of Christianity. Our natural life is preserved by some union with God, who is the fountain of life to all the creation^ to which union we are altogether strangers ; we find that we are alive, as we find that we think ; but how, or by what influence from God our life is supported, is a secret into which we cannot enter. It is the same thing with relation to our spiritunl life, or life of grace ; it arises from some inxisibU union with God, or divine influence, which, in this state of life, we cannot comprehend. Our blessed Saviour saith, Tlie zvind hUrveth ivhere it listeth, and thou hear est the sound thereof, hut canst t^i _ ••• « „ , . .7-77-7 John ni. D., not tell ichence it comeih, and wliither it goeth ; so is every one that is horn of God. This shows us how ignorant we are of the manner of the UrON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION-. 1S7 opcraiion of the Ilolj Spirit ; wc may Iccl its e iTocts, as we may perceive the effects of the wuid, but are as much strangers to its manner cf coming upon us, as we are strangers to that exact point from whence the W'ind begins to blow, and where it will cease. The Spirit of God is like the nature of God, too high for our conceptions, whilst we are in these dark houses of claj^. But our blessed Saviour has, in some degree, helped our conceptions in this mat- ter, by the manner of his giving the Holy Spirit to his disciples* And he breathed on them^ and said unto them^ receive the Holy Ghost, Now by this ceremony of breathing, we are taught to conceive of the communications of the Holy Spirit, with some likeness to breath or Avind, that its influences come upon us in some manner, most like to a gen- tle breathing of the air. Representations of this kind are only made in compliance with the v eak- ness of our apprehensions, which not being abie to conceive things as they are in their own nature, must be instructed, by comparing them to such things as our senses are acquainted with, 'i'hus the zcisdoi7i and knowledo^e that is revealed from God is compared to /(e^/i/, not because light is a true representation of the wisdom of God, but be- cause it serves best to represent it to our low capa* cities. In like manner the infuences of the Holy Spirit are set forth by the ceremony of breathing upon us ; not because breathy or (ih\ or ji-mt/, nre true representations of the gifts of the Spirit, but because they are the propercst representations that yet fall within our knowledge* But that which is nriost necessary fcr us to know, and of which we are sufficiently infoi-m.ed in Scrip- ture is the absolute necessity cf this divine assis- tance. We are used to consider tl.ose only as inspirrd persons, who are called by God to som.e extraordi- nary designs, and act by immediate revelation from 18S A PRACTICAP. TREATISE him. Now as inspiration implies an hnmedlait rt- "cdaUon from God, in this sense there have been but few inspired persons ; but inspiration, as it signi- fies an invisible operation^ or assistchict and instruc- tion of God's Holy Spirit, is the common gift and privilege of all Christians ; in this sense of inspira- tion they are all inspired persons, Knoivyenot^ saith St. Paul^ that yoiir body is the temple of the Holy Ghost^ which is in you ? St. John likewise, Hereby know loe that he diceUeth in us^ by the Spirit zi'hich he hath given us : for as many as are led by the Spirit of God, are the sons of God* Again, N020 if any man hath 7iot the Spirit of Christ he is none j^ •• ^ ^ n- r .1, 1 vl. Kom.vH.ll. of his, r rom these, and many other passages of the like nature, it is undeniably plain^ that the life which we now live, is a life in and by the Spirit of God, and that they are only sons of God, who are led by this Spirit. JNow this Doctrine plainly proves the necessity of a constant seif-denial ; for it must be necessary that we deny ourselves all those tempers and -ways of life, which may make God w^ithhokl his grace from us ; and likewise all those enjoyments and indulgences which may make us less able and less disposed lo improve and co-operate with those degrees of divine grace^ that are communicated to us. Our blessed Saviour saith, If any man love me, he 7oill keep my worr?.9, and my Father j i, ■ 03 7uill love him, and 7ve rcill come unto him^ and make cur abode ivilh him. This teaches us how we are to invite the good Spirit of Cod to dwell in us: we arc to prepare ourselves for the abode of this divine Guest, by loving C^hrist, and keeping his commandments : whence we vho lenrn, that the Spirit of God does not eqiially visit all persons in all ways of life, but that we must prepare ourselves for his prcsen-cc. We are also told, that God resisteth the proud, hU giveth gfact %i7\to th€ humble. This ako explain* UPON CHRISTIAN P£RFECTI0\. 13'J ta US the method of divine grace, that it is bestowed to the state aud temper of })crsons ; that there are some dispositions which scparale us from the Spirit ©f God, and others that procure to us a larger share of its gifts and graces. VVc are also here taught to- consider j:>r/(:?r, not onlj^ as a sin that has its parti- cular guilt, but it has this certain ellVct, that it <\t- ^/Vigu<6A^s- the divine W^Vi^deprhes us of God's Spirit and leaves us to sink under the corruption and weight of our nature* We are to consider humUlfy also, not only as it is a reasonable duty, and proper to our state ; but as it quaUJies ^nd prepares us for larger degrees of divine grace, such as may purify and perfect our souls in all manner of holiness. All instances therefore of pride are to be avoided, all sorts of humility to be prac- tised, not only for their own sakcs, but as necessary preparations for divine grace, that we may be fit temples for the Holy Ghost to dwell in. Now see- ing we are none of Christ's, if the Spirit of Christ be not in us, sccis^' v/c i:r? ctjIv ^"^ far Christians, as we are renewed by the Holy Ghost ; nothing can be more necessary to true piety, than that we form every part of our lives with regard to this Holy Spirit. That we consider all our tempers^ pleasures^ cares^ desic^ns^ and n^ays of life, whether they be such as suit with the wisdom and heavenly guidance of the Holy Spirit. This doctrine shows us to our- selves in a new point of view, and may serve to teach us several truths, which we should otherwise not so readily apprehend. ^Vhen we are left to consider our duty with rela- tion to the express commandments of God, there are many ways of life, which we think ourselves at liberty to fo'Jow, becaus*^ ^^^^J ^f'cin to be no plain breach of any commandment. But we are to look to a farther rule, and to consider our pleasure sand cares, our designs and endeavours, not culy wliether they are according to the letter of the- .lav,-, but 190 A PRACTieAL TREATISE- whether they are according to the Spirit of God ; for if they are contrary to the Spirit of God, if they suit not with his secret inspirations, they are as truly to be avoided, as if they were contrary to some ex- press commandment. For we are assured from Scripture, that they only are the sons of God, 7cho are led hy the Spirit of God ; and none can be said to be led by the Spirit of God, but they whose lives ■are according to it, whose actions, cares, and plea- sures, hopes and fears, are such as may be said to be guided by the motions of the Holy Ghost. We are therefore to consider ourselves as inspired persons, that have no knoAvledge or wisdom, but what comes from God, and that this wisdom will no longer dwell with us, than so long as Ave act and conduct ourselves conformably to it. So that we must not vainly deceive ourselves in saying, where is the harm of such indulgences, or such vanities and idle amusements ? But must consider, whether they are such as are conformable to a life that is to be tlirecied by the Holy Ghost, whether they will invite his assistance, and make him delight to dwell with us. In this manner must we examine and try all our ways of life, as well our cares as our plea- sures, and all our tempers and inclinations. For unreasonable cares, as well as unreasonable plea- sures, are equally contrary to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, and equally separate us from him. People often think their designs and diversions in- nocent, because they are not sinful in their nature, but they should also consider whether they are not vain and foolish, and unsuitable to the state and condition of a Christian. For a life of folly, and vanity, and trifling designs, is no more living hy the Spirit of God, than a life of gross sins is keeping the commandments. So that the safest rules to judge of our actions by, is to consider them with relation to that Spirit, by which we are to be guided. Is this design^ or thi^ diversion, according to the UPON CilRlSTIA.N" PERFECTION. tDl wisdom of the Spirit of God ? Am I in these things improving the secret inspiration of the Holy Ghost ? Am 1 here governed by a wisdom from above? Are these ways such that I can trniy sa}", that 1 am led into them by the Spirit of God ? Do 1 allow mj^self in them, because they serve to set forth the glory of God, and are agreeable to the condition of a disciple of Christ ? Are thoy good proofs that the Spirit of God dwclleth in me, and that by thus sowing to the Spirit, 1 shall of the Spirit reap everlasting life ? This is the rule of perfection, by which Christians are to regulate their thoughts, words, and actions ; for we are called by God to a state of purity and holiness, to act by the motions of his Holy Spirit, and make no other use of ourselves, or the world we are in, than such as is conformable to that dignity of life, and state of glory to which w^e are called. The spirit of our religion is to be the spirit of our lives, the constant principle of all our tempers and inclinations, which is to render us reasonable, and wise, and holy, in all our progress through the world. The rmewai of our hearts by the Spirit of God consists in upav thoughts^ and ne7o desires^ in filling our minds with great and sublime truths, and in giving us desires and inclinations, hopes and fears, cares and pleasures suitable to them. This is being born of the Spirit : hence appears a plain reason of an universal stlf-denkd^ because the spirit of the world, and the spirit of our corrupt hearts, is in a state of contrariety to this Spirit and wisdom which is from a})ove. So that it is to be the main business and labour of our lives, to con- tradict those motions of our hearts, and ttiose tem- pers of the world, vvhich are contrary to this Spirit, which is to be the principle of our new life in Christ. We must therefo''e deny ourselves all those ways of life, all cares and enjoyments which too much 192 A PRACTICAL treatise: possess our minds, and render them insensible of these great truths. We must practise ail that f-clf- dcnial,) tcriiperance^ ahitincncc., care, and wttkh ful- ness, which can any ^v^y fit and prepare our minds to hear and receive, to comprehend and relish the instructions and doctrine which come from the Spirit of God. For ail these truths, every thing that re- lates to God and religion, have a different effect upon us, according to the state or way of life that we are in : as land must be prepared to receive the best seed, as rocks can bring forth no fruit ; so un- less our minds are in some proper state and dispo- siiion to co-operate vAih the Holy Spirit, and receive liis instructions, his gifts and graces will bring forth no fruit. ^Tis acknowledged by all, that a life of inlempt^ ranee and debauchery makes us dead and senseless of religion, and incapable of receiving its truths t but then it is not enough considered, that the vamty of the mind, an understanding busied in trifles, an inipertinent course of life, will as certainly produce the same effect. If our understanding is full of foolish imaginations, devoted to trifles, religion can gain no entrance. A man may be so earnest in picking straws, as to have no leisure to thiuk of his "salvation, nor any more inclination to it, than one that is constantly in drink. Children are incapable of religion, not because they "»re intemperate and dchaudied, but l^ecause they have litJJe minds, that arc taken up and employed with little and trifling entertainments. Now if, when we are men, v.e have the minds of children, and have only changed our p/c/^y-//rm'\?, we shall embrace and ]^rnctise re- ligion, just to as much pui'pose as children do : for a mind talvjen up with geivgarrs, and trifles, and impertinent S'^isfiictions, is in the snme state, whether it hofnir, or whetlier it be fifty years old. If it be made silly with trifiing concerns, v.nd false .satisfactions, it is in a state of as much disorder, and UPON CHRISTIAN P£RFECTION. l03 nT5 contrary to religion, as a state of giuiioitij- and intemperance. Thus poor amusemenfs^ vain arts^ useless sciences^ impertinent /earui/??, false satisfactions^ a wrong turn of mi ml ^ a state of idleness^ or any the vainest: iriflcs of life, may keep men at as great a distance from the true impressions of religion, and from liv- ing by the Spirit of God, as the ignorance of child- hood or the dcbaucJicries of intemperance. Titus is temperate and regular ; but then he is so .'^reat a mathematicia,i^ that he does not know when Sunday comes : he s«cs people going to church ; as he sees others going to m.arket ; he goes on study- ing, measuring, and calculating, and may as well be ■called a merchant as a Christian, All doctrines of religion are disagreeable (o PJiih he avoids them as he avoids y9«r/y ; now what is the reason of it 2 It is not because he is debauched and intemperate^ but he is a virtuoso, devoted to polite literature ; his soul is extended to all the curiosities in the world, and thinks all time to ])e lost, that is liot spent in the search of shells, uryis, inscriptions, and broken pieces of pavements* This makes the truths o^ religion, and the concerns o( eternity, seem small things in his eyes, fit only for the inquiry of narroio, Utile, and lu^mlite souls. Patronus is fond of a clergyman that understands music, painting, statuary and architecture. He is an enemy to the dissenters, and loves the church of England, because of the stateliness and beauty of it* buildings ; he never comes to the sacrament, but will go forty miles to see a//ie altar-piece. He goes to church when there is a ncic tune to be heard, buf. never had any more serious thoughts about salva- tion. than a\)0\it flying. If you visit him when he is dying, you will hear his dying thoughts upon archi* tccturc, Euschius would read prayers trcicc every day in iiis parish ; he would be often with the poor and 17 194 A r-RACTICAL TREATISE sick, and spend much time in charitable \'isits, he would be wholly taken up in the cure of souls, but that he is busy in studying the old grammarians, and would fain reconcile some differences amongst them before he dies. Lycki has no wicked or irreligious temper, and she might be pious, but that she is too easy^ gay^ and cheerful, to admit of care of any kind. She can no more repent, than she can be out of temper, and must be the same sparkling^ cheerful creature in tlie churchy as in the play-house. She might be capable of understanding the misery of human natm-e, and the necessity of the comforts of religion : but that the is so happy every time she is dressed, Matrona is old, and has been this fifty years eating and drinking, sleeping and waking, dressing and undressing, paying and receiviiig visits. She has no profaneness ; and, if she has no piety, it is owing to this, that she never had a spare half-hour in all her life to think about it. She envies her daus^htcrs because thev will dress and visit when she is dead. Publins goes to church sometimes, and reads the Scripture ; but he knows not what he reads or prays, his head is so full of politics ^ He is so angry at kinors and ministers of state^ that he has no time nor disposition to call himself to account. He has the history of sW parliamcnts^f cleciioiis^ prosecutions^ and impeachments^ and dies with little or no religion, through a constant fear of popery. Siccus has neither virtues nor vices ; he has been all his life long, building and pulling dozvn^ making canals and ditches, raising nudh mid fences. People call him a good man, because ho employs the poor ; Siccus might have been a religious man, but that he thought building was the chief happiness of a ra- tional creature. He is all the week amongst dirt and mortar, and stays at home on Sundays to view his contrivances* He will die more contentedly, if tjpoa CHRISTIAN PERFECTIO:?* 195 his death does not happen whilst some ii-all is in building. Silvius laughs at preaching, and prayings not be- cause he has any profane principles, or any argu- ments against religion ; but l)ccause he ha]))icns to have been used to nothing but iioisc, and luciitingy and sports* I have n^entioned these several characters^ to show us, that it is not only profaneness^ dchaiichcrj/, and open vices, that keep men from the impression-; ' of true religion ; but that the mere plajj-tLings of life, impertinent studies, vain amusements, false satis- factions, idle dispositions, "will produce the same effect. A wrong turn of mind, impertinent cares, a succession of the poorest trijles, if they take up our thoughts, leave no more room for the cares and fears of true piety, than gross sensuality. Our blessed Saviour saith, Wo unto you, pilaris ee s ^ for ye love the uppermost seats in syna- t i ' a<^ gogues, and greetings in the viarkcts. The wisdom of this world would tind little to con- demn in such a behaviour as this ; but yet ue see that the wisdom of God condemns it with a 7coe, teaching us, that every zurong turn of mind, every false satisfaction, puts the soul in a state that is contrary to religion, and makes men unfit to receive f^ its doctrines. This is the reason w^hy religion calls |.,- ' us to a state of self-denial, humility, and mortiftca- ' tion, because it is a state that awakens the soul into right apprehensions of things, and qualities us to see, and hear, and understand the doctrines of ctcr« nal truth. We must deny ourselves all our ways, of folly and vanity, let go every false satisfaction, that the soul may be at liberty with its full atteiv tion, to listen to the instructions of religion. Would we see any thing exactly, we must take our eyes from every thing else ; so if we would apprehend truly the things of religion, we must take our mind^ from all other objects, wc must 196 A PRACTICAL TREATISE- empty ourselves of all false satisfactions, or wc shall never know the want, or feel the excellency of our true good. We see even in worldly matters, that if we pro- pose any thino; to a man when he is in the pursuit of something else, he hardly hears or understands us ; we must stay for a season of more leisure and indiflerence, till his thoughts and passions are at rest. Now this holds much stronger in ihattcrs of reli- gion ; its doctrines are neither heard nor understood, i-'ccau^-e it ahvays lines us in the pursuit of soiucfhing e's^ ; it mutters liOt what this scmcthing else is, nvhether it be loving uppermost seats in the syna- ,^ofriies, a fondness for frifes, a joy in luxury and kilcjiess, or a labour after riches ; the mind is equally employed wrong, and so not in a condition to like, or at leisure to listen to any other happiness. If you were to propose the same truths to a man in another state, when weariness or disappointment has made him give up all designs, or when sickness, or the approach of death shows him that he must act no longer in them, they would have quite ano- ther effect upon him ; then the great things of reli- gion appear great indeed : he feels their whole weight, and is amazed that he did not see them always in the same monner. Now it is the great end and design of sc[f-(hninl^ to put a stop to the follies of life, and mortify all onr passions, that our souls may quietly consider, and fully comprehend the truths which come from God : that our hearts being at liberty from a croud of foolish thoughts, may be ready' to obey and co-operate with the m- spi'raiions of that Spirit, which is to lead and quicken us in holiness ; that death and judgment, heavcji and /fc//, may make as deep impressions upon our minds in the middle of our lives, as at our last hour ; that we may be as wise and prudent as sick and dying men, and live with such apprehensions a^^ mosi UPON CHRISTIAN PtRFECTlON. 197 people die with, that we may see the vanity of the world, the misery of sin, the greatness of eternity, and the want of God, as they see it, who stand upon the brink of another world. This is the great and happy work of self-denial^ which is to fill us with a spirit of wisdom, to awaken us into a true knowledge of ourselves, and show us who, and where, and what we are. Till this self- denial has put a stop to our follies, and opened our eyes, our life js but a sleep, a dream, a mere succes- sion of shadows ; and we act with as little reason and judgment, as a child that is pleased with blow- ing about a feather. We must therefore not only deny our wicked and sinful inclinations, but also all our follies, impertinences, and vain satisfactions ; for as plain and known sins harden and corrupt, so impertinencies and false satisfactions delude and blind our hearts, and render them insensible of our real misery, or true happiness. We are true nw^mbers of the kingdom of God, when the kingdom of God is within us, when the Spirit of religion is the spirit of our lives ; when seated in our hearts, it diffuses itself into all our motions : when we are wise hy its wisdom, sober by its sobriety, and humble by its humility ; when it is the principle of all our thoughts and desires, the spring of all our hopes and fears ; when we like and dislike, seek and avoid, mourn and rejoice, as becomes those who are born again of God. Now this is the work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, to give us a new understanding, a new judgment, tem- per, taste, and relish, new desires, and new hopes and fears. So far, therefore, as we prepare ourselves by self-denial for this change of heart and mind, so far we invite the assistance, and concur with the in- spirations of the Holy Spirit. And so far as we nourish any foolish passion, indulge any vanity of mind, or corruption of heart ; so far we resist the graces of God's Holy Spirit, and render ourselves 17* i98 A TRACTItAL TREATiSE indisposed lo relish and improve his sccrcl insplra- iions. Christians arc therefore to consider them- selves, not only as men that are to act by a princi- ple of reason, but as sj)iritual beings, who have a liigher principle of life within them, and are to live by the wisdom and instructions of the Spirit of God, As reasonable men would do every thing that tended to strengthen and improve their reason ; so w ise Chri.'^tians ought to practise e^'ery way of life, that can fit them for farther degrees /)f grace, that can strengthen and preserve their union with the Spirit of God. For as a man without reason, has but the figure of a man ; so a Christian without the Spirit of God, has but the form of a Christian. And as the perfection of a man consists in the highest improvement of his reason ; so the perfection of a Christian consists in his growth in grace, in the spiritual turn and temper of his heart and mind. IJere therefore must we fix all our care and con- cern, that we may remove all hinderances of divine grace, and preserve this kingdom of God within us ; I hat we may be truly spiritual in all our ways and designs, and indulge no tempers that may lessen our union with the Spirit of God. Some persons will perhaps refrain from griefs when they find that it hurts their eyes ; they will uvoid passion and anger, if it ends in pains of the head ;but they would do well to consider that these tempers are to be abstained from upon much greater accounts. Passion may disorder our bodies, waste our spirits, and leave pains in our heads ; but it leaves greater marks of injury in our better part, as it throws us into a state of madness, and banishes the Holy Spirit of peace and gentleness, zind prepares us for the suggestions of the spirit of darkness. Grief maj hurt our eyes^ but it much more hurts our souls^ as it sinks them into a state of gloom and darkness, which expels and quenches the Spirit of God ; for light may as well unite with darkness, as LPO-^ CHP.ISTIAN PERFEillloN. 199 the Spirit of Cod dwell with the gloomy duhiess and horror of stupid grief. What 1 liave observed of these two passions, ought to be concluded of every other pasi^ioji and tonpei- ; we are to consider it as it suits with, or resists that new Spirit, by whose holy motions w^e arc to be preserved in a state of hoihiess. Now seeing this change of our hearts, and new- ness of spirit, is the whole of religion ; we must fear and avoid, all irregularity of spirit, every unrea- sonable temper, because it affects us in the seat of life, because it hurts us in our principal part, and makes us less capable of the graces, and less obe- dient to the motions of God's Holy Spirit. We must labour after a stijte of peace, satisfaction, and thankfulness, free from the folly of vain hopes, idle fears, and false anxieties, that our souls may be dis- posed to feel the joys, to rejoice in the comforts, and advance in the graces of the Holy Ghost. AVith what care and exactness we are to conduct ourselves, with regard to the Spirit of God, is fully set forth in the following words ; Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your moKfli^ hut that 7ohich is good to the use of edify inp;^ that it may inin- istcr grace unto the hearers ; and grieve not iiie Holy Spirit of God^ whereby ye are sealed pi • oq unto the day of redemption. That * '' we may not here mistake what is meant by corrupt communications, that we may not fancy it only implies sinful and wicked discourse, the apostle adds — but that zujiich is good to the use of edifying^ that it may minister grace unto the hearers. So that it is a conversation that docs not edify and profit the hearer, the apostle condemns as corrupt, and such as is to be avoided. Let it be observed, that the apostle does not prohibit this kind of conver- sation, because it is useless, impertinent, and bet- ter to be avoided -; but for a reason of the utmost consequence, that we may not grieve the Holy Spirii -iOO A PRACTICAL TREATISE of God* This shows us, that we Christians are (o govern ourselves by no less a rule than a conformilxj 10 the Spirit of God ; that we arc not only to deny ourselves vain and foolish actions, but also idle and unedifying discourse, and conduct ourselves in all our behaviour with such a spirit of wisdom and purity, as may make the Holy Ghost delight to dwell in us. This rule of perfection is highly con- formable to the nature of our religion. For as our religion consists in a new heart and ticzu spirit ; it is certain that we are then only arrived to the true state of our religion, when it governs our words and actions, and is the constant temper of our minds at all times, and on all occasions. A covetous man is not only covetous, when he is in his counting-roomy he is the same person, and governed by the same temper and way of thinking wherever he is. And the same thing is equally true of every way of life^ when it has once entered into our heart, and become a settled temper ; it is not occasionally exercised in this or that place, or at set times ; but is always in being, and constantly disposing us to thoughts, and words, &nd actions suitable to it. Some persons seem to know so little of religion^ that they confine it to acts of devotion, and public occasions of divine service 5 they do not consider that it consists in a new heart and new spirit, and that acts of devotion, prayer and preaching, watch- ings, fastinfjs, and sacraments, are only to fill us with this new heart and spirit, and make it the common constant spirit of our lives every day and in every place. A man may be said to have some regard for reli- gion, who is regular at places of divine w^orship ; but he cannot be reckoned of a religious spirit, till it is his spirit in every place,»and on every occa? sion ; till he lives and breathes by it, andf thinks, and speaks, and acts according to its motions. A man may frec^uent meetings for mirth ; but » CPON CHRISTIAN TDRFECTION. 201 yet, if when he is out of them, he gives himself unto peevishness, chagrin and duhiess. I presume no one wifl saj that such a man is of a cheerful spirit. It is easy to make the application here, if we are only attendants ^i places of religion ; if Avhen we are out of those places, wc are of another spirit, 1 do not say proud or covetous, but vain and foolish ; if oar actions arc silly, and conversation trifling and im- pertinent, our tempers vain and worldly, wc are no more of a religious spirit^ than a dull and peevish man is of a cheerful spirit, br^cauj>c he is regular at 5omc set meetings for mirth. If a person of pride and vanity in the general course 'of his life, should yet think himscU hnmhle, because he had lus appointed times of praying for humility, we might justly say of him, that he knew nothing of the nature of that virtue : in like manner, if one, whose conversation^ w-hose discourse, and carriage, and temper in common Hfe^tivc not accord- ing to the spirit of religion, should yet think himself religious, because he had his appointed places of prayer, it might justly be said of him, that he was a -stranger to the nature of true religion. For religion is not ours till we live by it ; till it is the' rehgion of our thou2;hts, words, and actions ; till it goes with us into every place ; sits uppermost on every occasion ; and forms and governs our hopes and fears, our cares and pleasures. lie is the religious man who watches and guards his spirit, and endeavours to be always in the temper of religion ; who worships God in every place by a purity of behaviour ; who 13 as fearful of foolish thoughts, irregular tempers, and vain imaginations, at one tim.e as at another ; who is as wi=e and heavenly at home, or in the field, as in the LouS''^ of God. For when once reli- gion hns irot possr;-sion of a man's heart, and is be- come, as it ought to br, his ruling temj)er ; it is as agreeable to such a one in all places, and at all times,' to speak and act according to i's dircctioriSf 302 A PRACTICAL TREATISE as it is aojrceable to the ambitious man to act ac^ cording to the motions of ambition. We must there- fore take it for granted, that if we are not religious in our conversation and common temper, we are not religious in our hearts ; wc may have a formality of religion af certain times and places^ but wc are not of a relioious spirii. We sec every body speaking and conversing ac- cording to their spirit and temper ; the covetous, the ambitious, the vain and self-conceited, have each of them their proper language suitable to their spirit and temper, they are the same persons in all places, and always talk like themselves. If there* fore we could meet with persons of a truly religious spirit and temper, we should find them like men of other tempers, the same persons in all places^, and always talking and acting like themselves. We should find them living by one temper, and conversing with men with the same spirit that they converse with God ; not one thing in one place, and another in another, not formal and grave at a fune- ral^ and mad and frantic at di feast ; not listening to wisdom at churchy and delighting in folly at home ; not angry at one foolish thing, and as much pleased with another ; but steady and uniform in the same wise and religious temper. Farther, as we are not of a religious spirit^ till it is the spirit of our life, and orders our conversation ; so it is carefully to be observed, that if our conversation is vain and foolish, it keeps us in a state incapable of religion by grieving the Holy Spirit. For as we can do nothing without the Spirit of God, as it is our breath, our life, our light, and oar streyigth ; so if we live in such a way as grieves and removes {his Holy Spirit from us, we are as branches that are broke off from the tree, and must perish in the deadness and corruption of our nature. Let this therefore teach us to judge rightly of the sin and danger of ram* ^medifying^ and corrvpt commu* UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. -20S nicalion ; it is not the sin of idhncss or negVigcnce ; it is not the sin of a pardonable wfirmlty ; it is not a Irttle mistake in spiritual wisdom ; but it is a sin that stands between us and the tree of life : that op- poses our whole happiness, as it g^rievcs and separates the Holy Spirit from us. Let this also teach some ))eo})le the reason, why they are so deacl and senseless of religion, and hardly capable of an outward formal compliance with it ; they are not guihy of gross sins ; tliey have an aversion to cheating Siud falseness ; but at the same time have no more feclini:^ or relish of religion, than mere reprobates. Now the reason of it is this, they live in such an impertinence of con- versation ; their own communication is so constantly upon silly and vain subjects ; and they are so fond of those who have the talent of conversing iji the same manner, that they render themselves unfit for the residence of the Holy Spirit. Their whole life is almost nothing else but a course of thdii fillhin ess, foolish talking, and jesting, w^hich the apostle for- bids. Now this kind of conversation may grieve the Holy Spirit, for these two reasons : first, be- cause it proceeds from too disordered a soul, for the Holy Spirit to delight in ; for such as our conversa- tion is, such is our heart ; for truth itself has assur- ed us, that oui of the abundance of the heart the mmith speakeih. If therefore we are delighted with idle raillery^ foolish jesting, and ridiculous stories, we must not think that we are only foolish, so far as a little talk goes ; but we must charge ourselves home, and be assured that it is a foolishness of heart, a vanity of soul that we labour under. Secondly, another reason why this conversatloa grieves the Holy Spirit, may be this, because it is of so great consequence, and has so great an inllu- encc in life. We do not seem enough to apprehend either how much good or how much evil there is in conversation ; and 1 believe it may be affirmed, that ihc greatest instructions, and the greatest corrup- 204 A PRACTICAL TREATISE tions, proceed from it. If some people wore to give us their true history, they would tell us that they never had any religion since they had such acquain- tance; and others have been insensibly led into a sincere picfy'. only by conversing with pious people. For men's common conversation and oj-dinary life leach much rAore effectually, than any thing they »sar or do, at set times and occasions. When a clergyman preaches, he is, for the most part, considered as doing his duty ; as acting accord- ing to his profession ; and doing that which all clergymen do, whether good or bad. But if he is the same wise and virtuous man in his communication, that he is in the pulpit ; if his speech be seasoned 7mth salf^ that it may minister grace unto the heaiw crs ; if the common and ordinary actions of his life ])e visibly governed by a spirit of piety ; such a one will make converts to holiness ; he will be heard with reverence on the Simday ; not so much for the weight of what he says, as for what he says and docs all the week. And on the contrary, if a cler- gyman^ when he comes out oi ihe. pulpit^ is but like other men ; as irregular in his tempers ; as trijling in his conversation ; as efl^of^r in diversions ; as ridi- culous in his pleasures ; and as vain in his designs as other people ; he will mightily lessen his power over the hearts of his hearers. A father now and then gives his son virtuous advice, and the son, per- haps, would be much the better for it, but that he never hears him talking virtuously, but when he i^ giving him advice ; this makes him think, that he is then only acting the part o( a father^ as when he is buying him clothes^ or puttins; him out to an em- ployment. Whereas, if he saw his father's ordinary life and conversation to be under the rules of reli- gion, and his every-day temper a temper of piety, it is y-Qvy likely that he would be won into an imi- tation of it. A mother orders her daughter to be taught the rroN cntustiAN rtRFECTiox. $05 '■^atechisni^ and desires that she may Iiave books of devollon ; the dauglucr would have imagined thai she was to have formed herself by these books, she w^ould have read them when she Avas alone ; but ^.hat she fmds her mother sits up at night to read romances, and if she is ill must be read to sleep with a play. She might liave had some notion of reli- gious modesty and humilily ; but that she sees her mother eager after all diversions ; impatient till she knows all intrigues ; fond of the wit and flattery of rakes ,• pleased with the gentility oifops. and the- gracefulness o( players. Now a daughter educated v/ith a mother of this temper and conversation, is rendered almost inca- nable of reli2:ioni This therefore may be One reason why a vain un- •edifying conversation gi^.cves the Holy Spirit, vizv because it not only proceeds from a corruption of heart, a disordered state of the soul ; but because it is so powerful in its influences, and docs so much harm to those that we converse with. For it is our ^communication, our ordinary temper and manner of Common life, that affects other people ; that either hardens them in sin, or awakens them to a sense of |iiety» Let, therefore, all clergymen, and masters and mistresses of families ; let them consider, that ii' their ordinary life, their communication be vain^ impertinent and unedifying ; that they arc not only in a corrupt state of heart, but are guilty of cof^ rupting and perverting the hearts of those thai be- long to them. Let them not think that they have sufficiently discharged their duty, by seeing that those who relate to them have their proper instruc- tions ; for it is next to impossil.)le for such instruc- tions to have their proper x^fiect against the temper and example of those we converse w^ith. If a cler- gyman plays and drinks, and sports with his flock in the week-days, let him not wonder if he preaches fehcm asleep on Sundays. If :i father is intemperate "; i u 2^6 A PRACTICAL TREATISE if he s7L'cars and converse?, f a oil shly with his friends • let him not wonder that his children cannot be made virtuous. For tliere is nothing that teaches to any purpose hut our ordinary temper, our com- mon life and conversation ; and almost all people will be such as those amongst whom they were born and bred. It is, therefore, the necessary duty of all Christians, in all states of life, to look care- fully to their ordinary behaviour^ that it be not the means of poisoning and corrupting the hearts of those that they converse with. They must con- .sider, that all the follies and impertinencies of their ordinary life and conversation, have the guilt of destroying souls ; and that the blood of those, whom their follies have destroyed, will be required at their hands. It is sometimes said of a foolish^ irregiilar^ and xain person, that he is only his onm enemy ; but this is as absurd as to say, that a person of exemplary and eminent piety is only his orvn friend ; for as his lively piety will certainly communicate itself to those about him ; so the folly and impertinent spii'it of an irregular man, will naturally infect those who are obliged to be near him. A mistress, whose daily conversation is a daily proof to her maids^ that she is governed by a spirit of true piety in all that she says and does, whose regular life is a continual visible labour to work out her salvation with fear and iremhling^ is a blessing to all that stand about her ; she communicates hap- piness even to those who are boni of her servants ; they will be educated in piety, because their parents learnt what piety was, in waiting on such a mistress. A crood-nalurcd^ drinking, sh£pi7ig, playing, srcear- 'ing master, is a curse to those who tend upon him ; they are led into all irregularities, by following his steps ; and are sent into the world hardened in follies, and insensible of religion, by having lived v^iih such a maslcr. This, therefore, ought carefully UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 20j to be considered by all Christians, as a mighty civ couragcmcnt to an exact strictness and regularity of behaviour ; that as a holy conversation entitles u.. to a reward for other people's virtues, so an c-ciJ communication., and the folly of our lives, make us liable to a punishment for other men's sins. For we can neither live well or ill to ourselves alone, h\\\. must of necessity do either good or harm to other-, by our manner of conversation. This is one grear, reason why a vain corrupt communication does j-o grieve the Holy Spirit, because it is so infecting an evil, and does so corrupt the manners of tho-^e that. v*'e converse with. This doctrine of abstaining from torrr.pt communication, that we mny nor grieve the Spirit of God, teaches us a high aim. and exalted degree of perfection, v>^hich is peculiar to Christianity. As Christianity lays the design of uniting us to God, and raising us to a more intimate ])articipation of the divine nature ; so we are to make the spirit of our religion, and the greatness of its designs, the rule of our perfection. We must not only conduct ourselves by rules of morality, but pursue such degrees of purity as can only be expressed by an imitation of God, and aspire after such wisdom as is suggested to us, by considering that we are temples of the Holy Ghost, and must live like beings consecrated by the Spirit of Wisdom. If we were frequently to consider the holy presence of this God withiw us, and to ask our- selves — does this discourse, this behaviour, become one who is to act according to the inspirations of the Divine Spirit ? W^e should find, that the very ihought of this dignity of our state would deter- mine several points where no express law condemns us ; we should find such a contrariety in many of our allowed ways to our Christian greatness, to this Holy Spirit that is given unto us, as would sufficiently check our behaviour, only by showin^^ us that we acted below ourselves. 208 A PRACTICAL TRtATloE It Is common in life to hear a man saj, This dotis^ Dot become a gentleman ; That does not become a man of quality \ now I would have us find out :^omething like this in religion ; for certainly if any ^^tate of life has its dignity, which can excite men fo a suitable greatness of action, suf'ely the state of a Christian, which is a state of such relation to God, which unites us to his Holy Spirit, ought to rais^ in us a desire of acting suitable to so exalted a condition* For who can so justly be afraid of actinj:( below himself, as he that is made one with (.'hrist? Who can so rcasonal:)ly think that he is- never wii>e, or holy, or pure enough, as he that is to walk with God in the light of his Holy Spirit, whose soul and body is made a sacred temple for the divine presence ? The heathen philosophers exhorted man to reve- rence his reason as a ray of the Deity ; but we can go much higher ; we can exhort him to reverence the Deity that dwelleth in him, and to act with such purity as becomes persons that are inspired by the Holy Ghost. This is the improvement that we are to make of this doctrine of divine grace ; it must make us ex- act and careful of our behaviour, that we may walk worthy of that Holy Spirit that dwelleth in us. CHAP. X. TTie Necessity of divine Grace ohligeth all Christians to a constant purity and holiness of Conversation ; leiherein is shorcn the great Danger^ and great Im^ piety of reading vain and impertinent Books. I HAVE shown in the foregoing chapter, that the necessity of divine grace is a mighty argument for an universal care and exactness of life and coiV' UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 209 vernation. I come now to speak to one remarkable, branch of it ; Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that zohich is good to the use of edififing, that it may minister grace to the hearers ; and. grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, ivhtreby ye are- sealed to the day of redemption. Now if we are to let no corrupt communication proceed out of our mouth, that we may not grieve the Holy Spirit, and separate him from us ; then it follows, that we are also to deny ourselves the entertainment of all cor- rupt, impertinent, and uncdifying books. For if vain and idle words are not to proceed out of our mouths, we must be under the same necessity of not letting them enter into our hearts. If we would know what books are to be avoided, as corrupt and grievous to the Holy Spirit, we must look back to the rule of our communication ; for as that communication is there said to lie corrupt,iha.[ does not edify and minister grace to the hearers, so must we look upon ail those books as corrupt, ■\vhich do not improve and confirm our hearts in virtue, or, in the apostle's words, such as do noi: edify and minister grace to the readers. Nov^ this book-entertainment is as certainly forbidden by the apostle, as cheating is forbidden by the eighth commandment ; for if 1 am not to say foolish and impertinent things myself, because such a commu- nication grieves and removes the Holy S])irit oi God ; I am as certainly forbid the reading the cor- rupt and impertinent sayings of other people. The books which mostly corrupt our hearts, and fill us with a spirit of folly, are such as almost all the world allow themselves to read ; I mean books of 7cit and humour, romances, plays, and other produc- tions of the poets. Thus a grave orthodox old gen- tleman, if he hears that his niece is very good, and delights in reading, will fill her closet with volumes of plays, and poems on several occasions, on pur- pose to encourage her to spend her UniQ well-. 1 8* 210 A PRACTICAL TREATISE There is not, perhaps, a more surprising infatuatior> in the conduct of Christians, than with regard to these books. A father would be very much troubled to see his daughter, in conversation, pleased with the kicd remarks of a rake ; he would be afraid that she had lost the virtue of her mind, if she could relish such a turn of conversation : yet this same father shall help his daughter to a volume of occasional poems for her closet entertainment, full of such gross ini- 'niodesties., as hardly any rake would venture to ex- press in any conversation. It is, perhaps, a collec- tion of ihe poet''s finest, strongest, and most finished thoughts in lewdness and immodesty. Every w^an- tonness of imagination, every transport of passion, every extravagance of thought, which ever seized him in his life, is there preserved for the medita-. lion of the Christian reader ; as \i profimmess^ blas- phemy, the grossest descriptions of lust, and the wildest sallies of impure passions, were made good and useful for a Christian, by bein;^ put into rhym& and measure. And what shows tiiis infatuatlcm in a yet higher degree is this, that it is still a prevail-- ing opinion in the world, that the reading virtuous books is a great means of improving in virtue :• whereas one would suppose, that the books I have mentioned could only be allowed upon a belief, that t'here was neither good nor harm to be got l)y reading. But however let us remember^ that though the way of the world, wdiich is thus inconsistent, may allow this polite kind of entertainment ; yet this is no rule or security for our conduct, since we are no- more to make the spirit of the world our ,2;uide, than we are to make the riches of the world our happiness. The doctrines of the Scriptures are the only rule by which we are now to live, and ^he rule by which we shall hereafter be judged. Now if we will allow ourselves in the reading pro- UPON CimiSTIAN PERFECTION. 211 faile^ impure^ and unperliiient bookn, which have C'icry thing in them that can pervert our undor- standings, and corrupt our hearts 5 though the Scri}> ture lorbids all xinedlfying discourse^ as a thing tliaf. grieves the Holy Spirit ; it must be said, that we act as contrary to Scripture as if we indulged and pleased ourselves in malice and revenge. Yoa read 'dplai/ ; I toll you that you read ribal- (Jry and profaneness; that you iill your mind w^ith extravagant thoughts, lewd intrigues, vain fictions, wanton ideas, and impure descriptions. If you ask me Avhere is the sin of this, you may as well ask me where is the sin of sivearing^ and lymg : for it is a sin, not only against this, or that particular text, but it is a sin against the ivhole nature and spirit of our religion ; it is a contradiction to all holiness^ and to all the methods of arriving at it. For if evil unedifyins; communication be forbidden iri Scrip- ture, and for this reason, because it grieves the Spi- rit of God ; then the entertainment of such books is certainly forbidden. For certainly the wild rant, the profane speeches, filthy jests, and impure pas- sions, which there abound, are an evil communica- tion in the highest degree, and must, therefore^ highly grieve and separate tt\e Holy Spirit from U9». Can therefore any practice be forbid upon a more dreadful penalty than this ? For without the Spirit of God, wc ai*e but figures of Christians, and must die in our sins. If, therefore, we can prove it to be a small matter to grieve the Spirit of God, then we may allow that it is but a small offence to please ourselves in reading those corrupt books. Our bles- sed Saviour saith, out of tlie heart procc-'d evil thoughts^ and that these are the thi-ifrs that defile a man ; must it not, therefore, be a ^reat defilement to take evil thoughts into our hearts ; Need we any other mo- tive than ihis, to watch and Gjuard the purily of our minds ? He that, notwithstanding this doc- ti'ine of our Saviour's, dares to set apart times for 212 A PRACTICAL TREATISE reading the evil and impure thoughts that are in these books, does as plainly despise the doctrine of Christ as he that murders, despises the doctrine of the sixth commandment. You will say, perhaps, that you only read these books now and then for amusement^ and only to .divert your spirits ; and that most of the time which you devote to reading, is spent in reading books that may improve your piety. If this be your case, you can say that for yourself which very few can ; for the generality of readers make other books their chief and most constant entertainment. But to speak now to your excuse : you only read such books now and then for your amusement, and to divert your spirits ; that is, you entertain your mind with evil thoughts, you read, relish, and digest the lewdness^ profaneness^ and impurity of these books, not with a serious design of makiug yourself lewd, profane, and impure, but only as it were in jest, and to have a little pleasure from them. Now this is the plain meaning of this excuse, which is as ab- surd as any thing can well be supposed. It is as if a man, who allows himself now and then to get drunk, and S7vear, and rant, should say in his excuse, that he is, for the most part, very sober ; and that, when he takes these liberties, it is not through any desire or liking of the sin of drunkenness, but only as it were in jest, and through the mere gaiety of his spirits. You will ask, perhaps, if the sin of reading plays be like the sin of drunkenness ? I answer, very like it, and perhaps equally grievous to the Spirit of God. For are not evil thoughts, vanity of mind, and impurity of heart, the most dreadful state that we can be in ? Can you, there- fore, imagine, that the feedino; and entertaining your mind with evil thoughts, and impure discourses, is a less sin than drinking too much ? What rule of reason or scripture have you to go by in such a judgment ? You may fancy that there is something n»ON eirRisTiAN ferfectiox. 21 o- much more gross and shameful in drunkenness than in this practice y but if you would judge, not by fancy, but by the light of religion, you Avould tind, that it is a drunkenness and intemperance of the mind, as gross and shameful^ as abominable in the sight of God, and as contrary to f)iety, as that stupid intemperance which consists in drinking toes much. One great shame of drunkenness is this : that it iits us for r'lhaldry^ and all the folly of discourse % that it m.akes us say silly things ourselves, and be ])lea3cd Avith the mo^i fbolish rant, and extravagant nonsense of other people* Are not you, therefore^ doing that which is most shameful in drunkenness ? And is it not a sign of greater impurity, and greater want of piety, for you coolly and soberly to seek and relish such rant and folly of discourse, such profane jests and wantonness of wit, as men are most pleased with, when drink has made them half mad ? Now the liking of such discourse as this, makes up great part of the guilt of drunkenness, must it not, therefore, imply a greater guilt in you, who like such foolish discourse when you are sober? Drunken men like ill discourse, because reason and religion have then no power over them. ; if, there- fore, you have os false a judgment, and relish a dis- course that is ecjually foolish and mad, must it not he owing to the same thing, because reason and re- ligion have then no ]')ow^er over you ? Dntnken men like any sort of madness; they are not nice in their taste ; if a discourse be but wild or lewd, they de- light in it ; but you like only a madness tliat is put into verse ; you only delight in the impure descrip- tions and ravings of lust, when they are adorned with lewtiful expressions, and made inuslcal to the ear. So that the difference betwixt vou and a^ drunken man does not consist in this, that you have a more religious tasle^ or purity of ivAud than he ; but in this, that he likes all s.orts of rant and waiw 214 A PRACTKSAL TREATISE tonncss of discourse ; l)ut you do not like it, unless it be in rhi/me, and divided into acts and scenes* He likes a song because it is a song ; but you do not like it, unless its impurity and profaneness be made more charming by soft and dying sounds, {i\ therefore, a young lady will go to bed with her phty^ she must not reckon herself better employed than her brother, who is, at the Same time ^ half mad ever his botlle» For it is impossible to show, that the entertaining ourselves with such evil thoughts 'dnd filthy communications is a less sin, than to be ranting over a bottle. He that can do this may also prove, that it is a less sin to tell a lie when you are 'Sober than when you are drunk, J^gain ; You say in your excuse, that you only read these books now and then, to divert your spi- rits, and that you mostly read good books. Now < his excuse carries its own conviction; for it ac- knowledges all that is necessary to condemn it : for it owns that these books are vain and corrupting^ that they are of a contrary nature to good books, and naturally produce contrary effects : and you reckon yourself only secure from being hurt hy them, for this reason, because your mind is so well seasoned and strengthened l)y the use of good books. But pray consider the absurdity of all this : for this is saying, I venture into temptations ; not because I cannot avoid them, or am ignorant that they are temptations, but because I know myself to be strong, 1 read impure imaginations, JUthy jests, and pro- fane harangues ; not because they are an harmless, innocent diversion ; but because the purity and piety of my mind is too great to receive the least injury from them. Now nothing caa be conceived more absurd and irreligious than such an excuse as this. Yet what Christian that reads plays can possil)ly make a better ? For to say that our plays are not full of profane rant^ flthy jests, and gross descriptions of UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 215 impurity, is the same thing as to say, that \vc have Y\o plays ill English. Farther ; there is a proper time for every thing that is lawful to be done : now can you tell me when it is proper for a Christian to meditate upon these books ? Is it to be left to your temper to entertain yourself as it suits with you, or can your reason point out the convenient seasons for it ? If you are blindly to follow your temper ; then you are in no better state than other people, who are blindly following other tempers. If your reason can ap]3oint any time for such entertainment, it must be because there is some time that is proper for it. Now the diflcrent times or states of our mind, may perhaps be all comprehended under some one of these. There is a time when our hearts are more than ordinarily raised towards God ; when we feel the joys and comforts of religion, and enjoy a peace that passes all understanding. Now 1 suppose reason will not allot this time for the diversion of such books. There is a time, when either through the neglect of duty, remorse of mind, worldly vexations, bodily tempers, or the absence of God's Spirit, that we sink into dejection and dulness, grow burthensomxC to ourselves, and can hardly think of any thing with satisfaction. Now if reason is to judge, this is of all times the most improper for such entertainment. For if there is any Hme that is more proper than another to think upon God, it is when we are in, heaviness. When we are sick, it is time to apply to the phy- sician ; when we are weary, it is a pro]icr time to rcsl ; now there is the same natural fitness in having recourse to God ^nd religion, when we are under any dejection of mind. For it is not more the sole property of light to dispel darkness, than it is the property of religion to relieve all uneasiness. Is any ^16 A PRACtlCAL TREATISE one afftirtcdj says the apostle, let him pray. Now this we arc to look upon, not only as a wise advice of something that is vcj-y good to be done in alHic- lion ; but as a strict command, that leaves us no choice of doing any thing in the stead of it. JL is as absolute a command, as if he said, Hath ■any one sinned let him repent. For an application (o God, is as much the one thing to be done in the iiour of trouble, as repentance is the one thing to b6 done in time of sin* Our blessed Saviour saith, he of good comfort I have overcome iht zvorhL He therefore, that in the want of comfort seeks for it in any thing else, but in the redemption of Christy in his conquest over the world, is no more a true Christian, than he that docs not believe in Christ. You seem to make times of dulness the occasion of your reading those books, by saying that you only read them to divert your spirits ; so that, that which you take to be a reason for reading them, is a strong objection against it. For it is never sO improper to read those books, as when you want to have your spirits raised, or your mind made easy to itself. For it is the highest abuse you can put upon your- self to look for ease and quiet in any thing, but in I'isiht apprehensions of God's providence. And it i.^ u sin against the zvhole nahire of religion, not to make it the whole measure and reason of all your peace, and enjoymcBt in every occurrence of life. If you must amuse yourself with a volume of plays^ because you are laid up with a broken les;^ or have lost a friend^ you are as far from wisdom, as a child that is to be made quiet with a rattle^ and not much more religious than those who worship idols; for to seek to such things Sov relief and refreshment, is like applying to the devil in distress. A man that drinks drams every time he is dull or uneasy, is [i. i^ise^ prudent^ and sober nr^n^ if compared to the Christian that in seasons of dejection has recourse to wanton wit, and profane rant, to divert his spirits; UPON CHniSTlAN PERFECTION. 21 7 \\c destroys the religion and purity of his mind iimcli more eflectualiy, than the oLhcr destroys the constitution and health of his body. Some people think, that in great distresses it is proper to seek comfort in God and rehgious re- ilexions ; but ihat in the Ultle troubles and vexations of life, any thing that can divert the mind from them, is as well. But this is very absurd ; for surely if God is our proper and sufficient comfort in great distresses, he must also be our hesi reluf in those that are smaller. Unless it can be said, that the truths of religion are able to make us bear persecu- tion and martyrd'mi with content, but not great enough to make us easy in little trials. Secondly, To seek for relief in foolish diversions, is not only applying to a false remedy, but is also destroying the chief power of religion. For as reli- gion has no powder over us, but as it is our happi- ness ; so far as we neglect, or refuse to make use of its comforts, so far we lessen and destroy its power over us. For it can no otherwise be the ordinary daily care of our lives, than by being our ordinary happiness and consolation in all the chan- ges and chances of life. A Christian therefore is to make his Christianity his comfort, not only in limes o( great trial and suflerings, but in all the les- ser vexations of life, that by this means every little occasion of grief or disquiet, may be an occasion of his being more affected with religion, and mad<5 more sensible of its true comforts. Thirdly, Those who are for driving away the ordinary cares, and little vexations of human life by diversions^ do not enough consider the nature of human life. For the little ordinary troubles of life, make up the ivhole trouble of life ; and the reason why so many people are full of trouble and uneasi- ness, is because they are unalile to bear them, be- cause they do not use the proper means. For since every disquiet is at something or other that concerns 19 218 A PRACTICAL TREATISE our State and condition, there is no way of relieving us from this disquiet, but by getting right notions of our condition. If children were capable of know- ing themselves, or could be taught the nature of things, we should not use such methods of pleasing them as we do 5 but as they cannot think and reflect, we never endeavour to reason them into content ; but if they have lost one playthings we only promise them another. The application is here very easy : for if men will make themselves happy, as children are made happy, not by considering the nature of things, but by a change of amusement s^ they must also expect to have the vexations and torments of chil- dren, and be, like them, laughing and crying at they know not what, all the days of their life. For chil- dren are only easily vexed, because they are easily pleased, and it is certain that they who can be plea- sed with things, without knowing their worth and value, must in the same degree be liable to be dis- pleased at things, without knowing their weight and importance. And as this is the true state of child- hood ; so whoever is in this state, whatever his age may be, his office, his dignity in life, is yet as truly in the state and folly of childhood, as he that is but four years old : take an instance or two. A child, whose heart is half broken at some mis- fortune, may perhaps be made easy with a picture of a huntsman and a pack @f hounds ; but if you would comfort ihe father that griev^es for his eldest son, the hounds must be all alive^ they must cry and rtm, and follow a hare ; and this will make the father as easy as ih.e picture made the child ; such happi- ness will make him bear the loss of his son. A mother comforts her litde girl with a pack of cards that are finely painted : by-and-by she wants (o be comforted herself; some great calamity has happened to her. Now you must not think to comfort her with painted cards^ or building houses with them ; her grief is too great, and she has been UPON" CHRIStlAN PERFECTION. 219 too long a mother^ to be pleased with such things ; it is only Serious ombre that can dry licr eyes, and remove sorrow from her heart. I might easily multiply instances of this kind ; but these are sufficient to show us, that persons of age and authority often differ only from children, as one child may differ from another. This is the true reason why human life is so full of complaint, why if is such a mixture of ridiculous pleasures, and vain, disquiets ; namely, because we live in an entire igno- rance of the nature of things, never considering why we are pleased with this, or displeased with that, nor any more appeal to religion to correct our judg- ments, than children appeal to reason to form their tempers. For if we will only piny, or lull ourselves into repose, as children are rocked to sleep, it is not to be wondered at, if like them, we cry as soon as we are aivake : for every false relief that is nor founded in yeason, is only adding to the weaknes- and disorder of our nature, and making us more liable to farther vexations. For it is absiolutely cer- tain, that a person, who is made easy by vain and false satisfactions, is in the same degree capable of being made uneasy by vain and ridiculous vexations. They, therefore, who do not think it necessary to apply to religion in all the common and ordinary- disquiets of life, mistake the nature of human life, not considering that it is our applying false relief to these, that is the occasion of all our troubles, and that we are weak and impatient, fretful and dissat- isfied, for no other reason, but because we never made use of the right remedy against the ordinary accidents of life ; for had we but learnt to bear little troubles and disappointments upon right reasons^ because we are Christians, and Children of "God, we should find but few troubles that would have any great trial in them. And the reason why people seemingly religious, are subject to the same dulness and peevishness, to the same vexations and vaj-ietv 2^0 A PRACTICAL TREATI^ of griefs that other people ore, is this, because they make no more use of their religion on these occa- sions, than other people : they do not so much as intend to keep themselves easy, thankful, and cheer- ful, by making religion the measure and standard of all their thoughts and judgments, in all the common xhances of life, any more than those do, who have no thoughts about religion. And this is the reason why you see them as ridiculous in common life, as vainly pleased, and as foolishly vexed as other people. For religion makes no farther diiTerencc bet^Aixt, people, than so far as it is applied. If one man is constant at church, and another is mostly absent, the difference betwixt them may yet be only the difference of frequenting and not frequenting the service of the church. For a religion only carried thus far, makes no farther difference betwixt people. You must not therefore expect, that they must be different persons in the ordinary behaviour of their common life ; for they may, notwithstanding this difference be equally vain and unreasonable in their ways, and equally slaves to the folly and humour of their particular temper. And all this for this plaia reason, because religion, like any thing else, can have no effect but where it is applied. Suppose a person had lame feet, and bad eyes, and thnt he had an oil that was an infallible cure for them both, when applied to both ; if you saw him only using it for his eyes, you would not wonder thai it had not cured his feet ; you would know, that his anointing his eye^ could only cure his eyes ; and that there was no ground to expect that his feet should be any better, till he anointed his feet : And all this for this plain reason, because things however good in themselves, can have no farther effect than as (hey are applied. Now it is just thus in religion. If it consists only in devotions and jpMk 'icorship. it has made this alteration in a m^xii VPdN CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 2^t ilvdi it has taught him to attend to devotion and public worship ; it has operated so far as he has ap- phed it. But why must you wonder, that he is not of a loise^ virtu(Ms, and religwus temper, in all the actions of his ordinary life ? Is not this wondering: why the oil has not cured a man's fief^ when he has never applied it to them, but has only anointed his eyes ? When the regular churchman as plainly makes religion the measure of his ordinary life, as he makes it the rule of his going to church : when he as directly uses it to this purpose, as a man anoints his eyes, who w^ould be cured by anointing them- : then you wdll see him as different in his orclinanf life from other people, as different in his pleasures and grief, in hig cares and concerns, as he is dif- ferent from them informs and regularity of worship. But till men do this ; till they apply the principles of religion to all the actions of ordinary life ; till they make it the measure of all their daily tempers, their joys and fears ; till they think there is as much piety in being wise, and holy in their common tem- pers, as in being devout at church ; as much sin in being vainly pleased and foolishly vexed, as in nc» glecting the divine service ; till they thus directly apply religion to common life, as a man applies a remedy to the part that he would have cured ; it is no more to be expected, that a religion o( forms of wor- ship and devotion should make a man religious in the common judgments and actions of his ordinary life, than it is to be expected that an oil, which is only applied to our eyes^ should cure om- feet. So that it is the manner of our ordinary life, which car- vies on a course of fears and cares, pleasures and amusements, loves and hatreds, suitable to our tem- per and condition of life ; it is this manner of our ordinary life, which we think is thus left to ourselves that makes religion so insignificant in the world ; it lies by, like a remedy that is unapplied } it has no 19* ^22 A TRACTICAL TR£AT1S£ effect, because it is used only as o. formal things that. has its devotions and duties at set times and occa- sions whereas it should be used and considered as ihe rule and reason of all our judgments and actions ; as the ?ne(isnire of all our cares and pleasures ; as the life of our life, the spirit of our spirit, and the very form and essence of all our tempers. It is to be in us, like a nezo reason and judgment of our minds ; that is, to reason and judge of every thing that we do, and to preside over, and govern all the motions of Qur hearts. Is any one merry^ saith the apostle, let him sing psalms ; is any one aj^icted let him pray^ This is religion in the apostle's account ; it is not only an attendance at the public worship, but it is the ruling habit of our minds, something that con- stantly devotes us wholly to God, that allows of no mirtli in our common life, but a mirth proper for the brethren of Christ, a mirth that can express itself by a rejoicing in God ; that allows of no other cure for grief or vexation, than what is to be had from recourse to God. And, indeed, what can be more senseless and absurd, than to see a Christian, over acting in any other consideration than as a Christian ? He is senseless (o a degree of madness, when he indulges a thought, or a motion of his heart, when he either takes a pleasure, or relieves a grief, where he cannot say, I do this as a Chris- lian, as suitable to that state in which Chx»istianity has placed me. We reckon a man sufficiently mad that fancies himself a king^ and governing his subjects, at the same time that he is tied to a bed of straw : so that madness consists in mistaking our condition, in hav- ing a set of thoughts not suitable to it. Now^ a Christian repeats every day, 1 believe inthe forgiveness ofsin^ the resurrection rf the body^ and the Ife ever- lasting ; he thanks God fir the red(mption of Jesus Christ, for the means of crace^ and fir the hope of ^lory. Yet, at the same ti^ne, in this state of great UPOX CHRISTIAN PERFLCTIO.W 223 ness^ he fancies himself in a thous((nd rvants and misC' rics. He cri«:s'and labours, and toils for a ha})pi- ness, that has no existence but in his ozon imagina- tion ; he fancies himself a beings that is to be made happy with sauces and ragouts, with painted clothes, and shining- diamonds ; he seeks the pleasures of rakes and libertines, is grieved and fretted like a child at the loss of a feather ; and must be diverted, as they are, with shncs and plays, and imaginary scenes of rant and nonsense. Now is not such a one mad ? Does he not know as little of his state, as the man in strazo that fancies himself a king ? But for a Christian in times of dulness or vexation, to seek relief in foolish amuse- ments, in the loose, wild discourses of plays, when he should acquaint himself zcith God, and be at peace, is a degree of madness that exceeds all others ; it is acting as contrary to the nature of things, as if a man that had lost the use of his limbs, should choose to comfort his lameness with painted shoes, when he might have the use of his feet restored. For the consolations of religion relieve uneasiness and trouble, as a lame man is relieved when his limbs are restored ; they conquer grief, not by cheat- ing and deluding the weakness of our minds, but as the resurrection conquers death, by restoring us to a new and glorious life. If ycu need any farther conviction, that times of grief and imeasi- ness are highly improper for these diversions ; let me desire you to suppose that you knew a Chris- tian, who in his l^.st hours, sert for tmjfcons and jugglers to divert his mind from the apj rehensions of death* I dare say you have religious arguments enough, to prove sucli a practice to be sUipid and proi'ane in the lilghcst degree. But perhaps you are not aware, that every argument against such a practice as this, concludes as strongly against the same practice at any ot'vr time of our life. Try therefore with yourself, if every good argument 224 A PRACTICAL TREATISE ^ against such folly when we are dying, will not be the same argument against the same -folly in any other part of our life. For every argument that shows the impiety and folly of applying to foolish di- versions when we are under the troubles of death,v,'i\\ show the same impiety and folly of applying to such relief in^any troubles of life. For to imagine that we may be ridiculous and vain, and foolish in the troubles of life ; but serious, holy, and religious in the troubles of death, is the same folly and absurdity, as to suppose, that we must be devout and penitent on our death-beds, but need not be devout and penitent in the other parts of our life. For as there is no re- ligion or repentance on our death-bed, but what ought to be the religion of our lives ; so is there no wisdom or seriousness, or application to God in the sorro7vs of death, hut what is equally necessary and proper in all the sorrows of life* For we are obliged to live unto God in the same manner that we are to die unto God. For why must I think rightly of death ? Why must I then apply to God ? Why must I reason and judge rightly at that time ? Why may I not then divert my mind with loose and impertinent entertainments ? Now give but the true reason of this^ and you will give the reason why I am always to live in the same manner. For as the reasons of wisdom and holiness are not founded in death, so do they receive no alteration by the approach of death : there is no wisdom and holiness but what is equally necessary, whether I am twenty years or twenty days from death. Death may bring me into a greater fear of folly, but it docs not bring me into a greater necessitj^ of avoiding it than 1 was in before , be- cause all the reasons of piety, wisdom, and devotion to God, have been equally reasons all my life ; for the holiness and wisdom of persons in health, is as^ necessary, and as much the terms of acceptance with God, as the holiness and wisdom of dying per- sons. And he that d^res to be foolish and ygai>, t'PON CHRISTIAN rERFECTIOX, 225 and seeks impcriinont entertainments, because he is strong and in healthy is governed by the same spirit, and sins against the same reasons of piety, as he that dares to be vain, foolish, and impertinent at the approach of death. When therefore you think Jit to amuse yourself with foolish diversions, :;-nd drive away what you may call dull hours, with the impertinent and wild imaginations o^ pfays^&LC. you must remember, that you are under the same con- demnation as they are, who apply to the same relief to ease tliem of the thoughts of death. For ^s we uhvavs stand in the same relation to God, as he is as much the true happiness of living, as of dyuig men ; so wisdom and holiness, and rierht dispositions of our riiiads, are always duties of the same nccessi'y* If it v/ere ever lawful to forget our happiness ia God, and seek for a ridiculous hoppiness in vain and extravagant diversions ; if it were ever proper to live in this temper, it would be equall}^ proper to die, in the same temper. For we are not upon any n€7o terms with God at our death, nor under any other obligations, but such as are equally necessary to make us live in his favour. We often wonder at the worldly-mindedness, the hardness, impenitence, and insensibility of dying men. But we should do well to remember, that worldly-mindedness, folly, impenitence, vanity, and insensibility, are as much to be wondered at in liv- ings henlfhfiil men ; and that they are the same odious sins, and as contrary to all sense and reason, and make us as unlike to God at one time as at another. Either therefore you must say, that plays and such like hooks are proper meditations for djdng men ; that they keep up a rigJif Inrn of mind, and do not render the soul unacceptable to God ; or else you must own, that they are a^so improper at a^/ other times. For any thing that indula:cs a state of mind that is not according to the Tcisdom and holiness of religion^ is equally unlawful at all times, Aga'ni ;• 226 A PRACTICAL TREATISE do hut consider your own notions that you have of plays, and you will find, that if you was consistent with yourself, you would never read them. Not only you, but the generality of readers, would think it very improper, and contrary to piety, to read plays on the Sunday* Now I w^ould have you ask yourself, why it would be so irreligious to read these books on the Sunday 7 Is it because there is such a coniraricfy betwixt the subjects of sach books, and the design of the Sunday ? Is it be- cause they are contrary to such meditations as we should make on that day ? Is it because they are vain, and loose and profane, full of impure thoughts and wanton descriptions ? There can be no pos- sible reason given, why we may not read these books on the Sunday, but because they are thus contrary to piety. Need a Christian therefore have any other argument to persuade him to refrain from these books ? Is it not a sufficient proof that they are never to be read, because thej^are not to be read because his mind ought to have a religious turn ? Can these books be more thoroughly condem- ned, than by being thought too bad to be opened on the Sunday ? Or need we only stay till Monday, to be vain and foolish ; to put on a nezo temper, and take delight in such thoughts and reflexions, as we durst not touch the day before ? If therefore we would be consistent with ourselves, we must either prove, iYi'oX plays, and such like hooks, are proper medita- tions for pious Christians, fit for the piety and devo- tion of the Sunday ; or else acknowledge, that they are equally unfit for their entertainment at any other time : for it is manifestly certain, that we are to indulge no temper of mind on any day, that we may not improve and delight in on the Sunday. For to su})pose that we are to have a nezv heart and mind on the Swiday, different from that taste and temper which we may indulge all the w^eek, is the same folly as to suppose that we need only be UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 227 ^JirisLlttii^i on the Sunday* The diirercnce betwixt Sundays and other days, does not consist in any difference in the inward state of our minds, but in the outward circumstances of the day ; as a general rest from our lawful callings, and a public celebra- tion of divine worship. This is the particular holi- ness of the Sunday, which requires a particular rest from labour, and attendance at divine worship ; but requires no particular inward holiness of the mind, but such as is the necessary holiness of every day. So that whatever is contrary to that holiness, puri- ty, and wisdom of mind, which is to be our temper on the Sunday, is as much to be abhorred and avoided all the week as on the Sunday ; because though Sunday differs from other days in outward marks of holiness,yet Christians are to be every day alike as to the inward state and temper of their minds. Therefore, though the labours of our ordinary employment and other actions are to be forborne on the Sunday, and yet are very lawful on other days 4 yet the case is very different as to these books ; they are unfit to be read at any time, for the same reason that they are not fit to be read on Sulidays. And the reason is this, because though we may do things on the week-days, that we ought not to do on the Sunday, yet we must indulge no temper; nor support any turn of mind, that is contrary to that purity of heart and mind w hich we are to aspire al'ter on the Sunday. We may labour on the week days, because labour is an external action, that is not contrary to any purity or holiiiess of mind ; but we must no more be covetous on the week days than on Sundays, because covetousness is a temper of the mind, a wrong disposition of the heart, that is equally contrary to religion on all days. Now reading is not the labour of our hands, or our feet ; but is the entertainment and exercise of the heart and mind; a delight in cither good or bad books, is as truly a tcmpei: and disposition of the 328 . A PRACTICAL I'REATiSE heart, as covetousncss and pride is a disposition of the heart. For the saaie reason, therefore, that pride and covetousncss are constantly to be avoided on every day of our lives, because they are wrong tempers of tiic mind, and contrary to essential holi- ness ; for the same reason is the pleasure of reading ill and corrupt l^ooks, always to be avoided at all tmies, because it is a temper and disposition of our hearts that is contrary to that state of holiness which is essential to Christianity. IT you was to hear a Christian say, that on Sun* days he abstained irom e\;il speaking, and corrupt ■■ communication, but not on the v/eek days, you ^vouid think him either very ignorant of the nature of religion, or very profane. Yet this is as wise and religious as to forbear reading ill books, and ^vanton poems, only on Sundays, and to take the liberty of reading them at other times. For that vanity',of mind, that foolishness of heart, that de- praved taste, which can relish the wild fictions, the lewd speeches, the profane language of mad heroes, disappointed lovers, raying in all the furious ex- pressions of lust, and passion, and madness, is as corrupt a temper, as contrary to holiness, and as odious on its own account, as evil speaking and malice. When therefore you see a person reading a play as soon as he comes from the Sunday's solemnity of publit service, you abhor his profaneness ; but pray be so just to yourself, so consistent with common sense, as to think every one liable to the same ac- cusation that delights in the same book on any other time of the week ; and that the difference of / reading plays on week days, and not on Sundays, is only the difference of speaking evil on weak- days, and not on Sundays. From these reflections, I hoDe, it S'lfTiciently ap- pears, that the readin;]^ vain and impertinent bool^s is no matter of indifference ; but that it is just] v to ho reckoned amongst our greatest corruptions; that it Ut'ON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. ^^^ is afe unlawful as malice and evil spcoh'ng, and is no -more to be allowed in anj part of our life than pride or covetoiisness, Reading, when it is an exercise of the mind upon wise and ])ious subjects, is, next to prayer, the best improvement of our hearts ; it enlightens our minds, collects our thoughts, calms and allays our passions, and begets in us wise and pious resolutions : it is a labour that has so many benefits, that does so much good to our minds, that it ought never to be em- ployed amiss ; it enters so far into our souls, that it <:annot have a little elfect upon us. We commonly iiay, that a man is known by his companions , but it is certain, that a man is much more known by the books that he converses with. These closet-corn- panions^ with whom we choose to be alone, and in private, are never-failing proofs of the state and disposition of our hearts. When we are abroad, v/c must take such as the world gives us ^ we must be with such people, and hear such discourse, as the com.mon state of our life exposes us to. This is what we must bear with, because not altogether to be avoided ; and as it is not altogether matter of choice, so it is noproof of what temper we are of. But if vre make our closet an entertainment of greater variety and impertinence than conversation v/e can meet with abroad ; if rakish^ libertine writers are welcome to us in secret; if hislorits of scandal and romantic intrigues are to be with us in our private retirements ; this is a plain discovery of our inside^ and is a manifest proof that we are as vain, and foolish, and vicious, as the authors that we choose to read. If a loanlon poem pleases you, you may fairly reckon yourself in the same state and condition with him that made it. In like manner, if histories of nonsense and folly ; if compositions of intrigue and scandal suit your tem- per, such books do as truly represent your nature ^ they represent the nature of their authors. 20 ^3P A TRACTICAL TREATISE Julia has buried her husband, and married her daughters ; since that she spends her time in read- ing. She is always reading foolish and unedifying l^ooks ; she tells you every time she sees you, that she is almost at the end of the silliest book that ever she read in her life ; that the best of it is, it is very long, and serves to dispose of a good deal of her time. She tells you, that all romances are sad stuff, 3^et is very impatient till she can get all that she can hear of. Histories of intrigue and scandal arc the books that Julia thinks are always too short. \i Julia was to drink drams in private, and had no enjoyment herself without them, she would not tell you this, because she knows it would be plainly telling you that she was a poor disordered sot. See here, therefore, the weakness of Julia ; she would not be thought to be a reprobate ; yet she lets you know, that she lives upon folly and scandal, and impertinence in her closet ; that she cannot be in private without them ; that they are the only sup- port of her dull hours ; and yet she does not per- ceive, that this is as plainly telling you, that she is in a miserable, disordered, reprobate state of mind* To return : It is reckoned very dangerous not to guard our eyes ; but it is much more dangerous not to guard our meditations ; because whatever en- ters that way, enters deeper into our souls than any thing that only affects our sight. Reading and meditation is that to our souls, which food and nou- rishment is to our bodies, and becomes a part of us in the same manner ; so that we cannot do ourselves cither a little good, or little harm, by the books that we read. You, perhaps, think, that it is a dull task to read only religious and moral books ; but when you have the spirit of religion ; when you can think of God as your only happiness ; when you are not afraid of the joys of eternity ; you will think it a dull task to read any other books. Do not fancy, therefoi e^ that UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 231 your heart is right, and that 3^ou are well enough affected with religion, though you had rather read books upon other subjects ; for it is there that you are to charge your dullness ; religion has no hold of you ; the things of eternity are not the concerns of your mind ; it is dull and tiresome to you to be wis(3 and pious ; and that makes it a dull task to read books that treat only upon such subjects. When it is the care of your soul to be humble, holy, pious, and heavenly-minded ; when you know any thing of the guilt and misery of sin, or feel a real desire of salvation, you will find religious books to be the greatest feast and joy of your mind. If you think it dull and tedious to be in wise, prudent, and sober company, it is because you are neither wise nor sober yourself ; so if it is dull and tiresome to you, to be often upon subjects of piety and religion, it is as sure a proof that you are nei- ther pious nor religious. If, therefore, you can sup* pose, that a wise and sober man may be most de- lighted with the noise and revelings of drunkenness ; then you may suppose, that it is possible for you to be truly religious, and yet be most pleased with the folly and impertinence of corrupt and unedify- ing books. You, perhaps, will say, that you have so much spare time for reading, that you think you need not employ it all in reading good books. It may be so ; you may have also more time than you need devote to acts and offices of charity ; but will you thence conclude, that you may, at those times, do things contrary to charity, and indulge yourself in spite and malice. If you have every day more time than you can employ in reading, meditation, end prayer, if this time hansjs upon your hands, and cannot be turne^i* to any advantage, let me desire you to go to sleep, or pick stravvs ; for it is much better to do this tlian to have recourse to corrupt and impertinent books. Time lo^t in sleep, or picking straws, is better losi 232 A FRACTlGAL TRKATrSt than in such exercises of the mind. Consider far- ther, that idle and spare time is a dangerous state^ and calls for great care and watchfulness ; to have recourse then to evil and impertinent books, is like inviting the devil because you are alone. If you Gould read ill books when you were in haste, or in a hurry of other matters, it would do you much less harm than to read them because your time hangs \ipon your hands. So that that season which you take to be an excuse for such reading, is a stronger argument against it ; because evil thoughts and vain ri'jbjects have twice the effect, and make double impressions, when they are admitted at times of leisure and idleness. Consider again, to what a miserable unchristian state you are reduced, when you are forced to have recourse to foolish books to get rid of your time. Your fortune, perhaps, has removed you from the necessity of labouring for your bread ; you have been politely educated in softness ; you have no trade or employment to take jap your time ; and so are left to be devoured by corrupt passions and pleasures. Whilst poor peo- ple are at hard labour ; whilst your servants are drudging in the meanest offices of life ; you, op- pressed with idleness and indulgence, are relieving yourself with foolish and impertinent books, feed- ing and delighting a disordered mind with romantic nonsense, and poetic follies. If this be the effect of riches and fortune, only to expose people to the power of disordered passions, and give them time to corrupt their hearts with madness and folly, well might our blessed Lord say, Wo unto you that are^ rich ! When you see a poor creature druds^ing in the meanest offices of life, and glad of the dirtiest work .to get his bread, you are apt to look upon him as a miserable wretch; it raises a mixture of pity and contempt in you ; and you hardly know whether you pity or disregard him most. But reniembci. Ui'ON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 23^ lt\at every time you see such a person, you see a. more reasonable creature than yourself, and one . that is much more nobly employed than you are. He is acting conformably to the state of human life, and bearing a hard part with patience ; he is doin^ a Avork, which, mean as it is, will be looked upon as done unto the Lord ; whilst you, idling in soft- ness and pleasures, are unable to bear your time, unless it be stolen away from you by foolish, cor- rupt, and unedifying books. « Fancy that you saw a patient Christian, old, bro^ ken, and crooked, with carrying burdens all his life : fancy that you saw another Christian lolling in state and softness, and making every day a day of vanity and impertinence, of foolish rcadinG:s, and vain imaginations; which of them do you think is most likely to die into the hands of good angels, and be carried into ^Vbraham's bosom. But after all, what a vain imagination is it to think that you have any such thing as spare time. Is there any time for which you are not accountable to God ? Is there any time which God has so left to your own disposal, that you may sacrifice it to the indulgence of vain tempers, and the corruption of your heart ? You can no more show this than you can show, that all your time is your own. To talk therefore of spare time, is to talk of something that never did, nor never will, he-ong to any Chris- tian. You may have a spare time from this or that labour or necessity ; vou may abate or change any particular exercise ; 3 ou may leave oft' this or that way; you may take this or that refreshment; you have all these spare times from particular actions, but you have no spare time that releases you from the laws of Christianity, or that leaves you at liberty not to act by the principles of relis^ion and piety. You have a spare time to recreate and refresh yourself, but this time is to be governed by the same principles of relisrious wisdom, as the time 20* 234 A PRACTICAi. TREATISiE that is spent in cares and labours. For your rev-:r6* ations and pleasures are only lawful, so for as tliey are directed by such wisdom and piety as is to direct your cares and labours. If therefore the pro- vidence of God has placed you above the necessity of labouring for your livelihood, you must not think that you have so much spare time to spend as you please, but that you are as certainly called to some other labour, as others are called to labour for their bread. Great pan of the world is doomed to labour and slavery ; they have it not in their power to choose any other way of life, and their labour is^ therefore, an acceptable service to God, because it is such as their state requires. Happy you, there- fore, if you knew your happiness, who have it in your power to be always doing the best things, who, free from labour and hardships, are at liberty to choose the best ways of life, to study all the arts of self-improvement, to practise all the w^ays of doing ^ood, and to spend your time in all the noblest instances of piety, humility, charitj^, and devotion t Bless God, therefore, not because you hav^e spare *ime, for that you have none ; but that you have spare time to employ in the best ways that you caa find ; that whilst others are opprest with burdens, and worn out in slavery, you have time, and leisure,, and retirement, to think and meditate upon the greatest and best of things, to enlighten your mind, 10 correct the disorders of your heart, to study the laws of God, to contemplate the wonders of his providence, to convince yourself of the vanity and folly of the world, and to comfort and deli.2;ht your ^oul with those great and glorious things which; God has prepared for those that love him. This is the happiness of being free from labour and want ; not to have spare time to squander away in vanity and impertinence, but to have spare time to spend i^ the study of wisdom, in the exercise of devotion,. hi the practice of piety, in all the ways and meari& U5*QN CHRISTIAN" fEHFECTIOri* 23 ■> Qi doing good, and exalting our souls to a state of Christian perfection. It is a doctrine of Scripture, and highly agreeable to reason, That unto whomsoever much is given^ of him shttll much be required* Consider, therefore, that a life of leisure, and freedom from want and hardship, is as much as can well be given you in this world, as it is giving you an opportunity of living wholly unto God, and making all the partvS of your life useful to the best purposes. As sure therefore as it is a state that has so many advan- tages, that furnishes joii with so many means of bemg eminent in piety, so sure is it, that it is a state from which God expects fruits that are worthy of it. Had it been your lot to labour iri a mine, or serve under some cruel master, you must have served as unto God, and in so doing, you had fin- ished the work which God had given you. But as you are free from all these states of life, you must look upon yourself as God's servant, as called to choose that way of labouring and spending your time, which may most promote that which God desires to be most promoted. God has given you liberty to choose, but it is only that you may have the blessedness of choosing the best ways of spen- ding your time. Though therefore you are at liberty from servile and mean labour, yet you are under a necessity of labouring in all good work% and making all your time, and fortune, and al>ili- ties, serviceable to the best ends of life. You have no more time that is your own, than he has that is. to live by constant labour ; the only ditTerence be- twixt you and him is this, th;\t he is to be diligent in a poor slavish labour, that oppresses the body, and dulls and dejects the mind ; but you in a ser- vice that is perfect freedom^ that renders your body a fit temple for the Holy Ghost, and fills your roul with such light, and peace, and joy, as is not to be foui^i in any other way of life 23t:J A PRACTICAL TREATISE Do you think that a poor slave would displease God by refusing to act in that painftd drudgery that is fallen to his share ? And do yon think that God will not be more displeased with you, if you refuse to act your full part in the best of labours, or neglect that happy joyful business of doing good, which your state of life has called you to ? Is it expected that poor people should make a right u:>e of their condition, and turn all their labour into a service unto God ? And can you think that you ai^ not obliged to make the proper improvement of your condition, and turn all your rest, and ease^ and freedom from labour, into a service unto God ? 'I'ell me, therefore, no more that you indulge yourself in idle amusements, in vain, corrupt, and unedifying books, because you have spare time ; for it is abso- lutely false to sa}^ that you have any such thing ; k is cdso saying, that because God has given you spare time from servile labour, that you may choose the b?st ways of life, devote yourself to the most divine exercisep., and become eminent and exemplary id all the instances of a holy and heavenly life ; there- fore you presume to throw it away in idleness and impertinence* CHAP. XL J^ farther Consideration of that Purity and Hol'mcis of Conversation^ to which the Necessity of divme Grace calleth all Christians ; zuherein is shozon, that the Entertainment of the StaQ;e is a corrupt and sinful Entertainment^ contrary to the ichoU Nature of Christian Piety^ and cotistantly to be avoided by all sincere Christians, I have shown in the foregoing chapter, that the reading of plays^ or any other books of that kind^ is a dangerous and ginful entertainment, that tJPON" GMRISTIAN PERFECTION. ^37 corrupts our hearts, and separates the Holy Spirit from us. You will now, perhaps, ask me, if it is imlawful for a Christian to go to^ the play-house ; 1 answer, that it is absolutely unlawful. As unlaw- ful as for a Christian to be a drunkard^ or a glutinn^ or to curse and srcear. This, I think, after what has been above observed, will be easily proved. For let us resume the doctrine of the apostle ; we are absolutely forbid all cormpt communkatwn^ and for this important reason, because it brieves and separates the Holy Spirit from us. It is unlawful, therefore, to have any corrupt commnmcaiion of our own ? And can we think it laieful to go to places set apart for that purpose ? To give our money, and hire persons to corrupt our hearts with ill discour- ses, and inflaipe all the disorderly passions of our nature ? We have the authority of Scripture to affirm, that evil communication corrupts good man- lier s^ and that unedifying disconrses grieve the Holy Spirit. Now the thii-d commandment is not more plain and express a,s:ainst swearings than this doc^ trine is p!ain and positive against going to {he play- house. If you should see a person that acknow- ledges the third commandment to be a divine pro- hibition against sicearing^, yet going to a house^ and giving his money to persons, who were there met, to cu7'se and srvcar in fine lansfuage, and invent musical oaths and iraprecations^ would you not th^"nk him mad in the hia:hest degree ? Nov/ consider, whether (here be a less degree of madness in going io the play-house. You own that God has called you to a great purity of conversation, that you are forbid all foolish discourse^ and filthy jestings^ o.^ CX]:)ressly as you are forhid swearing ; that you ar*- to let no corrupt communication proceed out of your ^onth, }>ui such as is good for the use of edifying ; and yet you go to tlie house set apart for corrupt p^ommunications ; you hire person^ to entertain you wiib all manner nf rihiddru-^profanenrsr. r^??/, aad 238 A PRACTICAL TREATISE impurity of discourse ; who arc to present you with- vile thouglits and lewd irra^^inations^ in fine lan- guage, and to make wicked, vain, and iuipure dis- course mere lively and atfecting than you could possibly Ravf^ it in any ill company. Now is not this sinning V. uh as high a h"\nc!, and as grossly ©llending against the plain doctrines of Scripture, as if you was to rrive your money to be entertained with musical oaths and curses ? You might reason- ably think that woman very ridiculous in her piety that durst not swear herself, but should, neverthe- less, frequent places to hear oaths. But you may as justly think her very ridiculous in her modesty, who, though she dare not say, or look, or do an im- modest thing herself, shall yet give her money to see women forget the modesty of their s€x, and talk im- prudently in a public play-house. If the play-house was filled with rakes and ill women, there would be nothing to be wondered at in such an assembly ; for 3uch persons to be delighted with such entertain- ments, is as natural as for any animal to delight in its proper element. But for persons who profess purity and holiness, who would not be suspected of immodesty^ or corrupt communication., for them to come under the roof of a house devoted to such ill purposes, and be pleased spectators of such actions and discourses, as are the pleasure of the most abandoned persons, for them to give their money to be thus entertained, is such a contradiction to all piety and common sense as cannot be sutliciently exposed. Again ; When you see the players acting with life and spirit, men and women equally bold in all instances of profaneness^ passion^ and immodesty^ I dare say you never suspect any of them to be per- sons of Christian piety. You cannot, even in your imagination, join piety to such manners, and such a way of life. Your mind will no more allow you to join piety with the behaviour of the stage^than it U'i>ON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 239 will allow you to think two and two to be ten. And perhaps y(^ had rather sec your son chained to a galley, or your daughter driving' a plow, than get- ting their bread on the stage, by administering in so scandalous a manner to the vices and corrupt plea- sures of the world. Let this therefore be another argument to prove the absolute unlawfulness of going to the play. For consider with yourself; is the lousiness ot" players so contrary to piety, so in- consistent with the spirit and temper of a true Christian, that it is next to a contradiction to sup- pose them united ? How then can yoa take your- self to be innocent^ who delight in their sins, and liire them to commit them ? You may make your- self a partaker of other men's sins, .by negligence, and for want of reproving them ; but certainly if you stand by, and assist men in their evil actions, if you make their vices your pleasure and entertain- ment, and pay your money to be so entertained, you make yourself a partaker of their sins in a very high degree. And, consequently, it must be as un- lawful to go to a play as it is unlawful to approve, encourage, assist, and reward a mam for renouncing a Christian life. Let therefore every maw or wo- man that goes to a play ask themselves this ques- tion, Whether it suits with then* religion to act the parts that are there acted ? Perhaps they would think this as inconsistent with that degree of piety that they profess, as to do the vilest things. But let them consider, that it must be a wicked and un- lawful pleasure to delight in any thing that they dare not do themselves. Let them also consider, that they oxe really acting: those indecencies and impieties themselves, which they think is the par- ticular guilt of the players. For a person may very justly be said to do that ^u'/ji^e'/" which he pays for the doing, and which is done for his pleasure. You must therefore, if vou would be consistent with yourself, as much abhor the thoughts of being at a i^40 A rnACTlCAL TR-EATISte jylay^ as of being p, player yourself ; for to think ihat you must forbear the one, and not t^^c other, is ^as absurd, as to suppose, that you must l)e tempe- rate yourself; but may assist, encourage, and reward other people for their intemperance. The business of a player is profane, wicked, lewd, and immodest ; -to be anyway therefore approving, assisting, or encouraging him in such a way of life, is as evi- dently sinful, as it is sinful to assist and encourage a man in stealings or any other wickedness. To proceed : When 1 consider churches^- and the matter of divine service^ that it consists of holy readings, prayers, and exhortation to piety, there is reason to think, that the house of God is a natural means of promoting piety and religion, and render- ing men devout and sensible of their duty to God. The very nature of divine assemblies thus carried on, has this direct tendency. I ask you, whether this is not very plain, that churches thus emploj^ed should have this effect ? Consider therefore the play-house^ and the matter of the entertainment there, as it consists of love-in- tricriies^ blaspheraous passions, profane discourses^ hwd descriptions, filthy jtsls, and all the most extra- vagant rant of wanton, vile, profligate persons of both sexes, heating and inflaming one another with all the zoantonness of address, the immodesty of mo- tion, and lezvdficss of thought, that wit can invent ; consider, I say, whether it be not plain, that a house so employed, is as certainly serving the cause of immorality and vice, as the house of God is serving the cause o[ piety ? For what is there in our church service, that shows it to be useful to piety and holi- ness ; what is there in divine worship to correct and ftmend the heart, but what is directly oon'7-fi/*^ to all that is doing in the play-house ? So tl-at one may w:;h the same assurance aflirm, that the p'ay-house.^ not only when some very profane play is on the stage, but in its daily common entcrtainmont, is as UPON CHRrSTIAN PEtirECTION. 241 ^^cr1.aInly the house of the dcvil^ as the church is the house of God, For though the devil he not pro- fessedly worshipped by hymns directed to him, yet most that is there sung is to his service ; he is ther(' vbpyed and phased in as certain a manner as Cod i-i worshipped and honoured in the church-. You must easily see, that this charge against the play-house ^ is not the effect of ixny particular temper^ or weakness of mind ; that it is not an uncerta'ui con' jecture^ or religious zvhimsy^ but is a judgment found- ed as plainiy in the nature and reason of things, as when it is affirmed that the house of God is of ser- vice to religion. And he that absolutely condemns the play-house^ as wicked and corrupting, proceeds upon as much truth and certainty, a^ he that abso- lutely commends the house of God, as holv, and tending to promote piety. When therefore any one pretends to vindicate the -stage to you, as a proper entertainment for holy and religious persons, you ought to reject the attem])t with as much abhorrence, as if he should offer to r,how" you, that our church-service was rightly form- ed for those persons to join in, who are devoted to the devil. For to talk of the lawfulness and usefulness of the stage^ is fully as absurd, as -tontrary to the plain nature of things, as to talk of the untazcfvlness end mischief of the service of tire church. He there- fore that tells yoe,that you may safely go to the play-house^ as an innocent, m^efu\ entertainment of your mind, commits the same offence against com- mon Jiense, as if he should tell you, that it was dangerous to attend at divine senice, and that its prayers and hymns W^ere great pollutions of the mind. For the matter and manner ^tsta^e-eniertainnunts is as undeniable a proof, and as obvious to common «en.se, tliat the house belongs to the devil, and is the place of his honour, as the maiNT and manner of ■church-servici proves that the place is appropriated -42 A PRACTICAL TREATISE Observe, ("hereforc, that as you do not want the assistance of any one, to show you the usefulness and advantage of divme service, because the thing is plain, and speaks for itself: so neither, on the other hahd, need you any one to show you the unlawful- ness and mischief of the stage, because there the thing is equally plain, and speaks for itself ; so that you are to consider yourself, as having the same assurance that the stage is wicked, and to be abhor- red and avoided by all Christians, as you have that the service of the Church is holy, and to be sought after by all lovers of holiness. Consider, therefore, that your conduct with relation to the stage, is not a matter of yiicety^ or scrupulous exactness^ but that you are as certain that you do wrong in as noto- rious a manner, when you go to the play-hmise^ as you are certain that you do right when you go to ehurch. Now it is of mighty use to conceive things in a right manner, and to see them as they are in their own nature. While you consider the play-house as only 0. place of diversion, it may perhaps give no offence to your mind : there is nothing shocking in the thought of it ; but if you would lay aside this name of it for a while, and consider it in its own nature as it really is, you would find that you are as much deceived, if you consider the play-house as only a place of diversion^ as you would be, if you considered the house of God only as a place of labour. When therefore you are tempted to go to a play, cither from your own inclination, or the desire of a friend, fancy that you v/as asked in plain terms to go to the place of the deviPs ahcde^ where he holds his fithy court of evil spirits : that you was asked to join in an entertainment, where he was at the head of it, where the whole of it was in order to his glory, that men's hearts and minds might be sepa- rated from God, and plunged into all the pollutions UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 243 of sin and brutality. Fancy that you are pjoing to a place that as certainly belongs to the devil, as the heathen temples of old, where brutes were worship- ped, where rvanton hymns were sung to Venus^ and drunken songs to the god of zoine. Fancy that you was as certainly going to the devil's triumph, as if you was going to those old sports where people committed murder, and oifered Christians to be devoured by wild beasts for the diversion of spec- tators. Now whilst 3^ou consider the play-house in this view, 1 suppose that you can no more go to a p/rti/, than you can expressly renounce your Chris- tianity. Consider therefore now, that you have not been frighting yourself with groundless imaginations^ but that what you have here fancied of the play-house, is as strictly true, as if you had been fancying, that when you go to church, you go into the house of God, where the heavenly host attend upon his ser- vice, and that when you there read the Scriptures, and sing holy hymns, you join with the choirs above, and do God's will on earth, as it is done in heaven. For observe, I pray you, how justly that opinion o^ the play-house is founded. For, was it a joy and delight to the devil to see idols zuorshipped, to see hymns and adorations offered up to impure and filthy deities ? Were places and festivals, ap- pointed for such ends, justly esteemed places and festivals devoted to the devil? Now give the reason why all this was justly reckoned a service to the devil, and. you will give as good a reason why the play-house is to be esteemed his temple. For, what though hymns and adorations are not offered to impure and filthy deities, yet if impurity and filthi- ncss is there the entertainment^ if immodest songs, profane rant, if lust and passion entertain the audi- ence, the business is the same, and the assembly does the same honour to the devil, though they are 244' A PRACTICAL TREATTSE not gathered together in the name of some hcatheri god. For impurity and profaneness in the worshippers of the true God, is as acceptable a service to the devil, as impurity a-nd profaneness in pny idolators ; and perhaps a leiod souff in an assembly of Chris- tians gives him greater delight, than if it had been gung in a congregation of heathens. If therefore we may justly say, that a hoitse or fes rival was the devilV, because he was delighted with it. because what was there done was an accep- table service to him ; we may be assured, that the play-house is as really the house of the devil, as any other house ever wa&. Nay, it is reasonable to think, ihdit the play-houses in this kingdom are a greater pleasure to him, than any temple he ever had in the heaOien zaorld. For as it is a greater conquest to make the disciples of Christ delight in lewdness and profaneness^ than ignorant heathens ; so a house, that in the midst of Christian churches, trains up Christians in lewdness and profaneness, that makes the worshippers of Christ flock together in crowds, io rejoice in an entertainment that is contrary to the Spirit of Christ, as hell is contrary to heaven ; a house so employed, may justly be reckoned a more delightful habitation of the devil, than any temple of the heathen world. When therefore you go to the play-house, you have as much assurance that you go to the devil's peculiar habitation, that you submit to his designs, and rejoice in his diversions, which are his best devices against Christianity, you have as much assurance of this, as that they who worshipped filthy deities, were in reality worship- pers of the devil. Again, consider those old sports and diversions where Christians were sometimes thrown to wild beasts; consider why such sports might well be looked upon as the devil's triumph. 1 suppose you ^ve at no stand with yourself, whether you should WfON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 245 impute such entertainments to the devil. Consider, therefore, why you should not as readily aiiow the stage to be his entertainment. For was it a delight to the devil to sec heathens sporting with the bodily death of Christians ? And must it not be greater delight to him, to see Christians sporting themselves in the death of their souls ? The heathens could only kill the body, and sepa- rate it from the soul ; but these Christian diversions murder the soul, and separate it from God. i dare say no arguments could convince tou, that it was lawful to rejoice at those sports, which wTre thus defiled with human blood ; but then pray remember that if the death of tlie soul be as great a cruelly as the death of the body ; if it be as dreadful for a soul to be separated from God, as to be separated from the body ; you ought to think it as entirely unlawful to enter that house where so many eternal lives are sacrificed, or ever to partake of those diver- sions,which separate such numbersof souls fromGod. Hence it appears, that if, instead of considering the play-house as only a place of diversion, you will but examine what materials it is made of, if you will but consider the nature of the entertainment, and what is there doing, you will find it as wickecl a place, as sinful a diversion, and as truly the pecu- liar pleasure and triumph of the devil, as any wick- ed place or sinful diversion in the heathen ivorld. When therefore you are asked to go to a /?/«?/, do not think that you are asked only to g© to a diver- sion, but be assured that you are asked to yield to the devil, to go over to his party, and to make one of his congregation ; that if you do go, you have not only the guilt of buying so much vain and cor- rupt communication, but are also as certainly guilty of going to the devil's house, and doing him the same honour, as if you was to partake of some hea- then festival. You must consider, that all the laughter there is ••) 1 * 246 ' A PRACTICAL TREATISE not only vain and foolish, but that it is a laughter amongst devils, that you are upon profane ground^ and hearing music in the very porch of hell. Thus it is in the reason of the thing ; and if wc should now consider the state oi our play-house, ^dfi it is in fact, we should find it answering all these characters, and producing effects suitable to its nature : but I shall forbear this consideration, it being as unnecessary to tell the reader, that our play-house is in fact the sink of corruption and de- bauchery ; that it is the general rendezvous of the most profligate persons of both sexes ; that it cor- rupts the air, and turns the adjacent places into public nuisances ; this is as unnecessary as to tell him, that the Exchange is a place of merchandise. Now it is to be observed, that this is not the state of the play-house, through any accidental abuse^ as any innocent or good thing may be abu- sed ; but that corruption and debauchery are the truly natural and genuine effects of the stage-enter' iainment. Let not, therefore, any one say, that he is not answerable for those vices and debaucheries which are occasioned by the play-house', for so far as he partakes of the pleasure of the stage, and is an encourager of it, so far he is chargeable with those disorders which necessarily are occasioned by it. If evil arises from our doing our duty, or our attendance at any good design, we are not to be frighted at it ; but if evil arises from any thing, as its natural and genuine effect, in all such cases, so far as we contribute to the cause, so far we make ourselves guilty of the effects. So that all who any way assist the play-house, or ever encouraged it by iheir presence, make themselves chargeable, in some dee;ree, with all the evils and vices which follow from it. Since therefore it cannot be doubted by any one, whether the play-house be a nursery of «-'icc and debauchery, since the evil effects it has uroN CHRISTIAN PEnrECTiON. 247 upon people's manners is as visible as the sun at noon, one would imagine that all people of virtue and modesty should not only avoid it, but avoid it with the utmost abhorrence ; that they should be so far from entering into it, that they should detest the very sight of it. For what a contradiction is it to common sense to hear a woman lamenting the miserable lewdness and debauchery of the age, the vicious taste, and irregular pleasures of the world, and at the same time dressing herself to meet the lewdest part of the world, at the fountain-head of all lewdness, and making herself one of that crowd where every abandoned wretch is glad to be pre- sent ? She may fancy that she hates and abomi- nates their vices ; but she may depend upon it, that till she hates and abominates the place of vicious pleasures, till she dare not come near an entertain- ment which is the cause of so great debauchery, and the pleasure of the most debauched people ; till she is thus disposed, she wants the truest sign of a re:d"and-religious abhorrence of the vices of the age. For to wave all other considerations, I would only ask her a question or two on the single article of modesty. What is modesty ? Is it a little me- chanical outside behaviour, that goes no farther than a few forms and modes at particular times and places ? Or is it a real temper^ a rational disposi- tion of the heart, that is founded in religion 7 Now if modesty is only a mechanical observance of a little outside behaviour, then I can easily perceive how a modest woman may frequent ftlays ; there is no inconsistency for such a one to be one thing in one plac(^, and another in another j^lace ; to disdain an immodest convei-sation, and vc(, at the same time, relish and delight in immodest and impu- dent speeches in a public play-Jwvse, But if modesty is a real temper and disj.csition of the heart, that is founded in the principles of reli- 248 A PRACTICAL TREATISE gion ; then I confess I cannot comprehend how a person of such modesty should ever come twice into a play-house. For if it is reason and religion that has inspired her with a modest heart ; that makes her hate and abhor every word or look, or hint, in conversation that has the appearance of lewdness ; that makes her shun the company of such as talk with too much freedom ; if she is thus modest in common life, from a principle of religion, a temper of heart ; is it possible for such a one (I do not say to seek) but to bear with the immodesty and impudence of the stage ? For must not immod- esty anxl impudence, must not loose and wanton dis- course he the same hateful things, and give the same offence to a modest mind in one place as in another ? And must not that piece, v/hich is the seat of im- modesty, where men and women are trained up in lewdness ; where almost every day in the year is a day devoted to the foolish representations of rant, lust, and passion ; must not such a place of all others be the most odious to a mind that is truly modest upon principles of reason and reli2:ion ? One would suppose that such a person should as much abominate the place as any other filthy sight ; and be as much offended with an invitation to it, as if she was invited to see an immodest picture. For the representations of the stage, the inflamed pas- sions of lovers there described, are as gross an of- fence to the ear as any representation that can offend the eye. It ought not to be concluded, that because I af- firm the play-house to be an entertainment contrary to modesty, that therefore I accuse all people as void of modesty who ever go to it. I might affirm, that transubstantiation is contrary to all sense and reason ;but then it would be a wrong conclusion to say, that I affirmed, that all who believe it are void of all sense an^ reason. Now as prejudices^ the VPOJ? CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 243 force of educat^on^ the authority of nuinhcrs^ the ivay of the world, the example of great namcs^ m-ay make people believe : so the same causes may make people act agjunst all sense and reftsotiy and be guniy of practices which no more suit with the pu- rity of their religion, thai; Imnstibdc.ntictition agrees Vfith cc.nmon sense* To proceed : J once heard a young lady thus ex- cusing herself for going to the play-lwusi ; That she went but seidom, and then in company of her mo- ther and her aunt r that the^^ alwaj^s knew their />/«^ before-hand, and never went on the sacrament week* And what harm praj^, says she, can there be in this ? It breaks in upon no rules of m^^ life ; I neglect no part of my daty ; I go to church, and perform the same devotions at home as on other days. It ought to be observed, that this excuse can only be allowed where the diversion itself is innocent ; it must therefore be first considered what the enter- tainment is in itself, whether it be suitable to the spirit and temper of religion ; for if it is right and proper in itself, it needs no excuse ; but if it be wrong, and dangerous to religion, we are not to use it cautiously^ but avoid it constantly. Secondly ; It is no proof of the innocency of a thing, that it does not interfere with our hours of dnty^ nor break the regularity of our lives ; for very wicked ways of spending time may yet be consist- ent with a regular distribution of our hours. She must therefore consider, not only whether such a diversion hinders the regularity ofher life, or breaks in upon her devo'ions, public or private ; but whe- ther it hinders, or any way affects, that spirit and temper which all her devotions aspire after. Is it conformable to that heavenly affection, that love of God, that purity of heart, that wisdom of mind, that perfection of holiness, that ronf^mpt of the worlds that watchfulness and self-denial, that humility and fear of sin ? Is it conformable to these graccv^, 250 A PRACTICAL TREATISE wbich are to be the daily su'bject of all her prayers? This is the only way for her to know the innocenty of going to a play. If what she there hears and sees has no conlranchf to any c^races or virtues which she prays for; if all that there passes be fit for the purity and pieiy of one that is led by the Spirit of Christ, and is working out her salvation 7ciihfear and tremblma: ; if the stage be an enter- tainment that may be thought according to the will of God, then she disposes of an hour very inno- cently, though her mother, or her aunt, were not with her. But if the contrary to all this be true ; if most of what she there hears and sees be as con- trary to the piety and purity of Christianity, as feasting is contrary to fasting ; if the house which she supports by her money, and encourages by her presence, be a notorious means of corruption, visi- bly carrying on the cause of vi^e and debauchery ; she must not think herself excused for being with her mother. Thirdly ; The same person would, perhaps, think it strange to hear one of her virtuous acquaintances giving the like excuse for going now and then to a masquerade* Now this diversion is new in our country, and therefore people judge of it in a manner that they should, because they are not blinded by use and cus- tom ; but let any one give but the true reasons why a person of virtue and piety should not give into such entertainments, and the same reasons will show, that a person of a strict piety should keep at as great a distance from the play-house. For the entertainment of the stage is as directly opposite to the puritj^ of religion, and is as much the natural means of corruption, and serves all bad ends in as high a manner as masquerades ; they only differ as bad things of the same kind may diller from one ano- ther. So that if the evil use, the ill consequence of masquerades^ be a sufficient rcjison to deter peo:* UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 251 pie of piety from partaking of them, the same evil use and ill consequence of the stage ought to keep all people of virtue from it. If people will consult their temper only, they may take the entertainment of one, and condemn the other as following the same guide 5 they may abhor intemperance^ and in- dulge malice ; but if they will consult religion, and make that the ground of their opinions, the3" would fmd as strong reasons for a constant abhorrence of the stage, as of masquerades* Farther ; She that is for going only to the playhouse now and then with this care and discretion, does not seem to^have enough considered the matter, or to act by reason ; for if the stage be an innocent and proper entertainment ; if, in its own nature, it be as harm- less and useful as walkings ridings takirig the air, or conversing with virtuous people ; if this be the nature of it, then there is no need of this care and abstinence ; a virtuous lady need not excuse herself that she goes but very seldom. But if it be the very reverse of all this ; if it be that fountain of cor- ruption and debauchery w hich has been observed ; then to go to it at any time admits of no excuse, but is as absurd, as contrary to reason and religion, as to do any other ill thing with the same care and discretion. If you should hear a person excusing her use of paint in this manner ; — That truly she painted but very seldom ; that she always said her prayers first : that she never used it on Sundays, or the week before the communion ; would you not pity such a mixture of religion and weakness ? Would you not desire her to use her reason, and cither allow painting to be an innocent ornament, suitable to the sobriety and humility of a Christian, or else to think it as unlawful at one time as ano- ther ? Would you not think it strange that she should condemn painting as odious and sinful ; and yet think that the regularity of her life, the exact- ness of her devotions, and her observance of religion 252 A TRACTICAL TREATISE might make it lawful for her to paint nozv and then f I do not doubt but you plainly see the weakness and folly of such a pretence for paintings under such rules at certain times. And if j^ou would but as impartially consider your pretences for going some- times to the play-house, you would certainly find them equally weak and unreasonable : for painting may, with more reason, be reckoned an innocent or* namentj than the play-house an innocent diversion ; and it supposes a greater vanity of mind, a more perverted judgment, and a deeper corruption of heart, to seek the diversions of thie stage, than to rake the pleasure of a borrowed colour. 1 know you are offended at this comparison, be» •cause you judge by your temper and prejudices, and do not consider the things as they are in themselves by the pure light of reason and religion. Painting has not been the way of your family ; it is suppo- sed to be the practice but of very few ; and those who use it endeavour to conceal it ; this makes you readily condemn it : on the contrary, your mother and your aunt carry you to a play ; you see virtuous people there, and the same persons that fill our churches ; so that your temper is as much engaged to think it lawful to go sometimes to a play; as it is engaged to think the use of paitit odious and sinful* Lay aside therefore these prejudices for awhile ; fancy that you had been trained up in some t^orner of the world in the principles of Christianity, and had never heard either of the play-house or paint* ing ; imagine now that you was to examine the lawfulness of them by the doctrines of Scripture ; 3^ou would first desii^ to be told the nature of these things, and what they meant. They would tell you, that painting was the borrowing of colours from art, to make the face lopk more beautiful. Now though you found no express Icxt of Scripture against j9a/n/in^, you will find that it was expressly Against tempers ;rcquircd in Scripture ; you would^ UPON CHRISTIAN* PERFECTION. $53 fti^crefore, condemn it, as proceeding from a vanity of mind, a fondness of beauty ; 3''ou would sec that the harm of painting consisted in this, that it pro- <:eeded from a temper of mind, contrary to the so- briety and humility of a Christian, which indeed k harm enough, because this humility and iiobricty ol" mind is as essential to religion as charity and devo- tion. So that in judging according to Scripture, you would hold it as unreasonable to paint some- times, as to be sometimes malicious^ indcvout^ promU or false. You are now to consider the stage ; you are to keep close to Scripture, and fancy that you yQ\. know nothing of plays. You ask therefore first, what the stage ov play-house is ? You arc told, that it is a place where all sorts of people meet, to be entertained with discourses, actions, and represen- tations, which are recommended t« the heart by beautiful scenes, tke splendor of lights, and the harmony of music. You are told, that these dis=- courses are the inventions of men of wit and imagi- nation, which describe imaginary intrigues and scenes of love, and introduce men and women dis- coursing, raving, and acting iu all the wild indecent transports of lust a»d passion. You are told, that the diversion partlj^ consists of lewd and profane songs ; sung to fine music, and partly of extrava- gant dialogues between immodest persons, talking in a style of love and madness, that it is no where else to be found, and entertaining the Christian au- dience with all the violence of passion, corruption of heart, wantonness of mind, immodesty of thought, and profane jests, that the wit of the poet is able to invent. You are told, that the players,, men and women, are trained up to act and represent all the descriptions of lust and passion in the liveliest man* ner, to add a lewdness of action to lewd speeches > ihat they get their livelihood by cursing, ^zccaring, 22 254 A PnAGTICAL TREATISE aiKl ranting for three hours together lo an assem* blj of Christians, Nowthougli you find no particular text of Scrip- lure condemning the stage^ or tragedy^ or comedy^ in express words ; yet what is much more you find that such entertainments are a gross contradiction to the whole nature of religion. They are not con- trary to this or that particular temper; but arc contrary to that whole turn of heart and mind which religion iiequires. Painting is contrary to humility^ and therefore is always to be avoided as sinful. But the entertainment of the stage, as it consists of blasphemous expressions, tuzV/ced speeches, siccaring^ cursing^ tind profaning the name of God ; it abounds with impious rant, filthy jests, dis" iracted passions, gross descriptions of lust^ and tvan^ ton songs^ is a contradiction of every doctrine that our Saviour and his apostles have taught us. So that to abhor painting at all times, because it supposes a vanity of mind, and is contrary to humility, and yet think there is a lawful time to go to the play-house^ is as contrary lo common sense, as if a man should Jiold that it was lawful sometimes to ofiend against all the doctrines of religiow, and yet always unlaw- .ful to offend against any one doctrine of religion. If therefore you was to come, as I supposed, from some corner of the world, where you had beea used to live and judge by the rules of religion, and upon your arrival here, had been told \\h:ii painting and the stage was ; as you would not expect to see per- sons oi religious humility carrying their daughters to paint-shops^ or Inviting their pious friends to go along with them ; so much less would you expect to hear, that devout^ pious^ and modest women car- ried their daughter^, and invited their virtuous friends to meet them at the play. Least of all could you imagine, that there were any people too jpious and devout to indulge the vanity o( paintings tVPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 255 and yet not devout, or ploiii^ enoui^h, to nhhor the immodesty, profancness, ribaldry, Immorality, and blasphemy of the stage* To proceed ! A j)olite writer of a late paper, thought he had Ruflicicntly ridiculed a ceriam lady's pretensions to piety, Spectator, when speaking of her closet^ he says, J^o, 79. Together lie her pray cr-hook and painty At once <' improve the sinner and ike saint. Now whence comes it, that this writer judges so rightly, and speaks the truth so plainly in the mat- ter of painting ? Whence comes it, that the gene- rality of his readers think his observation just, and joins with him in it ? It is because painting is not yet an acknowledged practice, but is, for the most part, reckoned a shameful instance of vanity. Now as w^e are not prejudiced in favour of this practice, and have no excuses to make for our own share in it ; so we judge of it impartially, and immediatclv perceive its contrariety to a religious temper and state of mind. This writer saw this in so strong a light, that he does not scruple to suppose, that paint is as natural and proper a means to improve the sinner as the prayer-book is to improve the saint. I should therefore hope, that it need not be im- puted to any sourness of temper, religious loeahiesf--, or dulness of spirits, if a clergyman should imagine, that the profanencss, debauchery, lewdness, and blasphemy of the stage^ is as natural a means to im- prove the sinner, as a bottle of paint ; or if he should venture to show that the church and tlic play-house are as ridiculous a contradiction, and do no more suit with the same person, than xYie prayer-book and pamt. Again ; suppose you were told that the holy (mgels delight in the repentance and devotion of '^OS'^ A PRACTICAL TREATISE Christians ; that they attend at God's altar, and re- joice in the prayers and praises which are there offered unto God : I imagine yoti could easily be- lieve it, you could think it very agreeable to the nature of such good beings, to see fallen spirits returning unto God. Suppose you were told also, that these same heavenly beings delighted to be with men in their drunkenness, revellin^s, and debau- ahtrlcs^ and were as much pleased with their vices? and corruptions, as with their devotions, you would know that both these accounts qauld not possibly be true ; you could no more doubt in your mind whether good angels that delight in the conversion and devotion of Christians, do also delight in their vices and follies, than you can doubt whether the same person can be alive and dead at the same lime. You would be sure, that in proportion as they delight in the piety and holiness of men, the}*- must necessarily, in the same degree, abhor and dis- like their vices and corruptions. So that supposing the matter of our church-service, the excellency of its devotions 5 its heavenly petitions, its lofty hymns, its solemn praises of the most high God, be such a glorious service as invites and procures the attendance of that blessed choir ; if this be true, I suppose you are as certain as you can be of the plainest truth, that the jiUhiness, the rant, ribaldry^ profaneness, and impietif of the stage, must be the hatred and aversion of those good spirits. Yon are sure, that it is as impossible for them to behold the stage with pleasure, as to look upon the holy altar with abhorrence. Consider awhile on this matter, and think how it can be lawful for you to go to a place, where if a good angel was to look with pleasure, it would cease to be good ? For as that which makes angels good, i^s the same right temper which makes you good ; so the same tempers which would render ansfels evil, must ajso render you evil. You may perhaps teH UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 257 me that you are not an aagel, 1 grant it, nei«hci* are you Jesus Christ, neither are you God ; yel you are called to be /lo/y, as Jesus Christ was holif ; and to he perfect^ as- your Father roh'ich is in heaven 4s per- fect. Though you are not an angel^ yet it is part of your glorious hope, that you sliall be as the angels of God; so that as you are capable of their happiness, you must think yourself obliged to be as like them in your temper, as the infirmity of your present state will permit. If angels are to rejoice in sing- ing the praises of God ; though their joy may ex- ceed yours, yet you are as much obliged to your degree of joy in this duty as they are. Angels, by the light and strength of their nature, may abhor all manner of sin with stronger aversion, a higher degree of abhorrence : yet you are as much obliged to abhor all manner of sin, as they are. So that it is no more lawful for you to delight in impure, profane diversions, which good angels abhor, than it is lawful for you to hate those praises and adorations which are their delight. You are to consider also, that these contradictory ternpers^ are no more possible in the same men, than in the same angels ; it is no more possible for your heart truly to delight in the service of the church, to be in earnest in all its devotions, and at the same time delight in the entertainment of the stage, than it is possible for an angel to delight in them both. You may fancy that you relish these entertain- ments, and at the same time relish and delight in the service of God, and are very hearty in your de- votions ; you may fancy this as cruel men may fancy themselves to be niercifaU the covetous and proud may fancj?- themselves to be humble and heavenly- minded ; but then take notice, that it is all but mere fiincy ; for it is cs impossible to be really devout with your reason and understanding,- and at the same time delight in the entertainment of the stage 'y as it is impossible to be really charitable, 22* 258 A PRACTICAL TREATISE and delighting in malice at the same time. There is indeed a falseness in our heart, a mechanism in ©ur constitution, which will deceive those, who do not constantly suspect themselves. There arc forms of devotion^ little rules of religion, which are fixed in us bj education,, which we can no more part with, than we can part with any other customs which we have long used. Now this makes many peo]>le think themselves mighty pious, because they find it is not in their nature to forbear or neglect such and such forms of piety ; they fanc}^ that religion must have its seat in their heart, because their heart is so urjal- teral)le in certain rules of religion. Thus a person ihat is exact in his times of prayer, will perhaps fhink himself much injured, if you was to tell him diat it is his ivant of piety that makes him relish the diversion of the stage ; his heart immediately justi- fies him against such an accusation, and tells him how constant he is in his devotions ; whereas it is V cry possible, that he may have but little more piety than what consists in some rules 3.ud forms, and that, his constancy to such rules may be owing to the same cause, which makes others constantly sleepy at such an hour, that is, the mere mechanism of his con- stitution, and the force of custom. This is the state (9t numbers of people, otherwise it would not be so common, to see the same people, constant and un- alterable in some rules of religion, and as constant and unalterable in pride, passion and vanity. Again ; there are many other instances of a false jpiety : some people feel themselves capable of re- iigious fervours, they have their passions frequently affected with religious subjects, who from thence iinagine, that their hearts are in a true state of reli- gion. But such a conclusion is very deceitful. For the mere mechanism and natural tempers of our bodies and our present condition, may be the chief founda- tion of all this. Thus a lady may find herself, as she thinks, warm in her devotions, and praise God UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 259 at church with a sense of joy ; she thinks she is very good, ])ccause she finds herself thus affected and pUaspA with the service of the church ; whereas, it may be the very reason why she is more than ordi- narily devout, and thinks it a pleasure to praise God, is because she is going to a hall^ or a pUty-, as soon as divine service is over. This agreeable expectation has so put her spirits in order, that she can be very thankful to God all the time she is at church* Another has been pleased with the compliments paid to her person, she finds herself VQvy finely dressed^ she is full of joy under such thoughts^tindso can easily break out into fervours of devotion^ and rejoice in God at a time when she can rejoice in any thing. These frequent starts of devotion make her think herself to be far advanced in piety, and she does not perceive, that the height of her devo- tion is owing to the height of her vanity. Let her but be less pleased with herself, let her be unregard- ed^ undressed^ without such pleasing reflections , and she will find herself sunk into a strange dulness towards devotion. The same temper is very frequent in common life ; you meet a person who is very fond of you, full of affection, and pleased with every thing you say or do : you must not imagine that he has more friend- ship for you, than when he saw you last, and hardly look any notice of you : the matter is only this, the man is in a state of joy at something or other, he is pleased with himself and so is easily pleased with you ; stay but till this^oru of spirit is gone off, and he will show you no more affection than he used to do. This is the religion of numbers of people ; they are devout by fits and starts^ in the same manner as they are pleased hy fits and starts^ and their devo- tion at those very times is no more a sign of (rue piety, than the civility anrl compliments of a person 9ver-joycdj are signs of true friendship. But still c 260 A PRACTICAL TREATISE these liitlc flashes of dev^otion, make people think themselves in a state of religion. Take another instance of a false piety of another kind ; Junius has been orthodox in his faith, a lover of churchmen, a hater of heretics these several years ; he is the first that is sorry for a dangerous book that is come out, he is amazed what people would be at by such writings, but thanks God there is learning enough in the world to confute A\i\n. He reads all the confutations of atheists, deists, and heretics ; there is only one sort of books, for which Junius has no taste, and that is, books of devotion. He freely owns, that they are not for his taste, he does not understand their flights. If another person was to say so much, it would be imputed to his want of piety ; but liecause Junius is known to be an enemy to irreligion, because he is constantly at church, you suppose him to be a pious man, though he thus confesses that he wants the spirit of piety. It is in the same manner, that Ju- nius deceives himself, his heart permits him to ne- clect books of devotion, because his heart is con- stantly showing him his zeal for religion, and hon- our for the church *, this makes him no more suspect himself to want any degrees of piety, than he sus- pects himself to Ijc a favourer of heresy. If he never thinks any ill of Iiimself ; if he never suspects any falseness in his own heart : if he is prejudiced in favour of all his own ways, it is because he is pre- judiced in favour of all orthodox men. Junius reads 'much controversy, yet he does not take it ill, that you pretend to inform him in matters of controversy; on the contrary, he never reads books of devotion, yet is angry if you pretend to correct him in matters of that kind. Yo"u may suppose him m staken in something that he is always studying, and he will be thankful to you for setting him right ; but if you suppose him mistaken in things that he never applies himself to, if you suppose that any body knows what UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 2C1 humility^ hcavenly-mindedness, devotion^ sclf-dtnin}^ mortification., rtpantance^ charity^ or the love of God is, better rhrm hf. you provoke his tem[>€r, ajid he will not suffer himself to be informed by you. Great numbers of people are like Junius in this respect, thoy think they are very reli,a:ious by listening to instructions upon certain points, by readin'^ certain books, and -being ready to receive farther light, who yet cannot bear to be instructed in matters, where they arc most likely to de deceived, and where the deceit is of the utmost danger. They will be thank- ful for your telling th<^m the particular times in which the Gospels were written, for explaining the word eurodydon^ or anathema maranafhc. ; they will be glad of such useful instruction, but if you touch upon such subjects as really concern them in a high degree, such as try the state and way of their lives, these religious people, who are so fond of religious truths, cannot bear to be thus instructed. What is the reason, that when w^e consult lawyers, it is not to hear harangues upon ihe law, or its seve- ral courts, it is not to hear the variety of cases that concern other people, but i( is to be instructed and assisted in our own ca-e ? Why do we thank them for dealing impartially with us, for searching and examinin:^ into the true state of our case, and infor- ming us of every thing that concerns us ? What is the reason that we aT)ply to physicians, not to hear the rise and progress of physic, or the history of dispu'ues amongst them, not to hear of other peo- ple's distempers ; but to tell them our own particu- lar state, and learn the cure of our own distem- pers ? Why do we thank thorn for being nicely exact in searching us out, for examining into every part of our lives, our ways of eafin'S^ drinkins^ and sle^ping^ and not suffering us to deceive ourselves with wToni( opinions and practice's ? What is the reason why we act thus consistently, and in the same manner, in both these instances ? Xow the £62 A PRACTICAL TREATISE only reason is this, because in both these instances we are really in earnest. When you are in earnest in your religion, you will act as consistently, and in the same manner there. When you desire solid piety, as you desire 5omw<^ /tcrt/^/i, your chief concern will be about your own disorders ; you will thank divines and casuists for making you their chief care ; you will be glad to have them cxrimine and search mto your ways of life, to be rightly informed of the follies, vanities, and dangers of your state ; you will be glad to read those books, and consult those ca- suists, v/hich are most exact and faithful in discov- ering your faults, who question and examine all your ways, who discover to you your secret corrup- tions, and unsuspected follies, and who are best able to give you the surest rules of arriving at Christian perfection. When you are in earnest in your reli- gion, you will as certainly act in this manner, as you act in the same manner with the lawyer or physician. Take this also for an undeniable truth, that till you do act in this manner, you are not in earnest in your religion. This therefore is a good rule to examine yourself by. Do you iind that you act in religion, as you do in other cases, where you are in earnest ? Are you as suspicious of yourself,, as fear- ful of mistake, as watchful of danger, as glad of as- sistance, as desirous of success, as in other matters, where your life or fortune are at stake, or where your heart is engaged ? Never imagine that your religion is founded in a true fear of God, and a hearty desire of salvation, till you find yourself act- ing as you do in other matters, where your fears are great, and your desires hearty. If you had rather read books that entertain the mind, than correct the lieart ; if you had rather hear a c^isdom of your way of life, you must take it for tPON CHRISTIAN PERFtCTION. 263 grantctl, that you are not in earnest in (he reforma- iion of your life, and that there are some tem{)crs in you more strong and powerful, that more rule and govern you than the fear of God, and a desire of Salvation. To return now to my subject. 1 had observed, that people who are religious upon a true principle, who are devout with their reason and understandincr^ cannot possibly either relish or allozu the entertainment of the stai;e. 1 observed, that these contradictory tempers, a delight in the offices and divine service of the church, and a delight in the entertainments of the stage, are no more possible to be in the same good nien^ than in the same good angels. This made it necessary for me to step a little aside from my subject, to con- sider some false appearances of religion, which arc chieily founded in natural temper^ custom^ education,^ and the way of the world ; which yet so far deceive people, as to make them fancy themselves in a good state of religion, while they live and act by another spirit and temper. Now, I readily ow^n, a man may come up to those appearances of religion, he may carry on a course of such piety as this, and yet relish the diversion of the stage. It is no contradiction for a man to like to say his prayers, to be often delighted with the service of the church, to hear sermons, to read divi-* nity, to detest heretics, and yet find a.constantp/ea- sure in the vain entertainments of the stage. The world abounds with instances of people wdio szcear^ drink^ and debauch^ with all these appearances of religion. Now as we are sure, that w here we see these vices, those persons have only an appearance of religion, which is founded in something else, than a true fear of God ; so wherever w'e see sober and regular people, lovers of the church, and friends to religion, taking the pleasure of the stage, we may be sure, that their religion is defective, and founded in something that is weak, and false, and blind, that 264 A PRACTICAL TREATISE permits them to act so inconsistently. For tiie rea- soiling is full as strong in one case as in the other. •Now ahhough I would not have people to be solely guided by what they feel, or think they feel in their own minds ; yet this we may depend upon, as cer- tain in our tempers, that we never love or affect any thing truly, but we hate and avoid all that is con- trary to it in an equal degree. So that we may be assured, that all that love, or zeal, or affection that we pretend for any thing, is but mere pretence and a blind motion, unless it appears by a zealous,lively abhorrence of every thing that is contrary to it. Upon this ground I again affirm, that it is impossi- ble for truly religious people to bear the entertain- ment of the stage. For consider only the matter in this short view. A truly religious person is to love, and fear, and adore God, with all his hearty and ii-ith all his soul^ and 7cith all his strength* Now 1 ask you, who it is that has this true love of God? Js it he that delights in profaneness at all times ? Or is it he that can bear with profaneness some times ? Or is it he thatabhors;and avoids it at all times and in all places? Which of these three hath a right to be esteemed a true lover of God? Now he that goeth to a play at any time, though he may say that he does not de- light in profaneness, yet he must own that he can sometimes, and in some places, bear with profane- ness. For profaneness of some kind or other, is in most of our plays, almost as common as the name of God in Scripture. But I will suppose it were only now and then, and that no profaneness, either of thought or expression, happened above twice or thrice in an entertainment ; yet this is profaneness^ and he that can bear with so much, that can seek the entertainment as a pleasure, must acknowledge, that though he does not delight in profaneness as such, yet he can bear with profaneness for the sake of other deli«;ht. Now ask yourself — Has not he a truer love of God, whose piety will not suffer hi m VPON 'CHRISTIAN PERrSCTlON. S'BS to bear with profanencss at. any time, or in any place, or for any pleasure ? And not therefore sup- poixcd by plain reason and common sense, when I affirm, that it is for want of true l'>iety, that any peo- ple are able to })ear the entertainment of thestnge ? You see also, that no higher drgrro of piety is re- quired, to fill one with a constant abhorrence of the stage>, than such a piety as implies an abhorrence of profanencss at all limes, and in all places. When you are thus pious, when you thus love God, you will have a piety, a love of God that will not sutfer you to be at an entertainment that has any mixture of profanencss. Now as there must be this manifest defect in true piety, before you can bear with the profanencss of the stage ; so if yon consider every other part of the character of a truly religious man, you will find, that there must be the same defect run through the whole of it, before he can be fit for such diversion. You tell Ttie that you love the church, and rejoice at the returns of divine service, though you now and then go to a play^ Now consider what it is which these words mean, tfyou tvve and delight in 4ht service of churchy then you love to be in a state of devotion, you love to draw near to God, you love to be made sensible of the misery^ .fiT^'^^ and zi'eight of sin ; you love to abhor and deplore your iniquities, and to lament the misery and Vanity of human life ; you love to hear the instructions of divine wisdom^ to raise your soul unto God, and sing his praises ; you love to be on your knees praying against all the vanities and follies of life, and for all the gifts and graces of God's Holy Spirit. Now all this is implied in the true love of church- service, for unless you love it for what it is, and because you feel its excellency, your love is only a blind mechanical motion ; but if you love it in truth and reality, if you are thus affected with it ^jecause all its parts so highly suit the condition of 23 266 A PRACTICAL TREATISE human nature, whilst you are thus disposed, you can no more relish the wicked spirit and foolish tem- per of stage-entertainments, than sincere, dying pe- nitents can delight in the guilt of their sins. Never imagine, therefore, that you are sincerely affected with the confessions of the church, or that you are truly glad for the return of those hours, which humble you in the sight of God ; never imag- ine, that you truly feel the misery and weight of sin, or sincerely lament the corruption of your na- ture, whilst 3^ou dare go to the fountain-head of corruption, the place where sin reigns, and exerci- ses its highest power. Never imagine, that you have the spirit of devo- lion, that your heart is renewed with the Holy (ihost ; that it truly rejoices in the means of grace, and the hope of glory; never imagine, that it is your joy and delight to worship God in the beauty of holiness, to send up your soul to him in prayers and praises, so long as the way of the stage, its impious nonsense, vile jests, profane passions, and lewd speeches, are not your utter abhorrence. For it is not more absurd to believe, that a corrupt tree hiay bring forth good fruit, than to believe, that a })ious mind, truly devoted to God, should taste and relish the entertainment of the stage. For the taste and relish of the mind, is a more certain sign of the ?tate and nature of the mind, than the quality of fruit is a sign of the state and nature of trees. Had the impure spirits, which asked our blessed Saviour to sufler them to enter into the herd of .97ume, said at the same time, that it was their only delight and joy to dwell in the light and splendour of God, no one c©uld have believed them, any more than he could believe light and darkness to be the same thing. When you have the Spirit of Christ, when you are devoted to God, when purity, holiness, and per-* fcclion is your real care, when you desire to live in UPON CHRISTIAN fERFECTIOS. 267 the light of God's Holy Sph-ii, io act by his mo- tions, to rise from grace to grace till you are finishctl in glory, it will be as impossible for you, whilst you continue so disposed, cither to seek or bear the entertainment of the stage, as it is impossible for pure and holy spirits to ask to enter into a herd of swine. If you want the delight of so corrupt an entertainment, so contrary to tlie spirit and purity of religion, you ought no more to believe yourself, when you pretend to true piety and devotion, than you ought to have believed those impure sj^iiits, if they had pretended to have been angels of UghU For this is absolutely certain, anxl what you ought carefully to consider, that nothing ever gives us any pleasure, but what is suitable to the state and temper of mind that we are then in. So that if the corruption, the immorality, the profane spirit and wanton temper of the stage entertainment, can give you any pleasure, you are as sure that' there is something like all these vices in your heart, as you can be of any thing that relates to a human mind. Lastly, Ask yourself, when you think that 3'ou have a tnie love for divine service, whether he is not a truer lover of it, whose soul is so fashioned to it, so deeply affected with it, that he can delight in nothing that is contrary to it ; who cau bear with no entertainment that is made up of speeches, pas- sions, harangues, and songs, so opposite to the wis- dom, the discourses, instructions, and hymns of divine service. This, I believe, you cannot deny ; and if this cannot be denied, then it must be owned as a certain truth, that he who can bear with the stage entertainment, has this farther defect, that he v/ants the true love of divine service. Again ; It is part of a truly religious man to love the Scriptures, and delight in reading them ; you say this is your temper, though you go to plays. I answer, that it is for want of a true love and delight in the Scriptures, that you arc able to reliali plays. ^tiS A PRACTICAL TREATIS3 V'ou may perhaps so love the Scripture?, that vorf may think it your duty to read them, and desire to- understand them. But whf n you once so love the Scriptures as to love to be like them, to desire that the spirit and temper of Scripture may be the one spirit and temper of your life : ;vhen, for in- stance, you love tliis doctrine, Slrire fo enter in at the £trah gate. If thy right eye offend ihec, pluck i-t ERF£ctlON* 269 full of the spirit that is there taught , examine whe- ther you then fe?i in your heart such a love of the Scripturi;, 'i-i to love those cohditions of blessedncs.^ that ar-: tLere described, Blessed are the poor in spi- rit^ blecsid are they that mourn, blessed arc they that hunger and thirst after righteousness. Do you find yourself in these heights of holiness ? Is your soul reformed, purified, and exalted, according to thes'' doctrines ? Or can you imagine, that you are con- forming yourself to those doctrines, that you deparc from none of them, when you arc preparing your- self for a pleasure, which is the proper pleasure of the most corrupt and debauched minds ? Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see Godi Can you think that you are rightly aff'ccted with this doctrine, that you are labouring after this purity, that you are preparing to see God, when you arc going to an entertainment, to which they ought only to go who have no thoughts of seeing God, nor any desires after that purity which prepares us for it? Lastly ; Another virtue essential to Christian ho- liness is chastity ; our blessed Saviour has given us the measure of this virtue in these words : But I say unto you^ that rvhosoever looketh on a tooman to lust after her, hath committed adultery zoith her already in his hearti We are sure^ therefore, that this virtue is not preserved, unless we keep ourselves clear from all immodest thoughts and impure imag- inations ; we are sure also, that the guilt of these is like the guilt of adultery. This is the doctrine of Christ. Look noAV into the play-house, and think whether any thing can be imagined more contrary to this doctrine. For not to consider the monstrous lewdness and immodesty of the stage, take it in its best state, when some admired tragedy is upon it : are the extravagant passions of distracted lovers, the im- pure ravings of inflamed heroes, the tender com- 23* 270 A PRACTICAL TREATISE plaints, the joys and torments of lovp, and gra=^ descriptions of lust ; arc the indecent actions, the amorous transports, the wanton address of the ac- tors, which makes so great a part of the most sober and modest tragedies— are these things an enter- tainment consistent with this Christian doctrine 1 You may as well imagine, that murder and rapine are consistent with charity and meekness. I hope if will not now he 5aid, that 1 have spent too much time upon this subject, that seems not necessary in this treatise upon Christicfn perfection. For though these things arc generally looked upon as little, because they are called pleasures and diversions ; yet they may as justly be called vices and debau- «:heries ; they afiect religion, as lies and falsehoods aflect it, in the very heart and essence, and render people as incapable of true pirty as any c>f the c^rossest indulgences of sensuality and intempe- rance. And perhaps it may be true, that more peo- ple arc kept strangers to the true spirit of religion, by what are called pleasures, diversions, and amuse- ments, than by confessed vices, or the cares and bu- ;siness of life. I have now only one thing to beg of fhe reader, that he would not think it a sufficient answer to all this, to say in general, that it is a doc- trine too strict and rigid ; but that he would consider (wery argument as it is in itself ; not whether it be strict and rigid, but whether it be false reasoning,, or more strict and rigid than the doctrine of Scrip- ture : if it prescribes a purity and holiness which is wot according to the spirit and temper of the Scrip- tures, let it be rejected ; not as too strict and rigid^ but as a species of false worship, as vain and ridicu- lous as idolatry ^ but if what is here asserted be highly conformable to the most plain doctrines of Scripture ; the saying that it is too strict and rigid, is of no more weight against it than if it was said, that it was too true. It is not my intention to trou- ble the world with . any particular notions of my UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTIGX. 271 OWD, or to impose any unnecessary rules, or fancied degrees of perfection upon any people. But in de- claring against the stage, as I have done, 1 have no more followed any particular spirit, or private tem- per, or any more exceeded the plain doctrine of Scripture, than if I declared against drunkenness and debauchery. Let a man but be so much a Chris- tian, as not to think it too high a degree of perfec- tion, or too strict and rigid to be in earnest in these two petitions, Lead us not into ttrnptation, hut deliver us from tvil ; and he has Christianity enough to per- suade him, that it is neither too high a perfection, nor too strict and rigid, constantly to declare against, and always to avoid the entertainment of the stage. CHAP. XII. Christians are called to a constant State of Prayer and Devotion, IT is one principle article of our religion, to be- lieve that our blessed Saviour is now at the right hand of God, there making perpetual intercession for us, till the redemption of mankind is finished. Prayer therefore is, undoubtedly, a proper means of drawing near to God, a necessary method of re- storing sinners to his favour ; since he, who has conquered sin and death, who is constituted Lord of all, is yet, as the great advocate for sinners, obliged to make perpetual intercession for them. Whenever therefore we are in the spirit of prayer, when our hearts are lifted up to God, breathing out holy petitions to the throne of grace, we have this encouragement to be constant and fervent in it, that we arc then joining with an intercession at the 272 A PRACTICAL TKEATISE right hand of God, and doing that for ourselves 6fi earth which our blessed Saviour is perpetually doing for us in heaven. This reason of prayer is, perhaps not much considered 5 yet it certainly con- tains a most powerful motive to it. For who, that considers his redemption as now carrying on by an intercession in heaven, can think himself so agreea- ble to God, so like his Saviour, as when the con^ stancy of his own prayers bears some resemblance to that never-ceasing intercession which is made above ? This shows us also, that we are most of all to desire those prayers which are offered up at the altar, where the body and blood of Christ are join- ed with them. For as our prayers are only accep- table to God through the merits of Jesus Christ : so we may be sure that we are praying to God in the most prevailing way, when we thus pray in the name of Christ, and plead his merits in the highest manner that we can# Devotion may be considered either as an exercise of public or private prayers at set times and occa- sions, or as a temper of the mind, a state and dis- position of the heart, which is rightly affected with such exercises. Now external acts of devotion are like other external actions, very liable to falseness, and are only so far good and valuable as they pro- ceed from a right disposition of heart and mind* Zealous professions of friendship are but the more abominable hypocrisy for being often repeated, un- less there be an equal zeal in the heart ; so solemn prayers, rapturous devotions, are but repeated hy- pocrisies, unless the heart and mind be conformable to them. Since, therefore, it is the heart only that is devout ; since the regularity and fervency of the heart is the regularity and fervency of devotion ; I shall consider devotion chiefly in this respect, as it is a state and temper of the heai't. For it is in this sense only, that Christians are called to a constant state of devotion j they are not to be always on thcip rPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 273 knees in acts of prayer, but they arc to be always in the state and temper of devotion* Friendship does not require us to be always waiting upon our friends in external services ; these wffices have their times and seasons of intermission ; it is only the service of the heart, the friendship of the mind, that is never to intermit ; it is not to be- gin and end, as external services do, but it is to persevere in a constancy like the motion of our heart, or the beating of our pulse. It is just so in devotion ; prayers have their hours, their begin- ning and ending ; but that turn of mind, that dispo- sition of the heart towards God, which is the life and spirit of prayer, is to be as constant and lasting as our own life and spirit. The repeating of a creed at certain times is an act of faith ; but that faith, which overcometh the ruorld^ stays neither for times nor seasons, but is a living principle of the soul, that is always believ- ing, trusting, and depending upon God. In the same manner verbal prayers are acts of devotion ; but that prayer which saveth, which openeth the gates of heaven, stops not at forms and manuals of devotion, but is a language of the soul, a judgment of the heart, which worships, adores, and delights in God, at all times and seasons. The necessity and reason of prayer is, like all other duties of piety, founded in the nature of God, and the nature of man. It is founded in the nature of God, as he is the sole fountain and cause of all happiness ; it is founded in the nature of man, as he is weak and helpless, and full of wants. So that prayer is an earnest (^plication or ascent of the heart to GofZ, as to the sole cause of all happiness. He therefore that most truly feels the misery, corrup- tion, and weakness of his own nature, who is mosr fully convinced that a relief from all these disor- ders, and a true happiness, is to be found in (jod alone 5 he who is most fullv convinced of these t\vo 274 A PRACTICAL TREATISE truths is most fully possessed of the spirit ofprajcr. There is but one way, therefore, to arrive at a true ■state of devotisn ; and that is, to get right notions of ourselves, and of the divine nature ; that having a full view of the relation we bear to God, our souls may as constantly aspire to him as they con- f^tantly aspire after happiness. This also shows us the absolute necessity of ail those fore-mentioned doctrines of humility, self-denial, and renunciation of the world. For if devotion is founded in a sense of the poverty, misery, and weakness of our nature, then nothing can more effectually destroy the spi- rit of devotion than pride, vanity, and indulgence of any kind. These things stop the breath of prayer, and as necessarily extinguish the flame of devotion, as water extinguishes common fire. U prayer is also founded in right notions of God ; in believing him to be the sole fountain and cause of all our happiness ; then every thing that takes this truth out of our minds, that makes us less sensi- ble of it, makes us so far less capable of devotion > so that worldly cares, vain pleasures, false satisfac- tions, are all to be renounced, that we may be able to pray. For the spirit of prayer has no farther hold of us, than so far as we see our wants, imper- fections, and weakness, and liltewise the infinite fullness and all-sufficiency of God ; when we tho- roughly feel these two great truths, then are we in the true spirit of prayer. Would you, therefore, be in the state and temper of devotion, you must practise all those ways of life that may humble you in your owrt sight ; you must forbear all those in- dulgences and vanities which blind your heart, and give you false notions of yourself ; you must seek that way of life, accustom yourself to such practices, as may best convince you of the vanity of the world, and the littleness of every thin*j but God. This is the only foundation of prayer. When you do not enough see cither your own littleness, or tlic rPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTIO.V. 275 ^eatncss of God ; when you either seek for plea- sure in yourself, or think that it is any Avhcrc to be found, except in God, you put yourself out of a state of devotion. For you can desire nothing but what you think you want ; and 30U can desire it only in such a degree as you feel the want of it. It is certain therefore, that whatever lessens or abates the feeling of your own wants, whatever takes you irom looking to God, as the only possible relief of ihem, so far lessens and abates the spirit and fer- vour of your devotion. We sometimes exhort people to fervour in devo- tion ; but this can only mean as to the outward acts of it : for to exhort people to be fervent in devotion, as that implies a temper of the heart, is to as little purpose as to exhort people to be merrj^, or to be sorry. For these tempers always follow the judg- ments and opinions of our minds ; when we per- ceive things to be as we like them, then we are merry ; when we find things in a contrary state, then we arc sorry. It comes to pass after the same manner in devotion ; bid a man be fervent in devo- tion ; tell him it is an excellent temper ; he knows no more how to go about it than how to l^e merry, because he is bid to be so. Stay till old age, till sickness, misfortunes, or the approach of death, has convinced him that he has nothing good in him- »self ; that there is nothing v?luable in the world ; that all that is good, or great, or glorious, is ia God alone ; and then he will lind himself as dis- posed to devotion, and zealous desires after God, as the man is disposed to cheerfulness, who sees things in that state in which he would have them to be. So that the one and the only way to be de- vout, is to see and feel our own weakness, the va- nity of the world, and greatness of God, as dying men see and feel them. It is as impossible to be devout without seeing things in this view, as it is impossible to be cheerful without perceiving some- 276 A PRACTICAL TREATISE thing in our condition that is according to our mind* Ilcnce therefore wc may learn to admire the wis- dom and divinity of the Christian religion, which calls all its members to humility, self-denial, and a rc dcvoUl, be- cause devotion is the application of an hunil)Ic heart 10 God, as its onlj happiness. Hence we may also perceive why people of learn- ing and great application to b<>oks, who seem to have retired from the corruptions of the world, to spend that time in their studies, are yet often not devout. The reason is, because devotion is founded in great humility, and a full sense of the vanity and littleness of every thing but God ; whereas it is often the same vanity that wears out some scholars in their studies, that wears out other people at court, in the camp, or at sea. They do not want to be merchants, or colonels, or secretaries of state ; but ihey want to hfc critics, grammarians, and histo- rians. They, it may be, disregard riches and equi* page ; despise the sports and diversions of the pre- sent age ; avoid the folly of conversation ; but then it is to contemplate the riches and equipage, the sports, and diversions of the ancient Romans. The vanity of some ladies and gentlemen would be touched if you should tell them that they did not understand dress ; some great scholars would be much dej-ected if you should suppose them igno- rant of a fold in the Roman garments. The bulk of mankind are so dull and tasteless, so illiterate, as to set their hearts upon current coin, large fields, and flocks and herds of cattle. Great learning has raised some men above this grossness t)f taste ; their heart, only beats at the sight of a medal and ancient coins ; they are only afraid of dying before they have outdone the world in their collections of shells, skins, stones, animals, flies, and insects. You would not expect that a merchant should be devout because he traded in all parts of Europe ; or, that a lady should be pious, because she under* stands all sorts of fine v>'ork and embroidery. No\C- if you was to look into the business of many pro- 34 iJTB A rRA€TICAL TREATISE found scholars ; if you was to consider the nature of such learning as makes the greatest figure in the world, you will find no more tendency in it to piety and devotion, than there is in merchandise or em- broidery. When men retire into their studies to change their nature, to correct and reform their passions ; to fmd out the folly, the falseness, the corruption, and weakness of their hearts ; to penetrate into the vanity and emptiness of all worldly attainments ; when they read and meditate to fill their souls with religious wisdom and heavenly affections, and to raise their hearts unto God ; when this is learning (and what else deserves the name), then learning will lead men unto God, learned men will be very devout, and great scholars will be great saints. Hence we also learn why so many people, seem- ingly religious, are yet strangers to the spirit of devotion. Crito buys manuals of devotion, he finds nothing in them but what is according to the doc- trines of religion ; yet he is not able to keep pace with them ; he feels nothing of what he reads, and throws them by, as something that does not suit his taste : he does not consider that the fault is in him- self, and that these very same books will suit him Avhen he is dying. He does not consider, that whilst he is so well pleased with himself, ^o fond of the world, so delighted with a variety of schemes that he has on foot, it is as impossible for him to be devout as for a stone to hang by itself in the air, or a building to stand without any thing to stand upon. If Crito was to begin his devotion to God with humility, self-denial, and a renunciation of all worldly tempers, he would show that he used com- mon sense in his religion, that he was as wise as that builder who begins his house by laying a foun- dation. But to think of adding devotion to a life that does not naturally lead to it, that is not so ordered as to be so many steps towards it, is as ab- UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 279 sui'J as if a man should think of getting to the end of his journey, without going through any of the way that leads to it. For as it is a temper of the mind, it must arise from a state of ©ur mind, and nuist have its proper causes to produce it. as all other tempers have. Suppose you was to call a man from some. joyful feast,-i"rom the pleasures of songs, music and dancing; and tell him to go into the next room to grieve for half an hour, and then return to his mirth ; suppose you was to tell him, that he must mourn that half- hour from the bottom of his heart, that it was a very excellent thing, and highly becoming a rational creature. It is possible he might obey you so far as to go into the room appointed for moui-ning, he maybe able to sit still, look grave, sigh and hang down his head, and stay out his half hour ; but you are sure that he cannot rcall}^ grieve, and for this reason, because he is in a state of festival joy, and is returning to his feast. Now this is the state of Crito, and great numbers of Christians ; they are always at a feast ; their life is nothing else but a suc- cession of such pleasures, satisfactions, and amuse- ments, as aiTect and hurry their minds, like the fes- tival joys of drinking, music, and dancing. So that when they go to devotion, they are just as capable of it, as a man that is rejoicing at a feast is capable of mourning at the same time. Let not the reader imagine that this is the case only of such great peo- ple, as live in such a constant scene of pleasure as their fortunes can procure, for it is a case that equally concerns almost all states of life. For as a mail rejoicing at an ordinary feast, is as indisposed for grief as one that is merry at a more splendid entertainment ; so the course of pleasures and w^orldly delights, which falls in w^ith lower states of life, may render such people as incapable of devo- tion, as they are who have other ejitertainraents 2B0 A PRACTICAL TREATISE provided for them. Now no one wonders that he cannot put on grief, when he is rejoicing at a feast of any kind ; because he knows there is suflicient reason for it, because his mind is then otherwise engaged. But if Crito would but deal thus faithfully with himself, he would as readily own, that he can- not relish strains of devotion, that his tcart does not enter into them, for this reason, because it is otherwise engaged. For people certainly relish every thing that suits with the state of life that they live, and can have no taste or relish, but such as arises from the way and manner of life that they^ are in. Whoever therefore finds himself unable to relish strains of devotion, is dull and unaffected with them, may take it for certain, that it is owing to the way and state of life that he is in: he may also be farther assured, that his life is wanting in the virtues of humility, self-denial, and a renunciation of worldly goods, since these virtues as naturally ])reparc and dispose the soul to aspire to God, as a sense of sickness disposes people to wish for health. Let us now put these things together ; it is cer* tain, that devotion, as a temper of the mind, must have something to produce it, as all other tempers have ; that it cannot be taken up at times and occa- sions, but must arise from, the state of the s-oul, as all cither tempers and desires do. It is also equally certain, that humility, self-denial, and a renuncia- tion of the world, are the only foundation of devo- tion, that it can only proceed from these, as from its proper causes. Here therefore we must fix our rule to take the just measure of ourselves. We must not consider how many books of devotion we have, how often we go to church, how often we have felt a warmth and fervour in our prayers ; these arc uncertain signs ; but we must look to the fountlation, and assure ourselves, that our devotion neither is, nor can be £;rcater than our himiiliiy, '^elfPOy CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 295 such motions and desires as are suitable to thcin^ then are they devout worshippers of God every- where ; this makes the common actions of their life, acts of religion, and turns every place into a cha- pel. And it is to this state of devotion that we are all called, not only by particular precepts, but by the whole nature and tenor of our rcli^^ion. Now as all states and tempers of the mind must be supported by actions and exercises suitable to them, so devotion, which is an earnest application of the soul to God, as its only happiness, must be supported and kept alive by actions and exercises suitable to it, that is, by hours and forms of prayer both public and private. The devotion of the iieart disposes us to observe set times of prayer ^ and on other the hand, set times of prayer as natural- ly increase and enliven the devotion of the heart. It is thus in all other cases ; habits of the mind dis"« pose us to actions suitable to them, and these ac- tions likewise strengthen and improve the habits from whence they proceed. It is the habitual taste for music, that carries people to concerts ; and again, it is concerts that increase the habitual love of music. So it is the right disposition of the heart towards God, that leads people to outward acts of prayer ; and on the other side, it is outward acts of prayer, that pre- serves and strengthens the right disposition of the heart towards God. As therefore we are to judge of the significancy of our prayers, by looking to the state and temper of our heart, so are we also to judge of the state of our heart, by looking to the/rc^ qnencif^ constancy^ and importunitij of our prayer=i. For as we are sure that bur prayers are insigniii- cant, unless they proceed from a ri2;ht heart, so un- less our prayers I:»c frcffucnfn cms! tn^. eind fiill of iniportifiilli/^ we may be e(|ualiy sure I hat our heart, is not ric;ht towards God. Our bIo?§ed Saviour had ind^^^d condemned one 286 A PRACTICAL TREATISE sort of long prayer. But tchen ye prcty use not vain repetilions^ as the Heathens do ; for Matth. vi. 7. they think they shall be heard for their riiuch speaking. Now it is not length, or a continu- ance of prayer that is here forbid ; but vain repeti- tions^ when instead of praying, the same words are only often repeated. Secondly^ The Heathens arc not here condemned for being iaiportunate and persevering in their prayers, but for a wrong judg- ment, a false devotion, in that they thought they were heard, because they spoke much, that is, often repeated the same words. So that all that Chris- tians are here forbid, is only this, they are not to think that the efficacy of pra^^er consists in vain and lon2: repetitions, but are to apply to God upon a better principle, a more enlightened devotion. Now though this is plainly all that is here condemned, yet some people imagine, that a continuance and importunity of prayer is here reproved ; and thence conclude, that shortness is a necessary qualification of prayer. But how willing must such people be to be de- ceived, before they can reason in this manner ? For the words have plainly no relation to length or shortness of prayer ; they no more condemn the one than the other ; but speak altogether to another matter. They only condemn an opinion of the Heathens^ which supposed that the excellency and power of prayer consisted in a multitude of repeti- tions. Now to think that a short prayer is better because it is short, is the same error as to hold with the Heathens^ that a prayer is more powerful, the longer the same words are repeated. It is the same mistake in the nature of devotion. But supposing the meaning of these words was something obscure (which it is not) yet surely it is plain enough, that our Saviour has expressly taught and recommended a continuance and importunity in prayer. And how perversely do they read the UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 287 Gospel, who can find his authority against such kind of devotion ! For can he who was so often re- tiring to desarts. to niovMtains^ to solitary places to pray, who spent ii^hole nights in prayer ; can he be supposed to have left a reproof upon such as should follow his example ? But besides the authority of his great example, his doctrine is on no point more plain and certain, than wliere he teaches fre* ([uency, continuance, and importunity in prayer. lie spake a parable unto them, to this end, that men ouirht ahi'ays to pray, and not to faint, Sayiri labour, will, if he perseveres, find the very labou?' x)i his lips altering the temper of his heart ; and that he has learned to pray, by praying often. This we find to be true in all parts of life, that we catch a spirit and temper from such conversa* tion and ways of life as we allov/ ourselves in. Use is called a second nature, and experience teaches ^vs, that whatever we accustom ourselves to, will by 35 290 A PRACTICAL TREATISE degrees tpansrorm our spirit and temper into a like- ness to it Crcdula was for some time a tender mother, friendly and charitable to her neighbours, and full of good-will towards all people : she is now spightful, malicious, envious, and delights in nothing l)ut scandal. How came Credula thus changed ? Why, she has been for several years spending her time in visiting ; she entered into scandal and evil-speaking at first, merely for the sake of talk ; she has gone on talking, till she has talked her very heart and spirit into a taste for nothing else : at first she only detracted from her neighbours and friends, because she was visiting ; but now she visits for the sake of detraction. Credula is hardened and cruel in evil- speaking, for the same reason that butchers arc in- human and cruel, because she has been so long used to murder the reputation of her neighbours. She has killed all her own family over and over ; and if she seeks new acquaintance, it is to get fresh matter for scandal ; now all this change in Credula is pure- ly owing to her indulging a talkative temper. Now every thing that we use ourselves to, enters into our nature in this manner, and becomes a part of us before we are aware. It is common to observe, that some people tell a story so long, till they have forgotten that they invented it. This is not, as is supposed, through a bad memory ; but because the things which we make constant and familiar, will, by degrees, steal the approbation of the heart. If therefore we would but be often on our knees, put- ting up our prayers to God, though, for a while, it was only form and outward compliance, yet our hearts would, by degrees, learn the language of our mouths. The subject of our prayers w^uld become the subject of our hearts ; we should pray ourselves into devotion, and it would become a part of us, in the same manner, that all other ways enter intr our UPON CHRISTIAN rKEFECTION. 2^1 nature. Our reason and judgment would, at last, consent to our lips, and by saying the same thint;;s often, wc should come to believe and feel them in a ])roper manner. For it is a very reasonable thing to judge of the effects of good customs, by what we see to be the eifects of bad ones. They therefore, who are hasty in their devotions, and think a little will do, are strangers both to the nature of devo- tion, and the nature of man ; they do not know thit they are to learn to pray, and that prayer is to be learned, as they learn all other things, hy frcHjucn- cy, constancy, and perseverance. Secondly ; There is another great advantage in frequent and continued prayers. The cares and pleasures of life, the levity, vanity, and dullness of our minds, make us all, more or less, unfit for our devotions. We enter into our closets thus unprepared for prayer ; now if our petitions are very short, we shall end our prayers before our devotion is begim ; before we hive time 10 recollect our minds, or turn our hearts to the bu- siness we are upon. Now continuance in prayer is a great relief against these indispositions ; not only as it gives the heart leisure to fall from worldly cares and con- cerns, but as it exercises the mind upon such sub- jects as are likely to abate its vanity and distrac-* tion, and raise it into a state of seriousness and attention. It is the case of all people to find them- selves inconstant in their prayers, joining heartily with some petitions, and wandering away from others ; it is therefore but common prudence to contiime our prayers, that our minds, which will wander from some parts, may have others to join in. If we were masters of our attention, and could be as fervent as we pleased, then indeed fewer words might serve for our devotion ; but since our minds arc weak, inconstant, and ungovernable, we must endeavour to catch and win them to devotion, by X>92 A TRACTICAL TREATISE ^uch means as are suited to such a state of weak- ness, (lulness, and inconstancy. He that goes to his closet in a hurry, only to repeat a short form of words, may pray all his life without any devotion : and perhaps he had been a devout man long ago, if it Ivad ever entered into his head, that meditation and continuance in prayer arc necessary to excite devotion. If a man was to make it a law to him- ?;elf to meditate a while before he began his prayers: if he v/as to force his mind to think what prayer is. what he prays fof, and to whom he prays ; if ho should again make it a rule to stop in some part oi his prayers, to ask his heart whether it really prays, or to let his soul rise up in silence unto God ; prayers thus performed, thus assisted by meditation -and continuance, would, in all likelihood, soon ren- der the mind truly devout. It is not intended by this to impose any particular method upon.all peo- ple • it is only to show us, that there are certain means of assisting our devotion ; some rules, though litde in themselves, yet of great use to render our minds attentive and fervent in our applications to God. It is the business therefore of every sincere Christian to be as wise as he can in these arts and methods of self-government. As we ourselves know most of the falseness of Qur own hearts, of the tem- per of our minds, and the occasion of our defects ; so if we v/ould but be so wise, as to think the amendment of our hearts the best and greatest work that w^e can do, every one's reason would help him to such useful rules as had a peculiar fitness to his own state. Self-reflection is the shortest and most certain way of becoming truly wise, and truly pious. There are two seasons of our hearts, which, if we w^ould but reflect upon, we might get much know- led u\y the business oidtrgij- nun to carry on the work of salvation, but must remember that we are engaged in the same business^ though not in the same manner. Had the poor 'ividozv thought herself excused from taking care of the treasury, had she thought that it belonged only to the rich to contribute to it, we find that she had been mistaken, and had lost that great commen- dation which our Saviour bestowed upon her. Now it may be, that some widows may be so very poor,^ as not to have so much as a mite to give to the treasury, who must therefore content themselves with the charity of their hearts ; but this can never happen in the business of salvation ; here no one can be so poor, so destitute, so mean and private, as not to have a mite to contribute towards it. For no circumstances of life can hinder us from being examples of piety and goodness, and making our lives a lesson of instruction to all that are about us. And he that lives an exemplary life, though his state be ever so poor and mean, is largely contri- buting to the salvation of others, and proving him- self the best follower of his Lord and Master. This therefore is the first great instance in which we are to follow the example and spirit of our blessed Saviour* He came to save, the werld^ tc> UPON CHRISTIAN PKaFEtTlOX. 30^ raise mankind to a happiness in heaven ; we must therefore all consider ourselves as called to carry on this great ivork^ to concur with our Saviour in thi? glorious design. For how can we think ourselve,-* to be his follozcers, if we do not follow him in that for which he alone came into the world? How can we be like the Saviour of the world, unless the salvation of the world be our chief and constant care ? We cannot save the world as he saved it, but yet we can contribute our mite towards it. How knozoest thmi^ O zoife, saith the apostle, zohcther thou shall save thy husband ? or how , /-. „ •• ^r 7 . n r\^ -L n ,1 1 y^OV. Ml. lb.. knozvest Ihoii^ U man^ zvhetner tfiou shall save thy zv'ife ? This shows very plainly, that all persons may have a great share in the salvation of those that are near them.and that they are to consid- er themselves as expressly called to this great work. Foi' the apostle uses it as the same argument both to husband and wife, which supposes that it is a business in which one is as much concerned as the other. The zroman we know is not allowed to speak in the churchy yet is she here intrusted with some share in the salvation of the world, she is called to this great work, and supposed equally capable of saving the husband, as the husband of saving the wife. 5^ovv what is here said of husband and wife, we must extend to everij slate and relation of this life ; brothers and sisters^ relations^ friends, and neighbours^ must all consider themselves as called to the edification and salvation of one another. How knowest thou, O sister, whether thou shalt save thy brother ? How knowest thou, O man, whe- ther th&u shalt save thy neighbour ? is a way of thinking that ought never be out of our minds. For this would make brothers and sisters bear with one another, if they considered, that they are to do that for one another, which Christ has done for all the w^orld. This reflection would turn our anger towards bad relations, into care and tenderness fojp- 26* ^SOt)' A PRACTIGAi TKLAXiSS their souls ', we should not be glad to get away from them, but give them more of our companv- and be more exact in our behaviour towards them, always supposing it possible, that our good conver- saflon may some time or other afiect them, and that God may make use of us as a means of their salvation. Eulropius is very good and pious himself ; but then his fault is, that he seeks only the conversation of pious and good people ; he i& careful and exact in his behaviour towards his virtuous fnends and acquaintance, always studying to oblige them, and never thinking he has done enough for them : but gets away from and avoids those that are of ano- ther temper. Now Eutropms should recollect^, that this is acting like s. physician that would take care of the healthy^ and disregard (hose that are ^ick. He should remember, that his irreligious JViends and relations are the very persons that arc- fallen to his care, to be edified by him, and that he is as directly called to take care of their salvation,, as the husband to take care of the unbelieving wife., Eiitropius therefore, if he would imitate his Lord and Master, must apply to the lost sheep of ike house of Israel^ and endeavour by all the innocent arts o£ pleasing and conversing with his friends, to gain, them to repentance. We must not excuse our- ^'.elvcs from this care, by saying that our relations^ are obstinate, hardened, and careless of all our behaviour towards them, but must support ourselves- with the apostle's argument. How knowest thou, O' man, whether it will be always so, or whether thou mayest not at last save thy relation ? The apostle saith, Destroy not kiin 7vith thy meat- for whom Cfirist died. We may there- r» • i k > • .1 *\. M, 1 Kom.xiv. 15 lore justly reason thus with ourselves, that as it lies much in our power to hinder the salvation, so it must be in our power in an equal tlegrce to edify and promote the salvatioa oC' UJ\>.^ CilRISTJAN rERFECTIOX. W7 lliooc whom Jc^us Christ died to save. Destroy not therefore by thy negligence, by thy impatience, by thy want ot care, that relation for whom Christ died, nor think that thou hast done enough to save those that relate to thee, till ^hcrc is no more that thou canst do for them. This is the state in which all Christians are to consider themselves, as ap- pointed hy God in their several stations, to carry on that great work, for which Christ came into the world. Clergymen are not the only men that have a cure of souls, but every Christian has some people about him, whose salvation he is obliged to be care- ful of, with whom he is to live in all godliness and purity, that they may have the benefit of his exam- ple and assistance in their duty to God. So that all Christians though ever so /ow, and mean^ and private^ must consider themselves as hired by Christ to work in his vineyard ; for as no circumr'tmces of life can hinder us from saving ourselves, so neither can they hinder us from promoting the salvation of others. Now though we have, according to our different stations, different parts to act ; yet if we are careful of that part which is fallen to our sliare, we may make ourselves equally oi)jects of God's favour. Thou, it may be, art not s. prophet* God ha? not honoured thee with this post in his service, yet needest thou not fall short of this happiness 5 lor our Saviour hath said, That he that receiveth c pro- phet in the name of a prophet^ shall receive a provheCs reward. Now this shows us, that though all men have not the same part to act in the common salva- tion, yet that none will be losers by that state they are in, if they be but true to the particular duties of it. If they do all the good they can in their particular state^ they will be looked upon with such acceptance, as the poor uido7o that gave all that she had. Hence Ave may learn the greatness of tiieir folly, who neglecting the exact performanec SOS A PRACTICAL TREATISE of such duties as fall within their power, are pleas* ing themselves vvith the great things they would do, were they but in another state. Clemens has his head full of imaginary piety. He is often proposing to himself what he would do if he had a great estate ; he would outdo all charita- ble men that are gone before him : he would retire from the world ; he would have no equipage ; he >vould allow himself only necessaries, that widows^ and orphans, the sick and distressed might find re- lief out of his estate. He tells you, that all other ways of spending an estate is folly and madness. Now Clemens has at present a moderate estate^ which he spends upon himself in the same vanities and indulgences, as other people do : he might live upon one third of his fortune, and make the rest the support of the poor ^ but he does nothing of all this that is in his power, but pleases himself Vv ith what lie would do, if his power was greater. Come to thy senses, Clemens ; do not talk what thou wouldst do if thou wast an angel^ but consider what thoir canst do as thou art a ??2an. Make the best use of thy present state, do now as thou thinkest thou wouldst do with a great estate, be sparing, deny thy- self, abstain from all vanities, that the poor may be "better maintained, and then thou art as charitable as thou canst be in any estate. Remember the poor widow's mite. Feroidus is a regular man, and exact in the duties^ of religion ; but then the greatness of his zeal to be doing things that he cannot, makes him overlook those little ways of doing good, which are every day in his power. Fervidus is only sorry that he is not in holy ol-ders, and that his hfe is not spent in a business the most desirable of all things in the world. He is often thinking what reformation he would make in the world, if he was a priest or a bishop ; he would have devoted himself wholly to God and" religion, and have had no other care, but how to ePOJJ" CHKISTIAN PERF£CTI©3j. 30^ save souls. But do not believe yourself, Fenidns; for if you desired in earnest to be a clergyman, that you might devote yourself entirely to the salvatior^ of others, why then are you not doing all that you can in the state that you are now in ? Would you- take extraordinary care of a parish or a diocess^ why then are you not as extraordinary in the care ef your family ? If you think the care of other peo- ple's salvation to be the happiest business in the world, why do you neglect the care of those who ure fallen into your hands ? Why do you show no concern for ihe souls of your servants ? If they do their business for which you hired them, you never trouble your head about their Christianity. Nay, Fervidus^ you are so far from labouring to make those that are about you truly devout anr' holy, that you almost put it out of their power to be so. You hire a coachman to carry you to church, and to sit in the street with your horses, whilst you arc attend- ing upon divine service. You never ask him how he supplies the loss of divine service, or what means lie takes to preserve himself in a state of piety. You imagine, that if you was a clergyman^ you would be ready to lay down your life for your flock ; yet you cannot lay aside a little state to pro- mote the salvation of your servants. It is not desir- ed of you, Fervidus^ to die a martyr for your breth- ren ; you are only required to go to churcli on foot, to spare some state and attendance^ to bear some- times with a little rain and dirt., rather than keep those souls, w hich are as dear to God and Christ as yours is, from their fnll share in the common wor- ship of Christians. Do but deny yourself s-uch small matters as the?e, let us but see that you can take the least trouble to make all your servants and de- pendants true servants of God, and then you shall be allowed to imagine what good you would have done, had you been devoted to the altar. E^i^cnia i^ a good young woman, full of pious 310 A practicaX treatise. dispositions ; she is intending, if ever she has a fa- mily, to be the best mistress of h that ever was ; her house shall be a school of religion, and her children and servants shall be brought up in the strictest practice f^f piety ; she will spend her time, and live in a very diflerrnt manner from the rest of the world. It may be so, Eugenia , the piety of your mind makes me think that you intend all this v/ith siuce- riry. But you are not yet at the head of a family, and perhaps never may be. But, Eugenia, yor. have now one maid, and you do not know what religion she is of; she dresses you for the church, you ask her for what you want, and then leave her to have as little Christianity as she pleases. You turn her away, you hire another, she comes, and goes no more instructed or edified in religion by living with you, than if she had lived with any body else. And all this comes to pass, because your mind is taken up with greater things, and you reserve yourself to make a whole family religious, if ever you come to be head of it- You need not stay, Eugenia, to be so extraordinary a persoB, the opportunity is now in your hands, you may now spend your time, and live in as different a manner from the rest of the world, as ever you can in any other state. Your maid is your family at present, she is under your care, be now that religious governess that you in- tend to be, teach her the catechism^ hear her read, exhort her to pray, take her with you to church, persuade her to love the divine service as you love it, edify her with your conversation, fill her with your own notions of piety, and spare no pains to make her as holy and devout as yourself. When you do thus much good in your present state, then are you that extraordinary person that you intend to be ; and till you thus live up to your present state, there is but little hopes that the altering of your state will alter your way of life. I might easily produce more instances of thi^ t^rON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 311 kind, where people are vainly pleasing themselves with an imaginari/ perfection to be arrived at some time or other, when they are in dilTerent circum- stances, and neglecting that real good which is pro- per to their state, and always in their power. Bur. these are, I hope, sufficient to show my reader how to examine his own life, and find out himself, if I have not done it for him. There is no falseness of our hearts, that leads us into greater errors, than imagining that we shall some time or other be better than we are, or need be now ; for perfection has no dependance upon c.r- ternal circumstances, it wants no tunes or oppcrfuni- ties ; but is then in its highest state, when we are making the best use of that condition in which we are placed. The poor rvidoio did not stay ; ill she "was rich^ before she contributed to the treasury ; she readily broujirht her mite, and little as it was, it got her the reward and commendation of great charit}^ We must therefore all of us imitate the wisdom of the poor widow, and exercise every virtue in the same manner that she exercised her charity. We must stay for no time or opportunities, wait for no change of life, or fancied abilities^ but remember that every time is a time for piety and perfection. Every thing but piety has its hir.de- rances ; but piety, the more it is hindered, the higher it is raised. Let us therefore not vainly say that if we had lived in our Saviour's days, we would have followed him^ or that if we could work mira- cles, we would devote ourselves to his glory. Foi* to follow Christ as far as we can in our present state, and to do all that we are able for his glory, is as acceptable to him, as if we were working mira- cles in his name. The 2:reatness that we a-re to aim at, is not the greatness of our Saviour's particular actions ; but it. is the greatness of his Spirit and temper, that wc arc to act by in all part3 of our Life. Now every 312 A PBACTICAL THEAlI^K State of life, "^.h^ihcr public or private^ whether h unci or /rep, whether high or /otr, is capable of being conducted and governed hy the same .^irit and temper^ and consequently every state of life may carry us to the same degree of likeness to Christ. So that though we can in no respect come up to the actions, yet we must in every respect act by the spirit and temper of Christ. Learn of me, saith our blessed Lord, ybr / am vietk and lorclj in heart. He doth not say. Be ye in the state and condition that I am in, for that was impossible ; y€t though ever so different in state and condition, he calls upon us to be like him in meekness and lowliness of heart and spirit, and makes it necessary for us to go through our particular state with that spirit and temper, which was the spirit and temper of his whole life. So far therefore as we can learn the heart and spirit of our Saviour; so far as we can discover the wisdom, purity, and heavenliness of his designs ; so far we have learned what spirit and temper we ought to be of, and must no more think ourselves at liberty to act by any other spirit, than we are at liberty to choose another Saviour. In all our actions and wa3''s of life we must appeal to this rule, we must reckon ourselves no farther living like Christians, than as we live like Christ ; and be assured, that so far as we depart from the spirit of Christ, so far we depart from that state to which he has called us. For the blessed Jesus has called us to live as he did, to walk in the same spirit that he walked, that we m.ay be in the same happiness with him when this life is at an end. And indeed who can think that any thing but the same life can lead to the same stale ? When our blessed Saviour was upon the cross, he thus prayed for his enemies, Faiher j , ... forgive them^ jor tncif knozo not zvnat « . they do. Now all Christians readily acknowledge, that this tetuper of Christ is to be the UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION* 31 3 t^xnd rule of our temper on the like occasion, that we are not to fall short of it, but must be perfectly like Christ in this charity towards our murderers. But ihen perhaps they do not enough consider, that for the very same reason, every other temper of Christ is as much the exact rule of all Christia««, as his tem- per towards his murderers. For arc we to be thus disposed towards our persecutors and murderers, because Christ v/as so disposed towards his ? And is it not as good an argument, that we arc to be so and so disposed towards the world, and all worldly enjoyments, because Christ was so disposed towarcU them ? He was as right in one case as the other, and no more erred in his temper towards worldly things., than in his temper towards his enemies. Should we not fail to be good Christians, if we fell short of that forgiving spirit which the blessed Jesus showed upon the cross ? And shall we not etjually fail to be good Christians, if we fall short of that Inimble and meek spirit which he showed in all his life? Can any one tell why the temper of Christ to- wards his enemies, should be more the exact measure of our temper, than any other spirit that he showed upon any other occasion ? Think, reader, if thou canst find a reason why thou mayest not as well forgive thy enemies less than Christ forgave his, as to love the world more than he loved it ? If ihou canst tell why it is not as dangerous to be wanting in the humility, meekness, and other tempers of Christ, as to be wanting in his charity towards his enemies ? We must therefore either own, that wc may be good Christians without the forgiving spi' rit which Christ then exercised, or we must own, that we are not good Christians whenever we de- part from the spirit of Christ in any other instance?. For the spirit of Christ consisted as much in meek- ness, humility, devotion, and renunciation of the world, as in the forgivins: his enemies : they there- fore, who are contrary to Christ in any of these tcni- 27 314 A PRACTICAL THEATISE pers, are no more like to Christ, than they who are contrary to him in this forgiving spirit. If you was to see a Christian dying without this temper towards those thrt destroyed him, you would be frighted at it ; you would think that man in a dreadful state, that died without that temper in which Christ died. But then remember, that he judges as rightly, who thinks it equally dreadful to live in any other spirit, that is not the spirit of Christ. If thou art not living in that meekness and lowliness of heart, in* that disregard of the world, that love of God^ that self- denial and devotion^ in which our Saviour lived, thou art as unlike to him, as he that dies without that temper in zchich he died. The short of the matter is this, the spirit and tem- per of Christ is the strict measure of the spirit and temper of all Christians. It is not in this or that particular temper of Christ, that we are to fol- low his example ; but we are to aspire after his whole spirit, to be in all things as he was, and think it as dangerous to depart from his spirit and temper in one instance, as in another. For besides, that there is the same authority in all that our Saviour did, which obliges us to conform to his whole example : can any one tell why we should have more value for xhis world than our Saviour had? What is there in our state and circumstances, that can make it proper for us to have more affection for the things of this life, than our Saviour had ? Is the world any more our happiness, than it was his hap^ piness ? Are riches, and honours, and pleasures, any more our pro/3^?'-^ooc?, than they were his ? Are we any more born for this life than our Saviour was? Are we in less danger of being corrupted hy its en- joyments, than he was ? Are we more at leisure to take up our rest, and spend our time in worldly satisfactions than he was ? Have we a work upon our hands, that we can more easily finish, than he could finish his,? That requires of us less mortifica- LPOS CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 31^ tion and self-denial, less devotion and watching, than our Saviour's required of him ? Now as noth- ing of this can be said ; so nothing can be said in our excuse, if we follow not our Saviours temper in this respect. As this world is as little our happi- ness and more our danger, than it v/as his ; as v/e have a work to finish that recjuires all our strength ; that is as contrary to the world, as our Saviour's was ; it is plain, ther- wa^ no reason ornccessityof his disregard of the world, but what is the same reason and necessity for us to disregard it in the same manner. Again, take another instance of our blessed S;v viouv''s s\m'it : I ca>ne doion from heaven j , .• oo (saith he,) not to do my own will^ hut the ' will of him that sent me. And again, jMy mtat and drink is to do the zcill of him that sent me. Now can any Christian show why he may think otherwise of himself, than our Saviour here thought ? Or that ho need be less de- voted to the glory of God than he was ? What is there in our nature and condition to make any dif- ference of this kind ? Do we not stand in the same relation to God that our Saviour did ? Have we not the same nature that he had ? Are we too great to be made happy in the same way that he was ? Or can any thing else be the liappiness of our nature, but that which was the happiness of his ? Was he a sTuflerer, a loser ? Did he leave the true happiness of human life, by devoting himself to the will of God ? Or can this be our case, though it was not his ? Can we be losers by looking to Cod alone, and devoting ourselves to his glory ? Was it not the greatness and happiness of our Saviour that he lived to God alone ? And is there an^ other happiness or greatness for us, but by making that the end and aim of our life, which he made the end and aim of his life ? For we may as well seek out /ar another God, as for another happiness, or ana- ^^16 A PRACTICAL TREATISE ther way to it, than that in which Christ is gone before trs. He did not mistake the nature of man^ or the nature of the world ; he did not overlook any real felicity^ or pass by any solid good ; he only made the best use of human life, and made it the cause of all the happiness and glory that can arise from it. To find a reason, therefore, why we should Hve otherwise than he lived ; why we should less seek the glory of God than he sought it ; is to find ;i reason why wc shrviild loss promote our own i;rcatnc£S and glory. For our state and condition in this life, lays us tinder all the obligations that our Saviour was under, to live as he did : his life is as much our right way as it was his ; and his spirit and temper is as necessary for our condition, as it was for his. For this world and all the things of the world signify as little to us, as they did to him ; we are no more in our true state, till we are got out of this world than he was ; and we have no other way to arrive at true felicity and greatness, but by so de- voting ourselves to God, as our blessed Saviour did. We must therefore make it the great business and aim of our lives, to be like Christ ; and this not in a loose or general way, but with great nicety and ex- actness, always looking to his Spirit, to his ends and designs, to his tempers, to his ways and conversation in the world, as the exact model and rule of our lives. Again, Learn of me, (saith our blessed Saviour) for I am meek and lowly of heart. Now this passage is to be considered, not as a piece of good advice, that would be of use to us, but as a positive com* mand, requiring a necessary duty. And if we are commanded to learn of Christ meekness and low- Imess, then we are commanded in the same posi- tive manner, to learn his meekness and lowliness. For if we might take up with a meekness and lowli- ness of heart that was not his. then it would not be necessary to learn them of him. Since ihercforo UPON" CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 317 wc are commanded to learn them of him, it is plain, that it is his meekness and lowliness that v>'c are commanded to learn ; that is, we are to be meek and lowly, not in any loose or general sense of the words, not according to the opitiions ^nd pi-act ices of men, but in such truth and reality as Christ was meek and lowly. It ought also to be observed, that there must be something very extraordinary in these dispositions of the heart from the manner in which we are taught them. It is only in this place, that our Saviour saj's expressly, Learn of me : and when he says, Learn of vie. he docs not say, for 1 am just and equitable, or kind, or holy, but 1 am meek and lotdy of heart ; as if he would teach us, that these are the tempers which most of all distin- s:nishh.\?> Spirit, and which he most of all requires his followers to learn of him. For consider^ does Christ, when he describes himself, choose to do it by these tempers ? When he calls upon us to learn of him, does he only mention these tempers ? And is not this a sufficient proof that these are tempers, which the followers of Christ are most of all obliged to learn ; and that we are then most unlike to Christ, when we are wanting in them ? Now, as our great Lord and Master has made these characters the dis- tingiiishing characters of his Spirit, it is plain, that they are to be the distinguishing characters of our spirit ; for we are only so far his, as we are like him. Consider also, Was he more lozvly than he need have been ? Did he practise any degrees of humility that were unnecessary 7 This can no more be said, than he can be charged with foUu. But can there be any instances of lowliness which be- came him, that are not necessary for us ? Docs our state and condition excuse us from any kind cf hu- mility that was necessary for him ? Are v»e higher in our nature, more raised in our condition, or more 3-15 A FRACTICAL TREAT^LSE in the favour of God than he was ? Arc there dig- tihies, honours, aad ornaments of life which we may delight in, though he might not ? We must own these absurdities, or else acknowledge that we are to breathe the same lozvly spirii, and with the same meekness, and practise the same humble behaviour that he did. So that the matter comes plamly to this conclusion * either that Christ was more hum- ble and lowly than his nature and condition re- quired, or we are under the same necessity of as great humility, till we can prove that we are in a higher state than he was. Now, as it is plainly the meekness and lowliness of Christ that we are to practise, why should we think that we have attained unto it, unless we show forth these tempers in such instances as our Saviour showed them ? For can we suppose that we are meek and lowly as he was, if we live in such ways of life, and seek after such enjoyments as his meek- ness and lowliness would not allow him to follow ? Did he mistake the proper instances of lowliness ? ff not, it must be our great mistake not to follow his steps. Did his lowliness of heart make him dis- nogard the distinction of this life ; avoid the honours-, pleasures, and vanities of greatness ? And can we 'hink that v\"e are living by the same lowly spirit, whilst we are seeking after all the dignities and ornaments, both of our persons and conditions 7 What may we not think if we can think after this manner ? For let us speak home to this point, either our Saviour was 7oise, judicious, and governed by a dimne spirit in these tempers, or he was not : to say that he was not is horrid blasphemy ; and to say ihat he was, is saying,, that we are neither zm*e, nor judicious, nor governed by a divine spirit, unless we show the same tempers. Perhaps you will say, that Though you are to be loxvly in heart like Christ, yet fove need not disregard the orriaments. dignities^ ttrON' CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 3 19 and honours of life ; and that you can be as truly meek and lowly in the ^^^ure and show of life as ia- any other state. Answer me therefore this one question, Was our Saviours lowliness, which showed itself in an utter disregard of all potnp ^nd figure, of life, a false loic- liyiess that mistook its proper objects^ and showed itself in things not necessary ? Did he abstain from dignities and splendor, and deny himself enjoy- ments which he might, with the saine lozvliness of heart, have taken pleasure in ? Answer but this question plainly, and then you will plainly deter- mine this point. If you justify our Saviour, as be- ing truly and roiscJy humble, you condemn yourself if you think of any other humility than such as he practised. Consider farther, that if you was to hear a person reasoning allcr this manner in any other instance ; if he should pretend to be of an imcard temper contrary to the outioard course of his life, you would think him very absurd. If a man that lived in an outward course of duels and quarrels i^hould say, that in his heart he forgave all inju- ries, and allowed of no resentments ; if another, whose common life was full o( bitterness^ and ivrath^ and evil-speaking, should pretend that in his heart he loved his neighbour as himself ; we should reckon them amou^st those that were more than a little touched in their heads. Now to pretend to any temper contrary to our outivard actions, is the same absurdity in one case as in another. And for a man to say, that he is lowly in heart whilst he is seeking the ornaments, dignities, and sJwzo of life, is the same absurdity as for a man to say, he is of a meek and forgiving spirit, whilst he is seeking and revenging quarrels* For to disregard and avoid the pomp and figure, and vain ornaments of world- ly greatness, is as essential to lowliness of piind as the avoiding of duels and quarrels is essential to- meekness and charity. As therefore there is bu? 32Q A PRACTICAL TREATISE one loay of being charitable as our Saviour was, and that by such outward actions towards our enemies as he showed, so is there but one way of being lowly in heart as he was, and that by living in such a disregard of all vain and worldly distinc- tions, as he lived. Let us not therefore deceive ourselves ; let us not fancy that we are truly hum- ble, though living in all the pride and splendor of life ; let us not imagine that we have any power to render ourselves humble and lowly any other way than by an humble and lowly course of life. Christ is our pattern and example ; h^ was content to be one person ; he did not pretend to hnpossihili- ties ; to reconcile i\iQ pride of life with the lotdiness of religion ; but renounced the one, that he might be a true example of the other. He had a power of working miracles : but to reconcile an humble and lowly heart v^ith the vain ornaments of our persons, the dignities of state and equipage^ was a miracle he did not pretend to do. It is only for its great mas- ters in the science of virtue, to have this mighty power ; we can be humble it seems at less expense than our Saviour was, without supporting ourselves in it by a way of life suitable to it ; we can have lozoliness in our hearts, with paint diwd patches upon our faces ; we. can deck and adorn our persons in the spirit of humility ; make all the show that we can in the pride Siud fgure of the world, with Chris- tian lowliness in some little corner of our hearts. But suppose now that al! this was possible, and that we could preserve an humble and lowly tem- per in a way of life contrary to it ; is it any advan- tage to a nian to be one thing in his hearty and ano- ther thing in his icay of life ? Ts it any excuse to say, th;it a man is kind and tender in his heart though his life hath a course of contrary actions ? Is it not a greater reproach to him, that he lives a churlish life with tenderness in his heart ? Is he not VPON CHRISTIAN^ PERFECTI/ON. 321 that servant that shall be beaten with many stripes for sinning against his heart and conscience ? Tsow it is the same thing in the case before us. Are you humble and lozcli/ in your heart ? Is it not there- fore a greater sin in you not to ]:)ractise humility and Jowliness in your life ? If you live contrary to conscience, are not you in a state of greater guilt f Are hot lowly actions, an humble course of life, as much (he proper exercise of humililj^as a chai-ita- ble life and actions is the proper exercise of charity. If therefore a man may be excused for not living a charitable life, because of a supposed charity in his heart ; then may you think it excusable to for- bear a lov/liness of life and actions, because of a jrrctendcd humility in 3"our mind. Consider far- ther ; is any thing so agreeable to a proud person, as to shine and make a figure in the pride of life ? Is such a person content with being high in heart and mind ? Is he not uneasy till he can add a way of life suitable to it ? Till his person, his slate, and figure in life appear in a degree of pride suit- able to the pride of his heart ? Nay, can any thing be a greater pain to a proud man than to be forced to live in an humble lowly state of life ? Now, if this be true of pride, must HOt the contrary be as true of humility ? must not humility, in an equal degree, dispose us to v/ays that arc contrary to the pride of life, and suilabh and proftr to hu- mility ? Must it not be tlic same absurdity to sup- pose a man content with humility of heart, without adding a life suitable to it, as to suppose a man con- tent with a secret pride of his heart, without seek- ins; such a state of life as is accordins: to it ? Nay, is it not the same absurdity to suppose an hum- ble man seeking all the state of a life of pride, as to suppose a proud man desiring only meanness and vhscurily, and unable to relish any ap|)earance of pride ? These absurdities are equally minifest and plain in one case as in the other. So that what 322 A PRACTICAL TREATISE way soever we examine this matter, k appears that an humility of mind, that is not an humility of per- son, of life, and action, is but a mere pretence, and as contrary to common sense as it is contrary to ^he doctrine and example of our Saviour. I shall now leave this subject to the reader''3 own meditation, with this one farther observation. We see the height of our calling ; that we are called to follow the example of our Lord and Mas- ter ; and to go through this world with his spirit and temper. Now nothing is so likely a means to fill us with his spirit and temper, as to be frequent in reading the Gospels, which contain the history of his life and conversation in the world. We are apt to think that we have sufficiently read a book, when we have so read it as to know what it con- tains : this reading may be sufficient as to many books ; but as to the Gospels, we are not to think thslt we have ever read them enough, because we have often read and heard what they contain. But v/e must read them as we do our prayers, not to know what they contain, but to fill our hearts with the spirit of them. There is as much difference betwixt reading, and reading, as there is betwixt praying and praying. And as no one prsys well but he that is daily and constant in prayer, so no one can read the Scriptures to sufficient advantage,buthe that is daily an'} constant in the reading of them* By thus conversing with our blessed Lord ; lookinj^ into his actions and manner of life ; hearing his divine sayings ; his heavenly instructions ; his ac- counts of the terrors of the damned ; his descrip- tions of the glory of the righteous, we should find our hearts formed and disposed to hurifrcr and thirsf after ric!;hteousncss. Happy they, who saw the Son of God upon earth converting sinners, and calling fallen spirits to return to God ! And next happ^^ are we who have his discourses, doctrines, actions, and miracles, which then converted Jcics and Ilccp- UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 323 thens into saints and martyrs^ still preserved to fill us with the same heavenly light, and kad us to the same state of glory ! CHAP. XIV. Ail Exhortation to Christian Perfection, 'WHOEVER hath read the foregoing chapters with attention is, I hope, sufficiently instructed in the knowledge of Christian perfection. He hath seen that it requircth us to devote ourselves ii>hdly unto God, to make the ends and designs of religion the ends and designs of our actions 5 that it called us to be horn again of God, to live by the light of his Holy Spirit, to renounce the world, and all rvorldly tempers ; to practise a constant universal self-denial ; to make daily war with the corruption and disorder of our nature ; to prepare ourselves for divine grace, by a purity and holiness of conversation ; to avoid all pleasures and cares which grieve the Holy Spirit, and separate him from us;, to live in a daily constant state of prayer and devotion ; and as the crown of ell, to imitate the life and spirit of the holy Jesus. It now only remains, that I exhort the reader to labour after this Christian perfection. Was I to exhort any one to the study o^ poetry or eloquence, to laboii^ to be rich and great, or to spend his time in mathematies, or other learning, I could only pro- duce such reasons as are fit to delude the vanity of men, who are ready to be taken with any appear- ance of excellence. For if the same person was to ask me, what it signifies to be a poet or eloquent, what advantage it would be to him to be a great. 021 A PRACTrCAL TREATISE malhemalician^ or a great statesinan, I must be for* ced to answer, that these things would signify just as nfiuch to him as they now signify to those poets, orators, mathematicians, and statesmen, whose bodies have been a long while lost among common dust. For if a man will be so thoughtful and in- quisitive as to put the question to every human en- joyment, and ask what real good it would bring along with it, he would soon find that every success amongst the things of this life leaves us just in the same state of want and emptiness in which it found us. If a man asks why he should labour to be the fi^rst mathematician, orator, or stateshian, the answer is easily given, because of the fame and honour of such a distinction ; but if he Avas to ask again why he should thirst after fame and honour, or what good they would do him, he must stay iong enough for an answer. For when we are at the top of all human attainments, we are still at the bottom of all human misery, and have no farther advancement towards true happiness than those whom we see in the want of all these excellences. Whether a man die before he has written poems^ compiled histories, or raised an estate, signifies no more than whether he died an hundred, or a thousand years ago. On the contrary, when any one is exhorted to Jabour after Christian perfection, if he then asks what good it will do him, the answer is ready, that it would do him. a good which eternity only can measure ; that it will deliver him from a ^te of vanity and misery ; that it will raise him from the poor enjoyments of an animal life ; that it will give him a gl®rious body, carry him in spight of death and the grave to live wiih God, be glorious am.ong angels and heavenly beings, and be full of an infi- nite happiness to all eternity. If therefore we could but make men so reasonable as to make the short- est enquiry into the nature of things, we should UPON CHRISTIAN PER]PECTI0N. -32-5 have no occasion to exhort them to strive after Christian perfection. Two questions we see puts an end to all the vain projects and designs of hu^ man life ; they are all so empty and useless to our happiness, that they cannot stand the trial of a se- cond question. And on the other hand, it is but asking, whether Christian perfection tends to make us have no other care. One single thought upon the eternal haj)piness that it leads to, is sullicicnt to make all people saints% This shows us how inexcusable all Christians are who are devoted to the things of this life ; it is not because they wdint Jine parts^ or are unable to make deep rejleciions ,* but it is because they reject the first principles of common sense ; they will not so much as^ask what those things are which they are labouring after. Did they but use thus much rea- son, we need not desire them to be wiser, in order to seek only eternal happiness. As a shadow at the first trial of the hand appears to have no substance ; so all human enjoyments sink away into nothing, at the first approach of a serious thought. AVc must not therefore complain of the weakness and ignorance of our nature, or the deceitful appear- ances of worldly enjoyments, because the lowest -degree 'of reason, if listened to, is sufficient to dis- cover the cheat. If j^ou will, you may blindly do what the rest of the world are doing, you may fol- low the cry, and run yourself out of breath for you know not what. But if you will but show so much sense as to ask why you should take such a chase, you will need no deeper a reflection than this, to make you leave the broad way, and let the wise and learned, the rich and great, be mad by themselves. Thus much common sense will turn your eyes to- wards God, will separate you from all the appear- ances of worldly felicity, and fill you with one only ^.mbition a^ler eternal happiness. AVhcn Pifrrkusj king of Epirius, told Cineas what 28 326 A PRACTICAL TREATISE great conquests he intended to n:iake, and how many nations he would subdue ; Cineas asked him what he would do when all this was done : he an- swered, we will then live at ease, and enjoy our- selves and our friends. Cineas replied to this pur- pose. Why then, sir, do we not 71020 live at ease, and enjoy ourselves ? If ease and quiet be the ut- most of our views and designs, why do we run away from it at present ? What occasion for all these battles and expeditions all over the world ? The moral of this story is very extensive, and carries a lesson of instruction to much the greatest part of the Christian world. When a Christian is eager after the distinctions of this life, proposing some mighty heights to which he will raise himself, either in riches^ learn' ing, or power ; if one was to ask him what he will do when he has obtained them, I suppose his an- swer would be^ that he would then retire, and de- vote himself to holiness and piety. May we not here justly say with Cineas^ if piety and holiness is the chief end of man, if these are your last proposal, the upshot of all your labours, why do you not en- ter upon happiness at present ? Why all this wan- dering out of your w^ay ? Why must you go so far about ? For to devote yourself to the w^orld, though it is your last proposal to retire from it to holiness and piety, is like Pyrrhus'^s seeking of battles^ when he proposed to live in ease and pleasure with his friends. I believe there are very few Christians, who have it not in their heads at least to be some time or other holy and virtuous, and readily own, that he is the happy man that dies truly humble, holy, and heavenly-minded. Now this opinion, which all people are possessed of, makes the pro- jects and designs of life more mad and frantic than the battles of Pyrrhus, For one may not only say to such people, why do you neglect the present happiness of these virtues ; but one must farther UPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 327 add, why are you engaged in ways of lifo that arc quite contrary to them ? You want to be rich and grmt ; is it that riches and greatness may make you more meek and humble^ and heavenly-minded ? Do you aspire after the distinctions of honour, that you may more truly feel the misery and meanness of your nature, and be made more lowly in your own eyes ? Do you plunge yourself into \vorld!y cares, your passions Ax upon variety of ol)jocts, that you may love God with all your heart, and raise -your atTcctions to things above ? You acknowledge hu- mility to be essential to salvation, you make it the chief care of your life to run away from it. to raise yourself in the 5/1010 and figure of the world ? Is not this fighting Pyrrhus'^s battles ? Nay, is it not a much more egregious folly ? For you ov/n, that you cannot be saved without true humility, a real lowliness of temper, and yet are doing all you can to keep it out of your heart. What is there in the conduct of the maddest hero that can equal this folly ? Suppose that strict sobriety was the sole end of man, the necessary condition of happiness, what would you think of those people who, knowing and believing this to be true, should yet spend their time in getting quantities of all sorts of the strong- est liquors ? What would you think if you saw them constantly enlarging ihc'ir cellars^ filling every room with drams, and contending who should have the largest quantities of the strongest liquors ? Now this is the folly and madness of the lives of Chris- tians ; they are as wise and reasonable, as they arc who arc always providing strong liquors in order to be strictly sober. For all the enjoyments of hu- man life, which Christians so aspire after, whether of riches^ greatness^ honours^ and pleasures, are as much the dangers and temptations of a Christian, as strong and pleasant liquors are the dangers aud temptations of a man that is to drink only water* ,328 A PRACTICAL TKEAtlS» Now if you was to ask such a man, why He is C9&t- tinually increasing his stock of liquors, when he is t6 abstain from them all, and only drink water ; he caR give you as good a reason as those Christians who spare no pains to acquire riches, greatness, and plea- sures, at the same time that their salvation depends upon their renouncing them all, upon their hcavenl}^- mindcdncfiS, great humility, and constant self-denial. But it may be, you arc not devoted to these tilings ; you have a greater soul than to he taken v.-ith riclie?. equipage, or thr» pogoanrry of state ; you are deeply engaged in 1( urniug and sciences. You, it may be, arc squaring the circle, or set* I'ling the distances of the stars, or busy in the study of exotic plants. You, it may be, are comparing the ancient lan- guages, have made deep discoveries in the change of letters, and perhaps know how to write an in- scription in as obscure characters as if you had liv- ed above two thousand years ago. Or, perhaps, you are meditating upon the Heathen theology, collect- ing the history of their gods and goddesses ; or you are scanning some ancient Greek or Roman poet, and making an exact collection of their scattered remains, scraps of sentences, and broken words. You are not exposing your life in the field like a mad Alexander or Caesar , but you are again and a»^ain fighting over all their battles in your stud}^ ;; you are collecting the names of their generals, the number of their troops, the manner of their arms, and can give the world a more exact account of the fimes, places, and circumstances of their batdes, than has yet been seen. You will perhaps ask, whether this be not a very -commendable enquiry ? An excellent use of our time and parts ? Whether people may not be very reasonably exhorted to these kind of studies ? ft may be answered, that rdl enquiries (however learned they are reckoned) which dn not ijupro\-*^^ 1>P0N CHRISTIAN PERPECTION. 329 ihe mind in some useful knowledge, thai do not make us wise in religious loisdom^ are to be reckon-, cd amongst our greatest vanities and follies. All speculations that will not s!and this trial are to be looked upon as the wanderings and impertinences of a disordered underslanding* It is stransfe want of thou2;ht to ima2:ine that an enquiry is ever the better, because it is taken up in Greek and Latin. Why is it not as wise and rea* sonable for a scholar to dwell in the kilchcn^ and converse with cooks^ as to go irito his study to med- itate upon the Roman art of cookery, and learn their variety of sauces ? A gi-avc doctor in divinity would perhaps think his time very ill employed, that he was acting be- low his character if he was to be an amanuensis to some modern poet. Why then does he think it suitable with the weight of his calling to have been a drudge to some antient poet, counting his syllables for several years, only to help the world to read what some irreligious, wanton, or epicurean poet has written ?* It is certainly a much more reasonable employ- ment to be making clothes, than to spend one's time in reading or w^riting upon the Grecian or Ro- man garments. If you can show me a learning that makes man truly sensible of his duty, that fills the mind with true light, that reforms the heart, that disposes it right towards God, that makes us more reason- able in all our actions, that inspires us wath forti- tude, humility, devotion, and contempt of the world, that gives us right notions of the greatness of religion, the sanctity of morality, the littleness of every thing but Goa, the vanity of our passicns, and the misery and corruption of our nature ; I will own myself an advocate for such learning. But to think that time is well employed because it is spent in such speculations as the vulgar cannot reach, or 28* 330 A PRAGTICAL TREA.TISK because they are fetched from antiquitv, or foitndl'b Greek or Latin, is a folly that may be called aa great as any in human life. They who think that these enquiries are consist- ent with a heart entirely devoted to God, hare not enough considered human nature ; they would do well to consult our Saviour's rebuke of Martha. She did not seem to have wandered far from her proper business ; she was not busy in the history of housewifry, or enquiring into the original of the distaff; she was only taken up with her present affairs, and cumbered about much serving : but our blessed Saviour said unto her, Martha, Martha^ thou art careful and troubled about many things. But one thing is needful. Now if scholars a:nd divines can show that they^ only apply to such studies as are serviceable to the one thing needful ; if they are busy in a philosophy and learning that has a necessary connexion with the devotion of the heart to God ; such learning be- eomes the followers of Christ. But if they trine in Greek and Latin, and only assist other people. to follow them in the same impertinence, such learn- ing may be reckoned amongst the corruptions of the age. For all the arguments against pride, cov- ttousness, and vanity, are as good arguments against such learning ; it being the same iiTeligion to be devoted to any false learning, as to be devoted ta d^xvy oihev false good. A satisfaction in any vain ornaments of the body, whether of clothes or paint, is no greater a mistake than a satisfaction in thevainaccomplishments of the. mind. A man that is eager and laborious in the search and study 8f that which does him no good, is the ■?ame poor little soul as the miser that is happy in his bags that are laid by iil dust. A ridiculous ap- plication of our money, time, and understanding, ife the same fault, whether it be found amongst tlie ■fe^LPON CHRISTIAN PERFECTi«N; SS'J. finery of fops, the hoards of misers, or the trinkets of virtuosos. It is the same false turn of mind, the same mistake of the use of things, the same igno-. ranee of the state of man, and the same offence against religion. When we see a man brooding over bags of weaUh, and labouring to die rich, we do not only accuse him of a poor littleness of mind, but we charge him with great guilt, we do not allow such a one to be in a state of religion. Let us therefore- suppose, that this covetous man was, on a sudden^ changed into another temper, that he was grown polite and curious, that he was fond and eager aftei* the most useless things, if they were but ancient or scarce ; let us suppose that he is now as greedy of original paintings as he was before of money ; that he will give m(^re for a dog's head, or a snufi'of a candle by a good hand, than ever he gave in cha- rity all his life ; is he a wiser man, or a better chris- tian, than he was before ? Has he more overcome the world, or is he more devoted to God, than when his soul was locked up with his money ? Alas! his heart is in the same false satisfaction, he is in the same state of ignorance, is as far from the true good, as much separated from God, as he whose soul is cleaving to the dust ; he lives in the same vanity, and must die in the same misery, as he that lives and dies in foppery or covetousness. Here therefore I place my first argument for Christian perfection ; I exhort thee to labour after it, because there is no choice of any thing else for thee to labour after, there is nothing else that the reason of man can exhort thee to. The whole world has nothing to offer thee in its stead ; choose what other way thou wilt, thou hnst cho*?cn nothing but vanity and misery ; for all the ditTcrent ways of the world, are only different ways of deluding thyself this only excels that, as one v^anity can excel another. If thou wilt make thyself more happy than those 33^2 A PRAC pursue tiieir own destruction, if thou wiit sliow thyself wiser than fops, more reasonable than sordid misers, thou must pursue that h^ippiness, and study that wisdom which leads to God ; for every other pursuit, every other way of life, however polite or plausible in the opinions of the w'orld, has a folly and stupiilty in it, that is equal to the folly and stupidity of fops and misers. For a while sliut thine eyes, and think of the dlliest creature in human life ; imagine to thj^self something that thou thinkest the most poor and vain in the way of the world. Now thou art thyself that poor and vain creature, unless thou art devoted to God, and labouring after Christian perfection ; nnless this be thy diiicrence from the -world, thou canst not think ot any creature more silly than thy- self. For it is not any post, or condition, or figure in life, that makes one man wiser or better than another ; if thou art a proud scholar, a worldly priest, an indevout philosopher, a crafty politician, an ambitious statesman, thy imagination cannot in- vent a way of life that has more of vanity or folly than ihine ow^n. Every one has wisdom enough to see, what va- riety of fools and madmen there are in the world. Now perhaps we cannot do better, than to find out the true reason of the folly and madness of any sort of life. Ask thyself therefore wherein con- sists the folly of any sort of life, Avhich is most con- demned in thy judgment. Is a drunken fox-hunter leading a foolish life f Wherein consists the folly of it ? Is it because he is not getting money upon the exchange ? Or be- cause he is not wrangling at the bar ? Or not waiting at co^irt ? No, the folly of it consists in this, that he is not living like a reasonable Christian ; that be is not acting like a being, that is born aprain of God, that has a salvation to work out with fear and trembling ; that he i§ throwing away his time IfPON CHRISTIAN I'EilFECTtOlC. S-SS -a-naongst dogs, and noise, and intemperance, -which, he should devote to watching and prayer, and the improvement of his soul in all holy tempers. Now if this is the lolly (as it most certainly is) of an in- temperate fox-hunter, it shows us an equal folly m every other Vv^ay of life, where the same great ends ©f living are neglected. Though we are shining at the bar, making a figure at court, great at the ex- change, or famous in the schools of philosophy, we are vet the same despicable creatures as the intern- perate fox-hunter, if these states of life keep us as far from the improvements of holiness, and heavenly affections. There is nothing greater in any way of kfe than fox-hunting, it is all the same folly, unless religion be the beginning and ending, the rule and measure of it all. For it is as noble a wisd0m,and shows as great a soul, to die less holy and heavenly for the sake of hunting and noise, as for the sake of any thing that the world can give us. If we will judge and condemn things by our tempers and fancies, we may think some ways of life mighty wise, and others mighty foolish ; >^'e may think it glorious to be pursuing methods of faaie and wealth, and foolish to be killing foxes : but if we will let reason and religion show us the folly and wisdom of things, we shall easily see that all ways of life are equally little and foolish, but those that perfect an:I exalt our souls in holiness. No one therefore can complain of want of under- standing in the conduct of his life, for a small share of sense is suflicient to condemn some degrees of vanity, which we see in the world ; every one is able and ready to do it. And if we are but able to condemn the vainost sort of life upon true reasons, the same reasons will serve to show, that all sorts of life are equally vain, but the one life of religion ^ Thou hast therefore, as I observed before, no choice of any thino; to labour after instead of Christian, perfection 5 if thou canst be content to be the poore^^t. 334 A PRACTICAL TREATISE vai'ncst, miserablest thing upon earth, thou may- €st neglect Christian perfection. But if thou seest any thing in human life that thou abhorrest and dcspisest ; if there be any person that lives so, as thou shouldcst fear to live, thou must tui-n thy heart to God, thou must labour after Christian perfecuon ; for there is nothing in nature but this, that can set thee above the vainest^ proudest, and most miserable of human creatures. Thou art every thing that thou canst abhor and despise, every thing that thou canst fear, thou art full of every folly that thy mind can imagine, unless thou art all devoted to God. Secondly, Another argument for Christian perfec- lion shall be taken from the necessity of it. I have all along shown that Christian perfection consists in the right performance of our necessary duties ; that it implies such holy tempers, as con- stitute that common piety, which is necessary to salvation ; and consequently it is such a piety as is equally necessary to be attained by all people. But besides this, we are to consider, that God only know^s what abatements of holiness he will accept ; and therefore we can have no security of our salva- tion, but by doing our utmost to deserve it. There are different degrees of holiness, Avhich it may please God to reward ; but we cannot stale these different degrees ourselves ; but must all labour to be as eminent as we can, and then our different improvements must be left to God. WjC have nothing to trust to, but the sincerity of ouv endeavours ; and our endeavours may well be thought to want sincerity, unless tliey are endea- vours after the utmost perfection. As soon as we stop at any degrees of goodness, we put an end to our goodness, Avhich is only valuable, by having all the 'Vgrees that we can add to it. Our highest improvement is a state of great imperfection, but will be accepted by God, because it is our highest improvement. But any other state of life, where T?PON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 33o ^ve arc not doing all that we can to purify and per- fect our souls, is a state that can give us no coin- fort or satisfaction ; because so far as we are a\ ant- ing in any ways of piety that are iu our power ; so far as we are defective in any holy tempers, of v/hich we are capable ; so far wc make our very salvation uncertain. For no one can have any assurance that he })leases God, or puts himself with the terms of Christian salvation, but he who serves God A'vith his whole heart, and with the utmost of his strength. For though tlie Christian religion be a covenant of mercy, for the pardon and salvation of frail and im- per/rct' creatures ; yet we cannot say that we are within the conditions of that mercy, till wc do all we can in our frail and imperfect statd. So that though we are not called to sucb^ a perfection, as implies a sinless slate^ \\iowg\\ our imperfections will not prevent the divine mercy ; yet it cannot he proved, that God has any terms of favour for those, who do not labour to be as perfect as they can be. Different attainments in piety will carry different persons to heaven ; yet none of us can have any satisfaction that we arc going thither, but by arriv- ing at all that change of nature, which is in our power. It IS as necessary therefore to labour af- ter perfection, as to labour after our salvation ; be- cause we can have no satisfaction that a failure in one, will not deprive us of the other. When there- fore you are exhorted to Christian perfection, you must remember, that you are only exhorted to se- cure your salvation ; you must remember also, that you have no other rule to judge of your per- fection, but by the sincerity and fulness of your endeavours to arrive at it. We may judge of the measure and extent of Chi-istian holiiiess^ from the one instance of charity. This virtue is thus described, Charity scckcth not her orrrz, hcareth all -things^ helieveth all thinnst bope^i all things^ endu'reth all things. Now this 336 A PRACTICAL VrEaTISE charity, though it be in perfection, is yet hy the apostle made so absolutely necessary to salvation^ that a failure in it is not to be supplied by any other the most shining virtues. Though I have all faiths eo that I could remove inountains^ though I bestow all fiiy goods to feed the poor^ though I give my body to be burned^ and havt not charity^ it profiteth ,me n&- ihing. The apostle expressly teaches us, that this perfection in Charity is so necessary to salvation, that even martyrdom itself is not suthcient to atone for the want of it. Need we now" any other argu- ment to convince us, that to labour after our perfec- tion, is only to labour after our salvation ? For what -is here said of charity, must in all reason be under*" stood of every other virtue, it must be practised in the same fulness and sincerity of heart as this cha- rity. It may also justly be affirmed, that this cha- rity is so holy a temper, and requires so many other virtues, as the foundation of it, that it can , only be exercised by a heart that is far advanced in holiness, that is entirely devoted to God. Our whole nature must be changed, we must have put oir the old man, we must be born again of God, we must have overcome the world, we must live by faith^ be full of the Spirit of Christ, in order to exercise this charity. When therefore you w^ould know, w^hether it be necessary to labour after Christian perfection, and live wholly unto God, read over St. PauPs descrip- tion of charity. If you can think of any negligence of life, any defects of humility, any abatements of . devotion, any fondness of the world, any desires of riches and greatnes.s, that is Consistent with the tem- pers there described, then you may be content with ihem ; but if these tempers of an exalted cfiarity cannot subsist, but in a soul that is devoted to God, and has renounced the world, that is humble and mortified, that is full of the Spirit of Christ and the cares, of eternity ; then you have a plain reason t'^ON CHRISTIAN PERFECTION. 33 1 of the necessity of labouring after all the perfection that you are capable of ; for the apostle expressly saith, that without these tempers, the very tongues of ungels are but as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. Do not therefore imagine, that it only belongs to people of a particular pietif and turn of mind, to la- bour after their perfection, and that you may go to heaven with much less care ; tliere is only one sti^aight gate, and one narrow leay thai leadelh unto life, and there is no admission, but for those who strive to enter into it. If you arc not striving, you neglect the express condition which our Lord re- quires, and it is flat nonsense to think that you strive, if you do not use all jquy strength. The apostle represents a Christian\s striving for eternal life in this manner, Knoxo ye not that they which run in a race, run all, but one receivelh the prize ? So run that ye may obtain* So that, according to the apostle, he only is in the road to salvation, who is so contending for it, as he that is running in a race. Farther : you can have no satisfaction that you are sincere in any one virtue, unless yoii are endeavour- ing to be perfect in all the instances of it. If you allow yourself in any defects of charity, you have no reason to think yourself sincere in any acts of charity. If you indulge yourself in any instances of pride, you render all your acts of humility justly suspected, because there can be no true reason for charity, but what is as good a reason for all instances of charity ; nor an}^ religious motive for humility, but what is as strong a motive for all degrees of humility. So that he who allows himself in any known defect of charity, humility, or any other virtue, cannot be supposed to practise any instances of that virtue upoti true reasons of religion. For if it was a n/ht fear of God, a true desire of being like Christ, n hearty love of my fellow-creature?, that made me givoa/m^jthe same dispositions wouldiuake 29 338 A PRACTICAL TREATISE me love and forgive all m j enemies, and deny my- self all kinds of revenge, and spight and evil-speak- So that if I allow myself in known instances of imcharitableness, 1 have as much reason to suppose myself void of true charity, as if I allowed myself in a refusal of such alms as I am able to give ; because every instance of uncharitableness is the same sin against all the reasons of charity, as the •allowed refusal of alms* For the refusal of alms is only a gre^t sin, because it shows that we have not a right fear of God, that we have not a hearty desire of being like Christ, that we want a true lovt of our fellow-creature. Now, as every allowed instance of i!incharitableness shows a want of all these tempers ; so it shows, that every such instance is the same sin, and sets us as far from God, as the refusal of alms. To forbear from spight and evil-speaking, is a proper instance of Christian charity ; but yet it is such a charity as will not profit those who are not charitable in alms^ because by refusing alms^ they .sin against as many reasons of charity, as he that lives in spight and evil-speaking. And on the other hand, he that allows himself in spight and evil- speaking, sins against all the same reasons of chari^ ty, as he that live in the refusal of alms. This is a doctrine that cannot be too much reflected upon, by all those who would practise a piety that is plea- sing to God. Too many christians look at some instances of virtue which they practise, as a sufficient atonement for their known defects in some other parts of the same virtue. Not considering that this is as absurd as to think to make some apparent acts of justice, compound for other allowed instances of fraud. A lady is perhaps satisfied with her humility, be- cause she can look at some apparent instances of it ; she sometimes visits hospital and alms-houses, and k very familiar and condescending to the poor. UPON CIMllSTIAN PERFECTION. 339 Now these are very good things ; but then it may be, that these very things arc looked upon as sutfi- cient proofs of humility ; she patches and paints, and delights in all the show and ornaments of per- sonal pride, and is very easy with herself because she visits the hospitals. Now she should consider, that she places her humility in that which is but a part, and also the smallest and most deceitful part of it. For the hardest, the greatest, and most essen- tial part of humility, is to have low opinions of our- selves, to love our oiuji meanness^ and to renounce all such things as gratify the pride and vanity of our nature. Humility also is much better discov- ered by our behaviour towards our equals and supe- riors, than towards those who are so much below us. It does no hurt to a proud heart, to stoop to some low offices to the meanest people. Nay, there is something in it that may gratify pride ; for per- haps our own greatness is never seen to more advan- tage, than when we stoop to those w^ho are so far below us. The lower the people are»to whom we stoop, the better they shov/ the height of our own state. So that there is nothing difficult in these condescensions, they are no contradictions to pride. The truest trial of humility, is our behaviour to- wards our equals, and those that are our superiors or inferiors but in a small degree. It is no sign of humility, for a private gentleman to pay a profound reverence, and show great submission to a king ; nor is it any sign of humility, for the same person to condescend to great familiarity with a poor alms-man. For he may act upon the same princi- ple in b©th cases. It does not hurt him to show great submission to a king, because he has no thoughts of being equal to a king ; and for the same reason it does not hwrt him to condescend to poor people, because he never imagines that they will think themselves equal tq bim* So that it is the great inequality of condi- 340 A PRACTICAL TREATiSB lion, that makes it as easy for people to conclescenc? to those who are a great way below them, as to be submissive and yielding to those who arc vastly above them. From this appears, that our m©st splendid acts of virtue, which we think to be sufficient to atone for ©ur other known defects, may themselves be so vain and defective, as to have no worth in them. This also shows us the absolute necessity of labouring after all instances of perfection in every virtue, be- cause if we pick and choose what parts of any vir- tue we will perform, we sin against all the same rea- sons, as if we neglected all parts of it. If we choose to give instead of forgiving, we choose something else instead of charity. Thirdly, Another motive to induce you to aspire after Christian perfection^ may be taken from • the double advantage of it, in this life, and that which is to come. The apostle thus exhorts the Corinthians^ where- fore rny beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, immoveable^ always abounding in the zoork of the Lord ; forasmuch - as ye know, that our labour zcill not be ^ ^ ■hi vain in the Lord* This is an exhor- tation founded upon solid reason ; for what can be so wise and reasonable, as to be always abounding in ihat zoork which will never be in vain ? Whilst we are pleased with ourselves, or pleased with the world, we are pleased with vanity, and our most prosper- ous labours of this kind are, as the Preacher saith, hut vanity of vanities, all is vanity. But whilst we are labouring after Christian perfection, we are labouring for eternity, and building to our.^olves higher stations in the joys of heaven, .^s one star differeth from another star in glory, so alsois the rc' ^urrection of the dead : we shall surely rise to diffe- rent degrees of glory, of joy and happiness in God, according to our different advancements in purity^ holiness, and good works. l*^Pd\' CHRISriAN PERFECTION. 341 No degrees of mortification and self-denial, no private prayers, no secret mournings, no instances of charity, no labour of love will ever be forgotten^ but all treasured up to our everlasting comfort an4 refreshment. For though the rewards of the other life are free gifts of God ; yet since he has assured us, that every man will be rewarded according to his works, it is certain, that our rewards will be as dilferent as our works have been. Now stand still here a while, and ask yourself, whether you really believe this to be true, that the more perfect we make ourselves here, the more happy we shall be hereafter. If you do not believe this to be strictly true, you are but children in the knowledge of God and of religion. And if you do believe it to be true, is it posdble to be awake, and not aspiring after Christian perfection ? What can you think of, what can the world show you, that can make you any amends for the loss of any de- gree of virtue ? Can any way of life make it rea- sonable for you, to die less pcrftct than you might have done ? If you would now devote yourself to perfection, perhaps you must part with some friends, you must displease some relations, you must lay aside some designs, you must refrain from some pleasures, you must alter your life ; nay, perhaps you must do more than this, you must expose yourself to the hatred of your friends, to the jest and ridicule of wits, and to the scorn and derision of worldly men. But had you not better do and suffer all this, than to die less perfect, less prepared for mansions of eternal glory? But indeed, the suffering all this, is suffering no- thing. For why should it signify any thing to you, what fools and madmen think of you ? And surely it can be no wrong or rash jud.^ment, to think those both fools and mad, who condemn what God ap- proves, and like that which God condemns. But if you think this too much to be donej to obtain eternal 29* 34^2 A FKACTlGAh TREATioE glory, think on the other hand, what can be gained" instead of it. Fancy yourself livhig in all the case and pleasure that the world can give you, esteemed by your friends, undisturbed by your enemies, and gratify- ing all your natural tempers. If you could stand still in such a state, you might say that you had got something ; but alas ! every day that is added to such a life, is the same thing as a day taken from it. and shows you that so much happiness is gone from you ; for be as happy as you will, you must see it all sinking away from you ; you must feel yourself decline ; you must see that your time shortens apace : you must hear of sudden deaths ; jou must fear sick- ness ; you must both dread and desire old age ; you must fall into the hands of death ; you must either die in the painful, bitter sorrows of a deep repent- ance, or in a sad, gloomy despair, wishing for moun^ ,'ains to fall imonyou^ and seas to cover you. And is this a happiness to be chosen ? Is this all that yon can gain by neglecting God, by following your own desire, and not labouring after Christian per- lection ? Is it worth your while to separate your- self from God, to lose your share in the realms of light, to be thus happy, or I may better say, to be thus miserable, even in this life ? You may be so blind and foolish, as not to think of these things ; but it is impossible to think of them without labour- ing after Christian perfection. It may be you are loo young, too happy, or too busy to be affected with these reflections ; but let me tell you, that all will be over before you arc aware ; your day will be spent, and leave you to such a night as that which surprised the foolish virgins. And at midnight there zcas a great cry made, Behold the bride- tit .. . /;» groom Cometh, go ye out to meet him* The last hour will soon be with you, when you will have nothing to look for, but your reward id another life ; when you will stand with nothing l)ui rtemity before you, and must begin to be some- thing that will be your state for ever. 1 can no more reach heaven with my hands, than I can describe the sentiments that you will then have ; you will then feel niotions of heart that you never f^lt be- fore ; all your thoughts, and reflections will pierce your soul, in a manner that you never before expe- rienced ; and you will feel the immortality of your nature by the depth and piercing vigour of your thoughts. You will then know what it is to die ; you will then know, that you never knew it before, that you never thought worthily of it ; but that dy- ing thoughts are as new and amazing, as that state which follows iheni. Let me therefore exhort you to come prepared to this time of trial ; to look out for comfort, whilst the daj^ is before you : to treasure up such a fund of good and pious works, as.may make you able to bear that state, which cannot be borne without them. Could I any way make you apprehend, how dying men feel the want of a pious life ; how they lament time lost, health and strength squandered away in folly ; how they look at eternity, and what they think of the rewards of another life, you would soon find yourself one of those, who desire to live in the highest state of piety and perfection, that by this means you may grow^ old in peace, and die in full hopes of eternal glory. Consider again, that besides the rewards of the other life, the labouring after Christian perfection, or devoting yourself wholly to God, has a great reward even in this life, as it makes rel'cion doubly pleasant to you. Whilst you are diviaed betwixt God and the world, you have neither the })lea" sures of religion, nor the pleasures of the world ; tut are always in the uneasiness of a divided state of heart. You have only so much religion as serves to disquiet you ; to check your enjoy- 6.4^4 A I«IIACTICAL TREATISE ments ; to show you a hand-writ'mg upon the wait ; to interrupt jour pleasures ; to reproach you with your follies ; and to appear as a deaths-head at all your feasts ; but not religion enough to give you a taste and feeling of its proper pleasures and satis- factions. You dare not wholly neglect religion ; but then you take no more of it, than is just suffi- cient to keep you from being a terror to yourself ; and you are as loth to be very good^ as you are fearful to be very had. So that you are just as hap- py as the slave^ that dares not run away from his^ master, and yet always serves him against his will. So that instead of having a religion that is your coin- fort in all troubles, your religion is itself a trouble, under which you want to be comforted ; and those days and times hang heaviest upon your hands, which leave you only to the offices and duties of religion. Sunday would be very dull and tiresome but that it is but one day in seveH^ and is made a day of dressmg and visiiin^^^'' Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library 1 1012 01029 0346