.5 r- ^ 
 
 ^THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, |!m 
 t Princeton, N.J. f' 
 
 <^3 
 
 ■9*? ->P . 
 
 BV 4821 .H3A 1828 
 Hale, Matthew, 1609-1676. 
 On the knowledge of Christ 
 crucified 
 

 / 
 
SELECT 
 CHRISTIAN AUTHORS, 
 
 WITH 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS. 
 
 N« 40. 
 
PUBLISHED BT "\V1 : LiAM COLLKS GLASGOW 
 
 ^ 
 
ON THE 
 
 KNOWLEDGE 
 
 OF 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED, 
 
 ANI> 
 
 OTHER DIVINE 
 CONTEMPLATIONS. 
 
 SIR MATTHEW HALE, Knt. 
 
 LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF KING'S BENCH, ENGLAND. 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. DAVID YOUNG, 
 
 PERTH. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 
 PRINTED FOR WILLIAM COLLINS; 
 
 WILLIAM WHYTE & CO. AND WILLIAM OLIPHANT, EDINBURGH: 
 
 R. M. TIMS, AND WM. CURRY, JUN. & CO. DUBLIN ; 
 
 G. B. WHITTAKER, AND HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO. LONDON. 
 
 1828. 
 
Printed by \V. Collins Sc Co. 
 Glasgow. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Few things, perhaps, are more conspicuous in the 
 character of the present age, or likely to gain for it 
 a greater celebrity, than the disposition so generally 
 displayed to promote the acquisition of useful know- 
 ledge. Not only is it true, that, in the Christian 
 world, at this moment, many are running to and fro, 
 and knowledge increasing with surprising rapidity, 
 but in other departments, also, a similar impulse is 
 felt, and similar effects are produced. Reason is 
 aroused from the stupor of ages, and, with manifest 
 impatience of its former humiliation, has become prone 
 to aggressive effort, and determined on new and di- 
 versified acquirement. So striking, indeed, is the 
 change^ that, even in the departments of trade and 
 handicraft, where the sordid hope of gain had long 
 been the only stimulus, the dryness of art, and the 
 dulness of rule, and the blind regularity of mere 
 custom, are converted into sources of rational de- 
 light, by the copious illuminations of physical sci- 
 ence ; while the mechanic at his bench, or the weaver 
 at his loom, is raised from the degradation of a blind 
 uniformity, and exalted to an alliance with the titled 
 
VI 
 
 academic, in studying the principles of practical plii- 
 losopliy. 
 
 Nor is this excitement confused or tumultuous, 
 originating in folly, and floundering on to disappoint- 
 ment ; it is t!ie result of plan and reflection, and 
 has come from the very class of men who are ever the 
 best qualified for giving it efficiency; for it is not the 
 illiterate or half-instructed with whom it has taken 
 its rise, but the patrons of science themselves, who 
 liave drunk deep into its spirit, who esteem it as their 
 richest treasure, who are fitted to judge of its com- 
 petencies, and are sensitively jealous of that liberty 
 of thought which is so essential to its prosperity. 
 These are the men who have chosen the task of 
 simplifying science without diluting it, and gaining 
 it an easy access to man in his cottages and work- 
 shops. They have bound themselves together for 
 this important purpose, and collected their stores of 
 learning into one vast fountain, whence streamlets 
 are flowing in every direction, to irrigate and refresh 
 the surrounding wilderness. Such is their chosen 
 purpose ; and whatever may be said of the prowess 
 of the choice, it is yet more conspicuous for its gene- 
 rosity : for of all the associated lovers of learning 
 whom the world has ever seen, they are the first, on 
 a large scale, who have frankly adopted the prin- 
 ciple, that scientific knowledge is accessible to all, 
 and, (so far at least as itself is concerned,) can easily 
 be rendered diffusive. They have avowed this prin- 
 ciple as their practical belief, with that greatness of 
 soul which befits the man whom science has ennobled ; 
 and, in doing so, they have put to scorn that little- 
 minded jealousy, which, for ages not a few, had im- 
 
Vll 
 
 prisoned science in foreign languages, or kept her 
 cloistered in universities, as if dreading her native 
 aptitude for gaining favour with the unlettered poor. 
 But while success may thus he counted on, so far 
 as a competent agency is concerned, the benefits 
 likely to accrue to society are neither few nor unim- 
 portant. A little reflection will make it manifest, 
 that mental enlargement of" any kind, but especially 
 a knowledge of those elements of science which be- 
 long to a man's particular profession, makes him 
 more skilful in the practice of his art, and of course, 
 more valuable in the market of free labour, than the 
 man who is destitute of these advantages; while, at 
 the same time, it points him out as the likeliest man 
 to hit on improvements, which may multiply his own 
 conveniencies, or tell to the advantage of society at 
 large. There is, besides, a satisfaction in knowing 
 the reasons of the appearances with which we are 
 daily conversant, which cannot fail to be relished by 
 all, except the incurably thoughtless. Such know- 
 ledge will contribute much to brighten the aspect of 
 manual industry, and relieve the irksomeness of its 
 daily toils, redeeming it from the degradation with 
 which it is falsely associated, and inspiring the work- 
 man with a proper sense of his own individual impor- 
 tance, by raising him to the exaltations, and reward- 
 ing him with the joys, which are congenial to his 
 rational nature. 
 
 The moral effect of this last consideration cannot 
 be easily overrated; for although to think humbly of 
 ourselves be a distinguished Christian virtue, yet to 
 think meanli/ of ourselves, or to feel ourselves de- 
 graded as the scavengers of society, and tamely to 
 
via 
 
 acquiesce in the degradation, is to fall from the dig- 
 nity of man, and leave ourselves an easy prey to the 
 beastliest of vices. It is a becoming self-respect 
 which furnishes motive for common morality; and 
 nothing can teach a man to think rightly of himself, 
 but the acquisition of sound intelligence. But, 
 while the possession of intelligence gives a man his 
 place in the society of his fellows, and thus promotes 
 the conservation of his morals by all the secondary 
 considerations which his circumstances suggest, it is 
 fitted to do more than this: when rightly appre- 
 ciated, it may bring him under the influence of 
 the primary consideration, by making him con- 
 scious of an approximation to the presence of Je- 
 hovah himself. The elements of science are, in 
 their sphere, the fixed standards of truth which 
 God has' set up, and according to which he ope- 
 rates in the universe of mind or matter; and the 
 man who has learned these, and ascertained their 
 uses, has got a clear and commanding discovery of 
 the Creator's being and perfections. He beholds the 
 Almighty through the grand reflectors of his glory, 
 which belong to the constitution of nature; and it is 
 the necessary tendency of this to elevate the beholder 
 to the religion of the scene, to refine his moral sen- 
 sibilities, and humanize his manners, and thus to 
 prove a powerful check to the baser forms of sin- 
 ning. 
 
 Such, we doubt not, is the tendency of the present 
 attempt to propagate knowledge; and on various ac- 
 counts we hail it with joy. It is a leveller in the 
 world of intellect, overthrowing distinctions fdse and 
 fantastic, which had acquired the inveteracy of ages; 
 
IX 
 
 unlocking the treasures of knowledge, inviting a 
 promiscuous approach to them, and declaring them 
 the common property of all who think and feel. It 
 divests science of that aspect of mystery or seclu- 
 sion, which made it to be shunned or despaired of, 
 instead of being desired and cultivated, and gives it 
 a new complexion, which invites and conciliates all. 
 It tells us that learning may be acquired for many a 
 useful practical purpose, by those who cannot exclu- 
 sively follow it; and thus unteaches an error which 
 schools have taught too long; and it has laid the 
 foundation of a broad demonstration, that the study 
 of science, and the practice of the useful arts, so far 
 from being adverse the one to the other, are, in fact, 
 congenial, and tend most decidedly to their mutual 
 advancement. It does common justice to science it- 
 self, by breaking through the prejudice which had so 
 long curtailed its influence, and leaving it quite at 
 liberty to spread itself over the earth. But that 
 which procures it its highest applause, is the special 
 visitation of good, so new and unthought of, which 
 it brings to the people at large; for it meditates no- 
 thing less than to illuminate the darkness of mecha- 
 
 CD 
 
 nical industry, to quicken its deadness, or relieve 
 its sickening insipidity, by pouring through it the 
 irradiations of its own ultimate principles. It is this 
 which exhibits the project in the grandeur of its aim, 
 as proffering a boon so congenial to man, and so 
 universally serviceable, that wheresoever it is enjoyed, 
 the curse of human toil is sensibly alleviated; while 
 habits are produced, and sentiments inspired, which 
 refine and elevate the moral feelings, till artizans of 
 every class, in many interesting thousands, are inter- 
 a3 
 
X 
 
 cepted from the sensualities which tend so dismally 
 to degrade them, as well as to embitter, if not also 
 to abbreviate, their present mortal existence. 
 
 But, while this is the intrinsic tendency of a 
 general culture of intellect, we feel constrained to 
 assert, that the prevalent mode of conducting its 
 culture involves a radical error, which, if not speedily 
 corrected, may lead to lamentable results. The error 
 to which we refer is a continuance, if not a positive 
 widening, of the unhallowed separation between spe- 
 cific Christianity and general information, which has 
 too long augmented the impiety of our native land. 
 A little reflection will make it manifest, that what- 
 ever be the case in existing practice, yet, in principle, 
 there is no medium between holding Christianity 
 pre-eminent over every department of human instruc- 
 tion, and disowning it altogether; for so high is the 
 authority in which it originates, and so exclusive its 
 claims on human nature, that the man who gives it 
 a candid perusal, will feel the conclusion irresistible, 
 that it must either reio;n or be nothing. But the 
 grievance is, that, even in this age of increasing reli- 
 gious concern, the practice is deplorably opposed to 
 the principle, in a great variety of instances. We 
 see this in universities and colleges, the fountains of 
 learning, and dictators, to a great extent, even of un- 
 lettered thought; where science and literature are 
 taught throughout, with scarcely a Christian refer- 
 ence, while moral disquisition itself, although thickly 
 interspersed with heathen, or even infidel speculation, 
 is carefully kept apart from Christianity, as if less 
 alUed to her spirit than to the dogmas of human 
 theorists, — a practice, to say the least of it, which is 
 
Xi 
 
 as unphilosopbical as it is unholy. We see it in 
 minor academies, private or provincial, civic or paro- 
 chial; in very many of which, appointments are 
 made without any regard to the claims of Chris- 
 tianity, and in the internal managements of which, 
 her devotions are never practised, nor her specific 
 lessons ever taught. We see it renewing its youth 
 in various recent associations for pouring the light oi 
 science over the arts of industry; in very few of 
 which, so far as we have learned, has the preroga- 
 tive of Christianity been at all recognized. We see 
 it, in short, in the genius of the age, which, although 
 awakened to inquiry, and eager for improvement, is 
 easily tolerant of the evil complained of, or positively 
 " loves to have it so." 
 
 We grant that this is an old error: we are aware 
 that the ancient Christian Fathers took it out of the 
 hands of heathenism, along with the treasures of sci- 
 ence and literature; and thus entailed an injury, as 
 well as a groundless disrepute, on the alliance of 
 learning with true religion. But, is it not a sore 
 calamity, that in the seats of British learning, down 
 to this day — and they are the least exceptionable 
 that Europe now affords — we see religion divorced 
 from science, and confined to a separate temple, till 
 our youth are all but compelled to gorge themselves 
 with heathenism, before they can enter her sacred 
 portals; while the result has been, a descent of the 
 very same error on all the minor tabernacles of learn- 
 ing, till a fearful tide of educated scepticism has over- 
 run the British empire. It is true, there are honour- 
 able exceptions in all the departments referred to; 
 and these exceptions, it is very possible, are somewhat 
 
xu 
 
 on the increase: but they are far from being so nu- 
 merous, or so steadily maintained, as to control the 
 general spirit of our national education. Religion is 
 breaking in on the upper and educated classes, and a 
 process of rectification appears to have commenced: 
 but let us not deceive ourselves here; for if society 
 in the mass be impartially estimated, there is little 
 ground for expecting that the evil will speedily be 
 cured. There has existed long, and there does exist 
 still, a most unseemly separation between the topics 
 of liberal knowledge and specific Christianity. The 
 one has been estranged from the other, till men have 
 begun to suspect that their interests are incompatible; 
 and we hesitate not to say, that, if not the origin of 
 this estrangement, at least the cause of its continu- 
 ance, is an obstinate reluctance to bring science down 
 from her presumptuous ascendency, and place her in 
 chastened subserviency to the sovereignty of Revela- 
 tion. This one delinquency in the system of human 
 training, is fraught with consequences the most dis- 
 astrous; and if it be the case that, in the present 
 state of society, it threatens to show itself in reno- 
 vated force, so much the more is it necessary that the 
 friend of Christianity, and the friend of man, should 
 resolutely set himself against it. 
 
 1. To examine into the demerit of this practice, 
 is the object of the following pages ; and the first 
 thing we have to say of it, is, that it is inconsistent 
 with the fundamental principle of human education. 
 If there be a God, and if man was created to know 
 and obey him, then the education of man is well or 
 ill managed, according as the knowledge of God is 
 
XIU 
 
 or is not first of all presented to his mind. That 
 we are born ignorant of God, requires no proof; 
 and as we cannot be happy without obeying him, 
 nor obey without knowledge, the grand end of our 
 existence is positively obstructed, except in as far 
 as we are made acquainted with the being and at- 
 tributes, and laws and purposes, of Him who created 
 and sustains us, — to whose moral government we 
 are ever amenable, and in whose world of mystery 
 and wonder we think and feel, and live and die. 
 This principle is fundamental ; but we are aware 
 that, in founding on it the paramount claim of Cliris- 
 tianity, we shall be reminded that science is not 
 atheism, nor Christianity the only system which in- 
 forms the creature respecting his Creator ; — that the 
 investigations of astronomy, for instance, or geology, 
 or mechanics, or natural history, are often so con- 
 ducted as to reflect the glories of the Godhead, and 
 produce the loftiest sentiments of adoration and 
 praise ; — nay, that the student of such subjects must 
 be singularly unsuccessful, or fearfully indevout, 
 who does not feel himself awed into piety, as he 
 looks and wonders at their stupendous develop- 
 ments. This is true, but it is no objection : " The 
 invisible things of God, even his eternal power and 
 Godhead, are clearly seen from the foundation of the 
 world, being understood from the things that are 
 made." This is science in her best estate, and this 
 is about the sum total of her boasted teaching in 
 theology. But after all that she has elicited from 
 nature, during many reformations of her plans and 
 experiments, and thousands of years of busy research, 
 her glory is dim before the light of the Bible, as 
 
XIV 
 
 stars are lost in the blue expanse, before the bright- 
 ness of the rising sun ; and supposing that sin were 
 out of the question, or that the curing of an inno- 
 cent ignorance were all she had to do, the mightiest 
 of her efforts would come short of our necessities, 
 and leave us deplorably in the dark. A few points 
 of contrast may vindicate this assertion. 
 
 Her disclosures are jjartial ; they tell us of power 
 and Godhead, and wisdom and goodness, but they 
 say nothing definitive, and scarcely any thing, at all 
 of those moral attributes of righteousness and truth, 
 with which, as moral agents, we have most of all to 
 do. These last, however, are the topics on which 
 the Bible chiefly expatiates, unfolding them to our 
 view in their undiminished magnitude, even when it 
 speaks of pity and forgiveness ; and teaching us ever 
 to contemplate the Almighty, as a God of immutable 
 rectitude, pervading all things, but himself pervaded 
 by the glory of his own ineffable holiness. Again, 
 they are indirect, the result of inference or conjec- 
 ture ; and although this was attended with no in- 
 convenience, during the reign of innocence, when the 
 mind of man was sound, and his heart unbiassed by 
 evil influence, yet, in his state of depravity, it is a 
 grievous defect, leaving him a prey to numberless 
 errors, and furnishing a plausible pretext for many 
 intellectual idolatries, to which he cherishes a latent 
 propensity. But in contrast with this, the statements 
 of the Bible, especially on all the leading topics 
 '' which pertain to life and godliness," are direct and 
 explicit; not inductive, but intuitive; not argued, but 
 declared; not to be tested by reason, but received by 
 faith : so plain and pointed withal, that nothing but 
 
XV 
 
 wilful perversity can misconstrue them. Of course, 
 tliey are uncertain^ even when they are sound. The 
 man who gathers theology from science, often feels, 
 and sometimes confesses, that, after all, he has been 
 but reasoning, and as reason is so apt to mislead, 
 even in her holiest excursions, but especially in the 
 execution of so critical a task, as inferring the pro- 
 perties of mind from matter, or seeking the attributes 
 of the great Supreme among the phenomena of his 
 handiworks, he is conscious of many misgivings in 
 following her leadings, or reducing her dictates to 
 practice. The history of science evinces this ; for^ 
 even when free from positive infidelity, (and this has 
 not been generally her lot,) she has not been able, 
 on her own resources, to form her votaries to a life 
 of piety. But the Bible is oracular, as well as 
 explicit ; founding directly on the testimony of God, 
 in all its unquestioned authority; putting an end to 
 doubt or suspicion, wherever its evidence is appre- 
 ciated, and impelling to the purest exercises of piety, 
 by the inwrought assurance, that the soul is sup- 
 ported by the certainty of truth. Withal, they 
 are disjoined from precept or institution. Science 
 may accumulate facts and principles, which are in 
 themselves incentives to piety, because they are 
 collected from the works of God ; but the whole 
 accumulation is loose and general, — she enacts no 
 precepts to give her hold of the conscience, and 
 appoints no ordinances of religious worship, where 
 her ascertainments might be digested into senti- 
 ments of adoration. Even when fiction gives her 
 a temple, that temple is confessedly dedicated to 
 the celebration of her own honours, but not to the 
 
XVI 
 
 God from whom she comes. This one defect, al- 
 though there were no other, destroys her preten^ 
 sions, as a guide to the practical knowledge of God ; 
 for however excellent speculation may be on a sub- 
 ject such as this, or however clear and convincing the 
 evidence on which it rests, if it be suffered to float 
 loose on the world, and is not gathered up into eco- 
 nomy, or institution, nor concentrated for practical 
 use, in special religious observances, under the im- 
 mediate sanction of heaven, its effects on society are 
 inevitably lost. It is needless to say, that the Bible 
 exhibits the opposite of this defect to the eye of 
 even a transient observer ; that while its elucidation 
 of theological principles is as clear and satisfactory, 
 as its store of these principles is rich and diversified, 
 it gives special prominence to institution, enforcing 
 precepts by the sternest sanctions, and ordaining in- 
 stitutes of Christian worship, in the finest accor- 
 dance with the genius of its doctrines, on the di- 
 rect authority of its Author himself. It announces 
 principles, but it does more : it secures the practical 
 use of them by its own intrinsic organization; and to 
 this pre-eminently does it owe its continuance among 
 the children of men. For, speaking of Christianity 
 as we speak of other things, we may safely affirm, 
 that if you detach her from her holy decalogue, and 
 her forms and seasons of social worship, or if you 
 divest these of their heavenly sanction, and sink them 
 to a level with the inventions of men, you unsettle 
 her whole administration, you dislodge her from her 
 native dwelling-place, and leave her homeless, and 
 ready to perish on the face of the earth. By this 
 6ne infraction on the entireness of her structure. 
 
XVll 
 
 although in every thing else she continued unim- 
 paired, you expose her to the certain danger of a 
 speedy absorption in the spirit of this world. 
 
 Such is the superiority of Christian instruction, 
 even as a cure to innocent ignorance. These parti- 
 culars, however, are in fact, but the weak points of 
 the argument. The Bible is a cure for guilty ignor- 
 ance, a revelation of the only provision for the expia- 
 tion of guilt itself. It opens upon man with all the 
 charm and all the moral effectiveness of mercy to the 
 ill-deserving, while the Spirit of the living God is 
 expressly and specially pledged to carry its message 
 of mercy irresistibly to his heart. It is this mercy 
 so rich and seasonable, and this Almighty quickening 
 Spirit, which gives to the Bible its decided ascendency 
 over the brightest irradiations of science; and conspi- 
 cuous although it be, if you take it apart from these 
 properties, it may still retain its doctrinal clearness, 
 but its power is neutralized. 
 
 We cannot pass from this objection, without ad- 
 verting to the circumstances in which the light of 
 Revelation was at first introduced. The works of 
 God, which are the matter of science, were in the 
 world before the Bible; and the human intellect, 
 without the Bible, then, was just as capable of 
 scientific investigation, as it is, without the Bible, 
 now. Nay, science and the arts were going on, and 
 making prosperous advances, in one part of the 
 world, at the very time that the revelations of the 
 Bible were coming forth in another part of it, and 
 among a people but partially civilized. This was 
 the work of God, and it gives us down his high de- 
 cision on the very question now at issue. Had 
 
XVIU 
 
 science been sufficient to make him known to all the 
 requisite extent, he would, of course, have dwelt in 
 science, as the chosen temple of his glory, fostering 
 the spirit of her discoveries, and making her the 
 consecrated medium of his manifestations to man. 
 Instead of this, however, he has passed by her in 
 the plenitude of his goodness, and hung up a new 
 luminary over the habitation of man, directing man 
 to this luminary, as to the glory which excelleth. 
 And just because he has done this, he has proclaimed 
 a previous dark deficiency, and fixed it down as ab- 
 solutely certain, that science cannot be so improven, 
 by all her earth-born aids and collaterals, as to prove 
 an adequate school of instruction in the knowledge 
 of the true God. This is the argument of indubita- 
 ble fact, which ought to command universal acquies- 
 cence. And if it be the case, that, to introduce this 
 second luminary, he has not only erected a new eco- 
 nomy, but broke in upon the course of nature, by a 
 series of splendid miracles, and unfolded a stupen- 
 dous mystery of godliness, which awes reason into 
 utter amazement : if he has invested the whole 
 with so much of the rich, and the grand, and the 
 extraordinary, that even angels look at it with de- 
 lighted wonder, — if he has done all this to evince 
 its origin, and deepen its interest, to the desolate 
 children of men, so much the stronger is the argu- 
 ment on which it lays claim to our primary regard. 
 
 2. The practice is inconsistent with the deference 
 due to Christianity, as a revelation from heaven. 
 To deny that this is the character of our religion, is 
 to renounce it altogether, and thus to settle one 
 
XIX 
 
 pdint, by unsettling another. But if it be a revela- 
 tion specially sent down from the dwelling of the 
 Highest, occasioned by our peculiar circumstances, 
 and relating exclusively to our interests : if, more- 
 over, it has come to us in superaddition to our pre- 
 vious knowledge, and after many a fruitless expe- 
 dient of our own, to explore the mystery of our lot, 
 and remedy our moral disorder, — then, surely, it is 
 our immediate duty to desist from our own devisings, 
 to open and examine it in profound humility, and 
 submit ourselves implicitly, with eagerness and awe, 
 to its celestial dictation. This is what we owe to it, 
 just because it is a revelation ; not a *isoorh of God, 
 but his "isiord; not a part of the original system by 
 which the Creator was shadowed forth, but a com- 
 munication direct from his throne, and bearing the 
 impress of an authority which requires it to be 
 speedily and fully considered. In the general study 
 of creation and providence, as displaying the Crea- 
 tor's being and attributes, there are assignable limits, 
 within which we may follow our separate tastes and 
 likings, without being chargeable with any oflPence. 
 But, in the study of revelation, no such liberties are 
 at all admissible. Here, it is a voice with which we 
 have to do; a voice distinct and articulate ; a voice, to 
 which creation and providence have positively shown 
 themselves tributary; for, to introduce it with the 
 honours due to it, to forewarn man of its truth and 
 importance, and arrest attention on its import, — the 
 laws of nature were suspended, and signs and won- 
 ders of many kinds unfolded to the eyes of multi- 
 tudes, in connexion with its promulgation. Creation, 
 in fact, was comraoved, and this was the language 
 
XX 
 
 of the commotion to its astonished inhabitants, an- 
 gelic as well as human, " Hear, O heavens; and give 
 ear, O earth ; for the Lord hath spoken 1" 
 
 But, since the circumstances in which revelation 
 was introduced, are so grand and magnificent, as to 
 impress the character of littleness even on the great 
 which was before it, the inference is unavoidable, 
 that if we leave it unstudied, till something else is 
 studied, which pre-occupies our thoughts, or if we 
 give the prime of our vigour to other researches, 
 while the fragments of our leisure, with the dregs 
 and drowsiness of our nature, are all that we devote 
 to the perusal of its pages ; or if we place it on a 
 level with other subjects, although we are not con- 
 scious of sinking it below them, we commit a flagrant 
 trespass against the God from whom it comes. In 
 this one remarkable instance, he has come out from 
 the course of nature, and shown himself stupen- 
 dously above it, that he might reach us with 
 authentic tidings, which nature could never convey ; 
 and unless we come out from the study of nature, 
 and place ourselves so above it, as to give to these 
 tidings our supreme regard, we do a heinous indig- 
 nity to the authority of Him who sends them. 
 
 This mode of reasoning is easily appreciated in 
 the affairs of common life. Were the head of an 
 earthly community, whose reign is just and paternal, 
 to bestir himself during a season of public calamity, 
 and send forth a message from his throne, attested 
 by his royal signet, and addressed, without distinc- 
 tion, to all classes of his subjects, the national feeling 
 would at once be excited, every ear would be opened, 
 and every heart intent on the revelation of the 
 
XXI 
 
 monarch's will. And if it announced a remedy for 
 the supposed calamity, which was sure and safe, and 
 freely offered to rich and poor alike, all other ap- 
 pliances would be at once suspended, and nothing 
 suffered to engross attention, but the virtues of the 
 royal specific, and the good pleasure of the royal 
 will. It is true, that the desire of deliverance would 
 quicken the excitement, for man is attracted to what 
 is good, by an irrepressible love of himself. But, 
 along with this, and to a certain extent irrespective 
 of it, the excitement would acquire a separate 
 stimulus, from a deep sense of what is due to the 
 generosity of the deed. It is this, which would in- 
 terest and gather around it, all that is excellent in 
 the feeling of the nation ; and if but one of its thou- 
 sands should scorn the proffer, and choose to suflPer, 
 rather than apply for it, the popular indignation would 
 be kindled against him ; and unless his conduct should 
 awaken compassion, by bringing into question the 
 soundness of his mind, he would be shunned and 
 detested, as odiously ungrateful. 
 
 Thus are men influenced amidst the petty dis- 
 tinctions which obtain among themselves: they vene- 
 rate greatness when it robes itself in goodness, and, 
 except when misled by artful sophistry, there are few 
 things which they are readier to resent than the dis- 
 position to do it indignity. But if there be force in 
 this mode of arguing, when it is applied to the sub- 
 ordinate relation between rulers and subjects, that 
 force is unspeakably augmented, when we apply it to 
 the primary and paramount relation between the great 
 God and the creatures of his hand. To treat the 
 message which comes from his throne as if it were a 
 
xxu 
 
 common thing, is not merely to shock the sense of 
 decency which regulates common life, but to outrage 
 moral principle, at the fountain whence it emanates, 
 and to betray the secrets of a heart which is black 
 with ingratitude, and gross with impiety against the 
 source of all goodness. There is no evading of this 
 conclusion, where the Bible is admitted to be the 
 word of God. We ask the man who dislikes it, to 
 refute it if he can; and it were well for the tasteful 
 and intellectual among us, who ingenuously respect 
 the Bible, and would not intentionally do it indig- 
 nity, when they feel that they cannot refute the con- 
 clusion, to allow it to rectify their practice. They 
 inwardly feel, and sometimes complain, that although 
 they do not discredit its revelations, and set them- 
 selves often to peruse it, yet it is not to them that 
 instrument of renovation, or consequent spiritual de- 
 light, which they know it should be, and believe it is to 
 others. But what if the root of this evil be the very 
 offence against the God of the Bible, which we are 
 now endeavouring to expose ? They are not men of 
 the world in the grosser sense of the word: the pas- 
 sion for wealth, or sensual pleasure, as the summit of 
 human enjoyment, is a degradation which they de- 
 spise; but if they prefer reason to reason's God, or 
 human speculation to celestial announcement, or the 
 moonlight of science to the sunshine of revelation, as 
 an authority for truth or duty; or if, forgetting the 
 superior claims of revelation, they lower its dignity, 
 and treat it as an ordinary thing, can they hope that, 
 after all, it will be to them what it is to others who 
 appreciate its true character, and pay it the homage 
 which its origin demands ? Can they blind them- 
 
XXlll 
 
 selves to its transcendency, and yet enjoy the specific 
 benefit for which it was made transcendent? Can 
 they disown the hand which has been stretched so far 
 to place felicity near them, and yet be put in posses- 
 sion of the felicity itself? Most certainly they never 
 can, for this would exhibit the miracles of revelation 
 as little else than superfluities, and cast the aspersion 
 of folly on that which God has given out as the con- 
 summation of his wisdom. 
 
 3. The practice is inconsistent with the nature 
 of the tidings ivhich revelatioii contains. If the fact, 
 that Christianity is a revelation from heaven, super- 
 added to the works of creation, be of use in deter- 
 mining the deference due to it, the nature of its tid- 
 ings, as indicating the purpose for which it was given, 
 must also be available to the same end: for if these 
 tidings be trivial, or if the purpose for which they are 
 avowedly given be confessedly of minor importance, 
 the wonders which introduced them are left unac- 
 counted for, and the argument already stated is pro- 
 portionally weakened; but if the purpose for which 
 they are given be declared to be so important as to 
 warrant a thing so extraordinary as a special revela- 
 tion from heaven, with all its attendant signs and 
 wonders, this not only protects the former argumpnt, 
 but yields it additional support. Now, if we examine 
 the revelation itself, we find it was given for two pur- 
 poses, the most solemn and momentous which can 
 possibly occupy the mind of man. 
 
 In the first place, it discloses to us our real con- 
 dition in the present state of being. It tells us, that 
 we are guilty creatures, blighted with a curse, wan- 
 
XXIV 
 
 dering in error, and ready to perish,-— that the 
 canker of sin has invaded our nature, wasting its 
 beauty, devouring its strength, and laying it pros- 
 trate under a load of wretchedness, — that, because 
 we have offended God, his wrath is kindled against 
 us in fearful immediate infliction, and yet more fear- 
 ful denunciation, — that, although in this world we 
 enjoy a season of respite, a pause in the progress of 
 vengeance, with a merciful intermixture of ease and 
 protection, yet the whole is overhung with an awful 
 uncertainty, every instant of our time being an in- 
 stant of terror, while the next that arrives may con- 
 summate our misery, — that our doom is not only 
 death, but a death the most deplorable; not the anni- 
 hilation of our being, but its destruction " from the 
 presence of the Lord and the glory of his power;" 
 a converting of all that is feeling in our flesh, or 
 susceptibility in our affections, or vigour in our capa- 
 city of thought, into the seat or the instrument of 
 misery unmingled, — and it finishes the climax with 
 the withering assurance, that the cause of the whole 
 is a " worm which dieth not, and a fire which is not 
 quenched." 
 
 Such is its history of our fallen family, and the 
 destiny, on which we are advancing, is not dubious, 
 but certain. It is a destiny announced from heaven, 
 in all the solemnity of a judicial sentence, and we 
 may feel it secretly coming on, in foi%bodings from 
 within us ; for when men retire for a little from 
 the intoxication of secular pursuits, and allow them- 
 selves leisure to moralize, conscience coincides with 
 the voice from heaven, and for the time being, at 
 least, they are caught by the apprehension, that the 
 
XXV 
 
 cloud of evil, which is lowering over them, is but in 
 progress of formation, gathering and thickening as 
 their years advance, and preparing itself for settHncr 
 down into the blackness of darkness for ever. Now, 
 these are tidings, appalling although they be, which 
 are yet of immense importance to us. They deliver 
 us from uncertainty, and put an end to conjecture 
 about the most momentous of all our concerns ; they 
 clear away the refuges of lies in which infatuated 
 man is so prone to hide himself; and without their 
 assistance he never could arrive at a suitable acquain- 
 tance with his guilt and danger; for among those 
 who never heard the tidings, or who disregard or 
 pervert them, there is the most hopeless uncertainty, 
 and the wildest division of practical opinions, about 
 the nature and tendency of that moral disorder with 
 which our nature is confessedly afflicted. Mistaken 
 notions about the nature of sin, is the parent of all 
 the fruitless expedients by which man attempts to 
 escape from misery; and although the effective means 
 • of escape be in existence, and fully sanctioned, he 
 can never be brought to adopt them till these notions 
 be rectified, but rectified they never can be without 
 an appeal to the oracle from heaven. " By the law 
 is the knowledge of sin." *' Now we know, that 
 what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who 
 are under the law, that every mouth may be stopped, 
 and all the world may become guilty before God." 
 
 In the second place, it discloses to us the only 
 method of deliverance from our miseries; breaking 
 in like the rising sun when the darkness is at the 
 deepest, and cheering our desolations with a day- 
 spring from on high. It reveals to us a purpose 
 '^^ B 40 
 
XXVI 
 
 of salvation, free and generous, and most effective, 
 which lay concealed in the bosom of the Eternal 
 before the ages began to roll. It announces the 
 Son of God made manifest in flesh, as the Captain 
 of that salvation, sustaining the office of a sublime 
 Mediatorship, and creating peace between heaven 
 and earth. It furnishes the details of a special 
 economy, new, and merciful, and ineffably myste- 
 rious, in which God is seen to be awfully just, while 
 yet he justifies the ungodly. It brings down these 
 details in full and pointed adaptation to our existing 
 circumstances. We are guilty and helpless, but it 
 turns our eyes away from ourselves, and reveals for- 
 Sfiveness through the death of Christ, as our sacri- 
 fice of expiation, — we are loaded with demerit, and 
 disowned of God, but it founds our claims to resto- 
 ration on the worthiness of Him who died for us, — 
 we are morally dead in trespasses and sins, the prey 
 of every depraved affection, but it tells us of quicken- 
 ing and purification through " the washing of regen- 
 eration and renewing of the Holy Ghost," — we 
 are weak and frail, surrounded with snares, and 
 ready to err in the practice of every Christian duty, 
 but it assures us of the fostering care of Him who 
 hath redeemed us to God by his blood, — we have 
 lost the happiness of primitive innocence, as well as 
 incurred the penalty of guilt, but it announces to us 
 a higher destiny of glory, and honour, and immor- 
 tality, through the merits of the same atonement by 
 which we are pardoned and made holy. 
 
 These are the leading topics which revelation 
 unfolds; and it is for the sake of unfolding them in 
 their native grandeur and special efficiency, that it 
 
XXVll 
 
 draws its fearful portraitures of our misery and ruin. 
 Nor are they merely announced in explicit doctrinal 
 statement, or with cold and lofty indifference to the 
 treatment they may receive. They pervade the 
 Bible, as the blood pervades the body, in vast diver- 
 sity of ramification, giving warmth and vitality to its 
 whole contexture. They are presented to view in 
 many forms of rich and appropriate illustration, 
 they are gathered up into promises the most pointed 
 and expressive, they are magnified and enforced by 
 all that is commanding in the authority, or persuasive 
 in the loving-kindness of God most high ; and, limited 
 by no distinctions, moral or physical, national or in- 
 dividual, they are urged, for immediate reception, on 
 the human family at large. 
 
 But if these are its leading topics, and this the 
 prominence given to them — if it has come to proffer 
 salvation to man from the deep abyss of guilt and 
 wretchedness, that he may be pardoned, and puri- 
 fied, and blessed for ever, with the highest heavenly 
 felicity — if all its entreaties are made to bear, and 
 all its radiance concentrated on this one momentous 
 point, as that which eclipses every other, how gross 
 is the inconsistency, and tremendous the peril, of so 
 much as seeming to hold it secondary to any 
 sublunary acquisition ? There are minor errors in 
 the economy of life, which may be rendered harm- 
 less, or hid from view, amidst an assemblage of con- 
 spicuous virtues; but this is a capital delinquency, 
 which poisons the root of every virtue, and bespeaks a 
 power of infatuation, for which nothing can com- 
 pensate. The man who commits it in cool reflec- 
 tion, is cruel to himself, and hardened against his 
 B 2 
 
XXVlll 
 
 God; so engrossed with the concerns of time, as io 
 be reckless of a coming eternity ; preferring the 
 good which is gross and momentary, to that which is 
 pure and everlasting; blind to the exquisite moral 
 crrandeur of the scene where providence has cast his 
 lot, and madly incurring a fearful addition to the 
 punishment which awaits the ungodly : for " this 
 is the condemnation, that light has come into the 
 world, but men have loved the darkness rather than 
 the light, because their deeds were evil." And the 
 man who commits it through mere thoughtlessness, 
 is rushing on the same destiny, with only a some- 
 what lighter burden of guilt or responsibility. 
 
 All this is bad enough, and the spiritual injury 
 which it silently inflicts on all classes of society, is 
 deeply to be deplored. But when we see it emerg- 
 ing from obscurity, and appearing conspicuous on 
 the high places of the earth ; when we look at plans 
 of education, matured, or in progress, which are 
 likely to concentrate the national intellect, and form 
 the national taste, and engross the daily leisure of 
 the peasant or artizan, on principles of virtual 
 exclusion to every thing specifically Christian; when 
 we see this grievous and deadly deficiency attaching 
 to schemes of benevolence, which are otherwise pure 
 and splendid, receiving the sanction of public recog- 
 nition, countenanced or winked at by the mightiest 
 of scholars, and most illustrious of statesmen, and 
 thus put in condition for traversing the land, from the 
 one end to the other, we do feel alarmed, in no or- 
 dinary degree, at the effects which are likely to fol- 
 low it ; and could we influence the consultations in 
 which the whole originates, would entreat its pro- 
 
XXIX 
 
 jectors to pause and deliberate, lest tliey stir the 
 elements of a latent impiety, instead of dispersing a 
 national blessing. We dread not the light of science, 
 nor any light of any kind, which emanates from 
 God to man. On the contrary, we hail it as a pre- 
 cious acquisition, provided it be mingled and seasoned 
 with that which is revealed, as " the true light, which 
 lighteth every man that cometh into the world ;" but, 
 in a state of separation from this better light, and 
 unattempered by its restoring influence, we are con- 
 strained to dread it, by all the concern we ever felt 
 for the eternal well-being of our human kindred. 
 We are told, the error is not new; but this is no 
 solacement. It has been in the world for ages, and 
 has done mischief for ages, but not half so much as 
 it threatens to do now ; for it has received a stimulus, 
 and is sheltered by a patronage, and threatens an 
 extent of dissemination, which never has been 
 equalled, since Britons were restored to the liberty 
 of thought. But comparisons of this kind are fo- 
 reign to the argument. Christianity is before us, 
 in all its immaculate purity, unfolding the broad 
 credentials of its heavenly origin ; and the question 
 is, What are we to make of it ? Is it good for any 
 thing, or is it good for nothing? Is it the best 
 gift of God to man, or is it only a secondary ? Has 
 it come to save us, or has it not? If it is the best 
 gift, if its tidings are pregnant with life and salva- 
 tion to the man who is " ready to perish," to form his 
 mind to any thing else which contains not its vital 
 admixture, is morally to ruin man, and contravene the 
 express mandate of its own Almighty Author: " Seek 
 yejirst the kingdom of heaven, and its righteousness, 
 and all other things shall be added to you." 
 
XXX 
 
 4. The practice is inconsistent with the general 
 circumstances in 'which man is placed^ in his j^resent 
 state of being. It might be thought we have said 
 enough to induce attention to this solemn subject; 
 but, alas, there are yet other grounds on which the 
 hapless child of misery cannot afFord to defer the re- 
 medy, — for this is more, it is tremendously more, than 
 his situation will permit. The present life is the 
 only season which is available to him, as a '* day of 
 salvation," and in its very best estate, it is brief and 
 transient, as a shadow that declineth. It is preca- 
 rious, as well as brief; his threescore years and ten may 
 be cut short at any assignable point, throughout their 
 whole duration ; i\\Qy are cut short in the experience 
 of multitudes, every day that passes over him. It 
 is the few, who reach them, and the many, who never 
 come near them ; and however young or vigorous he 
 may appear at this moment, yet, if we forbear to show 
 him his danger, or decline to remind him of its re- 
 medy, for a single week, or month, or year, that 
 week, or month, or year, may be all that God has 
 given to him, for preparing to meet the judgment. 
 He is a dying creature ; the sentiment that he is so, 
 has been uttered a thousand times, without becoming 
 insipid, and its import at this moment is as fresh 
 and fearful as ever it was before. He sees it veri- 
 fied at the cost of others, in the frustration of hope, 
 and wreck of purposes, and multiplied sorrows and 
 reo-rets, which death is continually producing, in 
 every direction, around him ; and out of the whole, 
 there comes a voice of most impressive admonition : 
 " Be ye ready; for in such an hour as ye think not, 
 the Son of man cometh." 
 
XXXI 
 
 But if this be the scene of jeopardy, in the midst 
 of which he is situated, is it wise or benevolent, or 
 at all consistent with enlightened humanity, to en- 
 gross his fragments of time, or attract his limited 
 powers of attention, to any subject, however useful 
 otherwise, which tends to turn away his thoughts 
 from the salvation of his soul ? So far from being 
 wise, or kind, or humane, it is virtually cruel, al- 
 though cruelty has no place in the intention from 
 which it springs, and the man who is alive to his 
 real condition, will recoil in heart from its vulgar 
 unseemliness. If you press it on such a man, you 
 may read his emotions in the looks of the dungeoned 
 criminal, whose hours are numbered and known to 
 him, and whose awful exit into eternity is every 
 successive instant pressing nearer on his view, while 
 the idiot kindness of a foolish friend insults -his 
 misery, and deepens his distress, by proposing to 
 regale him with a convivial banquet. But if he 
 feels shocked at the banquet of science, when placed 
 between him and the feast of salvation, his feelings 
 ought to be reverenced, as the best of all directories, 
 for the treatment of sinners in general, for his feelings 
 ought to be theirs ; and just because he is awake to 
 his danger, and not blinded by the general fatality, 
 he is the only competent judge of the case. He 
 feels, just as every one should feel, who is yet a 
 stranger to saving grace. He is excited by the 
 most powerful of all stimulants, the love of personal 
 preservation; and under the impulse of this principle, 
 the strongest and steadiest of all his instincts, he 
 sickens at the lessons which only acquaint him with 
 the universe of being around him, and pants most 
 
XXXll 
 
 intensely for that which intercepts his soul from the 
 gulf of perditiaiij and restores it, forgiven and ac- 
 cepted, to the favour of Hira who formed it. 
 
 It is no objection to this mode of reasoning, that 
 since the knowledge of creation is the food of the 
 soul, as the fruits of the earth are the food of the 
 body, and since all true knowledge comes from God, 
 as the means of rational enjoyment to his creatures, 
 it can, at least, do no harm to the man who is in 
 want of spiritual instruction, while it tends to exalt 
 his character as a member of civil society. For, 
 although all this is true, it cannot be opposed to the 
 sentiments stated, except by assuming what is not 
 true. Did we live in a country where Revelation is 
 unknown, and where no effective remedy for sin has 
 ever been announced, it would be our duty to try 
 expedients which are best fitted to mitigate the evil, 
 just as physicians resort to palliatives, where they 
 know that they cannot cure. And since the in- 
 fluence of that information, which reason has indus- 
 triously collected from nature, is the best of all 
 palliatives, in the state of things supposed, the man 
 who does most to promote its diffusion, immediately 
 and supremely, is undeniably the foremost in philan- 
 thropic renown. Rut to rest in the palliative, while 
 we have the specific — to choose the appliance which 
 does no harm, in preference to that which does 
 positive good, or to stop short with a slight improve- 
 ment, instead of a perfect restoration to health, 
 while the means of restoration are laid to our hand, 
 is a species of benevolence so capricious and per- 
 verse, as justly to awaken suspicion and distrust. 
 Nor must we be blinded by the suggestion, that 
 
XXXIU 
 
 the field of moral beneficence is broad and spacious, 
 consisting of so many departments, that while one 
 class of philanthropists appropriate one of these de- 
 partments, another may appropriate another, accord- 
 ing to their respective predilections; for moral bene- 
 ficence, in this expanded view of it, is not a matter 
 of predilection, any more than moral equity, or moral 
 feeling of any kind. It is a matter of peremptory 
 statute, or express and immutable law, both in its 
 principles and mode of operation, and to deviate from 
 its law is to change its character, and convert it into 
 an instrument of moral injury. The field itself is a 
 moral field, the special property of God Almighty; 
 he knows its condition, and has taken its culture 
 under his own immediate control ; he has revealed 
 the only expedient, and promised the only influences 
 which can ever restore it to moral fertility ; he has 
 fitted these for producing their effect, without being 
 at all dependent on extrinsic aid, or separate training; 
 and if we do any thing which interferes with their 
 tendency, or in any way retards their efficiency, we 
 mar the economy of his beneficence, and trouble the 
 egress of his loving-kindness. A considerate hus- 
 bandman foregoes the assistance, however gratuitous 
 or well-intentioned, which interferes with the system 
 of improvement, which experience has taught him to 
 be the best ; and, since there is a system of moral 
 husbandry, not adjusted by human experience, but 
 the dictate of divine wisdom, we cannot depart from 
 its regulating principle, without opposing its ultimate 
 design. Division of labour in educating man, as 
 well as in the arts of common industry, may be ren- 
 dered very serviceable, provided it proceeds on the 
 b3 
 
XXXIV 
 
 obvious principle, of putting that first which is most 
 essential ; but if our plan of division be such as 
 throws that into the place of a secondary, which God 
 has made primary, or omits to lay the only founda- 
 tion on which moral rectitude can possibly be reared, 
 or tolerates a virtual separation of the concerns of 
 time from those of eternity, it is erroneous in theory, 
 and preposterous in fact. 
 
 With these views, we feel constrained to question 
 the principle, that general knowledge is a harmless 
 thing to the man, who is destitute of that which is 
 saving. That it cannot directly cause him to be 
 injured, is easily granted, but if his moral circum- 
 stances be such as to make it an occasion of injury, 
 the practical result is quite the same. Now, that it 
 is apt to be the occasion of injury, when adminis- 
 tered in the circumstances stated, is obvious to all 
 who examine the case with Christian discrimination. 
 There are certain states of the human body, in which 
 the appetite for food remains unimpaired, or increased 
 it may be, beyond the common average, while the 
 case is so peculiar, that were this appetite to be 
 indulged to the full extent of its craving, the result 
 might be perilous even to life itself. Not that the 
 food is bad, but that the recipient is diseased, while 
 such is the peculiar character of the disease, that the 
 very same aliment which usually nourishes health, 
 would now be converted into the nourishment of its 
 opposite. A rigid abstinence must be maintained, 
 even from that which is intrinsically wholesome, else 
 the patient may lose his life, as the forfeit of his 
 indiscretion. 
 
 The soul of unregenerated man is in a state 
 
XXXV 
 
 very similar ; and in reference to it, we may say of 
 general knowledge, what the Scriptures say of meats, 
 it is good, and to be received with thanksgiving : it is 
 food convenient for our rational nature, its intrinsic 
 tendency is to nourish intellect, but then it is the food 
 of health, while we are morally diseased; and although 
 it be sound, it is not sanative, — although contributive 
 to moral vigour, it is not remedial of moral disorder. 
 This, however, is not the worst, but the very best 
 that can be said of it ; for our moral disease is of such 
 a character, or often exhibits such peculiar symptoms, 
 that a participation in general knowledge tends most 
 decidedly to deepen its inveteracy. It seems, in fact, 
 to have often the power, not only of attracting to 
 itself, and appropriating to its maintenance, whatever 
 general information may come within its reach, but 
 of perverting, as it attracts, and poisoning as it 
 appropriates, the purest intellectual aliment which can 
 possibly be administered. Not only is it very pos- 
 sible that a man may be so enamoured of general 
 acquirement, and have his taste so exclusively 
 formed to its pleasures and pursuits, as to contract a 
 new and positive distaste for specific Christian in- 
 formation — a distaste which arises from the taste 
 referred to, as its true and proper cause, which is 
 superinduced upon his original bias to evil, and 
 which is distinctly felt by him to be the immediate 
 agency which counterworks his religious training ; 
 but it is also possible, that the vir'us of this moral 
 malady may become so potent within him, as to vi- 
 tiate the whole of his general knowledge, defeating 
 its tendency to moral refinement, and converting it 
 into the means of malignant resistance to the gospel 
 
XXXVl 
 
 of the grace of God. This is a fearful view of 
 human nature; and it becomes yet more fearful when 
 we reflect, that it is most likely to be verified, where 
 the general instruction tendered is moral in its com- 
 plexion, and resembles the precepts of Christianity, 
 ■without a positive participation of their characteristic 
 spirit. For vve may lay it down as a maxim here, 
 that while the heart of man is enmity against God, 
 in every view of his character, that enmity musters, in 
 greater force, against the moral, than against the phy- 
 sical developments of his Godhead; and the nearer a 
 man is brought by instruction to the pure morality of 
 the gospel, without enjoying its renovating influence, 
 the more obstinate will his resistance become to the 
 authority of the God that made him. He may bear 
 such instruction without emotion, if you allow it to 
 float over him in general announcement ; but if you 
 bring it down to points of practice, and set yourself 
 directly to reason it into his conscience, you arouse 
 his determined hostility, because he feels himself 
 assaulted in the very citadel of his depravity. A 
 Christian Apostle ascertained this from the workings 
 of his own mind, and was directed to record it as a 
 caveat to us — " Sin, taJdng occasion by the com- 
 mandment, wrought in me all manner of concupi- 
 scence." 
 
 All this, we have said, is possible, as the result of 
 administering knowledge to man without any regard 
 to the Christian remedy. But we are bound to say, 
 it is more than possible ; for the injury is really sus- 
 tained, in a great number of cases, where the experi- 
 ment has been tried. There are instances seen, by 
 every attentive observer of man, where an education 
 
XXXVll 
 
 which is unchristian, or Christian in nothing but 
 name, has aroused a dormant intellect to deeds of 
 daring iniquity, and made it terrible, as a moral pes- 
 tilence, to the circle in which it moves. But there 
 are thousands of instances not seen, in which the 
 very same cause is silently producing its ruinous 
 effects in the bosoms of individuals, although circum- 
 stances keep it from showing itself in practical avowal. 
 The youth has acquired a range of ideas, which sti- 
 mulate his faculties, and spur him on to mental acti- 
 vity ; he gets the credit of being intelligent, and 
 pride of understanding is produced and gratified, till, 
 by a process of sophistry, of which he haughtily 
 disdains to be conscious, his knowledge is unnatu- 
 rally perverted into argument against the truth, or 
 counteraction to the spirit of that which is propounded 
 to him on the authority of God. This process goes 
 on, blinding his mind and hardening his heart, and 
 carrying him farther and farther from righteousness, 
 while the power of public opinion, or respect for the 
 feelings of pious relatives, constrains him to hide the 
 deadly secret under a vail of studied concealment. 
 A state of mind analogous to this, we are well 
 aware, is often to be met with, even amidst the 
 advantages of an education, where Christianity has 
 had its proper place ; but this can furnish no apology 
 for turning aside from heaven's prescription. If 
 men shall resist the grace of God, after it is faith- 
 fully set before them, they do it at their own peril, 
 and we at least are free of their blood ; but, if their 
 resistance be connected with mismanagement of ours, 
 in denying it its due prominence, or presenting it 
 only at a disadvantage, we concur in the trespass, 
 
XXXVlll 
 
 and cannot be free from its responsibilities. We 
 are sure that Christianity is the only antidote to 
 human misery — we are not sure that any man will 
 resist this antidote till after he has been fairly tried ; 
 we know, from the history of its past success, that the 
 earlier it is applied it is the likelier to prove effectual; 
 and if we delay to apply it, with these things before 
 our eyes, we do a deed of inhumanity, for which 
 there is absolutely no excuse. 
 
 These suggestions cannot be amplified to the 
 extent which their importance demands; but they 
 lead us to the solemn conclusion, that the work of 
 conductinjr the education of man involves a tremen- 
 dous responsibility, and may be perverted to his utter 
 undoing, unless it be guided with enlightened dis- 
 cretion. It is a maxim among us, that knowledge 
 is power : but man is morally depraved, and if a 
 species of knowledge be thrown into his mind, which 
 incorporates with his depravity, instead of neutra- 
 lizing it, his power of sinning is thereby increased. 
 Every addition which is thus made to the strength 
 of his faculties, or the range of his mental vision, is 
 an addition to his power of doing evil, (although it 
 may alter his manner of doing it,) for as it requires 
 a man and not a beast — a being governed by reason 
 and not by mere instinct, to be either righteous or 
 unrighteous, you cannot augment the powers of rea- 
 son without rendering it more effective for righteous- 
 ness, or unrighteousness, according to the moral 
 condition in which the augmentation finds it. To 
 invigorate reason, when morally rectified, is to make 
 ii more powerfully righteous : but to add to its 
 vigour, amidst reigning depravity, is to increase its 
 energies of evil. 
 
XXXIX 
 
 This is the general principle on which we wish 
 the reader to ruminate; and if he is led to adopt it, 
 he will see at once the indispensable necessity, on 
 political as well as moral grounds, of founding in- 
 struction on Christian doctrine, as the only means 
 of silencing the uproar which its enemies have raised 
 against it. Those who oppose the diffusion of know- 
 ledge among the lower orders of society, are ever 
 ready to put us in mind, that this is a privilege above 
 their condition; that it can only tend to make them 
 restless and innovating; discontented with their lot, 
 and ready to give their ear to every political dema- 
 gogue who may choose to harangue them into 
 outrage. Now, this mode of reasoning, as usually 
 employed, is utterly presumptuous; impeaching the 
 Author of reason himself, and the severest casti- 
 gation is righteously due to the cant and bigotry 
 of which it is the index : but if we separate Chris- 
 tianity from general knowledge, and diffuse the 
 latter apart from the former, or, if we merely 
 appropriate the name of Christianity, while the 
 thing which it signifies is virtually withheld, we 
 encourage these heartless declaimers, and positively 
 warrant their apprehensions. They are right, if we 
 grant them these premises, beyond all contradiction ; 
 and it is better at once to yield to their wishes, than 
 prosecute warfare against them; for, to talk of edu- 
 cation as a safeguard to society, apart from the 
 power of Christian godliness, is to choose at once 
 to be impious and absurd. We may grudge them 
 this concession to their selfish jealousies, but reluc- 
 tate as we may, the point is lost. This one defect 
 in the system of a general education, would leave us 
 
exposed to all the evils which they have so clamo- 
 rously specified, together with evils yet more awful 
 than they liave had the sense to discern; for a nation 
 of educated irreligion, is perhaps the nearest approxi- 
 mation which our nature admits, to a nation of devils 
 in human shape. 
 
 Let us not be charged with extravagance here. 
 We know that moral causes, whether virtuous or 
 vicious, are not so certain or uniform in their opera- 
 tions as those which are purely physical ; that there 
 are pliant spirits among us, which, so far as this 
 world is concerned, may be educated with safety, or 
 with high advantage, even in their state of depravity, 
 and that the general tendency of education is to re- 
 deem society, in all its gradations, from the meaner 
 indulgences, vices, and crimes, to which it is other- 
 wise addicted. Educate the rake of rank, /. e. in- 
 spire him with a taste for philosophy and literature, 
 or commerce, or agriculture, and perhaps, in nine 
 cases out of ten, he is not only intercepted from the 
 fashionable dissipations which yield him at present 
 his infamous celebrity, but converted, it may be, into 
 an instrument of social utility. Educate the artizan 
 in the principles of his art, or in those more general 
 principles which enlarge and elevate his understand- 
 ing, and you teach him to despise the baser vices 
 in which he may have hitherto indulged. By dif- 
 fusing knowledge in this way, without any specific 
 religious infusion, you sow the seeds of civil refor- 
 mation, and raise the standard of morals, and thus 
 confer a palpable benefit on society at large. From 
 all this, however, you are not to conclude that men 
 are better in the sight of God. Their education is 
 
xli 
 
 not Christian, and, therefore, it is not regenerative ; 
 the exterior of life is improved, but its fountain is 
 not purified ; the course of activity is changed, but 
 its moral characteristics are unchanged; the grosser 
 vices are polished away, but the more refined are 
 become conspicuous. And just because this is the 
 amount of the difference, the danger of political fac- 
 tion is actually greater than before, in as much as 
 the tiger awake, is more to be dreaded than when he 
 is asleep ; for it is not manners, but dispositions, 
 which must be renewed, in order to consolidate a 
 nation's loyalty; and we have no proper security 
 that any one will honour the king, unless he has 
 got an education which teaches him, on principle, 
 the fear of God. He may be loyal from fashion, or 
 from selfish prudence, or hereditary prejudice, or 
 political antipathy, or sordid desire of aggrandise- 
 ment, or disinterested attachment to a family ; and 
 kings may be weak or destitute enough to confide 
 in these things; but since magistracy is the ordinance 
 of God, and morally upheld by his high authority, 
 the sublime of loyalty is never reached, nor its vital 
 impulse ever felt, except by the man who founds it 
 in religion. 
 
 But we have to say again, that just because this 
 is the amount of the difference, the state of the per- 
 sons thus flimsily educated, is worse, in the sight of 
 God ; for although the grosser vices, practised in 
 ignorance, are often the most offensive to us, they 
 are not the most heinous in the eye of Omniscience. 
 It is the sins of intellect, of educated intellect, of 
 intellect redeemed from stupidity, and brightened and 
 invigorated by liberal training, which are ever ob- 
 
xlii 
 
 noxious to his sorest displeasure. If sin in itself 
 be a moral evil, and therefore, the work of intellect, 
 the man who departs from the gross, and approxi- 
 mates the refined, in the practice of sinning, just as 
 the process of education refines his understanding 
 without changing its moral condition, is drawn nearer 
 to the very essence of iniquity, instead of receding 
 from It, as this process goes on. His education may 
 have taught him to shun what is gross, or proudly 
 to despise it ; his conduct may be correct, and his 
 heart benevolent, and his country may laud him as 
 one of its worthies, but his depravity remains : in- 
 stead of being subdued, it is only refined into a 
 deeper spirituality, and, in two important particulars, 
 his last state is worse than the first. His guilt is 
 augmented by the change ; for there is more of 
 illuminated intellect, and less of besotted sensuality, 
 in his career of ungodliness : and thus he is liker 
 the devil, the pattern of all iniquity, than before his 
 education refined him. And his danger is increased, 
 not because his guilt is too great for the efficacy of 
 the Christian remedy, but because being reformed 
 already, both in his own eyes and in the eyes of 
 others around him, it is hard to convince him that 
 any thing more is necessary. " Seest thou a man 
 wise in his own conceit, there is more hope of a fool 
 than of him."* 
 
 We cannot but feel gratified, in no common de- 
 gree, in having it in our power to connect these 
 
 * A continuation of our remarks on this important subject, 
 will be found in our Introductory Essay to a subsequent volume 
 in this Series of Select Christian Authors, viz. " Mason on Self- 
 Knowledge," and " Baxter on the Mischiefs of Self-Ignorance, 
 and the Benefits of Self- Acquaintance." 
 
xliii 
 
 observations with the following pieces of the great 
 and good Sir Matthew Hale. Not because we 
 distrust the cause which we plead, or fear to main- 
 tain it on its own intrinsic merits ; but because, in 
 arguing a point which many question, and many 
 more neglect or despise, it is encouraging to have 
 the sufFracfe of a mind in which the fear of God was 
 pre-eminent ; and which awed the genius of its age, 
 making monarchs to bow to its wisdom and integrity, 
 and sending out a reforming influence on all orders 
 of society, from the palace to the cottage. The 
 pieces here given to the public are a selection, the 
 best of that which is all excellent. The first, " On 
 the Knowledge of Christ Crucified," is the arche- 
 type of the rest, giving spirit, and unity of aim, to 
 all that is afterwards enforced. Its theme is the 
 summit of human knowledge, and the centre of moral 
 illumination, while the Author's manner of treating 
 it is clear, concise, and comprehensive — simple, but 
 not insipid — intellectual, but not cold — argumenta- 
 tive, but not abstracted. The intelligent reader will 
 find in it the absence of effort, but the presence of 
 power; and if the less intelligent shall go on perus- 
 ing it with humility, perseverance, and prayer, till the 
 scheme of it is fixed in his head, and its spirit infused 
 into his heart, he will find himself raised to the very 
 altitudes of Christian contemplation and delight. 
 Of the second, " On Wisdom, and the Fear of God," 
 we shall only say, that we know not any thing in the 
 English language, which, by apt, sententious state- 
 ment, and clear, discriminative definition, does so 
 much, in so short a space, to rectify religious know- 
 ledge, and unfold the nature of godliness. The 
 
xliv 
 
 third, " On the Victory of Faith over the World," 
 delineates the workings of that great principle, which 
 keeps the Christian in his sphere, and maintains him 
 in ascendency over the world, with an acuteness, 
 simplicity, and power, which render it peculiarly a 
 word in season to Christians immersed in secular 
 pursuits. The fourth, " On the Great Audit, and 
 the Good Steward," shows the man to himself in his 
 present circumstances and future reckoning, in a 
 manner so convincing and reasonably awful, that 
 his conscience must be seared indeed, if it does not 
 arouse him to the business of religion, as the primary 
 end of his moral existence. 
 
 We cannot particularise the remaining pieces, 
 but every reader who opens the book, and communes 
 with its Author, will find himself introduced to a 
 mind of no ordinary comprehension, which brings 
 before him the grand subjects of human concern- 
 ment, with a felicity of conception and vigour of 
 discrimination, which richly merit, and will abun- 
 dantly repay his most attentive perusal. 
 
 Should any one have traced a resemblance be- 
 tween some of our Author's works, and the abstract 
 mode of writing which characterized the foreign 
 theologians of the seventeenth century, we feel 
 bound, in the first place, to avow our belief, that the 
 obloquy cast upon these writers is indiscriminate and 
 unjust, tending to produce disgust and avoidance, 
 where esteem and perusal are righteously due, and 
 usually awarded most profusely by those who know 
 least of their productions. The systematic theo- 
 logy of those times may be dry and recondite, but it 
 is pre-eminently sound and convincing; its distinc- 
 
xlv 
 
 tions may be nice, or occasionally perplexing, but, 
 taken generally, they are just and expository, letting 
 in the light of heaven, like the windows of a palace, 
 to reveal the interior grandeur, and unfold the mas- 
 sive stability of the edifice of Christian truth. Nor 
 can it be denied, although it is often overlooked, 
 that the mightiest of our modern authorship in argu- 
 mentative theology, is but a digest of the learning, 
 or an advance on the discipline, which is thus ungen- 
 erously scorned. But, to relieve the reader at once, . 
 we have to tell him, in the second place, that the pre- 
 sent selection is entirely free from this supposed taint. 
 He has here the benefit of the Author's acquaintance 
 with logic and system, without the least annoyance 
 from that intricate erudition, which they who read 
 now-a-days so sensitively shun. 
 
 We have only to remind the reader, if any such 
 there be, who is so cruel to himself, and contemptu- 
 ous of the nature which he wears, as to treat the 
 pre-eminence we exact for Christianity as merely a 
 clerical excess, allowable in the pulpit, but impracti- 
 cable in human life; that Sir Matthew Hale was not 
 an ecclesiastic, but a lawyer, involved in the business 
 of life more than the most of business men, a master 
 of human learning, and capable of relishing its 
 exalted delights — cautious, to a proverb, in forrang 
 opinions — singularly correct in his practical judg- 
 ments, and placed by Providence amidst strong in- 
 ducements to disown the business of religion, or, at 
 least, to hold it secondary to the more immediate 
 cravings of a secular ambition. Such, beyond all dis- 
 pute, was Sir Matthew Hale, in the view of those 
 who know his history — his mind was any thing but 
 
xl 
 
 VI 
 
 the soil where freak or fanaticism was likely to spring 
 up; but, taking his book as an index of his heart, (and 
 we know that he practised what he wrote,) it tells us, 
 that he rose from earth to heaven, in the warmest 
 aspirings of his ambition, boldly adopting the Chris- 
 tian motto, without the blazonry of ostentation — 
 *' God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is 
 crucified unto me, and I unto the world." Now, 
 although we scorn the highest human suffrage as a 
 reason for any Christian principle, yet we adduce the 
 authority of this man, whose name is associated with 
 the good and great in England's best remembrances ; 
 we adduce the singular soundness of his mind on 
 points of practical wisdom ; we adduce his high un- 
 questioned competency to treat of the duty and 
 destiny of man; we adduce his conspicuous example, 
 for his writings are his life epitomized ; we adduce 
 the entire tenor of his conduct, amidst a multitude of 
 secular duties and many misleading enticements : we 
 adduce all these things, as overmatching a host of 
 opposing opinions ; and we leave the subject to the 
 Reader's reflection, indulging the eager hope, that, on 
 calmly considering its solemn bearings, he will feel 
 himself shut up to adopt and prosecute the sacred 
 maxim, that " the wisdoin which is from above " must 
 have the precedence in all our attempts to indoctri- 
 nate man; because it is "first pure, then peaceable, 
 gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good 
 fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy." 
 
 D. Y. 
 
 Perth, October, 1828. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Ox the Knowledge of Christ Crucified, Part I. . . 49 
 
 Part II. . 119 
 
 Of Wisdom, and the Fear of God, 208 
 
 Tlie Victory of Faith over the World, . . . 235 
 
 The Great Audit; with the Account of the Good Steward, 269 
 
 A Good Method to Entertain Unstable Times, . . 325 
 
 Of the Uncleanness of the Heart, .... 334. 
 
 The Folly and Mischief of Sin, .... 348 
 
 Of Self-Denial 353 
 
 Motives to Watchfulness, 365 
 
 Of the Moderation of the Affections, .... 368 
 
 Of Humility, 379 
 
 Of the Chief End of Man, 429 
 
 On Life and Immortality, 446 
 
 Of Prayer and Thanksgiving, 459 
 
2B). 
 THSOLOGlGALi 
 KNOWLEDGE 
 
 OF 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED, 
 
 PART I. 
 
 1 Corinthians ii. 2. 
 
 *' For I determined not to hio^iso any thing among 
 them, save Jestis Christ, and him crucijied,^^ 
 
 As the understanding is the highest faculty of the 
 reasonable creature, because upon it depends the 
 regularity of the motions or actions of the will and 
 affections; so knowledge is the properest and noblest 
 act or habit of that faculty, and without which it is 
 without its proper end and employment, and the 
 whole man without a due guidance and direction— 
 " My people perish for want of knowledge." 
 
 And as knowledge is the proper business of that 
 great faculty, so the value of that knowledge, or 
 employment of the understanding, is diversified ac- 
 cording to the subject about which it is exercised : for 
 though all knowledge of the most different subjects 
 C 40 
 
50 
 
 a^^ree in this one common excellence, viz. the right 
 representation of the thing, as it is, to the uniler- 
 ^tanding, or the conformity of the image created 
 in the understanding, to the thing ol)jectively united 
 to it, which is truth in the understanding : yet it 
 must needs be, that according to the various values 
 nd det^rees of the things to be known, there ariseth 
 a diversity of the value or worth of that knowledge; 
 that which is of a thing more noble, useful, precious, 
 must needs be a more noble, useful, precious know- 
 ledge, and accordingly, more to be desired. 
 
 There have been, doubtless, many excellent un- 
 derstandings, that have been conversant about an 
 exact disquisition of some particular truths; which, 
 though as truths they agree in a common value with 
 all others, yet in respect of their nature, use, and 
 value, are of no great moment, whether known or 
 not; as concerning the precise time of this or that 
 passage in such a profane history, the criticism of 
 this or that Latin word, or the like; which though by 
 accident, and by way of concomitance, they may be 
 of considerable use, when mixed with, or relating to 
 some other matter of moment; yet in themselves 
 have little value, because little use : others have 
 spent their thoughts in acquiring knowledge, in 
 some special piece of nature, the fabric of the eye, 
 the progression of generation in an egg^ the relation 
 and proportion of numbers, weights, lines; the 
 generation of metals: and these, as they have a re- 
 lative consideration, to discover and set forth the 
 wisdom of the great Creator, or to public use, have 
 (Treat worth in them; but in themselves, though they 
 have this excellence of truth in them, and conse- 
 
51 
 
 quently in their kind feed and give light to the un- 
 derstanding, which is a power that is naturally or- 
 dained unto, and greedy oi\ and delighted in truth, 
 though of a low and inferior constitution ; yet they 
 are not of that eminence and worth as truths of 
 either higher, or more useful or durable nature. 
 
 As once our Saviour, in relation of things to be 
 done, pronounced one thing only necessary, so the 
 apostle, among the many things that are to be 
 known, fixeth on the same one thing necessary to 
 be known, Clirist Jesus, and him crucified. There 
 are three steps : — 
 
 I. Not to know any thing. Not as if all other 
 knowledfre were condemned : Moses' learning was 
 not charged upon him as a sin : Paul's secular learn- 
 ing was not condemned, but useful to him : to be 
 knowing in our calling, in the qualities and disposi- 
 tions of persons, in the laws under which we live, in 
 the modest and sober inquiries of nature and arts, is 
 not only not condemned, but commended and use- 
 ful, and what tends to the setting forth the glory of the 
 God of wisdom. Even the discretion of the husband- 
 man God owns as his; " For his God doth instruct 
 him to discretion, and doth teach him." But we must 
 determine to know nothing, in comparison of that 
 other knowledge of Christ Jesus ; as the apostle 
 counted what things were gain, yet to be loss for 
 Christ, so we are to esteem that knowledge of other 
 things otherwise excellent, useful, admirable, yet to 
 be but folly, and vile, in comparison of the knowledge 
 of Christ : and this requires, 
 
 1. A true and right estimate of the value of the 
 knowledge of Christ Jesus above other knowledge, 
 c2 
 
52 
 
 and consequently, an infinite preferring thereof be- 
 fore all other knowledge in our judgments, desire, 
 and delight : the knowledge of Christ has a pre- 
 ponderance above other knowledge, and excels most 
 knowledge in all the ensuing particulars, but espe- 
 cially in some, and those of the greatest importance. 
 (1.) In the certainty of it. Most other knowledges 
 are either such as we take in by our sense and ex- 
 perience ; and therein, though it is true that the 
 wross part of our knowledge, which is nearest to our 
 sense, hath somewhat of certainty in it, yet when 
 we come to sublimate and collect, and infer that 
 knowledge into universal or general conclusions, or 
 to make deductions, ratiocinations, and determina- 
 tions from them, then we fail ; and hence grew the 
 difference between many philosophers. Again, the 
 knowledge that we elicit from sense, is but very 
 narrow, if it stand there: for the forms of things, the 
 matter or substance, which is the subject of nature, 
 are not easily perceptible by sense; we see the colour 
 and the figure, and the variations of them, but we 
 do from thence only make conjectures concerning 
 the forms, substances, and matter : or they are such 
 as we receive by tradition, whether historical or doc- 
 trinal ; and the former depends upon the credit of 
 the relator, which must, in the end, depend upon 
 another's credit, and so yanisheth into much uncer- 
 tainty, unless the authors be very authentic, and 
 eye-witnesses: and as to matters doctrinal, still that 
 depends upon the opinion of man, it may be, de- 
 duced upon weak convictions, disputed by persons 
 of as great judgment, and so breeds uncertainty, 
 distraction, and dissatisfaction in the knowledge. 
 
53 
 
 But in the knowledge of Christ, we have greater 
 certainty than can be found in any of all those other 
 knowledges. 1. A constant tradition and reception, 
 by millions, before he came, that the Messias was to 
 come; and since he came, that in truth he is come. 
 2. The apostles, evangelists, and disciples, that were 
 purposely chosen to be witnesses of Christ's miracles, 
 doctrine, suffering, and resurrection. 3. The mira- 
 cles he did, that are witnessed to us by a greater 
 consent of testimony than any one part of any his- 
 tory of that antiquity. 4. The purity, sanctity, and 
 justness of his doctrine, which was never attained 
 to in the teaching of the philosophers, nor ever any 
 could, in the least measure, impeach or blame. 
 
 5. The prophecies, styled most justly by the apostle, 
 a more certain evidence than the very vision of his 
 transfiguration, and a voice from heaven ; and so in 
 truth is a more undeniable argument than any is, 
 for it is not capable of any fraud or imposture. 
 
 6. The wonderful prevalence that the knowledge of 
 Christ had upon the world, and this not only de 
 
 facto, but backed with a prophecy that it should be 
 so. 7. The admirable concordance and symmetry 
 that this mystery of Christ makes in the whole me- 
 thod of the proceeding of God in the world, as will 
 be easily observable upon the collation of these 
 things together: the creation, the fall, the law, the 
 state of the Jews, the immortality of the soul, the 
 necessity of a satisfaction for sin, if pardoned, the 
 types and sacrifices, the prophecies, the rejection of 
 the Jews, the calling of the Gentiles, the progress 
 of the gospel to the newly discovered parts of the 
 world, successively as discovered : so that a due col- 
 
54 
 
 lection being made of all these, and other consi- 
 derations, it will appear that the doctrine of Christ 
 Jesus, and him crucified, is that which makes the 
 dispensation of God towards the children of men, 
 to be all of a piece, and one thing in order to 
 another; Christ the Mediator, in whom God hath 
 gathered together all things in one; made it one 
 system, body, fabric. 8. Besides the undeniable 
 prophecies, there bears witness to this truth the 
 secret powerful witness of the Spirit of God, con- 
 vincing the soul of the truth of Christ, beyond all 
 the moral persuasion in the world, beyond the con- 
 viction of demonstration to believe, to rest upon, to 
 assert it, even to the loss of life, and all things. 
 
 (2.) As in the certainty, so in the plainness and 
 easiness of the truth. The most excellent subjects 
 of other knowledge, have long windings, before a 
 man can come at them, and are of that dii'Sculty and 
 abstruseness, that as every brain is not fit to un- 
 dertake the acquiring of it, so much pains, labour, 
 industry, assiduity is required in the best of judg- 
 ments, to attain but a competent measure of it : 
 witness the studies of arithmetic, geometry, natural 
 philosophy, metaphysics, &c. wherein great labour 
 hath been taken to our hand, to make tiie passage 
 more easy, and yet still they are full of difficulty. 
 But in this knowledge it is otherwise; as it is a 
 knowledge fitted for a universal use, the bringing of 
 mankind to God, so it is fitted with a universal fit- 
 ness and convenience for that use, easy, plain, and 
 familiar : " the poor receive the gospel." And in- 
 deed the plainness of the doctrine was that which 
 made the wise world stuaible at it ; and thence it 
 
55 
 
 was bid from tlie wise and prudent, who, like Naa- 
 man with the prophet, could not be contented to be 
 healed without some great ostentation ; nor were 
 contented to think any thing could be the wisdom 
 of God, and the power oF God, unless it were some- 
 what that were abstruse, and at least conformable to 
 that wisdom they had, and were troubled to think 
 that that wisdom or doctrine tliat must be of so 
 great use and end, should fall under the capacity of 
 a fisherman, a maker of tents, a carpenter. But 
 thus it pleased God to choose a doctrine of an easy 
 acquisition : — 1. That no flesh should glory in his 
 sight. 2. That the way of salvation, being a common 
 thing propounded to all mankind, might be difficult 
 to none. " Believe, and thy sins shall be forgiven. — 
 Believe, and thou shalt be saved. — Believe, and 
 thou shalt be raised up to glory. — This is the will 
 of him that sent me, that every one that seeth the 
 Son, and believeth on him, may have eternal life, 
 and I will raise him up at the last day." 
 
 (3.) As in the certainty and plainness, so in the 
 sublimity and loftiness of the subject. And hence 
 it is that metaphysics is reckoned the most noble 
 knowledge, because conversant with, and about, the 
 noblest subject, substance considered ifi absti^acto 
 from corporeity, and particular adherents falling 
 under other sciences. But the subject of this know- 
 ledge is of the highest consideration : Almighty 
 God ; the dispensation of his counsel touching man, 
 in reference to the everlasting condition of man- 
 kind ; the true measure of just and unjust; the 
 pure will of God ; the Son of God, and his miracu- 
 lous incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension ; 
 
66 
 
 the great covenant between the eternal God and 
 fallen man made, sealed, and confirmed in Christ ; 
 his great transaction with the Father in their eter- 
 nal counsel, and since his ascension in his continual 
 intercession for man ; the means of the discharge 
 and satisfiiction of the breach of the law of God; 
 the state of the soul after death, in blessedness or 
 misery; these, and many of these, are the subject 
 of that knowledge that is revealed in the knowledge 
 of Christ, such as their very matter speaks them to 
 be of a most high nature ; the great transactions of 
 the counsel and administration of the mighty King 
 of heaven in his kingdom, over the children of men; 
 such as never fell under the discovery, or so much 
 as the disquisition of the wisest philosophers; and 
 such as the very angels of heaven desire to look 
 down into, and behold with admiration that mani- 
 fold wisdom of God, which is revealed to us, poor 
 worms, in Christ Jesus. 
 
 (4.) As the matters are wonderfully high and 
 sublime, so they are of most singular use to be 
 known. There be many pieces of learning in the 
 world, that are conversant about high subjects ; as 
 that part of natural philosophy concerning the hea- 
 ven and the soul, the metaphysics, the abstruser 
 parts of the mathematics that are not in order to 
 practice. But as it may fall out that the knowledge 
 of the subject is inaccessible with certainty, so if it 
 were ever so exactly known, it goes no farther ; 
 and when it is known, there is an end, and no more 
 use of it. Whereas many times subjects of an in- 
 ferior nature are more useful in their knowledge ; 
 as practical mathematics, mechanics, moral philo- 
 
57 
 
 sopby, policy ; but then they are of an inferior na- 
 ture, more useful, but perchance less noble. But 
 here is the privilege of the knowledge of Christ 
 Jesus, that as it is of eminence and height, so it is 
 of use and convenience, and that in the highest 
 measure ; as it is a pearl for beauty, so it is for 
 value. This knowledge is a kind of cathoUcon, of 
 universal use and convenience. In reference to this 
 life: am I in want, in contempt, in prison, in banish- 
 ment, in sickness, in death ? this knowledge gives 
 me contentedness, patience, cheerfulness, resignation 
 of myself to his will, who hath sealed my peace with 
 him, and favour from him, in the great covenant of 
 his Son. And I can live upon this, though I were 
 ready to starve, when I am assured that if it be for 
 my good and the glory of his name, I shall be de- 
 livered; if not, I can be contented, so my jewel, the 
 peace of God, and my own conscience, by the blood 
 of Christ be safe. Am I in wealth, honour, power, 
 greatness, esteem in the world ? this knowledge 
 teacheth me humility, as knowing from whom I re- 
 ceived it ; fidelity, as knowing to whom I must ac- 
 count for it; watchfulness, as knowing the honour 
 of my Lord is concerned in some measure in my 
 carriage ; and that the higher the employment is, 
 the more obnoxious I am to temptation ; from with- 
 out, from them that watch for my halting; and 
 from within, by a deceitful heart; and in all it 
 teacheth me not to over-value it, not to value myself 
 the more by it, or for it ; because the knowledge of 
 Christ Jesus presents me with a continual object of 
 a higher value, the price of the high calling of God 
 in Christ ; it teacheth me to look upon the glory of 
 c3 
 
58 
 
 the world as rust, in comparison of the glory that 
 excelleth ; and that the greatest of men is a worm, 
 in comparison of the great God. And as thus, in 
 reference to the temporal condition of my life, this 
 knowledge of Christ is of singular use, and makes a 
 man a better philosopher than the best of morals, in 
 reference thereunto ; so it guides me in the manage- 
 ment of all relations. ]. To God; it presents him 
 to me in that representation that is right, full of 
 majesty, yet full of love, which teacheth me re- 
 verence, and yet access with boldness, love, and 
 obedience. 2. Toman; justice, giving every man 
 his due, for so the knowledge of Clirist teacheth 
 me: "Do as ye would be done by;" mercy, to for- 
 give; compassion, to pity; liberality, to relieve; 
 sobriety, in the use of creatures, and yet comfort in 
 the enjoying of them ; a right use of the world, and 
 yet a contempt of it, in comparison of my hope. It 
 makes death not terrible, because a most sure pas- 
 sage of life : here I find a way to get all my sins 
 pardoned, whereas, without this, all the world can- 
 not contrive a satisfaction for one ; I find a way to 
 obtain such a righteousness as is valuable with God, 
 and perfect before him, even the righteousness of 
 God in Christ. And here I find the means, and 
 only means, to avoid the wrath to come, the terror of 
 the judgment of the great day; everlasting life unto 
 all eternity, with the blessed God, and our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, and all the blessed angels, and the spirits of 
 just men made perfect. Thus this knowledge is use- 
 ful for this life, and that which is to come, and that 
 in the highest degree ; which all other knowledije 
 comes short of, and attains not to any one of the 
 least of these ends. 
 
50 
 
 (5.) In the duration and continuance of it. Many 
 subjects of knowledge there are, wherein, by time, 
 or at least by death, the knowledge proves useless, 
 or at least the labour therein unprofitable or lost : 
 for instance, I study to be very exact in natural 
 philosophy, the mixtures or conjunctions of quali- 
 ties, elements, and a thousand such inquiries ; of 
 what use will this be, when the world with the works 
 thereof shall be burned up? or it' it should not, what 
 great benefit would this be to a separated soul ? 
 which doubtless shall either know much more there- 
 in, without any pains, and so the labour here is lost; 
 or it is such a knowledge as will be inconsiderable 
 or useless to it : and so, much more the studies of 
 policy, methods of war, mechanical experiments, 
 languages, laws, customs, histories; all these within 
 one minute after death, will be as useless as the 
 knowledge of a tailor or shoemaker; they are all 
 designed for the convenience and use of this life, 
 and with it they vanish. But here is the privilege 
 and advantage that this knowledge hath, as it serves 
 for this life, so it serves for that to come ; and the 
 more it is improved here, the more shall it be ex- 
 panded hereafter ; the higher measure thereof I 
 attain here, the greater measure of glory hereafter. 
 As the more knowledge I have of the mystery of 
 Christ here, the greater is my sight and admiration 
 of the wisdom, and goodness, and love of God ; the 
 greater my joy, complacence, and delight in that 
 sight and sense, the more my soul is carried out in 
 love, and praise, and obedience to him : so in the 
 life to come, that knowledge shall improve, and con- 
 sequently the sense of the wisdom, mercy, and love 
 
60 
 
 of God, and consequently the flame of the soul, of 
 love and praise unto him, and delight and joy in 
 him, shall increase unto all eternity. 
 
 2. As thus the knowledge of Christ Jesus and 
 him crucified, excels all other knowledge, that in 
 comparison thereof, all other knowledge, upon a 
 right judgment, is as nothing; so the soul being 
 rightly convinced thereof, sets a higher price upon 
 that knowledge, than upon all other knowledge be- 
 sides ; it prizeth it highly in itself and others, 
 reckons all other knowledge without it but a curious 
 ignorance, or an impertinent knowledge, and con- 
 tents itself abundantly in this knowledge, though it 
 want all other. 
 
 3. Because that which is of most concern requires 
 my greatest diligence to attain it, I am contented 
 and greedy to spend more time in attaining this 
 than that; and I will rob other studies and disquisi- 
 tions of the time, that otherwise might be conducible 
 to attain tlie knowledge of them, rather than those 
 studies should consume that time that should be 
 allotted to this. My time is part of that talent 
 whicli my Maker hath put into my hand, and for 
 which he will at tlie great day demand an account; 
 and if I have spent that talent in unprofitable em- 
 ployments, or in less profitable than I should, my 
 arrear is so much the greater : if I have consumed 
 my time in studying my preferment, honour, or 
 wealth, in this world; in studying how to please 
 myself with vain and unnecessary recreations; in 
 unlawful or excessive pleasures; in unlawful and 
 immoderate curiosities, which I might better have 
 spent in the study of the mystery of Christ, or the 
 
61 
 
 conformity unto that will and testament he left me, 
 or improving my interest in him, I have committed 
 two follies at once: I. Lost my talent of time and 
 opportunity, for which I am accountable as mis- 
 spent : 2. Lost that advantage which I had in my 
 hand, to improve my interest in God, and favour 
 from him, and love to him; and though I have done 
 so much, as may perchance preserve the main, yet I 
 have omitted so much as might have increased my 
 stock of grace and glory; and though my talent might 
 have gained ten, yet at most it hath gained but two. 
 And surely when death comes, the most comfortable 
 hours that can return to our memories will be those 
 we spent in improving the true, and experimental, 
 and practical knowledge of Christ Jesus, and him 
 crucified. 
 
 4. Consequently where this knowledge and the 
 other knowledge of an inferior kind interfere with 
 and hinder one another, it is the best wisdom to side 
 with this, and to deny the other, " to become a fool 
 that we may be wise." 
 
 IL Thus much concerning the first consideration ; 
 " I determined not to know any thing," viz. nothing 
 in comparison of this knowledge of Christ, nothing 
 rather than not that, "save Jesus Christ." And 
 truly, well might the apostle make all other know- 
 ledge give place to this : First, for the excellency of 
 it : Secondly, for the amplitude and compass of it ; 
 for though it be so excellent, that a small dram of it 
 is sufficient to heal and save a soul, if it be a right 
 knowledge; yet it is so large, that when the best 
 knowledge hath gone as far as it can, yet there is 
 still something beyond : one consideration of it, even 
 
62 
 
 the love of God, hath a breadth, and length, and 
 depth, and height, passing knowledge, and yet there 
 be other depths and heights in it than this ; so that 
 well might the apostle conclude as he doth, " With- 
 out controversy, great is the mystery of godliness, 
 God manifest in the flesh." Therefore, for the pre- 
 sent we shall consider, 
 
 1. The wonderful wisdom of God in contriving 
 and ordering the redemption of mankind by Jesus 
 Christ ; and it is manifested in these particulars, 
 among others : 1. Though he made man the most 
 eminent of all his visible creatures, for a most emi- 
 nent manifestation of his power and glory, and to be 
 partaker of everlasting blessedness, and yet in his 
 eternal counsel resolved to leave him in the hands of 
 his own liberty, and did most certainly foresee that 
 he would fall ; yet he did substitute and provide, 
 even from the same eternity, a means whereby he 
 might restore the honour and glory of the Creator, 
 and his creature to the blessedness and the vision of 
 his creation. 2. That he so ordered the means of 
 man's redemption, that a greater glory came even by 
 that redemption, than if man had never fallen, and 
 a greater benefit to mankind : for the latter is appa- 
 rent, that if there had been no Mediator sent, the 
 least sin that any of the sons of men had committed, 
 had been inexorably fatal to them, without any 
 means of pardon ; and, as Adam, though in his full 
 liberty and power, was misled by temptation, so 
 might he have been, or any of his posterity, though 
 he had stood that shock ; which now is admirably 
 provided against, by the satisfaction of Christ Jesus : 
 and as thus it is better with the children of men, so 
 
63 
 
 the glory of God is wonderfully advanced by it; for 
 if man had stood in his innocence, God had had only 
 the glory of his justice in rewarding liim ; or if he 
 had fallen, the glory of his justice in punishing him : 
 but there had been no room for that glorious attri- 
 bute of his mercy in forgiving, without violation to 
 his purity, truth, and justice, that glorious attribute 
 by which he so often proclaimeth himself: — " The 
 Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long 
 suflPering, abundant in goodness and truth, keeping 
 mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgres- 
 sion and sin, and that will by no means clear the 
 guilty." 3. That he so wonderfully ordered the 
 redemption of man, that all his attributes were pre- 
 served inviolable: his truth, " The day thou eatest, 
 thou shalt die :" his justice, yet his mercy : his love 
 to his creatures, yet his hatred to sin : his Son shall 
 die to satisfy his truth and justice, yet the sinner 
 shall live to satisfy his mercy : the sin shall be 
 punished to justify his purity, yet his creatures shall 
 be saved to manifest his love and goodness. And 
 thus his wisdom overruled sin, the worst of evils, to 
 the improvement of his glory, and the good of his 
 creature. 4. His wisdom is manifested in this, that 
 by the redemption of man all those ways of his 
 administration before the coming of Christ, do now 
 appear to be excellently ordered to the redemption 
 of man, and the making of it the more effectual : the 
 giving of a severe and yet most just law, which was 
 impossible for us to fulfil, shows us the wretchedness 
 of our condition ; our inability to fulfil what was just 
 in God to require, shows us the necessity of a Savi- 
 our, drives us to him, and makes this city of refuge 
 
6i 
 
 grateful and acceptable, and makes us set a value 
 upon that mercy, which so opportunely and merci- 
 fully provided a sacrifice for us in the blood of Christ, 
 and a righteousness for us in the merits of Christ, 
 and a Mediator for us in the intercession of Christ : 
 and by this means also, all those sacrifices and cere- 
 monies, and observations enjoined in the Levitical 
 law, which carried not in themselves a clear reason 
 of their institution are now, by the sending of Christ, 
 rendered significant. 5. The wisdom of God is 
 magnified and advanced in this, in fulfilling the pro- 
 phecies of the sending the Messias to satisfy for the 
 sins of mankind, against all the oppositions and 
 casualties and contingencies, that without an over- 
 ruling wisdom and guidance might have disappointed 
 it : and this done in that perfection, that not one 
 circumstance of time, place, person, concomitants, 
 should, or did fail in it; and so bearing witness to 
 the infinite truth, power, and wisdom of God in 
 bringing about his counsels in their perfection, 
 touching this great business of the redemption of 
 man, which was the very end why he was created 
 and placed upon the earth ; and managing the vil- 
 lany of men, and the craft and malice of Satan, to 
 bring about the greatest blessing that was or could 
 be provided for mankind, above, and against the 
 intention of the instrument; " Him being delivered 
 by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of 
 God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have cru- 
 cified and slain." 6. The unsearchable wisdom of 
 God is manifested in that he provided such a Media- 
 tor that was fit for so great a work, had all the world 
 consulted that God must suffer, it had been impos- 
 
6S 
 
 sible; and had all the world contributed that any 
 man, or all the men in the world should have been 
 a satisfactory sacrifice for any one sin, it had been 
 deficient. Here is then the wonderful counsel of 
 the most high God ; the sacrifice that is appointed 
 shall be so ordered, that God and man shall be con- 
 joined in one person; that so, as man, he might 
 become a sacrifice for sin; and as God, that he might 
 give a value to the sacrifice. And this is the great 
 mystery of godliness, " God manifested in the flesh." 
 2. The wonderful love of God to mankind : 1. 
 In thinking upon poor sinful creatures, to contrive a 
 way of pardon for us, and rescuing us from that 
 curse which we had justly deserved. 2. Thinking 
 of us for our good, when we sought it not, thought 
 not of it. 3. When we were enemies against God, 
 and against his very being. 4. Thinking of us not 
 not only for a pardon, but to provide for us a state 
 of glory and blessedness. 5. When that was not 
 to be obtained, saving his truth and justice, without 
 a miraculous Mediator, consisting of the divine and 
 human nature united in one person, in the person of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ ; here was love and goodness 
 of the greatest magnitude that ever was, or ever shall 
 be heard of, and sufficient to conquer our hearts into 
 admiration and astonishment : but yet it rests not 
 here. " As God so loved the world, that he gave 
 his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
 him, should not perish, but have everlasting life," 
 so the only begotten Son of God was not behind in 
 this wonderful love. No sooner (as we may with 
 reverence say) was the counsel of the Father pro- 
 pounded for the sending of his Son, but presently 
 
66 
 
 the Son saith, " Lo, I come." And now vvc will 
 consider upon what terms he must come, or else the 
 redemption of mankind must cease for ever. 1. He 
 must come and empty himself of his glory, of the 
 personal majesty, and take our nature, yet with- 
 out sin ; he must go through the natural infirmities 
 of infancy and childhood. 2. And not only must 
 he undergo this abasement, but he must undergo the 
 condition of a mean, a low birth, born of a poor virgin 
 in a stable, laid in a manger, under the reputation of a 
 carpenter's son. 3. And not only this, hut as soon 
 as he is born, must use the care of his mother to shift 
 for his life away to Egypt, to preveitt the jealousy 
 and fury of Herod. 4. And when grown up to a 
 youth, he must undergo the form of a servant, 
 become a poor carpenter to work for his living, with- 
 out any patrimony, or so much as a house to cover 
 him. 5. He comes abroad into the world to exer- 
 cise the ministry, and the prologue of his own tra- 
 gedy : still poor, despised of his own countrymen, 
 and of those that were of reputation for learning and 
 piety, scandalized under the name of an impostor, a 
 wine-biber, a friend of publicans and sinners, a 
 worker by the devil, mad, and possessed with a 
 devil : these, and the like, were his entertainments 
 in the world ; and, what is more, he was often put 
 to shift for his life ; and in fine, what the prophet 
 predicted concerning him was fulfilled to the utmost, 
 ** Despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, 
 and acquainted with grief," and all this to befal the 
 eternal Son of God under the veil of our flesh ; 
 and all this voluntarily undertaken, and cheerfully 
 undergone, even for the sake of his enemies, and 
 
C7 
 
 those very people from whom he received those in- 
 dignities. 
 
 III. But all these were but small conflicts pre- 
 paratory to the main battle. We therefore come to 
 the third consideration ; Christ Jesus, and him cru- 
 cified : there is an account of the text. As Christ 
 Jesus is the most worthy subject of all knowledge, 
 so Christ Jesus under this consideration, as crucified, 
 is that which is the fullest of wonder, admiration, 
 and love, therefore let us now take a survey of Christ 
 Jesus crucified : as that is the highest manifestation 
 of his love, so it is the eye, the life of the text ; 
 Christ above all other knowledge, and Christ cruci- 
 fied above all other knowledge of Christ. 
 
 And now a man, upon the first view, would think 
 this kind of knowledge, so much here valued, were 
 a strange kind of knowledge, and the preference of 
 this knowledge a strange mistake in the apostle ; 1. 
 Crucified. Death is the corruption of nature; and 
 such a kind of death, by crucifixion, the worst, the 
 vilest of deaths, carrying in it the punishment of the 
 lowest condition of men, and for the worst of oflPen- 
 ces; and yet that death, and such a death, should 
 be the ambition of an apostle's knowledge is won- 
 derful. 2. Christ crucified, carries in it a seeming 
 excess of incongruity; that he that was the eternal Son 
 of God, should take upon him our nature, and in 
 that nature anointed and consecrated by the Father, 
 full of innocence, purity, goodness, should die, and 
 that by such a death, and so unjustly : could this be 
 subject or matter of knowledge so desirable, as to be 
 preferred before all other knowledge, which should 
 rather seem to be a matter of so much horror, so 
 
G8 
 
 much indignation, that a man might think it rather 
 fit to be forgotten, than to be affected or known. 3. 
 Jesus crucified : a Saviour, and yet to be crucified ; 
 it seems to blast tlie expectation of salvation, when 
 the Captain of it must die, be slain, be crucified; it 
 carries in it a kind of victory of death and hell over 
 our salvation, when the instrument thereof must 
 suffer death, and such a death. When the birth 
 of Christ was proclaimed, indeed it was a matter of 
 joy, and worth the proclamation of angels, " To you 
 is born this day a Saviour, which is Christ the 
 Lord ;" and can the death of that Saviour be a thing 
 desirable to be known ? the birth of Christ seemed 
 to be the rising sun, that scattered light, hope, and 
 comfort, to all nations ; but can the setting of this 
 sun in so dark a cloud as the cross, be the choicest 
 piece of knowledge of him ? which seems, as it were, 
 to strangle and stifle our hopes, and puts us as 
 it were upon the expostulation of the dismayed dis- 
 ciples, " But we trusted it had been he who should 
 have redeemed Israel." 
 
 But for all this, this knowledge of Christ Jesus 
 crucified, will appear to be the most excellent, com- 
 fortable, useful knowledge in the world, if we shall 
 consider these particulars : I. Who it was that suf- 
 fered. II. What he suffered. III. From whom. 
 IV. How he suffered. V. For whom he suffered. 
 VI. Why, and upon what motive. Yll. For what 
 end he suffered. VIII. Wliat are the fruits and 
 benefits that accrue by that suffering. 
 
 All these considerations are wrapped up in this one 
 subject — " Christ Jesus, and him crucified." 
 
G9 
 
 I. Who it was that thus suflPered. It was Christ 
 Jesus the eternal Son of God, clothed in our flesh : 
 God and man united in one person; his manhood 
 giving him a capacity of suffering, and his Godhead 
 giving a value to that suffering ; and each nature 
 united in one person to make a complete Redeemer; 
 the Heir of all things, Heb. i. 2. the Prince of Life, 
 Acts iii. 15. the Light that lighteth every man that 
 cometh into the world, John i. 9. As touching his 
 divine nature, God over all, blessed for ever, Rom. 
 ix. 5. and as touching his human nature, full of 
 grace and truth, John i. 14. And in both the 
 beloved Son of the eternal God, in whom he pro- 
 claimed himself well pleased. But could no other 
 person be found, that might suffer for the sins of 
 man, but the Son of God ? Or if the business of 
 our salvation must be transacted by him alone, could 
 it not be without suffering, and such suffering as this? 
 No. As there was no other name ffiven under 
 heaven, by which we might be saved, nor was there 
 any found besides in the compass of the whole world, 
 that could expiate for one sin of man ; but it must 
 be the arm of the Almighty that must bring salva- 
 tion : so, if the blessed Son of God will undertake the 
 business, and become captain of our salvation, he 
 must be made perfect by suffering. And if he will 
 stand in stead of man, he must bear the wrath of his 
 Father : if he will become sin for man, though he 
 knew no sin, he must become a curse for man. 
 And doubtless this great mystery of the person that 
 suffered, cannot but be a very high and excellent 
 subject of knowledge ; so full of wonder and aston- 
 ishment that the angels gaze into it. And as it is 
 
70 
 
 a strange and wonderful thing in itself, so doubtless 
 it was ordained to high and wonderful ends, bearing 
 a suitableness unto tiie greatness of the instrument. 
 This therefore is the first consideration that a^l- 
 vanceth the excellency of this knowledge, the person 
 that was crucified. 
 
 II. What he suffered. Christ Jesus, and him 
 crucified. Though all the course of his life was a 
 continual suiiering, and the preamble or walk unto 
 his death which was the end of his life, yet this was 
 the completing of all the rest, and the tide and waves 
 of his sufferings did still rise higher and higher, till 
 it arrived in this ; and the several steps and ascents 
 unto the cross, though they began from his birth, 
 yet those that were more immediate began with the 
 preparation to the passover. The council held by 
 the chief priests and scribes, for the crucifying of 
 our Saviour, was two days before the passover. 
 And this was the first step to mount Calvary ; and 
 doubtless it was no small addition to our Saviour's 
 passion, that it was hatched in the council of the 
 chief priests and scribes, the then external visible 
 church, the husbandmen of the vineyard. But this 
 is not all ; as the visible church of the Jews is the 
 conclave where this council is formed, so Judas, a 
 member of the visible church of Christ, one of the 
 twelve, is the instrument to effect it. He contracts 
 with them for thirty pieces of silver, to betray his 
 Master unto them : and surely this could not but be 
 a great grief to our Saviour, that one of his select 
 apostles should turn apostate, and thereby bring a 
 blemish upon the rest. 
 
 Upon the day of eating the passover, called the 
 
71 
 
 first day of the feast of unleavened bread, our Savi- 
 our and his disciples keep tlie passover together in 
 Jerusalem; and there are two memorials of our 
 Saviour's passion meet; that of the passover instituted 
 by God, and the Israelites going out of Egypt ; and 
 the bread and wine after supper, instituted by our 
 Saviour, to succeed in the place of the former; and 
 each did, unquestionably, make a deep impression 
 upon our Saviour, in which he anticipated his pas- 
 sion, and lively represented to him, that breaking 
 and pouring out of his blood and soul, which he was 
 suddenly to suffer: and doubtless here began a great 
 measure of our Saviour's passion, in the apprehen- 
 sion which he had of that imminent storm which 
 he must speedily undergo. From the supper they 
 go together to the mount of Olives, and there he 
 acquaints his disciples of a speedy and sorrowful part- 
 ing they must have; the shepherd is to be smitten 
 that night, and the sheep to be scattered ; and as he 
 foresaw Judas' treachery, so he foresees Peter's infir- 
 mity ; the storm should be so violent, that Peter 
 himself, the resolute apostle, shall deny his Master 
 that night, and deny him thrice : and surely the 
 foresight of the distraction that should befal his poor 
 disciples, could not but add much to their tender 
 Master's affliction, " All ye shall be offended because 
 of me this nio;ht." 
 
 And now let us follow our blessed Lord from the 
 mount of Olives, into the garden, called by the 
 apostles Gethsemane, with the affections of love and 
 wonder, in some measure becoming such an enter- 
 tainment of our thoughts. The time that he chose 
 for his retirement, was the dead time of the night; 
 
72 
 
 a season that might the more contribute to the 
 strength of that sadness, which the pre-apprehension 
 of his imminent passion must needs occasion. The 
 place that he chose, a sohtary retired garden, where 
 nothing would interrupt or divert the intenseness of 
 his sorrow and fear; and to make both the time and 
 place the more opportune for his agony, he leaves 
 the rest of his disciples, and takes with him only 
 Peter, and the two sons of Zebedee, and to these 
 he imparts the beginning of his sorrow, that they 
 might be witnesses of it, " My soul is exceeding 
 sorrowful, even unto death ;" but yet he commands 
 their distance, " Tarry ye here, and watch with me; 
 and he went a little further." " Watch with me:" 
 the confusion of his soul was so great, that the only 
 Son of God distrusts his own human ability to bear 
 it ; and yet his submission to this terrible conflict 
 was so willing, that he leaves those whom he had 
 appointed to watch with him. " He went a little 
 further:" the three disciples had doubtless a sym- 
 pathy with their Master's sorrow, and yet the will 
 of God so orders it, that their excess of love and 
 grief must not keep their eyes waking, notwith- 
 standing it was the last request of their sorrowful 
 Master. " The disciples slept." And thus every 
 circumstance of time, place, and persons, contributes 
 to a sad and solitary opportunity for this most ter- 
 rible and dark conflict. And now in this garden 
 the mighty God puts his Son to grief, loads him 
 with our sorrows, Isa. liii. 4. withdraws and hides 
 from him the light of his favour and countenance; 
 interposes a thick and dark cloud between the 
 divinity and the human nature, darts into his soul 
 
73 
 
 the sad and sharp manifestations of his wrath; over- 
 whelms his soul with one wave after another; sends 
 into him the most exquisite pre-apprehensions of 
 those sad and severe sufferings he was the next day 
 to undergo, begins to make his soul an offering for 
 sin, and heightens his sorrow, confusion, and aston- 
 ishment, unto the uttermost: in fine, the mighty 
 God, the God of the spirits of all flesh, who knows 
 the way into the soul, and how to fill it with the 
 most sad and dark astonishment and sorrow, was 
 pleased at this time to estrange and eclipse the 
 manifestation of his light and love to his only Son, 
 as far as was possibly consistent with his secret and 
 eternal love to him-, to throw into him as sad and 
 amazing apprehensions of his wrath, as was possible 
 to be consistent with the human nature to bear; to 
 fortify and strengthen his sense of it, and sorrow 
 under it, unto the uttermost, that so his grief and 
 sorrow, and confusion of soul might be brimful, 
 and as much as the exactest constitution of a human 
 nature could possibly bear. And thus now, at this 
 time, the arm of the mighty God was bruising the 
 soul of his only Son, Isa. liii. 15. And certainly 
 the extremity of this agony within, must needs be 
 very great, if we consider the strange effects it had 
 without. I. That pathetical description that our 
 Saviour himself makes of it, " My soul is exceeding 
 sorrowful, even unto death," so sorrowful, exceeding 
 sorrowful, sorrowful unto death : and the expres- 
 sions of the evangelists, *' He began to be sorrowful, 
 and very heavy." " He began to be sore amazed, 
 and to be very heavy." It was such a sorrow as 
 brought with it an amazement, an astonisliment. 
 D 40 
 
74 
 
 2. Again, that strange request to his disciples, 
 " Tarry ye, and watch with me :" as if he feared 
 the sorrow would overwhelm him. 3. Again, his 
 prayer, and the manner of it, evidence a most won- 
 deiful perturbation within. " He fell on his face 
 and prayed:" and what was the thing he prayed? 
 " Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from 
 me;" or as Mark xiv. 36. " Abba, Father, all things 
 are possible unto thee, take away this cup from 
 me," 8:c. Although this was the very end for 
 which he came into the world : the cup which in 
 former times he reached after, and was straitened 
 till it were fulfilled; yet such a representation there 
 is thereof to his soul, that although in the will of 
 his obedience he submits; " Not my will, but thine 
 be done:" yet his nature shrinks and starts at it; 
 and he engageth Almighty God as much, and upon 
 as great arguments as was possible, to decline the 
 severity of that wrath which he was now to grapple 
 -with. 1. Upon the account of his omnipotency ; 
 " All things are possible to thee." 2. Upon the 
 account of his relation; " Abba, Father. It is not a 
 stranger that importunes thee; it is thy Son; that 
 Son -in whom thou didst proclaim thyself well- 
 pleased ; that Son, whom thou hearest always; it is 
 he that begs of thee, and begs of thee a dispensa- 
 tion from that which he most declines, because he 
 most loves thee, the terrible, unsupportable, hiding 
 thy face from me." And this was not one single 
 request, but thrice repeated, reiterated, and that 
 with more earnestness. " And again he went away 
 and prayed, and spake the same words." " And 
 being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly." 
 
75 
 
 Certainly that impression upon his soul, that caused 
 him to deprecate that for which he was born, to 
 deprecate it so often, so earnestly, must needs be a 
 sorrow and apprehension of a very terrible and ex- 
 ceeding extremity. 4. Such was the weight of his 
 sorrow, and confusion of his soul, that it even ex- 
 ceeded the strength of his human nature to bear it, 
 it was ready to dissolve the union between his body 
 and soul; insomuch, that to add farther strength 
 unto him, and capacity to undergo the measure oi 
 it, an angel from heaven is sent, not merely to com- 
 fort, but to strengthen him ; to add a farther degree 
 of strength to his human nature, to bear the weight 
 of that wrath which had in good earnest made his 
 soul sorrowful unto death, had it not been strength- 
 ened by the ministration of an angel. And this 
 assistance of the angel, as it did not allay the sorrow 
 of his soul, so neither did it intermit his importunity 
 to be delivered from the thing he felt and feared; 
 but did only support and strengthen him to bear a 
 greater burthen of it; and as the measure of his 
 strent^th was increased, so was the burthens which 
 he must undergo, increased; for after this he prayed 
 again more earnestly the third time. The supply 
 of his strength was exceeded with an addition of 
 sorrow, and the increase of his sorrow was followed 
 with the greater importunity; " He prayed more 
 earnestly." " With strong crying and tears." 
 *« And being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly, 
 and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood 
 falling down to the ground." This was his third 
 address to his Father. And here was the highest 
 pitch of our Saviour's passion in the garden; his soul 
 D 2 
 
76 
 
 was in an agony, in the greatest confusion, and ex- 
 tremity of sorrow, fear, anguish and astonishment, 
 that was possible to be inflicted by the mighty hand 
 of God, on the soul of Christ, that could be con- 
 sistent with the purity of the nature of our Saviour, 
 and the inseparable union that it had with the divine 
 nature; insomuch, that the confusion and distraction 
 of his soul under it, and the struggling and grappling 
 of his soul with it, did make such an impression 
 upon his body, that the like was never before or 
 since. The season of the year was cold. The 
 servants and officers had made a fire of coals, for it 
 was cold; it was, as near as we may guess, about 
 midnight, when the sun was at his greatest distance, 
 and obstructed in his influence by the interposition 
 of the earth; for it appears they came with lanterns 
 and torches when they apprehended him. And he 
 was brought to the high priest's hall, a little before 
 cock-crowing, after some time had been spent in 
 his examination. And yet for all this, such is the 
 agony and perturbation of our Saviour's soul, that in 
 this cold season it puts his body in a sweat, a sweat 
 of blood, great drops of blood, drops of blood falling 
 down to the ground; and certainly it was no light 
 conflict within, that caused such a strange and un- 
 heard of symptom without. Certainly the storm in 
 the soul of Christ must needs be very terrible, that 
 his blood, the seat of his vital spirits, could no 
 longer abide the sense of it, but started out in a 
 sweat of blood, and such a sweat that was more than 
 consistent with the ordinary constitution of human 
 nature. And during this time, even from the eating 
 of the passover until this third address to his Father 
 
77 
 
 was over, the sufFering of our Saviour lay princi- 
 pally, if not only, in his soul. Almighty God was 
 wounding his spirit, and making his soul an offering 
 for sin ; and though the distinct and clear manner of 
 this bruising our Saviour's soul cannot be appre- 
 hended by us, yet surely thus much we may con- 
 clude concerning it. 1. " He was made sin for us, 
 that knew no sin.'* He stood under the imputation 
 of all our sins; and though he were personally inno- 
 cent, yet judicially, and by way of interpretation, he 
 was the greatest offender that ever was; for " the 
 Lord laid upon him the iniquity of us all." 2. And 
 consequently he was under the imputation of all the 
 guilt of those sins; and stands, in relation to God 
 the righteous judge, under the same obligation to 
 whatsoever punishment the very persons of the 
 offenders were, unto the uttermost of that consis- 
 tency that it had with the inseparable union to the 
 Father: and this obligation to the punishment could 
 not but work the same effects in our Saviour, as it 
 must do in the sinner (desperation and sin excepted) 
 to wit, a sad apprehension of the wrath of God 
 against him. The purity and justice of God, which 
 hath nothing that it hates but sin, must pursue sin 
 wherever it finds it. And as when it finds sin per- 
 sonally in any man, the wrath of God will abide 
 there so long as sin abides ; so, when it finds the 
 same sin assumed by our Lord, and bound as it were 
 to him, as the wood was to Isaac when he was laid 
 upon the altar, the wrath of God could not but be 
 apprehended as incumbent upon him, till that sin 
 that by imputation lay upon him was discharged. 
 For as our Lord was pleased to be our representa- 
 
78 
 
 tive in bearing our sins, and to stand in our stead ; 
 so all these affections and motions of his soul did 
 bear the same conformity, as if acted by us: as he 
 put on the person of the sinner, so he puts on the 
 same sorrow, the same shame, the same fear, the 
 same trembling, under the apprehensions of the 
 wrath of his Father, that we must have done: and 
 as an imputed sin drew with it the obligation to 
 punishment, so it did, by necessary consequejice, 
 raise all those confusions and storms in the soul of 
 Christ, as it would have done in the person of the 
 sinner, sin only excepted. 3. In this garden as he 
 stands under the sin and guilt of our nature, so he 
 stands under the curse of our nature, to wit, a ne- 
 cessity of death, and of undergoing the wrath of 
 God, for that sin whose punishment he hath under- 
 taken for us: the former, the dissolution of his body 
 and soul, by a most accursed death ; and the latter, 
 the suffering of his soul; and this latter he is now 
 under. God is pleased to inflict upon him all the 
 manifestations of his wrath, and to fling into his 
 soul the sharpest and severest representation of his 
 displeasure that might possibly befal him under that 
 bare imputed guilt, considering the dignity of his 
 person. And surely this was more terrible to our 
 Saviour than all his corporeal sufferings were : under 
 all those not one word, no perturbation at all, but 
 " as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he 
 opened not his mouth :" but the sense of the dis- 
 pleasure of his Father, and the impressions that it 
 makes upon the soul, those he cannot bear without 
 sorrow, even unto death, without most importunate 
 addresses to be delivered from them, and most 
 
79 
 
 strange concussion and agony upon his soul and 
 body, under the sense of them. And the actual 
 manifestation of the wrath of God upon his Son, 
 consisted principally in these two things. 
 
 1. Filling the soul with strange and violent fears 
 and terrors, insomuch that he was in an amazement 
 and consternation of the spirit; the passion-psalin 
 renders it, " My heart is lik-e wax, it is melted in 
 the midst of my bowels." The God of the spirits 
 of all flesh, that knows how to grind and bruise the 
 spirit, did bruise and melt his soul within him with 
 terrors, fears, and sad pre-apprehensions of worse to 
 follow. 
 
 2. A sensible withdrawing, by hasty and switt 
 degrees, the light of the presence and favour of 
 God : he is sorrowful and troubled, and he goes to 
 his Father to desire it may pass from him, but no 
 answer; he goes again, but yet no answer; and yet 
 under the pressure and extremity, he goes again the 
 third time with more earnestness, agony, in a sweat 
 of blood, yet no, it cannot be : and this was a ter- 
 rible condition, that the light of the countenance of 
 the Father, is removed from his Son, his only Son, 
 in whom he was well pleased; his Son whom he had 
 heard always. And when he comes to the Father 
 under the greatest obligation that can be, with the 
 greatest reverence, with the greatest importunity; 
 once, and again, and a third time; and that, filled 
 within with fears, and covered without with blood, 
 and yet no answer; but all light, and access with 
 favour intercepted, with nothing but blackness and 
 silence. Certainly this was a terrible cup, yet thus 
 it was with our Saviour Christ ; the light of the 
 
80 
 
 favour of God, like the sun in an eclipse, from the 
 very institution of the sacrament, began to be 
 covered one degree after another; and in the third 
 address to the Father in the garden, it was even 
 quite gone: but at that great hour, when our 
 Saviour cried, " My God, my God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me?" then both lights, that greater light 
 of the favour of God to his only Son, together with 
 the light of the sun, seemed to be under a total 
 ecHpse; and this was that which bruised the soul of 
 our Saviour, and made it an offering for sin : and 
 this was that which wrung drops of blood from our 
 Saviour's body, before the thorns, or whips, or the 
 nails, or the spear had torn his veins. 
 
 And now, after this third application for a de- 
 liverance from the terrible cup of the wrath of God, 
 and yet no dispensation obtained, he returns to his 
 miserable comforters, the three disciples, and he 
 finds them a third time asleep; these very three 
 disciples were once the witnesses of a glorious trans- 
 figuration of our Saviour in the mount, and in an 
 ecstacy of joy and fear they fell on their faces. And 
 now they are to be witnesses of a sad transfiguration 
 of their Lord, under an agony and sweat of blood ; 
 and now under an ecstacy of sorrow they are not able 
 to watch with their Lord one hour. Our Saviour 
 calls them, but whilst they were scarce awaked, they 
 are roused by a louder alarm. " Whilst he yet 
 spake, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him 
 a great multitude, with swords and staves from the 
 high priests, with lanterns and torches :" and though 
 this was little in comparison of the storm that was in 
 our Saviour's soul, yet such an appearance at such 
 
81 
 
 a time of the night, and to a person under such a 
 sad condition, could not but be terrible to flesh and 
 blood ; especially, if we consider the circumstances 
 that attended it. 1. An apostle, one of the twelve, 
 conducts this black guard. " Whomsoever I shall 
 kiss, that same is he, hold him fast;" one that had 
 been witness of all his miracles, heard all his divine 
 sermons, acquainted with all his retirements; he, 
 whose feet his master with love and tenderness had 
 washed, who within a few hours before had supped 
 with him, at that supper of solemnity and love, the 
 passover; this is he that is on the head of this crew: 
 certainly this had in it an aggravation of sorrow to 
 our blessed Saviour, to be betrayed by a disciple. 
 2. The manner of it, he betrays him by a kiss : an 
 emblem of homage and love is made use of to be the 
 signal of scorn and contempt, ?s well as treachery 
 and villany. 3. Again, the carriage of his disciples, 
 full of rashness, and yet of cowardice; they strike a 
 servant of the high priest, and cut oflPhis ear, which, 
 had not the meekness and mercy of our Saviour pre- 
 vented by a miraculous curs, might have added a 
 blemish to the sweetness and innocence of his suf- 
 fering. He rebukes the rashness of his disciple, 
 and cures the wound of his enemy. Again, of 
 cowardice : " Then all the disciples forsook him 
 and fled;" and Peter himself, that but now had 
 professed the resolution of his love to his Master, 
 follows but afar off, in the posture and profession of 
 a stranger and a spectator; so soon was the love and 
 honour of a Master, deserved by so much love, and 
 purity, and miracles, lost in the souls of the very 
 disciples. 
 
 d3 
 
82 
 
 After this he is brought to the high-priests, the 
 solemn assembly of the then visible church of the 
 Jews, in the persons of the greatest reverence and 
 esteem among them, the high-priests, scribes, and 
 elders, and before them accused, and convicted of 
 those crimes that miofht render him odious to the 
 Jews, Romans, and all good men, blasphemy; and 
 by them pronounced worthy of death, and after this 
 exposed to the basest usage of the basest of their 
 retinue; the servants spit on him, buffet him, expose 
 him to scorn, saying, " Prophesy unto us, thou 
 Christ, who is he that smote thee?' Injuries less 
 tolerable than death, to an ingenuous nature: and, 
 to add to all the rest, Peter, instead of reproving 
 the insolencies of the abjects, and bearing a part 
 with his Master in his injuries, thrice denying his 
 Master, and that with an oath and cursiiig : so far 
 was he from owning his Master in his adversity, 
 that he denied he knew him, and this in the very 
 presence of our Saviour. " And the Lord turned 
 and looked upon Peter." Certainly that look of 
 our Saviour, as it carried a secret message of a 
 gentle reprehension, so also so much sorrow and 
 grief in our Lord, as if he should have said, ' Ah, 
 Peter, canst thou see thy Saviour thus used, and 
 wilt thou yet not own me? or if thou wilt not, yet 
 must you needs deny me; deny me thrice, deny me 
 with oaths, and with execrations ? the unkindness 
 of a disciple, and such a disciple that hast been privy 
 to my glory in my transfiguration, and to my agony 
 in the garden, cuts me deeper than the scorns and 
 derisions of these abjects ; but that is not all, this 
 apostacy of thine, tluese denials, these oaths, these 
 
83 
 
 execrations will lie heavy upon me anon, and add to 
 that unsupportable burthen that I am under: the 
 thorns and the whips, and the nails that I must anon 
 sufter, will be the more envenomed by these sins of 
 thine; and thou easiest more gall into that bitter 
 cup that I am drinking, than all the malice of mine 
 enemies could do : in fine, though thou goest out 
 and wecpest bitterly, yet these sins of thine would 
 stick unto thy soul unto eternity, if I should not 
 bear them for thee;?they cost thee some tears, but 
 they must cost me my blood. '| 
 
 The next morning the Ifigh-priests and elders 
 liold a second consultation, as soon as it was day. 
 Their malice was so solicitous, that they prevent the 
 morning sun ; and after they had again examined 
 him, and in that council charged him with blas- 
 phemy, the council and the whole multitude led 
 him bound to Pilate, and there they accuse him ; 
 and, to make their accusation the more grievous, 
 charge him with sedition against the Romans; and 
 thouo'h he had no other advocate but silence and 
 innocence, for he answered them nothing, yet the 
 judge acquits him, "I find no fault in him;" and 
 yet to shift his hands of the employment, and to 
 gratify an adversary, he sends him to Herod, and 
 his accusers follow him thither also. The chief 
 priests and scribes vehemently accuse him : Herod, 
 when he had satisfied his curiosity in the sight of 
 Jesus, to add to the scorn of our Saviour, exposeth 
 him to the derision of his rude soldiers, and clothes 
 him with a gorgeous robe, and remands him to Pi- 
 late. Thus in triumph and scorn he is sent from 
 place to place : first to Annas, then Caiaphas ; then 
 
84 
 
 convened before the council of the priests; then 
 sent into the high-priest's hall; then re-convened 
 before the council ; then sent bound to Pilate, and 
 from thence to Herod, and from him back again to 
 Pilate: and in all those translations from place to 
 place, exposed unto, and entertained with, new scorns, 
 derisions, and contempts. 
 
 At his return to Pilate, he again the second time 
 declares his innocence; that neither he nor Herod 
 found any thing worthy of death. And yet to gra- 
 tify the Jews he offers to have him scourged, whom 
 he pronounceth innocent; yet to avoid the gross 
 injustice of a sentence of death, offers to release him, 
 to observe their custom, but this could not satisfy. 
 To preserve their custom, and yet to fulfil their 
 malice, they chose the reprieve of Barrabbas, a 
 murderer, and importune the crucifying of the inno- 
 cent Jesus; and now tlie third time Pilate pro- 
 nounceth him innocent, and yet delivers liim over 
 to be crucified. The executioners did it to the ut- 
 termost ; and to add pain and scorn to his scourging, 
 put upon him a crown of thorns ; and in this dis- 
 guise of blood and contempt he brings him forth, 
 shows him to his persecutors, *' Behold the man !" 
 As if he should have said, ' You Jews that have 
 accused this man, must know I find no fault in him; 
 yet to satisfy your importunity, I have delivered him 
 over to the severest and vilest punishment next unto 
 death, scourging and scorn ; here he is, see what a 
 spectacle it is, let this satisfy your envy.' But all 
 this will not serve; there is nothing below the vilest 
 of deaths can satisfy ; all cry out, Crucify him ! and 
 when the judge professeth he finds nothing worthy 
 
85 
 
 of death, they impose a law of their own : — " We 
 have a law, and by our law he ought to die, because 
 he made himself the Son of God." But when this 
 rather made the judge the more cautious, they en- 
 gage him upon his fidelity to Cesar his master : 
 " He that maketh himself a king, speaketh against 
 Cesar:" but all this was not enough; but at length 
 the importunity of the priests and people prevailed; 
 and Pilate, who had been before warned by the 
 monition of his wife, and had three several times 
 pronounced him innocent, yet against the conviction 
 of his own conscience, to satisfy and content the 
 Jews, adds this further cruelty and injustice to what 
 he had before done; gave sentence that it should 
 be as they required ; delivered him over to that 
 cursed and servile death of crucifixion, and yet his 
 persecutors' malice and envy not satisfied ; but, after 
 his judgment, pursue the execution of it with as 
 great malice, scorn, and cruelty, as they had before 
 used in obtaining it: his crown of thorns upon his 
 head; a purple robe upon his body; the blood of 
 his scourging and thorns all covering his visage ; 
 a reed in his right hand ; the base and insolent 
 multitude with spittings, and strokes, and reproaches, 
 abusing him, till his cross be ready; and then the 
 purple robe is taken off, and he conducted to the 
 place of his execution ; and to add torment to his 
 shame, our blessed Lord, wearied with his agony 
 and long watching the night before, and from the 
 time of his apprehension hurried from place to place, 
 and his blood and spirits spent with the scourging, 
 and thorns, and blows; and which is more than all 
 this, his soul within laden with the weight of sor- 
 
86 
 
 row, and the burden of the wrath of God, which did 
 drink up and consume his spirits; yet, in this con- 
 dition, he is fain to bear his burthensome cross to- 
 wards the place of his execution, till he was able to 
 carry it no longer, but even fainted under it; and 
 then Simon of Cyrene is compelled to bear it to the 
 place. 
 
 When he comes to the place of execution, he is 
 stripped stark-naked, and his clothes afterwards 
 divided by lot among the soldiers, and his naked 
 body stretched upon the cross to the uttermost ex- 
 tension of it: "I may tell all my bones, they look 
 and stare upon me;" and at the uttermost extension 
 which the cruel executioners could make of our 
 Saviour's body, his hands and his feet nailed to that 
 cross with great nails, through those tender parts 
 full of nerves and arteries, and most exquisitely sen- 
 sible of pain. And in this condition the cross, with 
 our Saviour's body, is raised up in view of all ; and 
 that, even in this his execution, the shame and ig- 
 nominy of the manner of his death might have a 
 farther accession of scorn and reproach, he is placed 
 between two thieves that were crucified v»'ith him, 
 with an inscription of derision upon his cross, in all 
 the most universal languages of the world, Hebrew, 
 Greek, and Latin ; and the people and priests stand- 
 ing by with gestures and words of derision, and even 
 to a letter, assuming those very gestures and words 
 which were so many hundreds of years predicted of 
 his passion : — " Fie trusted in God, let him deliver 
 him, if he will have him ;" and one of those very 
 thieves that was even dying as a malefactor, yet was 
 filled with sucli a devilish spirit, that he upbraids 
 and derides him. 
 
87 
 
 And now our Saviour is under the torments and 
 shame of this cursed execution. But, though these 
 sufferings, of his body and outward man, were very 
 grievous, insomuch that tliey could not but ex- 
 tremely afflict him ; yet it is strange to see how httlo 
 he was transported under them, in all his contume- 
 lies, reproaches, and accusations, scarce a word an- 
 swered; he answered them nothing to all his abus- 
 ings, strokes, ridiculous garments, crown of thorns, 
 tearing of his body with scourging; yet not a word, 
 but " as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he 
 opened not his mouth." In all his rackings upon 
 the cross, and nailing of his limbs to it, and all the 
 anguish for the space of six hours, from the third 
 hour wherein he was crucified, until the ninth hour 
 wherein he gave up the ghost, not a word of com- 
 plaint ; but he refused those very supplies which 
 were usually given to suppress the violence of the 
 pain, vinegar and gall. But when we come to the 
 afflictions of his soul, they were of higher dimension 
 in the garden ; when no other storm was upon him, 
 but what was within him, he falls down upon his face 
 and prays ; again ; and a third time, and is amazed, 
 and sorrowful unto death, and sweats drops of 
 blood ; and doubtless whilst he was under the re- 
 proaches, and bufFettings, and whippings, and thorns, 
 he was not without a terrible and confused sadness 
 and heaviness within ; which though they did not 
 mitigate the torments of his body, yet they did in- 
 finitely exceed them : the spirit and soul is most 
 exquisitely sensible, and it is that which feels the 
 pains inflicted upon the body; certainly therefore, 
 the wounds of the spirit itself, the fountain of sense. 
 
88 
 
 must needs be exceedingly grievous; and hence it 
 was, that though all the injuries and torments of 
 our Saviour could scarce wring a complaint from 
 him, yet the weight of that wrath that lay upon his 
 soul, now made an offering for sin, did wring from 
 him those bitter and terrible cries, that one would 
 wonder should proceed from him, that was one with 
 the Father : " My God, my God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me ?" From the sixth hour to the ninth, 
 darkness was over all the land ; such a darkness as 
 occasioned astonishment, even in strangers and other 
 countries. The darkness of the world, though a 
 suitable dress for such a time, wherein the Son of 
 God must die, and the Sun of righteousness must 
 be eclipsed; yet it was nothing in comparison of that 
 dismal shadow that covered our Saviour's soul all 
 this time. About the ninth hour our Saviour cried 
 that bitter cry, " My God, my God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me ?" manifesting the depth of his sorrow, 
 and the perfect sense he had of it. " Why hast 
 thou forsaken me ?" — more could not have been 
 suffered, or been said ; every word carries in it an 
 accent of horror ! ' Thou, that art the great God, 
 from whom, and in whom, every thing hath its being 
 and comfort, surely if in thy presence is fulness of 
 joy, in thy withdrawings must be fulness of horror 
 and confusion; and yet it is thou that hast for- 
 saken me. Forsaken ! hadst thou never been with 
 me, as I had not known the blessedness of thy frui- 
 tion, so I could not have measured the extremity of 
 my loss ; the excess of the happiness that I had in 
 thy presence, adds to the excess of my misery in 
 the suffering of thy absence. Forsaken me ! not 
 
89 
 
 withdrawn thyself to a distance, but forsaken me ! 
 and forsaken me at such a time as this, when I 
 stand more in need of thy presence than ever; when 
 I am forsaken of my countrymen, of my kindred, of 
 my disciples, then to be forsaken of thee when I am 
 under the shame and pains of a cruel and cursed 
 death; under the scorns and derisions of those that 
 hate me : under the weight and pressure of all the 
 sins of the world; under the struggling with terrors 
 in ray soul, sent from thy mighty hand ; under the 
 visible approach of death, the king of terrors; under a 
 veil of darkness without, and the seeming triumph of 
 the power of darkness within, then to be forsaken, and 
 forsaken of thee, whom I had only left to be my sup- 
 port ! — forsaken me ! It is not a stranger that thou 
 forsakest; it is thy Son, thy only Son, in whom thou 
 didst heretofore proclaim thyself well-pleased; that 
 Son, whom though thou now forsakest, yet forgets 
 not his duty unto thee, nor dependence upon thee, 
 but still lays hold on thee; and though thou shakest 
 me oflP, yet I must still call upon thee, with the humble 
 confidence of my God, my God still. Why hast thou 
 forsaken me ? to be forsaken, and to be forsaken of 
 God; of my God, of him that is not only my God, 
 but my Father; and that at such a time, and yet 
 not to know why !' Oh blessed Saviour, the pro- 
 phets that spake by thine own spirit, did tell thee 
 why; and that very Psalm out of which thou takest 
 this bitter cry, doth tell thee why ; and thou thyself 
 within some (ew days or hours before, didst tell us 
 why : and dost thou now ask, why? didst thou not 
 choose even that which thou now groanest under ? 
 and wert willing to put thy soul in our souls' stead, 
 
90 
 
 and bear the sin of tliose which are now thy burden? 
 Certainly we may with all humility and reverence 
 conceive, that at the time of this bitter cry, our Sa- 
 viour's soul was, for the present, overshadowed with 
 so much astonishment and sorrow, that it did for the 
 present overpower and cover the actual and distinct 
 sense of the reason of it ; at least in that measure 
 and degree in which he suffered. This cry of our 
 Saviour was about the ninth hour, a little before his 
 death ; and having fulfilled one prophecy in this ter- 
 rible cry, contained in the very words of Psalm 
 xxii. he fulfils another; hesaith, " I thirst;" and pre- 
 sently they give him vinegar to drink. And be- 
 tween this and his death there intervene these pas- 
 sages : 1. His proclaiming to the world that the 
 work of our redemption was finished ; " When he 
 received the vinegar, he said. It is finished." 2. A 
 second cry, with a loud voice. The words are not 
 expressed of his second cry, only both evangelists, 
 Matthew and Luke, testify it was a cry with a loud 
 voice; to evidence to the world that in the very ar- 
 ticle of his giving up of the ghost, the strength of 
 nature was not wholly spent, for he cried with a loud 
 voice. 3. The comfortable resignation of his soul 
 into the hands of his Father; "Father, into thy 
 hands I commend my spirit ;" and although but 
 even now the dark storm was upon his soul, that 
 made him cry out with that loud and bitter cry, 
 yet the cloud is over, and with comfort he de- 
 livers up his soul into the hands of that God 
 whom he thought, but even now, had forsaken him. 
 It is more than probable that that bitter cry was 
 uttered at the very zenith of his pains ; and when 
 
91 
 
 he liad taken the vinegar, and proclaimed that it is 
 finished, though they were all wrapped up in a very- 
 small time, about the end of the ninth hour, yet 
 now there remained no more but for him to give up 
 his spirit, which he instantly thereupon did ; " He 
 said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave 
 up the ghost." 
 
 Now the things wonderfully observable in the 
 death of our Saviour are many. 1. That it was a 
 voluntary delivering up of his spirit; this is that 
 which he said, " No man taketh it from me, but I 
 lay it down : I have power to lay it down, and I 
 have power to take it again ; this commandment 
 have I received of my Father." And truly this vo- 
 luntary delivering up of his soul, was well near as 
 great an evidence of his divinity, as his resuming it 
 again ; so that this very delivering up of his soul 
 converted the centurion. " When he saw that he 
 so cried, and gave up the ghost, he said. Truly, this 
 man was the Son of God." Now that he thus vo- 
 luntarily gave up his spirit is evident: 1. By the 
 strength of nature that was yet upon him ; in the 
 very article of his death he cried with a loud voice. 
 2. That the thieves who were crucified at the same 
 time, died not till there was a farther violence used 
 by breaking their legs; but he expired to prevent 
 the violence of the soldiers, and to fulfil the type 
 and prophecy, " Not a bone of him shall be broken." 
 That the suddenness of his death caused admiration 
 in those that well knew the lingering course of such 
 a death ; in the centurion; in Pilate; which might 
 probably be the cause that the insolent soldier, to 
 secure the assurance of his death, pierced his side 
 
9^ 
 
 with a spear, and thereby fulfilled that other scrip- 
 ture which he never thought of: " They shall look 
 on hira whom they pierced." 
 
 Now the wonderful occurrences that accompanied 
 Dur Saviour's death were very many and considerable. 
 1. A strange and particular fulfilling of the pro- 
 phecies and types that were concerning our Saviour's 
 death, and the very individual circumstances that 
 attended it; and all to confirm our faith that this 
 was indeed the Messias, and that he was thus de- 
 livered over to death by the most certain and pre- 
 determinate counsel of God ; the time of his death 
 so exactly predicted by Daniel, chap. ix. ver. 25, 26. 
 the parallel circumstances with the paschal lamb, in 
 the nature of him, a lamb without spot, Expd. xii. 
 5. Isa. liii. 7. in the time of his delivery over to 
 death ; at the feast of the passover, and the very 
 evening wherein the passover was to be eaten : in 
 the manner of his oblation, not a bone to be broken, 
 Exod. xii. 46. Again, the manner of his death, 
 by piercing his hands and his feet, Psal. xxii. 16. 
 The very words used by him, Psal. xxii. 1. Matth. 
 xxvii. 46. the words used of him, Psal. xxii. 8. 
 Matth. xxvii. 43. the crucifying of him between 
 malefactors, Isa. liii. 12. the whippings, Isa. liii. 5. 
 the dividing rf his garments, and casting lots upon 
 his vesture, Psal. xxii. 18. the thirst of our Saviour 
 upon the cross, and the giving him vinegar and 
 gall, Psal. Ixix. 21. 
 
 2. A strange and miraculous concussion of na- 
 ture, giving testimony to the wonderful and unheard 
 of dissolution of our Saviour's body and soul; dark- 
 ness from the sixth until the ninth hour. And it 
 
93 
 
 is observable in the night wherein he was born, by 
 a miraculous light the night became as day. But 
 at his death, a miraculous darkness turned the day 
 into night for three hours. At his birth a new 
 star was created to be the lamp and guide unto the 
 place of his birth. But at his death the sun in the 
 firmament was masked with darkness, and yielded 
 not his light while the Lord of life was passing into 
 the vale of death. Again, another prodigy that ac- 
 companied the death of Christ, was an earthquake 
 that rent the rocks, and opened the graves, and 
 struck amazement and conviction into the centurion 
 that was watching him. When our Saviour was 
 entering into the earth by death, the earth trembled, 
 and so it did when he was coming out of it by his 
 resurrection. 
 
 3. Again, the graves were opened, and the " dead 
 bodies of the saints arose;" as the touch of the 
 bones of Elisha caused a kind of resurrection, so 
 our Saviour's body, new fallen to the earth, did 
 give a kind of particular resurrection to the saints* 
 bodies, to testify that by his death he had healed 
 the deadliness of the grave, and that the satisfaction 
 of sin was accomplished, when death, the wages of 
 sin, was thus conquered. 
 
 4. Again, " the vail of the temple was rent in 
 twain, from the top to the bottom." The vail was 
 that which divided the most holy place from the rest 
 of the tabernacle; and in that most holy place were 
 contained the mysterious types, the ark of the cove- 
 nant, and the mercy-seat; and within this vail only 
 the high priest entered once a year, when he made 
 an atonement for the people and for the tabernacle. 
 
94 
 
 And now at our Saviour's death, this vail was rent 
 from the top to the bottom ; and it imported divers 
 very great mysteries. 1. That now our great High 
 Priest was entering into the most holy, with his own 
 •blood, having thereby made the atonement for us. 
 '' By- his own blood he entered once into the most 
 holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us." 
 2. That the means whereby he entered into the 
 most holy place, was by rending of his humanity, 
 his soul from his body, typified by the rending of 
 that vail ; and therefore his flesh, that is, his whole 
 human nature, was the vail: — "Consecrated through 
 the vail, that is, his flesh." 3. That now, by the 
 death of Christ, all those dark mysteries vailed up 
 formerly in the most holy, the ark of the covenant, 
 and the mercy-seat, are now rendered open, and their 
 mysteries unfolded; Christ, the Mediator of the 
 covenant, and the seat of mercy and acceptation unto 
 all believers, founded and seated upon him, and 
 thereby that life and immortality, which was wrapped 
 up in the mysteries of the old covenant, and yet those 
 mysteries vailed and enclosed within the vail, are now 
 brought to light through the gospel, and the vail rent 
 in twain, that as well as the meaning of those mys- 
 teries and types under the law is discovered. 4. That 
 now the use of the ceremonial law is at an end; the 
 greatest and most sacred mystery of the tabernacle, 
 and indeed of the whole ceremonial law, was this 
 that was within the vail, the most holy place, wherein 
 were the most holy and reverend mysteries, the ark, 
 and the mercy-seat, but now the vail is rent, the 
 use abolished, the covenant of the people is given, 
 the body of Christ typified by the temple, separated, 
 
95 
 
 and so the use of the other temple, tabernacle, and 
 the holy places, vessels, instruments thereof, ceased. 
 5. That now, the kingdom of heaven, the most 
 holy place, is open unto all believers : Christ our 
 High Priest is entered in with his own blood, and 
 has not closed the vail after him, but rent it in sun- 
 der, and made and left a passage for all believers to 
 follow him, with our prayers and access to the glo- 
 rious God, and hereafter in our persons : " Having 
 therefore boldness to enter into the holiest by the 
 blood of Jesus, by a new and living way, which he 
 hath consecrated for us, through the vail, that is to 
 say, his flesh; let us draw near with a true heart." 
 And now we have gone thus far with our Lord 
 unto his death, we shall follow him to his grave. 
 Joseph of Arimathea, having an honourable mention 
 by all four evangelists; a rich man, and Jesus' dis- 
 ciple; an honourable counsellor, who waited for the 
 kingdom of God; a counsellor, a good man, and a 
 just, who had not consented to the counsel or deed 
 of the Jews, and waited for the kingdom of God ; a 
 disciple of Christ, but secretly, for fear of the Jews: 
 this man manifested his faith and love to his Master, 
 when he was in his lowest condition ; goes to Pilate 
 boldly, and begs his Saviour's body ; he wraps it in 
 a clean linen cloth, lays it in a tomb provided for 
 himself, and hewed out of the rock, and rolled a 
 great stone upon the door of the sepulchre. And 
 as by his death with the malefactors, so by his 
 burial in this rich man's sepulchre, he fulfilled both 
 parts of the prophecy, " He made his grave with 
 the wicked, and with the rich in his death." The 
 high-priests continued their malice, and their jea- 
 
96 
 
 lousy, even against the dead body of our Saviour; 
 and, to secure themselves against the suspicion of 
 his resurrection on the third day, take order for 
 making the sepulchre sure till the third day was 
 past, they seal the stone, and set a watch. And it 
 is very observable how the almighty counsel of God 
 made use of the very malice and jealousy of these 
 people for the confirming of his own truth, Christ's 
 resurrection, and our faith ; their malicious and cu- 
 rious industry to prevent the possibility of a fictitious 
 resurrection, abundantly and uncontrollably con- 
 vincing the reality of our Saviour's death and true 
 resurrection. He is laid in the grave the evening 
 of the day wherein he suffered; a stone rolled upon 
 the mouth of the grave, such as required a consider- 
 able strength to remove it; insomuch, that the wo- 
 men that came the first day of the week to embalm 
 the body, were in a great difficulty how it should 
 be removed, for it was a great stone, and this stone 
 sealed: and, as if all this were too little, and the 
 bonds of death and the grave were too weak, they 
 add a watch of soldiers to secure the body. And 
 here we leave for a while our Saviour's body in- 
 terred with spices, in a new sepulchre, wherein never 
 before any lay, hewn out of a rock in the garden. 
 That as in the garden death at first laid hold of the 
 first Adam, so in the garden the second Adam un- 
 dergoes the state of death, and gains the victory 
 over the grave : his agony in a garden, and his in- 
 terment in a garden ; his body rests in the grave, 
 and his soul translated into paradise, for so he wit- 
 nessed of himself, " This day shalt thou be with 
 me in paradise." For at the instant of his dissolu- 
 
97 
 
 lion our satisl^iction was made ; and the work of our 
 redemption so far as it depended upon his suffering, 
 finished: so that had it not been for a witness of the 
 reality and truth of his death, and of the power and 
 reality of his resurrection, and the fuIfilHng of the 
 decree of God, manifested in the Scriptures, he might 
 have re-assumed life the next instant after his death : 
 for the debt to the justice of God was fully satisfied, 
 and his continuance in the grave until the third day, 
 was not by the power of death, which he vanquished 
 in the instant of his dissolution, but a voluntary 
 subjecting of himself unto that state, for the strength- 
 ening of our faith, and the fulfilling of the Scriptures. 
 And now we come to the consideration of the 
 resurrection of our Lord, by which he was declared 
 to be the Son of God with power ; and by which 
 the fulness and completeness of our redemption by 
 liim, is abundantly manifested. He chose that time 
 to die, when the passover was slain ; that time 
 wherein Adam was created, the sixth day of the 
 week at the evening. He chose that time for his 
 body to rest in the grave, and for his soul to rest in 
 paradise, wherein his Father rested from all the great 
 work of the creation, the seventh day of the week, 
 and he chose that day to rise again, which his Fa- 
 ther chose to begin the creation, the first dav of the 
 week; that the same day might bear the inscription 
 of the creation and of the restitution of the world : 
 and that, as in that day the Lord God brought light 
 out of darkness, so this light, the light that enlight- 
 eneth every man that comes into the world, should 
 in it arise from the land of darkness, the grave : 
 " This is the day that the Lord hath made, let us 
 E 40 
 
98 
 
 be giad and rejoice therein." The time of the day 
 wherein our Lord arose, was very early in the mor- 
 ning of the first day of the week, as it began to 
 (lawn, while it was yet dark, or scarcely full light, 
 and the manner of it was full of wonder and astonish- 
 ment ; an angel from heaven comes down to draw 
 the curtain of our Saviour's grave, and with an 
 earthquake rolls away the stone that covered it ; the 
 keepers, who had watchfully observed the order of 
 their commanders, were stricken with astonishment, 
 and became as dead. Our Lord, who had power to 
 lay down his life, and power to take it up again, re- 
 assumes his body, which, though it had tasted death, 
 yet had not seen corruption, and ariseth, and thereby 
 proclaimed the completing of our redemption ; and 
 therefore not possible he should he longer holden of 
 it. His victory over death and the grave for us. 
 When our Lord raised up Lazarus, he came forth 
 of the grave bound hand and foot, with grave-clothes. 
 Though he was for the present rescued from death 
 by the power of Christ, yet he must still be subject 
 to it : he is revived, but yet riseth with the bonds of 
 death about him ; he must die again : but when our 
 Lord riseth, he shakes off his grave-clothes ; the 
 linen that wrapped his body in one place, and the 
 linen that bound his head in another. Our Lord 
 being risen, dieth no more; death hath no more power 
 over him. 
 
 And thus we have considered the Iiistory of 
 Christ's passion and resurrection, in the first and 
 second general consideration : who it was that suf- 
 
 o 
 
 i^red, and what it was he suffered. The third con- 
 sideration follows, 
 
99 
 
 III. From whom he suffered all these things : 
 the consideration of which doth higlily advance the 
 sufferings of Christ. 1. He suffered this from the 
 hands of his own Father; it was he that "bruised 
 him, put him to grief, and made his soul an offering 
 for sin." It was he that reached him out that bit- 
 ter cup to drink, *' The cup which my Father hath 
 given me, shall i not drink it ?" It was he that 
 bound that burden so close upon him, that made him 
 sweat great drops of blood in the garden, and though 
 thrice importuned for a dispensation from it, yet 
 would not grant it : it was he that, when the greatest 
 extremity of pain and sorrow lay upon him, to add 
 thereunto, withdrew the sense of his presence from 
 him, which wrung from him that bitter cry, " My 
 God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" The 
 injuries of an enemy are easily borne, but the for- 
 sakings of a father are intolerable. 2. The imme- 
 diate instruments and contrivers of his sufferincrs 
 
 o 
 
 were such as had a nearness of relation to him ; 
 people of the same nation, and his kinsmen accord- 
 ing to the flesh, the seed of Abraham ; people of his 
 own religion, that worshipped the same God, acknow- 
 ledged the same Scripture, the visible church of God, 
 and chief representatives of that church, most emi- 
 nent in place, reputation, and pretence of holiness, 
 the chief priests, and elders, and scribes : people 
 that he never had injured in his life, but obliged 
 them with his many miraculous cures, his precious 
 and heavenly instructions, his tenderest and dearest 
 love and compassion : that very Jerusalem which he 
 wept over, and would have gathered as a hen gather- 
 eth her chickens under her wings, is now that brood 
 E 2 
 
100 
 
 that seeks the destruction of him that came to save 
 them ; and in that vile competition offered to them 
 between tlieir Redeemer and murderer, chose rather 
 to save a malefactor, and to crucify their innocent 
 and merciful Saviour; and these were they that, 
 beyond the examples even of common humanity, pur- 
 sued their kinsman, their benefactor, their Redeemer, 
 with such exquisite bitterness and malice, and scorn, 
 and cruelty, that as it seemed barbarous to the hea- 
 then judge, so it hath outdone the practice of the 
 heathenish tyrants : " It was not an enemy that 
 reproached me, then would 1 have borne it^ but it 
 was thou mine acquaintance." 
 
 IV. Let us consider how he suffered all these 
 thino-s ; and this doth infinitely advance the excel- 
 lence and value of his suffering. 
 
 1. He suffered innocently. "He had done no 
 violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth ; yet 
 it pleased the Lord to bruise him :" " He made 
 him to be sin for us, who knew no sin." The com- 
 panion of his suffering justifies him : " We indeed 
 justly, but this man hath done nothing amiss." His 
 persecutors justify him; and yet their malice rested 
 not, but sought out false witnesses against him. 
 And when they themselves were convinced of their 
 own injustice, in the persecution of an innocent man; 
 yet what they could not avouch upon the account of 
 justice, they do upon the point of expedience. 
 Caiaphas gives them counsel that it was expedient 
 that one should die for the people ; Judas that 
 betrayed him, justified him, " I have sinned, in that 
 1 have betrayed the innocent blood ;" his judge 
 acquits him, and in a signal testimony of his judg- 
 
101 
 
 merit, " He took water, and washed his hands before 
 the multitude, saying, I am innocent of tlie blood of 
 this just person ;" and yet though, in testimony of 
 the satisfaction of his judgment, he washeth his 
 hands in water before them, yet he condemns the 
 person that he acquits, and stains those hands in the 
 blood of our Lord, whom yet he pronounceth inno- 
 cent. And this innocence of our Saviour was not 
 only a negative innocence, an absence of guilt, but a 
 positive innocence ; he suflPered that had not only 
 done no ill, but that had done nothing but good: he 
 healed their sick, he cured their lame, their blind, 
 their deaf, their lepers, cast out tlieir devils, and 
 which was more than all this, showed them the way 
 to eternal life, to the saving of the souls of many, 
 and the convincing of the consciences of all that 
 Jieard him, " Never man spake like this man :" and 
 well might he ask, as once he did upon another occa- 
 sion, *' For which of all my good works do ye stone 
 me ?" do ye crucify me ? ' Blessed Lord, they 
 crucify thee for all thy good works : if thou hadst 
 been guilty, possibly thou mightest have been spared 
 in the stead of Barabbas ; nay, if thou hadst been 
 only innocent, it is possible thy persecutors might 
 not have been altogether so violent against thee; 
 but thou sufFerest for the very good thou didst : it 
 was not only an act of injustice that spared not thy 
 innocence, but an improvement of envy that did 
 malign thy very goodness/ " For he knew that for 
 envy they had delivered him up." 
 
 2. He suffered all patiently. " He was oppressed, 
 and he was afflicted ; yet he opened not his mouth : 
 he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a 
 
102 
 
 sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not 
 bis mouth." Betrayed by his disciples, hurried 
 away by the black guard that apprehended him, 
 reproached and vilified by the high priests and elders, 
 forsaken and denied by his followers, stricken, spit 
 upon, and basely injured by the abjects in the high 
 priest's hall, derided by Herod, insulted by Pilate : 
 " Knowest thou not that I have power to condemn 
 thee?" whipped, clothed in scorn with purple, and 
 crowned with a crown of thorns, and in that disguise 
 saluted in scorn with " Hail King of the Jews :" 
 forced to bear the burdensome cross, which must 
 afterwards bear him; and then, as one of the basest 
 of men, and vilest of malefactors, nailed to the cross 
 with most exquisite torment ; and then, by one of 
 his companions in death, by the general rabble that 
 were about him, by the superstitious scribes and 
 elders, reproached as a blasphemer, as an impostor : 
 and yet, in the midst of all this usage scarce a word 
 spoken, and those that he spake, not savouring of 
 any impatience or complaint against his persecutors, 
 but full of mildness, gentleness, sweetness, goodness; 
 and whilst his persecutors are busy in revilings and 
 tormentings, he is as industrious to pray for them, 
 " Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." 
 3. Which is yet a higher step, he suffered all 
 this willingly and cheerfully. " No man taketh my 
 life from me, but I lay it down of myself:" "I 
 have a baptism to be baptised with, and how am I 
 straitened till it be fulfilled ?" And tliis willingness 
 of our Lord's sufferings appears in these particulars. 
 1. In that when he had power to prevent it, and to 
 rescue himself from the insolence of his persecutors, 
 
103 
 
 yet he useth it not : one angel, armed by commission 
 from God, in one night destroyed a vast army of the 
 Assyrians ; and upon the desire of our Lord, no less 
 than twelve lei^ions were readv for his "uard ; but 
 yet this must not be, " How then shall tiie scrip- 
 tures be fulfilled?" When the company that were 
 sent to apprehend him heard these words, *' I am 
 he; they went backward, and fell to the ground." 
 The same power by which they fell, could have so 
 bound them as never to have risen again ; but our 
 Lord, though he manifested tiiis power to evidence 
 his divinity, yet he useth it not. so far as to impede 
 his passion ; and, as it were, resumes and calls back 
 that manifestation of his deity, lest it might be a 
 means to interrupt the service which he was about 
 to perform for mankind : " He asked them again, 
 whom seek ye?" 2. In that he corrects and checks 
 all things that might be either an impediment of his 
 passion, or that might in the least degree betray an 
 unwillingness for him to undergo it. Doubtless there 
 was an adequate representation unto him, of the 
 dreadfulness of that conflict he was to undergo with 
 the wrath of God ; and yet upon all occasions he 
 corrects that fear, and those sad apprehensions which 
 caused his human nature to shrink at it, " Father, 
 save me from this hour : but for this cause came 1 to 
 this hour:" " Father, if it be possible, let this cup 
 pass from me : nevertheless, not as I will, hut as 
 thou wilt :" that even whilst the infirmity of his 
 human nature started at the apprehension of what he 
 was to suffer, and prayed against it, yet the freeness 
 and purity of his obedience carried him on to it, and 
 made him, as it were, unpray what he had before 
 
104 
 
 prayed : and though his soul startled at the discovery 
 of tliat dismal vale that he was now to pass through, 
 yet his love to mankind, and his resolution of obe- 
 dience to his Father's will, carried him on with wil- 
 lingness to suffer that which he was troubled to see. 
 Again, how doth he check all his impediments to 
 his suffering ? He foreseeth shame and pain ; he arms 
 himself against both : with patience against the lat- 
 ter, '• he endured the cross ;" with resolution against 
 the former, "he despised the shame." Again, 
 when Peter began to play the politician, in advising 
 our Lord to decline his suffering, how severely doth 
 he take him up? "Get thee behind me, Satan; 
 the cup which my Father hath given me to drink, 
 shall 1 not drink it ?" Again, when the forward 
 zeal of the disciple drew his sword, and cut off an 
 ear of the high priest's servant, our Lord checks the 
 assailant, and cures the wound, lest any thing should 
 retard the execution of that thing for which he came 
 into the world, or import the least argument of 
 backwardness in him to undergo it. It is very 
 observable to see how Pilate was ready to fluctuate 
 upon every occasion, and shifted from place to place, 
 and from point to point, to decline the condemnation 
 of our Lord : when he answered him nothing, he 
 marvelled, and was at a stand upon his silence. 
 When he heard his accusation to be, "because he 
 made himself the Son of God," he was the more 
 afraid, he had secret checks from his own conscience, 
 and weighty intimations from his wife, that doubt- 
 less put him to great perplexity of mind, which was 
 scarcely conquerable by the importunity of the Jews: 
 and, if in the midst of this unresolvedness and hesi- 
 
105 
 
 tancy of mind, our Saviour should in any one answer 
 of his have sent forth that majesty and strencrth of 
 conviction, that he could easily, and upon former 
 occasions had done, certainly the Jews must have 
 expected the coming of another deputy, to have been 
 the executioner of this purpose. But our Lord was 
 so far from declining this great work of our redemp- 
 tion by his blood, that he seems purposely to decline 
 the majesty of speech wherewith he could have con- 
 founded his judge ; and either answered him with 
 silence, or with such expressions as might not too 
 much affright him from the proceeding in that sad 
 employment, " Thou couldst have no povver at all 
 against me, unless it were given thee of God." 
 Though he blameth the malice of his accusers, he 
 admits and asserts the authority of his judge. 
 
 V. Let us consider, for whom he suffered a/1 this. 
 L The persons for whom he suffered, deserved it 
 not ; the expressions of the Scripture are full in this: 
 " Peradventure for a good man some would even 
 dare to die; but God commendeth his love towards 
 us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died 
 for us ;" the objects which he looked upon in his 
 suffering were, " Children of wrath," " Aliens from 
 the commonwealth of Israel, strangers from the cove- 
 nant of promise, having no hope, and without God 
 in the world." See but what monsters the best of 
 us were in our natural condition, when every power 
 of our soul and body was quite corrupted from the 
 use and end for which they were made, Rom. iii. 9, 
 10, &c. 2. As it was for those that deserved it 
 not, nor any deliverance by it, so it was for a com- 
 pany of creatures that were no way solicitous for, 
 E 3 
 
106 
 
 nor sought after redemption ; such as were ignorant 
 of their own misery, and no way endeavouring after 
 mercy. Thus " he was found of them that sought 
 him not ;" and surely little seeking could be found 
 of such as were in such a condition, " Dead in tres- 
 passes and sins." 3. Not only for those that neither 
 deserved nor sought after deliverance, but his suffer- 
 ings were for those that were enemies : '• If when 
 we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the 
 death of his Son :" " And you that were sometimes 
 alienated, and enemies in your mind by wicked 
 works, yet now hath he reconciled." And the enmity 
 was so perfect, that it corrupted the best habits of 
 our minds, and turned them into an abstracted kind 
 of enmity ; the very wisdom of the flesh, *' earthly, 
 sensual, and devilish." So that there was not only 
 in our nature an absence of any good that might 
 move God to do any thing for us, and an absence of 
 that life that might be solicitous for itself; but there 
 was a positive malignity in our nature against that 
 God that should pardon, against that Christ that 
 should satisfy, against that grace and Spirit that 
 should apply ; we were actuated with those vile 
 affections and lusts, that looked upon a Saviour with 
 no less aversion and spite than those devils did, that 
 cried out of the possessed man, " Art thou come 
 to torment us before our time ?" And yet for 
 these, and such as these, our Saviour died : nay, 
 some of these who had actually their hands in his 
 blood, found the efficacy of that very blood whicli 
 they shed, not crying for revenge against them, but 
 for mercy for them, and healing those who had 
 cruelly spilled it; the efficacy of that blessed prayer 
 
107 
 
 of his, " Father, forgive them, they know not what 
 they do," within some few months after his death 
 did first wound their hearts with a sense of their 
 guilt, and then healed them with the infusion of his 
 blood, Acts ii. 23, 37. 
 
 VI. From the consideration of the former parti- 
 culars, it will easily appear what was the motive 
 of this great work. We have seen in the creature 
 nothing but sin, and enmity against God, and con- 
 sequently a just obligation to everlasting wrath and 
 misery: so there we can find nothing that might, 
 upon any account of merit or desert, draw out sucli 
 mercy as this. We must seek for the motive in the 
 author of it: and in him there was no necessity at 
 all to bind him to it. It was his own free will that 
 at first gave man a being, and a blessed being; and 
 when he had sinned against the law and conditions 
 of his creation, there was a necessity of justice for 
 his eternal punishment, but no necessity at all for 
 his restitution. God makes all things for his glory, 
 not because he stood in need of it; for he had in 
 himself an infinite self-sufficiency and happiness, 
 that stood not in need of the glory of his creation, 
 nor was capable of an accession by it; a.nd if it had, 
 yet the great God could have enjoyed the glory of 
 his justice, in the everlasting punishment of unthank- 
 ful man, and yet had glorious creatures enough, the 
 blessed angels, to have been the everlasting partakers 
 and admirers of his goodness: and if there had been 
 yet an absolute necessity of visible intellectual crea- 
 tures, to be the participants of his goodness, and the 
 active instruments of his glory; the same power that 
 created men at first, could have created a new genera- 
 
108 
 
 tion of men that might have supplied the defection 
 of our first parents and their descendants. What 
 then is the original of all his goodness to poor sinful 
 man, to purchase such a worthless creature at such 
 an invaluable price as the blood of the Son of God? 
 Nothing but love, free undeserved love, love that 
 loved before it was sought, that loved when it was 
 rejected : " The Lord did not set his love upon 
 you, nor choose you, because ye were more in num- 
 ber than any people; but because the Lord loved 
 you:" he loved you, because he loved you. As 
 Almighty God could not define himself by any thing 
 but himself, " I am that I am," so he can resolve 
 his love into no other motive than his love; he loved 
 you because he loved you: and here is the spring, 
 the fountain of this strange and unheard-of goodness 
 of God in Christ; nothing but the free love of God. 
 *' So God loved the world, that he gave his only 
 begotten Son," &c. " Herein is love, not that we 
 loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son 
 to be a propitiation for our sins." And that very 
 same individual love that was in the Father to send, 
 was in the Son to come, and die for us. It was he 
 that loved and washed us with his own blood; washed 
 us because he loved us. When we lay, like Ezekiel's 
 wretched infant, polluted in our blood, when no eye 
 pitied us, then this love of God passed by us, and 
 said unto us, Live ; yea, snid unto us, when we were 
 in our blood. Live: and when that life was not ac- 
 quirable for us, but by the death of the eternal Son 
 of God, then to purchase that life for us, he gave 
 his own ; and to wash us from the pollution of our 
 blood, freely shed his own. This was " the love of 
 Christ, which passeth knowledge." 
 
109 
 
 VII. Now let us consider the end and scope of 
 this admirable love of Christ; and as it looks upwards 
 towards God, so it looks downwards towards us; as 
 he was the Mediator between both, so the end of 
 his mediatorship had a respect to both. 
 
 I. In reference to God, and so the ends of our 
 Lord's sufferings were principally, 
 
 (1.) To restore unto Almighty God the active ser- 
 vice and glory of his creature. Almighty God did 
 at the first create man in such a constitution, that 
 he might, not only passively and objectively, bring 
 unto him the glory of his power and wisdom, in 
 the framing of such a creature to glorify him, as the 
 heavens, the stars, and other creatures below an 
 intellectual nature do; but to be a beholder of him- 
 self and his works, to be an observer of his will, and 
 to glorify his Maker in the admiration of his power, 
 wisdom, and goodness, and in the obedience and 
 observance of his law and will: and to his own glory, 
 had by an eternal bond annexed his creature's per- 
 fection and blessedness. Man rebelled, and therefore, 
 as he became unserviceable to the end of his crea- 
 tion, so he lost the blessedness of his condition : as 
 Christ came, and by his own blood purchased unto 
 man his blessedness, so unto God the glory and 
 service of his creature. " That we beinxj; delivered 
 out of the hands of our enemies, might serve him 
 without fear, in holiness and righteousness." " Who 
 gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from 
 all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people 
 zealous of good works." And this was the chief 
 part of that account that our Lord giveth unto his 
 Father, in that blessed prayer that he made a little 
 
110 
 
 before his passion : ** I have glorified thee on earth : 
 I have finished the work which thou gavest me to 
 do." As if he should have said, ' Thou hast 
 sent me into the world about a great and weighty 
 business, the restitution of thy fallen creatures; and 
 that therein as thy creature may partake of thy 
 goodness, so thou mayest reap the glory of thy 
 creature's service: and now behold, according to that 
 command of thine, I here return unto thee thy 
 creature healed and restored, that it may be as well 
 a monument, as a proclaimer of thy goodness and 
 glory, to all eternity.' 
 
 (2.) To manifest unto men and angels the glory 
 and infinite perfection and excellence of all his 
 blessed attributes: the glory of his wisdom in con- 
 triving, and of his power in effecting, such a deliver- 
 ance for the children of men, by a way that exceeds 
 the disquisition of men and angels; the glory of his 
 mercy, that could not have been possibly so con- 
 spicuous to mankind, if man had never fallen. In 
 the creation of man he manifested the glory of his 
 goodness, that communicated a being to him, that 
 so he might communicate his goodness to him: but 
 in the redemption of man, he manifested his mercy 
 in forgiving and healing a rebellious and miserable 
 creature: the glory of his justice, that would not 
 pardon the sin till he had a satisfaction for the sin ; 
 that would not spare the Son, whom he chose to be 
 the surety for the sinner. 
 
 2. In reference to man : the ends of our Lord's 
 sufferings were principally these — 
 
 (1.) To absolve and deliver him from guilt, the 
 consequence of sin and misery, the fruit of guilt : 
 
Ill 
 
 " In whom we have redemption through his blood, 
 the forgiveness of sins." And surely, had the fruit 
 of Christ's death rested here, it had been a great 
 degree of mercy; if we rightly weighed the heaviness 
 of the burden of guilt, the severity of the wrath of 
 God, and the extremity of that misery that doth and 
 must attend it. If a man, under the guilt and horror 
 of some hideous treason, under the severe and inex- 
 orable sentence of the laws against him, under the 
 imminent infliction of most exquisite and continuing 
 torments, should but hear of a pardon and discharge 
 from this, how welcome would it be, though the 
 residue of his life were to be spent in exile? but 
 our Lord's purchase rests not here. 
 
 (2.) To reconcile God to his creature : so that it 
 doth not only remove the eEPects of the anger of 
 God, which is punishment, which may be removed, 
 and yet the anger continuing; nor doth it only 
 remove the anger of God, and leave a man in a state 
 of indifferency, as it is between persons that never 
 were acquainted with one another ; but it is a state 
 of reconciliation : " That he might reconcile both 
 unto God in one body by the cross, having slain 
 the enmity hereby:" " God was in Christ recon- 
 ciling the world unto himself, not imputing their 
 trespasses unto them." And certainly this is a 
 great addition to the former, that God in Christ 
 should not only pass by our sins, should no longer 
 look upon us as strangers, but as persons reconciled 
 to him : and surely a soul sensible of the unhappy 
 condition of being estranged from God, how highly 
 would he prize a state of reconciliation, though it 
 were in the meanest and lowest relation ? "I am 
 
112 
 
 no more worthy to be called thy son, make me as one 
 of thy hired servants;" so that I may not be estranged 
 from thee, reconcile me unto thyself, though in the 
 condition of thy meanest servant. But the happy 
 fruit of our Lord's sufferings doth not rest here. 
 
 (3.) To restore unto us that near and blessed rela- 
 tion of being sons of God, " That we might receive 
 the adoption of sons:" '' Behold now are we the 
 sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be." This was that dear expression of our Lord 
 after his resurrection : — " Go to my brethren, and 
 tell them, 1 ascend unto my Father and your Father, 
 to my God and your God." He seems to interest 
 them in this blessed relation, in a kind of equality 
 with himself — my brethren, my Father, and your 
 Father; and the sweet and comfortable consequents 
 of this are incomparable. Is he my Father ? — then 
 I know he can pity me, as a father pitieth his chil- 
 dren. He can pardon and spare me, as a father 
 spareth his son that serves him. Is he my Father ? 
 — then whither should I go but to him for protection 
 in all my dangers, for direction in all my difficulties, 
 for satisfaction in all my doubts, for supply in all my 
 wants? This I can, with confidence, expect from a 
 poor earthly father, according to the compass of his 
 abilities: " If ye then, being evil, know how to give 
 good gifts unto your children, how much more shall 
 your Father who is in heaven give good things to 
 them that ask him?" Mercy, and compassion, and 
 love, is a virtue in a man, in an earthly father, a 
 piece of that image in God which at first he imprinted 
 in man ; and yet passion and human infirmity, as it 
 hath much weakened the habit thereof in us, so it 
 
113 
 
 may suspend the exercise therefore to a near relation; 
 but in Almighty God these virtues are in their per- 
 fection, and nothing at all in him that can remit it. 
 Mercy and tenderness are attributes which he deHghts 
 in; mercy pleaseth him; it was the great attribute 
 he proclaimed his name by, Exod. xxxiv. 6. and so 
 diffusive in his mercy, that it extends to all : ** He 
 is good to all, and his tender mercies are over all his 
 works." And not only to the just and good, but 
 even to the unkind: causing his sun to shine upon 
 the evil and the good: and surely he that hath mercy 
 and goodness for an enemy, cannot deny it unto a 
 child: " Can a mother forget her sucking child? 
 Yea, she may forget; yet will I not forget thee, 
 saith the Lord." 
 
 (4.) To restore to us a most sure, everlasting, and 
 blessed inheritance in heaven : " If a son, then an 
 heir of God through Christ." And here is the 
 completion of all ; not only to be absolved from the 
 guilt of sin, reconciled to God, put into the relation 
 of a child of God; but after all this, to be everlast- 
 ingly and unchangeably placed in a blessed condition 
 to all eternity ; and all this from the condition of a 
 most vile, sinful, lost creature, and by such a price 
 as the blood of Christ. More need not, cannot be 
 said. 
 
 VIII. And by what hath been said, it is easy to 
 see what the fruits and effects of all this are. God 
 will not be disappointed in the end of so great a 
 work, and therefore we cannot be disappointed in the 
 fruit of it; and those are either such as are enjoyed 
 in this life, or principally appropriated to that which 
 is to come. 1. Those benefits that naturally arise 
 
from Christ crucified, and are enjoyed in this life, 
 are these — 
 
 1. Justification and acceptance in the sight of 
 God ; he looks upon us as those that have satisfied 
 his justice, when his Son suffered; and as those that 
 performed his will, when his Son performed it: so 
 that as our Lord imputed our sins to our Redeemer, 
 so he imputes his righteousness unto us; and as he 
 was well pleased with him, so he was well pleased in 
 him, with as many as are received into this covenant. 
 
 2. Peace with God. This is the natural conse- 
 quence of the former : " Being justified by faith, 
 we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus 
 Christ." The only cause of breach between God 
 and his creature is removed, and peace and love re- 
 stored between them. 
 
 3. Free access unto God: for we are restored to 
 peace with him, and consequently access unto him ; 
 and indeed it is a part of that duty which he expects 
 from us: our access to him is not only our privilege, 
 as the access of a subject to his prince, or a child to 
 his father; but it is our duty, as a thing enjoined us 
 in testimony of our dependence and love to him. 
 
 4. Consequently, peace with ourselves and our 
 own conscience, and. that upon a double ground. 
 L Because our conscience is sprinkled by the blood 
 of Christ, which defaceth and obliterateth all that 
 guilt that otherwise would be continually calling 
 upon us. 2. Because conscience ever sideth with 
 God, whose vicegerent he is in the soul, and hath 
 the very same aspect, for the most part, that hea- 
 ven hath ; and therefore if it be clear above, it is 
 ordinarily quiet within ; and if God speaks peace, 
 
115 
 
 the conscience, unless distempered, doth not speak 
 trouble. 
 
 5. An assurance of a continual supply of sufficient 
 grace, to lead us through this vale of trouble, with- 
 out a final apostacy or falling from him. Were our 
 salvation in our own hands, or managed by our own 
 strength, we should utterly lose it every moment; 
 but the power, and truth, and love of God are en- 
 gaged in a covenant of the highest solemnity that 
 ever was, sealed in the blood of the Son of God, for 
 our preservation; and it shall be as impossible for us 
 to fall from that condition, as for the Almighty God 
 to be disappointed: no, his counsel and truth, the 
 constant supply of the blessed Spirit of Christ, shall 
 keep alive that seed of life that he has thrown into 
 his soul : " For his seed reraaineth in him, and he 
 cannot sin, because he is born of God." 
 
 6. Sufficient grace to preserve us from, or sup- 
 port us in, or deliver us out of, temptations. We 
 stand more in need of grace, than we do of our 
 bread, because the consequence of the want of the 
 former, is of more danger than the latter, by so 
 much as the soul is more valuable than the body. 
 If our Father is pleased to furnish us with our daily 
 bread, how shall he then deny us our daily and 
 hourly supplies of his grace ? Especially, since our 
 interest therein is founded upon the covenant made 
 in the blood of Christ : " My grace is sufficient 
 for thee." 
 
 7. A favourable acceptance of our duties, since 
 they are the performances of children; and therefore 
 not measured according to their own worth, but ac* 
 cording to the relation and affection from whence 
 they proceed. 
 
116 
 
 8. A gentle and merciful pardoning of our fail- 
 ings, even as a father pitieth and pardoneth the in- 
 firmities of a child; and though he does not dispense 
 with presumptuous offences, yet he either observes 
 not, or forgives their many infirmities. And it is 
 a privilege of high concern to us, that as in our first 
 conversion the blood of Christ washeth away a whole 
 life of sins at once; so after our conversion, the same 
 fountain stands open; whereunto we may, and must 
 resort, to cleanse our daily failings. Christ received 
 by faith in the heart, is a continual sacrifice which 1 
 may present unto the Father, for my sins committed 
 after my conversion. 
 
 9. A comfortable restitution of a just interest in 
 the creatures. When man forsook the allegiance 
 he owed to his Maker, the interest he had in the 
 creature did, as it were, revert to the Lord : and 
 though his goodness afterwards permitted him the 
 use of them ; yet it was still, as it were, upon his 
 account: and as the sons of men have a great account 
 to give unto God for their sins, so they have for his 
 creatures. Christ hath restored unto us a better 
 propriety in that, which civil right hath made ours, 
 than what we had before. 
 
 10. A comfortable and sanctified use of all con- 
 ditions : in prosperity, moderation ; in adversity, 
 contentedness; in all, sobriety. For as our Lord 
 hath purchased for us grace, to use all things aright; 
 so he hath obtained for us an inheritance, that ren- 
 ders the best the world can give us unworthy to be 
 valued, and the worst it can give us unworthy to be 
 feared, in respect of the blessedness which he hath 
 settled upon us. 
 
117 
 
 11. Consequently contempt of the world, because 
 higher matters are in my eyes, such as the best the 
 world can yield cannot equal ; nor the worst it can 
 inflict, cannot take away. All this upon, 
 
 12. A lively hope: a hope that maketh not 
 ashamed; even of that glory which my Saviour came 
 down from heaven to purchase by his blood; and 
 the assurance whereof he hath sealed with his blood, 
 " I go to prepare a place for you ; and if I go and 
 prepare a place for you, I will come again, and re- 
 ceive you unto myself, that where I am, ye may be 
 also." A hope of a blessed resurrection after death; 
 a hope of that blessed appearance of our Lord and 
 Saviour Jesus Christ; a hope of that glorious sen- 
 tence in the presence of men and angels, " Come, 
 ye blessed;" and a* hope of an everlasting state of 
 blessedness and glory in the presence of the great 
 God, and glorified saints and angels, unto all eter- 
 nity. And the efficacy of this hope in the blood of 
 Christ, brings us the victory. 
 
 1. Victory over sin: " Sin shall not have domi- 
 nion over you, for ye are not under the law, but 
 under grace :" " He that hath this hope, purifieth 
 himself, even as he is pure." 
 
 2. Victory over the world, in the best it can 
 afford us ; its flatteries and favours : these are too 
 small and inconsiderable when compared with this 
 hope; they shine like a candle in the sun; and are 
 ineffectual to win over a soul that is fixed upon this 
 hope: and victory over the worst the world can in- 
 flict: our Lord hath conquered the world in this 
 respect for us; " Be not afraid, I have overcome 
 the world :" and conquered it in us ; " This is the 
 victory that overcometh the world, even your faith." 
 
118 
 
 3. Victory over death, which now, by means of 
 this blessed hope, is stripped, as well of his terror as 
 his power: " Thus thanks be unto God, who giveth 
 us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 And now, though the nature of this argument 
 hath carried my meditations to a great height, yet 
 to avoid mistakes, some things I must subjoin. 
 
 1. That though I thus aggravate the sufferings 
 of our Lord, under the imputed guilt of the sins of 
 mankind; yet we must not think that his sufferings 
 were the same with the damned, either in duration, 
 or in kind, or in degree; for this could neither con- 
 sist with the purity of his nature, nor innocence, nor 
 dignity of liis person, nor the hypostatical union of 
 both natures in him; but he suffered as much as was 
 consistent with these considerations; and, as consi- 
 dering the dignity of his person, was equivalent to 
 the sin, and demerits of all mankind. 
 
 2. That his righteousness imputed to us, doth 
 not exempt us from acquiring a righteousness in- 
 herent in us : this vvere to disappoint the end of his 
 suffering, which was to redeem us from our vain 
 conversation, and make us a peculiar people zealous 
 of good works. 
 
 3. That this purchase of salvation by Christ for 
 believers, is not to render them idle, or secure, or 
 presumptuous; where there is such a disposition of 
 soul, it is an evident indication that it is not yet 
 truly united to Christ by true faith and love; his 
 grace is sufficient to preserve us, and always ready 
 to do it, if we do not wilfully neglect or reject it. 
 
ON THE 
 
 KNOWLEDGE 
 
 OF 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 In what precedes, we have considered the advantages 
 and benefits, which, together with Christ, we receive, 
 relating to a Christian's estate in this world, and in 
 his passage out of it. The last act of his being here, 
 if it may be called an act, is his death. And therein 
 we have considered the victory of Christ over death, 
 and the transferring of the advantages of that victory 
 to us ; whereby the fear of death, and the damage of 
 death are removed : and that which was before the 
 curse of our nature, is becoming our gain ; not simply 
 in itself; but in relation to what follows after it, 
 namely, the state and condition of thy soul and body 
 after death: which is next to be considered. 
 
 Such is the absolute perfection of God, that he 
 hath his blessedness and self-sufficiency with himself. 
 He is eternally full of his own goodness, which \s 
 essentially the same with himself, an infinite good 
 commensurate to an infinite desire, and ahvays pre- 
 
120 
 
 sent. So that nothing without himself adds any- 
 thing to him, or is desired by him, in relation to his 
 blessedness. All good comes from him, and returns 
 into him, as into that ocean from whence it pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 But all dependent beings, as they have not their 
 being from themselves, but from God; so they have 
 not their blessedness or happiness essentially in 
 themselves, because not from themselves. They are 
 vessels receptive of their good, from him that is the 
 Author of their being potential beings, not pure 
 acts : that are constituted in such a degree, that they 
 are rather passive in receiving good into them, than 
 active in filling themselves with their own good. 
 They are thin and empty, till they are filled with 
 their objects, and are diversified in the happiness or 
 unhappiness of their beings, and in the degrees of 
 either, according to the nature of the objects with 
 which they are filled, and the different degrees and 
 measures of their unions to them. 
 
 The good, suitable to an intellectual nature, must 
 first be known, before it can be desired ; and, accord- 
 ing to the position or station of such good, it works 
 dift'erently upon the soul, and the soul moves towards 
 it in a different manner. If considered merely as 
 absent, it raiseth desire; which is a reach of the soul 
 towards a union with that known good; if absent 
 and upon probable or sure grounds expected, then it 
 joins to desire, hope ; which, according to the variety 
 of the medium, upon which the expectation is 
 grounded, is the more feeble and weak, having less 
 assurance, and consequently more fear mingled with 
 it: or the more strong and firm, having a stronger 
 
121 
 
 assurance, and consequently less fear mingled with 
 it. This is a kind of a middle affection, being 
 mingled with desire to the good as absent, and de- 
 light in it as pre-apprehended, and so in some degree 
 present. The good that is expected, though it be 
 not absolutely present, yet is looked upon as in a 
 nearer conjunction to the power, than if it were not 
 at all expected. Hope hath this property or power 
 in it, that it unites an absent object, if expected, to 
 the power, by pre-apprehension, though it cannot in 
 actual fruition : and hence it is said, that faith, which 
 is in effect the firmest kind of hope, "is the substance 
 of things hoped for." It makes a kind of pre- 
 existence of the thing to itself, and fetcheth back 
 futurity to a kind of presence. But if the good be^ 
 really present, and not merely expected, then the 
 affection that is wrought in the soul is delight. 
 Though the soul be moved toward the thing it 
 enjoyeth with desire, yet the enjoyment still filleth 
 the desire. There is a continual and mutual action 
 of the desire upon the object, and of the object upon 
 the desire, and so there is a perpetual motion, and 
 yet a perpetual rest: the desire moving itself to the 
 object, and the object immediately satisfying the 
 desire, because present and enjoyed r and from that 
 mutual action of the power and the object one upon 
 the other, ariseth delight, complacency, and con- 
 tentment. 
 
 That which is the chief good' of the creature, 
 when known, cannot but work most effectually upon 
 these motions of the soul, and draw out these affec- 
 tions of the soul in the most eminent and effectual 
 measure. A small good draws out a measure of 
 F 40 
 
1^2 
 
 desire to it, hope for it, and delight in it; but still 
 in a smaller measure. For the soul must needs 
 leserve somewhat for some other good that is more 
 adequate to its power: but if the good be adequate 
 to the power, then it must of necessity draw out the 
 most intense motion of the soul to it: and conse- 
 quently the greater the good is, the greater must be 
 ttie desire of it, if absent; the hope of it, if expected: 
 the delight in it, if enjoyed : because the object is 
 not too narrow for the power, but commensurate to 
 it, and filleth it so, tbat in effect there is no residue 
 of power left to move towards any thing else but in 
 it, or at least in subordination. 
 
 The greatest good that an intellectual creature 
 can possibly have, and that which alone is commen- 
 surate to it, is to have itself filled with the manifes- 
 tation of the truth, glory, goodness, and bounty of 
 God. AH other things are too narrow to fill the 
 power and capacity of the soul. This alone being 
 infinite, is commensurate, and more than commen- 
 surate to that power, and in order to which, that 
 power, or capacity of receiving, was planted in the 
 soul, namely, to enjoy God according to that measure 
 and manner that the creature is capable of And 
 this is the true and only blessedness of man : and 
 consequently must needs draw from the soul the 
 most ardent desire, the most comfortable expectation 
 or hope, and the most absolute delight and content- 
 ment. For herein, as the soul moves towards an 
 object that is natural to it, namely, good; so it moves 
 toward it, as towards the most natural, suitable, 
 commensurate good to it, and consequently in the 
 intensest degree of its power and ability. 
 
us 
 
 Though the enjoyment of God be tlic happiness 
 and perfection of the creature, because it, and it 
 alone, fills that vacuity and capacity of the powers 
 of the soul : yet if those powers of the soul be indis- 
 posed, and disordered, incapable of that blessed ob- 
 ject; though there wants not an object to make it 
 blessed, yet there wants a means of uniting that 
 object to the soul, at least to communicate itself to 
 it in that perfect measure that may make it perfectly 
 blessed. If the sight be dim and imperfect, though 
 the object be ever so beautiful, and the medium 
 ever so light, yet the object is not united to the 
 power, at least in that perfection it should be. If 
 there be an intelligible object ever so glorious, and 
 fit to be known, yet if the understanding be dark, 
 the union is not wrought, or so perfectly wrought 
 between the understanding and the object. If the 
 object of the will be ever so amicable, adequate, 
 useful, good; yet if the will be set upon filthiness, 
 impurity, or any unworthy object ; or if any impurity 
 be mingled with it, the power of the will doth not 
 receive, or at least so genuinely receive, that good 
 that is propounded : and consequently in a soul thus 
 distempered, there cannot arise that full desire of 
 the soul after God, that comfortable hope or expec- 
 tation of the enjoyment of him, nor that actual 
 fruition of him. 
 
 Our Lord Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, 
 the Prince of peace, that came into the world to 
 restore to God the service and honour of his creature, 
 and to restore man to the fruition of his Creator, 
 and consequently to his blessedness, in order to this 
 great end, 
 
 f2 
 
124 
 
 First, Hath in some measure cured and healed 
 the distempers of our souls, and the powers of them; 
 that so they may move regularly, even in this life, 
 towards this hlessed union, the enjoyment of God 
 in our desires. 
 
 Secondly, He hath obtained for us a state of 
 perfection of soul and body after death, whereby we 
 may be fit to receive and enjoy God in perfection : 
 know him as we are known; love him, and receive 
 him. 
 
 Thirdly, He hath obtained for us a most full 
 communication of God unto man, even in the fullest 
 compass of his power and capacity to receive him in 
 that state after death. 
 
 Fourthly, He hath fully described that blessed 
 condition in the enjoyment of God in that life to 
 come, and revealed it unto us, and sealed unto us 
 the assurance of it, by the truth of God and his own 
 resurrection. 
 
 Now, because in order of nature, the act of un- 
 derstanding doth go before the motions of the will 
 and affections, to desire or hope for the object that 
 is desired or hoped for. And because, in the order 
 of nature, the thing or object that is to be known 
 hath a priority to the act of the understanding 
 whereby it is known ; though in point of execution, 
 or actual existence, the object may be future and 
 subsequent to the act whereby it is known : therefore 
 we shall, in the first place, consider the state of a 
 Christian after death, and the privilege that with 
 and by Christ he shall then receive : that so it being 
 known, it may be desired, hoped for, and in due 
 time perfectly enjoyed. 
 
125 
 
 There is therefore to be considered, a fourfold 
 state of a Christian after death — 
 
 1. The state of the soul and body from the in- 
 stant of separation and the time of his resurrection. 
 
 2. The state of the soul and body from the instant 
 of the resurrection until the judgment. 
 
 3. The state of the body and soul thus re-united 
 in the time of the judgment. 
 
 4. The state of the body and soul after judgment 
 to all eternity. 
 
 These are secrets that never lay within the reach 
 or discovery of the light of nature; " Have the gates 
 of death been opened unto thee ?" the state of that 
 region hath been locked up from the knowledge of 
 mankind in this life : and no more is discovered or 
 discoverable to us, than what it hath pleased the 
 God of nature in the Scriptures to reveal and dis- 
 cover to us : so far we may go ; farther than that, 
 we may not, cannot see : and all other conclusions, 
 farther than warranted by that light, may prove dan- 
 gerous untruths, often prove presumptuous curiosi- 
 ties, but at the best are but uncertain conjectures, 
 which want foundation enough to build our desires, 
 hopes, or expectations upon. And herein therefore 
 we must ever magnify the excellency of the Scrip- 
 tures, and the great mercy of God in giving them 
 to us, whereby those truths are discovered that are 
 of infinite concern to us, and that from the finger of 
 God himself, who alone could discover them; wherein 
 all the dispositions and conclusions of natural reason, 
 or human learning, are short and defective. Tiiis 
 is a learning that no other means can teach us but 
 divine revelation; a continent that no other map can 
 
126 
 
 describe, nor any other light can discover to us, but 
 the word of God himself: if we guide not ourselves 
 by this thread, we lose ourselves in the discourse 
 or contemplation of it. 
 
 I. Therefore, concerning the state of body and 
 soul after death, till the re-union of both in the 
 resurrection. 
 
 The word of God shows us the principles of man, 
 his body and soul : " He formed man of the dust of 
 the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath 
 of life, and man became a living soul.'* These 
 two pieces of different extractions he so closely and 
 wisely united together, that they made but one 
 piece : and so far advanced the corruptible part, the 
 body, that it was endued with an actual incorruption; 
 subject indeed to a translation, but not to a dissolu- 
 tion, corruption, or separation^ but only by the means 
 of sin. 
 
 " But sin entered into the world, and death by 
 sin" — natural death as well as eternal death. It 
 deprived the body of the interruption that the power 
 of God had annexed to it, though of its own nature 
 otherwise corruptible: and though it did not subject 
 that immortal part, the soul, to corruption or annihi- 
 lation; yet, as it stood in relation to the body, and 
 as the body and soul made but one man, so it sub- 
 jected the man to dissolution, a separation of those 
 two parts, which constituted him one reasonable 
 creature. The body became subject to corruption, 
 not annihilation; the soul to the curse, not to cor- 
 ruption ; and the body and soul, as constituting one 
 man, to death or dissolution. So then, death 
 separating these two constituent parts of man, his 
 
1^7 
 
 body and liis soul ; we will consider liow, after death, 
 the state of either stands, as to such as are truly 
 united to Christ Jesus, and to God by him. 
 
 1. As to the body : it is true, the bodyafier the 
 dissolution or separation from the soul, corrupts, and, 
 as the wise man snith, *' Returns to the earth :" 
 "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return." 
 And yet, " This flesh resteth in hope.'' The hope 
 and assurance of a resurrection to life. " Though 
 after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my 
 flesh I shall see God." And doubtless, as an evi- 
 dence and effect of this assurance, it was, that not 
 only by a natural or moral instinct, or custom, but 
 even with some mixture of religious observance it 
 was, that the ancient patriarchs took that solemn care 
 of preserving their dust. Gen. xxiii. 4. Abraham 
 takes more care for a fixed burying-place, than for a 
 fixed place of living. Gen. xlix. 29. Jacob gives a 
 charge to his sons to bury him with his fathers, Gen. 
 xlvii. 29, 30. Joseph secures, with an oath, the 
 transportation of his bones : not out of any doubt of 
 God's power to re-collect these bones, though scat- 
 tered over the world ; but to leave a kind of testi- 
 monial of that assurance of a blessed resurrection; and 
 that even in those bones there lay a depositum or 
 pledge thereof, " Destroy them not, for there is a 
 blessing in them." 
 
 But to come a little nearer to that privilege, that 
 even the bodies of such as are united to Christ, have 
 in this state of separation and seeming corruption. 
 
 (1.) Those very dead bodies, though they put on 
 corruption, and crumble into dust, yet that very dust 
 is under a special care and providence of God ; and 
 
128 
 
 as " their death is precious in his sight," so their dust 
 is not neglected. The blood of righteous Abel, 
 though spilled upon the ground, yet had a voice that 
 the God of heaven heard. And he, that while they 
 lived, " numbered the hairs of their heads," those 
 seemingly unnecessary excretions of the body, hath 
 no less care of their dust, which he hath reserved for 
 a glorious resurrection. When that evil angel would 
 have injured the deceased body of Moses, and abused 
 it, to be an instrument of superstition, or some other 
 unworthy use, an archangel was employed to prevent 
 it. And therefore if I should foresee, that by fury 
 or malice of men, or any other permission, or dispen- 
 sation of divine Providence, my body should be 
 mangled in a thousand pieces, or be dissolved into 
 smoke and ashes, and those ashes scattered into 
 the wind, or ocean : yet even in relation to this body 
 of mine, my flesh should rest in hope : because that 
 all-seeing eye of God, can follow the most subtile 
 parts of my dissolved carcass, and pursue them from 
 place to place, till they shall be lodged : and that 
 Almighty power of God, by that effectual sound of 
 the last trump, shall and will re-summon all those 
 scattered bones, and call them together from their 
 remotest dissipation, and re-unite them again in a 
 glorious resurrection. 
 
 (2.) Those very dead bodiesare not by death wholly 
 disunited from Christ. It is very plain, that by 
 faith in Christ in this life, the whole man is united 
 into Christ, and become a member of his mystical 
 body : and though the instrument whereby this 
 union is wrought, faith on our part, and the spirit 
 of Christ on his part, have their more immediate 
 
129 
 
 residence and termination in the soul ; yet by virtue 
 thereof there is wrought a communication of some 
 privileges of that union, unto the body itself, " Know 
 ye not that your bodies are the members of Christ ?" 
 *' Know ye not that your bodies are the temples of the 
 Holy Ghost ?" And therefore, though by death 
 their bodies see corruption, and return unto their 
 dust ; yet inasmuch as by the body of Christ there 
 is deposited in this dust, a kind of secret seed of im- 
 mortality, this very dust is not totally separated from 
 that union it once had with its head. And hence it 
 was, that when the blessed body of our Saviour was 
 laid in the grave, and thereby healed the deadliness 
 of it, it did, as it were, disseminate, and diffuse into 
 the body of the saints a kind of virtue or energy ; so 
 that in the resurrection of our Saviour's body, the 
 dead bodies of the saints, by secret sympathy, as it 
 were, with our Saviour's body, and in evidence of 
 that vital power, which was derived to them by vir- 
 tue of that union, as the dead body by the touch of 
 Elisha's bones, they were quickened, " and entered 
 into the holy city, and appeared unto many." 
 
 And upon this account likewise, I have a comfort 
 in death, even in relation to this body of mine, my 
 old acquaintance, which I am now laying down in 
 the dust : but though it be sown in dishonour, and 
 must turn into dust ; yet my Lord, to whom by faith 
 I am united, looks upon this dust, as that wherein 
 he owns a property, as that which was and shall be 
 a member of his own mystical body; as that which 
 is precious in his sight, and was redeemed from cor- 
 ruption by no less a price than his own death. And 
 as that which shall in a perfect union with that 
 f3 
 
130 
 
 other, though nobler part, enjoy eternal happiness, 
 and the fulness of joy for ever. And thus we shall 
 leave the body in this state of rest and hope, till the 
 second appearance of our Lord. 
 
 Secondly, Concerning the state of the soul in 
 separation after death, and the resurrection, and the 
 benefits we have therein by the union with Christ : 
 and therein so far as the word of God shovveth us, 
 so far we may and must go : if we go farther, we are 
 in the dark ; and conjectures are dangerous and 
 uncertain, and such as we cannot build any sound 
 hope or comfort upon. The hope of a Christian is 
 or should be, a lively hope, " A firm hope," and, 
 joined with confidence and assurance, an operative 
 hope, working the heart to a temper and constitution 
 suitable to it, " He that hath this hope purifieth 
 himself," hope that we may give a man a reasonable 
 account of. And such a hope as this is, must be 
 founded upon living, sound, evident principles. 
 Conjectures, and philosophical discourses of things, 
 that are not within the help of a natural medium, to 
 discover or climb up to, produce but a weak faint 
 persuasion and opinion, and therefore cannot be a 
 foundation of such a hope. It is only divine reve- 
 lation that can discover the thing in hand, or lay a 
 foundation for such a hope as makes not ashamed. 
 So far therefore as the Scriptures of God reveal unto 
 us, so far have we a sound foundation of faith and 
 hope in the matter in hand. And, from them we 
 learn, 
 
 1. That from the instant of death until the resur- 
 rection, there is a state of the separated soul ; and 
 that it hath an abiding being, and subsistence not- 
 
131 
 
 withstanding such separation ; and this will most 
 clearly appear by what follows : — 
 
 2. That that state of the soul of a true Christian, 
 is, from the instant of its separation, a state free from 
 all sin : and this freedom from sin is not only a 
 freedom from the guilt and imputation of sin (for 
 such a state the soul hath in this life) but a freedom 
 from the stain and adherence of all sin. While the 
 soul hath its residence in the body, there are two 
 contrary principles that move it, and work upon it. 
 The spirit and grace of Christ working the soul to 
 the likeness and similitude of Christ, fashioning him 
 in the heart, and forming it to the image of God : 
 and, on the other side, the sinful and fleshly appe- 
 tite struggling to retain its domination and rule over 
 the soul, and bringing it into subjection to the law 
 of sin. And from these contrary principles arise 
 a continual strife and contention in the soul : either 
 principle having some footing and ground in the 
 faculties and powers of the soul : " The flesh lust- 
 eth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh : 
 and these are contrary the one to the other; so 
 that ye cannot do the things that ye would." And 
 from hence it is, though in the best of men there be 
 a prevalence of the power of grace in the soul ; so 
 that the domination and power of the flesh be con- 
 trolled, and not only so, but the flesh is crucified, 
 brought into subjection : " They that are Christ's 
 have crucified the flesh, with the affections and lusts;" 
 yet still the flesh continues, 
 
 1. As an impediment to the full and free working 
 of the Spirit of God, or rather of the soul to move 
 according to it ; for it is clogged with a body of 
 
132 
 
 death : " The spirit is willing, but the flesh is 
 weak." The body and soul, like Mezentius' couples, 
 consisting of a dead and earthly part, as well as of a 
 living and spiritual part, whereby we cannot do the 
 thing we would. 
 
 2. Notwithstanding the prevailing power of grace 
 in the soul, the flesh continues not only a passive 
 impediment, as I may call it, but it hath still left in 
 it a counter-motion, " it lusteth against the Spirit ;'* 
 and though the Spirit of grace be the prevailing prin- 
 ciple, yet the contrary principle cannot but impede 
 and retard the power of the contrary motion though 
 it cannot altogether frustrate it : As we see when 
 the tide comes in upon a fresh river, though the tide 
 prevail, yet the contrary motion of the river doth 
 hinder and retard the tide in its motion ; though it 
 cannot conquer, yet it interrupts it. 
 
 3. And not only so, but sometimes, even in the 
 best of men, that natural corruption of the flesh, 
 which grows sullen by being overmatched with the 
 powerful work of grace upon the soul, and seems 
 dead : yet the opportunity of a temptation revives 
 that seeming dead lust that was in us, that some- 
 times it returns upon them with advantage. And so 
 "this law in the members warring a^^ainst the law of 
 the mind," by the opportunity and animation of a 
 temptation, brings us into captivity " to the law of 
 sin which is in our members." So that the best of 
 men, neglecting their guard, and being secure, have 
 been, by this law in the flesh, actuated by a tempta- 
 tion, brought into the commission of the worst of 
 sins. 
 
 So that the great hinderance to the thorough and 
 
153 
 
 perfect satisfaction of the soul in this life, is princi- 
 pally by the adherence of the body unto it; and, 
 consequently, of those lusts and passions that accom- 
 pany that body. But by death the impediment is 
 removed, the counter-motion of the flesh abolished, 
 the opportunity of temptation by it taken away, and 
 nothing doth hinder the soul from being actuated 
 according to that prevailing principle of the grace of 
 Christ, which it had in it in this life, and carries 
 with it out of this life : and in the instant of the dis- 
 solution, the whole leaven of natural corruption is 
 cleansed out of the soul : and " he that is thus dead 
 is free from sin." 
 
 In this life the grace of Christ is, as it were, 
 fashioning and moulding the soul unto his likeness : 
 and because the flesh is a great enemy unto this 
 work, our Lord's counsel is, still to weaken and 
 mortify the flesh, that hinders and interrupts the 
 energy and work of the Spirit of God: so that we 
 should as much as may be, die while we live. The 
 day of death is, as it were, the birth-day of the soul, 
 when it falls off as a seed that is ripe, and drops into 
 a place of rest, and there it spends, as it were, its 
 infancy, till it be ready for the consummation of its 
 happiness in the resurrection. But still in that 
 instant of separation, it is like the children of tri- 
 bulation, " Clothed with white robes," dipped in 
 the blood of Christ, and sanctified throughout by the 
 Spirit of Christ. 
 
 Thirdly, The soul united to Christ immediately 
 upon her separation from the body, is translated into 
 a place of rest, and enjoys a condition free from all 
 trouble, sorrow, and misery : " They rest from their 
 labours, and their works follow them.'* 
 
134 
 
 Fourthly, The soul doth not only enjoy a nega- 
 tive happiness and absence of all misery; but, in 
 the very instant of the dissolution, is translated to a 
 condition of blessedness commensurate to the capa- 
 city of the soul; and enjoys the vision of Christ in 
 glory, in a place of glory and happiness. " Lazarus' 
 soul was carried into Abraham's bosom," and there 
 did rest before the last judgment ; for the rich man's 
 brethren were then upon the earth : which, though 
 it be a parable, yet it imports the blessed state of a 
 separate soul, even before the last judgment. 
 
 And that this is so, our Saviour's words upon the 
 cross unto the crucified thief import ; " Verily I say 
 unto thee. To-day thou shalt be with me in paradise." 
 Wherein we have, first. The time; "to-day;" before 
 the resurrection. Secondly, The place ; " in para- 
 dise :" which is the very place of the blessed : that 
 which, 2 Cor. xii. 2. is called, " The third heaven," 
 verse 4. is called Paradise. And thirdly. The pre- 
 sence; "with me in paradise," where the glorious soul 
 of Christ was : " We are confident, and willing to 
 be absent from the body, and to be present with the 
 Lord." Parallel to which, " Having a desire to 
 depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better." 
 There is not a mean instant between the departure 
 from the body, and the local presence with Christ. 
 And certainly, the soul enjoying the presence of 
 Christ, cannot want the fulness of happiness. The 
 soul must needs receive a continual irradiation from 
 his glory : and continual streams of comfort and 
 delight must needs flow into the soul from his pre- 
 sence, the clear manifestation of his love and favour. 
 But yet, according to the measure of the capacity of 
 
135 
 
 the soul to receive, must needs be the measure of 
 what it receives : and therefore, doubtless, as the 
 soul, in the state of separation, cannot have the same 
 measure of perfection as it shall have in its re-union 
 in the resurrection ; so consequently it cannot receive 
 the like measure of blessedness as it then shall 
 receive. Though the blessedness be the same in 
 kind, and the same in measure, yet the soul hath 
 not the same capacity to receive it, as when it is 
 re-united perfectly to a perfect body, by which the 
 soul will be enabled to act more perfectly than it 
 did, or could in the state of separation. The soul 
 enjoys a fulness of comfort, and rest, and blessedness 
 in the presence of Christ, according to the utmost 
 capacity that it hath : but as her capacity, and the 
 excellence of her operation shall be improved in the 
 resurrection, so shall the measure of her happiness : 
 the fulness and perfection of her fruition is reserved 
 till then : " Our life is hid with Christ in God. 
 When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall 
 we appear with iiim in glory :" " Now we are the 
 sons of God ; and it doth not yet appear what vve 
 shall be : but vve know that, when he shall appear, 
 we shall be like him ; for we shall see him as he 
 is." The perfect vision of Christ is referred to 
 his last appearance ; and, consequently, the perfect 
 measure of our glory and blessedness. The recep- 
 tion of that glory into the soul, is that which doth 
 in a manner transfigure and transform the soul into 
 the same glory : and according to the measure of 
 that reception, so is the measure of that transforma- 
 tion. Here, in this life, our vision of it is, as it 
 were, in a glass, and therefore our conformity unto 
 
136 
 
 it is the less, and more imperfect ; in the state of 
 separation of the soul more is seen, and therefore the 
 soul more irradiated : but in the re-union of the soul 
 and body, the state of the soul is more perfect, and 
 the vision therefore more perfect, and consequently 
 the glory of the soul and body more perfect. " Then 
 we shall behold with open face (not in a glass as 
 here) the glory of the Lord : and so shall be changed 
 into the same image from glory to glory, as by the 
 Spirit of the Lord :" '* We shall be like him, for 
 we shall see him as he is." The seeing of Christ 
 as he is, is that which imprints a glory upon the 
 soul, as the sight of God in the mount imprinted a 
 brightness upon Moses' face : and the more per- 
 fectly we see him, the greater is our conformity to 
 him : the more we receive him, the more likeness we 
 receive unto him. Li the state of separation the 
 soul receives a clearer vision of Christ, than whilst 
 she was in the flesh ; but not so full a vision as she 
 shall in the resurrection. And therefore these 
 blessed souls. Rev. vi. 9. are said to be under the 
 altai\ So that, though they had white robes given 
 unto them, yet they were, as it were, in the court of 
 the temple : though in a state of nearness unto 
 Christ, a state of blessedness commensurate to the 
 capacity of the soul; yet not so fully and completely 
 happy as in the resurrection, when the " tabernacle 
 of God shall be with men." So that, to conclude, 
 we think, that, according to the Scriptures, though 
 the fulness and perfection of the glory of the saints 
 is reserved to the general resurrection at the second 
 appearance of Christ ; yet the blessed souls departed 
 do, in the instant of their separation, enjoy the pre- 
 
137 
 
 sence of Christ, and a glorious manifestation of his 
 glory and presence unto them, in as full a degree 
 and measure of happiness, as a separable soul is pos- 
 sibly capable of, and so much she is capable of as 
 makes her happy and glorious. And were there no 
 more but this, it were enough not only to conquer 
 the fear of death, but to make it desirable to a faith- 
 ful soul, so far as consists with our submission to the 
 will of God, and that duty of serving our generation 
 in this life, which he requires of us. 
 
 There are two things that make us hang so much 
 upon this life, namely, First, The want of faith, and 
 belief of this truth of God, namely, that the soul, in 
 the immediate instant of her separation, enjoys a state 
 of glory and blessedness. The shadow and vale of 
 death doth interpose, and hinder our souls from be- 
 holding that country which is on the other side of 
 that vale. Secondly, The adherence of our flesh, 
 which doth and must know, that in the region on 
 the other side of death, there is no room for it ; no 
 room for sensual pleasures and delights, and enjoy- 
 ments, and therefore hangs back, and cannot with 
 patience think of it ; and having in some measure 
 tainted the soul with those affections and lusts, 
 makes her also unwilling to change her condition. 
 And therefore I look upon old age as a great bles- 
 sing, even in this respect, that it wears out, and 
 weakens those strong fleshly corruptions and inclina- 
 tions, which make us so much rest upon this life: 
 and gives us opportunity, with less distraction of the 
 flesh, to entertain the hopes and expectations of the 
 blessed state of the soul after death. 
 
 II. We come to consider the state of the soul 
 
138 
 
 and body, in and from the instant of the resurrection 
 until the last judgment; and the privilege that we 
 have by Christ therein : and concerning it thus far 
 the Scriptures teach us to conclude — 
 
 1. That there shall be a resurrection of the bodies 
 of men. This appears by the Scriptures of both 
 Testaments; though more clearly in the New: our 
 Lord Jesus in the gospel " having brought life and 
 immortality to light,'' namely, that great mystery 
 of life, and the second life and immortality, which 
 was more obscurely delivered in the Old Testament, 
 Christ hath unveiled, and positively and plainly de- 
 clared the same. Balaam, though a wizard, yet by 
 what means we know not, was enlightened to see 
 many truths, and transported, even beyond himself, 
 in the acknowledgment of them : and he seems to 
 acknowledge this truth, speaking of the star of Jacob: 
 '* I shall see him, but not now." Again, Job, who 
 seems to be contemporary with that time, though 
 not of the twelve tribes, but yet of the children of 
 Abraham, had this truth by tradition unquestionable: 
 *' Though after my skin worms destroy this body, 
 yet in my flesh shall I see God." Isaiah xxvi. 19: 
 " Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead 
 body shall they arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell 
 in the dust : for thy dew is as the dew of herbs, and 
 the earth shall cast out the dead." " Thy dew is as 
 the dew of herbs;" a secret quickening quality, like 
 that of the dew of herbs, shall fall upon those dead 
 materials, and give them life : " Many of them that 
 sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to 
 everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting 
 contempt." Many, 1. importing their multitude, not 
 
139 
 
 excluding any. 2. Many, because we shall not die, 
 but we shall all be changed. 
 
 In the New Testament, this truth is more clearly 
 and distinctly asserted. Our Saviour particularly, 
 and ex proposito asserts it against the Sadducees, 
 and declares the manner of their condition to be, " as 
 the ancrels of heaven." Afjain, he describes the 
 manner of it : " He shall send his angels with a great 
 sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather together 
 his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven 
 to the other." Hence he calls them: " Children 
 of God, being children of the resurrection." And 
 it is plain, that the disciples of Christ took this as 
 an unquestionable truth. " Jesus saith unto her, 
 Thy brother shall rise again." Martha saith unto 
 him, " I know that he shall rise again in the resur- 
 rection at the last day." This great truth, asserted 
 by the Pharisees, contradicted by the Sadducees, 
 Acts xxiii. 8. and unknown to the most learned of 
 the Gentiles, Paul most excellently discovereth and 
 asserteth, in his sermon to the Athenians, enforcing 
 it from the power and justice of God : and though 
 it had but a coarse entertainment at the first, for 
 some mocked, others declined the present disquisition 
 of it, yet doubtless it was the most proper point, to 
 convince the ignorant world of; it being such a truth, 
 as must of necessity put them upon solicitous inquiries 
 of their future state, and quite change all the vain 
 decisions of the philosophers, and therefore this sub- 
 ject Paul chose the dispute upon in the academy of 
 Greece. And though the doctrine seemed at first 
 novel and incredible, yet doubtless left some jealous 
 impressions upon their minds, of the truth and con- 
 
140 
 
 sequents thereof: and that jealousy made them the 
 apter to entertain the listening to those truths, which 
 were connected with it. When in the church of 
 Corinth, this truth began to be called in question, 
 the Apostle undertakes a settled discourse of the 
 truth of it; which he evinceth by many arguments: 
 1. From the resurrection of Christ Jesus; which, 
 first, he proves by unquestionable evidence : then 
 infers — 
 
 1. The possibility of the resurrection. 
 
 2. The necessity of it. 
 
 The possibility intimated thus : If Christ be risen, 
 then it is not impossible but the same power may 
 raise up us. But Christ is risen : the former pro- 
 position is evident ; for it was no less than an omni- 
 potent power that was required to the resurrection 
 of Christ : and more than an omnipotent power is 
 not, cannot be, required to the resurrection of us. 
 The second proposition he evidenceth beyond all 
 contradiction : he instances in four several times of 
 his appearance after his death; to Cephas, to the 
 twelve disciples, to five hundred brethren at once, 
 and to himself. And as thus the possibility of our 
 resurrection stands proved by the resurrection of 
 Christ ; so, secondly, the necessity of it : Christ 
 was " declared to be the Son of God with power, by 
 the resurrection from the dead." 
 
 And the end of his mission into the world must 
 needs be some work answerable to the greatness of 
 his person, and the wonderfulness of it: certainly, 
 that the eternal Son of God should take upon him our 
 flesh, live, die, and rise again, and ascend into hea- 
 ven, could not but be for some notable end, A 
 
141 
 
 wise man never undertakes any great action but for 
 some great end answerable to it: much less certainly, 
 would the great God, the fountain of all wisdom, 
 undertake such a business as this, but for an end 
 suitable to it. Now the end of God's sending of 
 Christ into the world, is declared, " God so loved 
 the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that 
 whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but 
 have everlasting life." But if there be no resurrec- 
 tion, God shall be disappointed in this end of the 
 mission of his Son : for it is evident, that in this 
 life, little advantage is wrought for the disciples of 
 Christ. They meet with persecutions, wants, ne- 
 cessities, barbarous usage, untimely death often- 
 times : " If in this life only we have hope, we are 
 of all men most miserable. And if no resurrection, 
 then they that are fallen asleep in Christ are 
 perished." 
 
 Therefore, since the salvation of men was the end 
 of the mission of Christ into the world ; the end of 
 the Almighty and wise God, who hath infinite wis- 
 dom to contrive means to compass his own ends ; 
 infinite power to effect and bring them to pass, and 
 to remove all obstacles that may hinder the effecting 
 thereof: and since it is plain, that the salvation of 
 the servants of Christ, is not in this world, but must 
 of necessity be in some future state after this life : 
 and since neither the light of nature, nor the light 
 of Scripture, do show us any other way, to the at- 
 taining that happy condition after this life, in that 
 full and complete measure, but by the resurrection : 
 therefore there is a necessity of a resurrection, that, 
 man might not lose his happiness, nor God the glorv 
 
142 
 
 of his wisdom and power, in the redemption of man 
 by his own Son. 
 
 The next argument of the necessity of our reslir- 
 rection from the resurrection of Christ, stands in 
 the comparison of Christ and Adam together ; and 
 the relation that each have to their dependents. 
 Adam stood as a mediator of the first covenant, for 
 himself and all his seed : and hence it was, that by 
 his sin, death passed upon him, and upon all his 
 posterity. This is the scope of the Apostle here, 
 ver. 22. and more fully and at large, Rom. v. 
 12, &c. 
 
 Now the transmission of guilt and death from 
 Adam to us, rested upon a double union between 
 him and us. 1. A union by natural generation. 
 2. A union by way of representation. Both these 
 were requisite to transmit the disadvantage of his 
 sin to us. For if the former had been wanting, it 
 had been an unreasonable thing that the stipulation 
 of him to whom I had no relation, upon whom I 
 had no dependence, to whom I gave no commission, 
 should endure to my disadvantage. If the second 
 had been wanting, it had not been agreeable to that 
 rule of justice, that the Lord himself was pleased to 
 own : " The son shall not bear the iniquity of the 
 father." And because the justice of this may more 
 fully appear, and the difference between the state of 
 Adam, in relation to all his posterity, and the state 
 of a father now in relation to his children ; we may 
 consider these differences : — 
 
 1. Adam was constituted in so perfect and free a 
 condition, that he was most exquisitely fitted to be 
 the mediator of a covenant, between God and him- 
 
143 
 
 self, and all his posterity. But our parents are not 
 constituted in such a condition, they want that per- 
 fection of knowledge, and freedom of will, as was in 
 our first parents. Since the fall, the descendants of 
 Adam are corrupted in their wills, and in their judg- 
 ments ; and so not fit to be representatives for the 
 binding of their posterity, as Adam was. 
 
 2. As Adam was a representative for his pos- 
 terity for their ill, in case of disobedience; so he 
 was for their good, in case of obedience. A stock 
 of blessedness transmissible to his posterity, was de- 
 posited freely, by the free goodness of God, without 
 any desert in man, for the advantage of him and all 
 his descendants ; for it is most evident, that even in 
 the state of innocence, the law of propagation of his 
 kind, was given to man, as well as to the other 
 creatures, Gen. i. 28. So that as his posterity 
 might have had disadvantage by his fall, so they 
 might have advantage, in case he continued in his 
 integrity, namely, the transmission of that happy 
 and perfect condition that Adam had, subject never- 
 theless to a perfect liberty, as Adam was. But it is 
 not so now with us : our parents can transmit to us, 
 their posterity, nothing but a state of sin, and defect, 
 and misery ; so that, as they are unfit to be media- 
 tors, or representatives for us, in respect of their 
 defect; so it were unjust they should be such, be- 
 cause they would be necessarily mediators to our 
 disadvantage, not possibly to our advantage. 
 
 3. Again, a representative, or mediator between 
 God and man, could not be without the institution 
 and acceptation of God; he having filled our first 
 parent with such ability and equality, was pleased 
 
144 
 
 to accept him as a stipulator for himself and his 
 descendants, and constitute him such. But he hath 
 not so appointed in other descendants from him. 
 And herein we may see the justice and goodness of 
 God, who, though he be the absolute and uncon- 
 trollable Lord of all his creatures, to whom he is 
 not bound by any rule of justice; yet when he was 
 pleased to take Adam for a common stipulator, for 
 his posterity as well as himself, he fits him with 
 most exquisite purity, wisdom, and ability, such as 
 never could be over-matched by his posterity, had 
 he continued in innocence ; and puts into his hand 
 •a full stock of blessedness for him and his descen- 
 dants, before he admits him to stipulate for the good 
 or evil of his posterity. But when that fails, as it 
 doth with the descendants of Adam, his rule of jus- 
 tice is, " The son shall not bear the iniquity of the 
 father." 
 
 Thus far we see the union between Adam and 
 us, whereby, while he ate the bitter fruits, our teeth 
 are set on edge; and yet Almighty God most exactly 
 just therein. Now our Lord Christ became a se- 
 cond Adam, the mediator of the second covenant : 
 " As in Adam all die, so in Christ shall all be made 
 alive." Now, as God was pleased to put into the 
 hands of the first Adam, a stock of life and blessed- 
 ness, under a covenant for him and his posterity, 
 which were included in him by the law of natural 
 generation ; so he put into the hands of Christ, the 
 mediator of the second covenant, a stock of life and 
 blessedness for his seed, by supernatural regenera- 
 tion : " As the first Adam was made a living soul, 
 so the second was made a quickening spirit." " As 
 
U5 
 
 the Father hath life in himself, so hath he given to 
 the Son to have life in himself;" a quickening life. 
 " The Son quickeneth whom he will." Quickening 
 not only to a life of grace here, but to a life of im- 
 mortality and glory hereafter : " Whoso eateth my 
 flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and 
 I will raise him up at the last day. — As I live by 
 the Father, so he that eateth me shall live by me." 
 A life, as in the fountain, habitually there, but ac- 
 tually exercising itself in the branches united to 
 him : " I am the resurrection and the life: he that 
 believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall 
 he live." And as the life that is in the root, is 
 that which gives life to the branch, and the means 
 of deriving this life is the union between the stock 
 and the branch, and the intercepting of this life 
 from the branch, is the disunion or separation of the 
 branch from the root ; so that life of grace in the 
 soul, and of immortality in the resurrection, is by 
 virtue of this union with the root, Christ: "I am 
 the vine, ye are the branches : he that abideth in 
 me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much 
 fruit." And as the life of the branch is hid in the 
 root, so our life is hid with God in Christ. Now, 
 because union is the means of everlasting life in 
 Christ, as it was of temporal and everlasting death 
 in Adam; so we shall find between Christ and his 
 branches, a parallel union to that between Adam and 
 his posterity. 1. A union, though not by way of 
 natural generation, yet by way of supernatural re- 
 generation ; as Adam had his seed, so Christ hath 
 his seed : " He shall see his seed. — Except a man 
 be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." 
 G 40 
 
146 
 
 Born of an immortal seed : " Being born again, not of 
 corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of 
 God, which liveth and abideth for ever." Formed 
 into the image of Christ, the immortal Son of God; 
 ied witli an immortal food : " I am the living bread 
 which came down from heaven. If any man eat of 
 this bread, he shall live for ever." And this im- 
 mortality resteth upon this ground : " He that eateth 
 my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, 
 and I in him." That is, is united to me, as the 
 branch is to the root ; and that life that is in the 
 root is transmitted into the branch ; and it shall be 
 as impossible for that branch to die, as long as it 
 stands thus united, as it is impossible for the root to 
 die. 
 
 But still this is a spiritual union, a conjunction 
 of the soul and spirit with Christ. The union be- 
 tween Adam and his posterity, and between Christ 
 and his seed, agree in this, that they were both 
 unions to them as to the root ; and by virtue of 
 that union, there was a transmission of their condi- 
 tions to those that were thus united to them. Death 
 from Adam to his seed ; life by Christ to his seed. 
 Yet the manner of that union differs : that, a birth 
 of the flesh ; this, a birth of the Spirit : " That 
 which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is 
 born of the Spirit is spirit. — The words that I speak, 
 they are spirit, and they are life." This, therefore, 
 is that posterity, as I may call them, of Christ Jesus, 
 not born of the flesh, but of the Spirit ; namely, such 
 as, by his grace sent into, and everlastingly abiding 
 in their souls, are wrought to the love of God by 
 him, to the obedience of his will, to conformity to 
 
147 
 
 Christ, the image of the invisible God, in all the 
 inclinations, dispositions, and habits of their soul : 
 and so transplanted from that state of rebellion and 
 disobedience to God, into the kingdom of God, and 
 the voluntary subjection to his will, in which they 
 are preserved by the same abiding Spirit of Clirist, 
 that resides iu them, and will go along with -them 
 throufrh death. And this seed of life abidinof in 
 them, will at last quicken the body, and raise it up 
 unto eternal life, in a perpetual conjunction with the 
 soul, as it did quicken the body of Christ, and re- 
 sumed it into an inseparable blessed union with his 
 soul to all eternity. 
 
 And as thus the union between Christ and a be- 
 liever, by supernatural regeneration, stands parallel 
 to that between Adam and his posterity, by natural 
 generation ; so there is also a union of representation 
 between Christ and those that believe on hira ; 
 differing in this: that whereas Adam represented 
 his posterity without any actual choice of theirs, but 
 only as they were virtually included in him : but in 
 this representative, Christ Jesus, first, there is a vo- 
 luntary susception of his ; he freely undertakes the 
 business of his ffreat covenant between God and 
 man ; receives all good for them from him ; receives 
 and undertakes to bear all their evil from them. 
 And thus he loved us first ; and we chose not him, 
 but he chose us. But, secondly, being drawn unto 
 him — " except the Father draw him," — then we 
 run after him, and " his people become willing in 
 the day of his power." And then, as he chooseth 
 us for his redeemed, so we choose him for our Me- 
 diator ; venture our loss and gain upon his negotia- 
 g2 
 
148 
 
 tion with the Father for us ; venture our souls upon , 
 his fidehty and interest in the Father : " If we 
 perish, we perish ;" if we live, we live. Swear de- 
 pendence upon; submission unto him; obedience to 
 his command; faith in his promises. And thus he 
 becomes our Mediator, our representative with God, 
 by our own choice, though that choice of ours be 
 not wrought by our own strength. And so there is 
 wrought this civil union between Christ and the be- 
 liever, by the mutual stipulation of either : Christ 
 undertaking to be his peace-maker, and he under- 
 taking to cast himself upon him for life and for sal- 
 vation. 
 
 Now, to enforce the necessity of the resurrection 
 upon this consideration : " As in Adam all die ; so 
 in Christ shall all be made alive." Thus he was 
 ." the figure of him that was to come." The argu- 
 ment stands thus : God was pleased to give unto 
 the first Adam, a stock of immortality and blessed- 
 ness transmissible from him to his posterity ; under 
 a covenant, that if he stood in his integrity, then this 
 blessedness should be transmitted to his posterity : 
 if he broke the covenant, then, instead of blessed- 
 ness and immortality, both he and his posterity 
 should lose that blessedness and life, and become 
 subject to temporal and eternal death and misery. 
 Christ, the second Adam, made a new covenant with 
 God for his seed, for a restitution of life and blessed- 
 ness to them : and here is the difference, which is 
 ,to our advantage; the life and blessedness was not 
 restored in this life, but in a life that should succeed 
 after this. The covenant between God and our 
 first parents was more literal, and the fruit of it, a 
 
149 
 
 life here without misery, and a translation into 
 glory : the covenant in Christ more spiritual, and 
 the fruit of it, a life here, in the love of God, and a 
 resurrection after death into glory. And the re- 
 surrection of our Saviour was a pledge of our re- 
 surrection : " He became the first-fruits of them 
 that slept;" and also a cause of our resurrection. 
 We are risen together with him, by virtue of our 
 union unto him, as of the members unto the head : 
 his resurrection is ours, by virtue of our union to 
 him, by way of participation, and shall be the cause 
 of our resurrection as a personal fruition. It is not 
 consistent with the perfection of the workings of God, 
 that our head should live in glory and incorruption, and 
 yet his members be clothed with rottenness and cor- 
 ruption. Therefore, as Christ our head, in whom our 
 life is hid, hath conquered death by his resurrection; 
 so, in due time, shall we that are his members. Yet 
 " every man in his own order : Christ the first-fruits; 
 and afterwards they that are Christ's at his coming." 
 The next argument of the Apostle's, though 
 secretly intimated, is from the justice of God, who 
 is holy in all his ways, and righteous in all his 
 works. " If after the manner of men I have 
 fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it 
 me, if the dead rise not? let us eat and drink; 
 for to-morrow we die." As if he should thus say ; 
 the doctrine of Christ is a doctrine full of purity, 
 holiness and justice; such a doctrine as even the 
 heathens themselves cannot but admire; and as 
 far outgoes the exactest morals of the severest phi- 
 losophers, as theirs exceeds barbarism and licentious- 
 ness- Yet the disciples and professors of Christ 
 
150 
 
 have this legacy given by their Master, blessedness 
 hereafter, but persecution in this life. " In the 
 world ye shall have tribulation." " Whosoever 
 will be my disciple, must take up his cross, and die 
 daily, and follow me." " All that will live godly 
 in Christ Jesus must suffer persecution." And I 
 have found my Saviour's words true. " I die 
 daily." And certainly, if I should measure the ex- 
 cellency of the doctrine, by the success that the pro- 
 fessors thereof have in this life, I should prefer the 
 position of the Epicure, " Let us eat and drink; for 
 to-morrow we die." Take the advantage of the 
 pleasure, and contentment that this world affords, 
 while we have an opportunity of life; and look upon 
 death as everlasting dissolution, without expectation 
 of a future account. But if I should say thusy 
 I should plainly evidence that I have not " the 
 knowledge of God." He is a pure God, and 
 delights in what is like himself. Certainly he 
 would never suffer the true professors and prac- 
 tisers of purit}', justice, and holiness, to lie un- 
 der the worst of miseries in this life, unless he had 
 reserved to them a state of blessedness after this 
 life : " Shall not the Judge of all the world do 
 right?" And this was that great conclusion which 
 Solomon, the wisest of men made upon an exact ob- 
 servation of the variety of the dispensations of pro- 
 vidence in this life : " Sentence not speedily exe- 
 cuted acjainst an evil work. — Just men to whom it 
 happeneth according to the work of the wicked: 
 and wicked men to whom it happeneth according to 
 the work of the righteous." " The place of judg- 
 ment, that wickedness was there ; and the place of 
 
151 
 
 righteousness, that iniquity was there." " The 
 tears of the oppressed, that they had no comforter, 
 and on the side of the oppressors there was power." 
 " One event to the righteous and to the wicked. — 
 So that no man knoweth either love or hatred, by 
 all that is before him." 
 
 Upon this consideration of the most exact and 
 unmixed purity and justice of God, and yet upon 
 variety of the course of providence in this life, seem- 
 ing, as it were, to thwart and break the rule of that 
 justice, he frames his conclusion in the latter end of 
 his survey : " Let us hear the conclusion of the whole 
 matter; Fear God and keep his commandments: 
 for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall 
 bring every work into judgment, with every secret 
 thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." 
 
 The Apostle's next argument, is at once an argu- 
 ment to prove the resurrection, and an answer to 
 the objection of a naturalist: " Some will say. How 
 are the dead raised up, and with what body do they 
 come?" This objection runs thus: 'The rules and 
 experience of natural observations, tell us, that from 
 a total privation, there is no regress to the first sub- 
 sistence: how therefore shall the dead arise? If 
 the soul assume another body, it is no resurrection : 
 and to assume the same is absurd and impossible. 
 Do we not see the bodies of men mangled into 
 pieces, and some of them become meat to fowls, 
 others to beasts, others to fish, and mixed with their 
 substance? And those again, it maybe, become 
 the food of other men, turned into their own blood 
 and spirits, and it may be, become the particles of 
 another generation. And those bodies that have 
 
152 
 
 the most solemn interment, do resolve into their 
 first elements, and those very particles of this reso- 
 lution, by a thousand mutations, become parts of 
 other mixed bodies, and, it may be at last, ingre- 
 dients of the constitution of other men. A small 
 contemplation can follow the dust of the Great 
 Alexander, to some inconsiderable and low employ- 
 ment. How then shall the dead be raised, and with 
 what bodies shall they arise? If the soul shall re- 
 sume its own body, it may fall so, that it cannot be 
 done without injury to another body, that claims the 
 same privilege of a resurrection.' 
 
 This is that which made the Athenians, the seat 
 of the greatest philosophers of Greece, and the 
 chief academy in the world, to mock when they 
 heard of the resurrection; and this is that objection 
 which the Apostle here answers : and because the 
 objection is made by persons that subscribe not to 
 the authority of the Scriptures, nor to the truth of 
 the gospel, he useth another kind of medium to 
 evince the possibility and truth of the resurrection, 
 tlian what he before had used: and answers an ob- 
 jection framed upon sense and natural reason, by 
 instances and inferences drawn from the same prin- 
 ciples: by which he discovers these two things, 
 
 1. That death, though it be a total privation, 
 doth not exclude the possibility of a resurrection: 
 which answers the first part of the question, " How 
 shall the dead be raised?" 
 
 2. That though it be true, the form of the body 
 be changed, and resolved into corruption ; yet the 
 body that shall be raised shall not be subject there- 
 unto: which answers the question, " With what 
 bodies shall they arise?" 
 
153 
 
 Now touching the first ; that notwithstandhig a 
 body is deprived of that form which it hath, and 
 die; yet it is not impossible there should be a resur- 
 rection thereof. 
 
 First, It is plain, that though there might be an 
 impossibility thereof, on the part of the subject, yet 
 there is no impossibility thereof, in regard of the 
 supreme Efficient: he that made all things of nothing, 
 can much more of something make the same that it 
 was. It is easily demonstrable, that all things were 
 at first created by the supreme Efficient : and that 
 there was a first man, that had his beginning in time. 
 The Scripture shows us, how he made him of the 
 dust of the ground: and natural reason, though it 
 cannot without revelation show us the manner how, 
 yet it must most evidently conclude, that he was 
 made either of nothing, or of such a substance that 
 had in itself no disposition or power to form itself 
 into that subsistence which it afterwards had. But 
 the supreme omnipotent cause of all things formed 
 him by his power and wisdom, either out of nothing, 
 or out of such a something, as required omnipotence 
 itself to make it what it afterwards was. 
 
 But secondly, To return to the Apostle's argu- 
 ment, evidencing the power of God extending to 
 the resurrection of man, in the ordinary and most 
 obvious course of his providence: which, though it 
 be ordinary, yet it is such as, without the original 
 omnipotence of God, could never come to pass : 
 ** Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quick- 
 ened, except it die." We converse everyday with 
 wonders and miracles no less admirable, if rightly 
 considered, than many of those points of faith which 
 g3 
 
154 
 
 a naturalist will not believe. For the footsteps of 
 the omnipotence and wisdom of God, are in every 
 thing we see and hear: only here is the blindness 
 of mankind that he looks not diligently into things 
 of ordinary concurrence, but passeth them over of 
 course. If the sun should stand still but one hour, 
 it were a thing that all the world would observe, 
 and be astonished at; yet the continual motion of 
 the same is a greater miracle, if rightly consi- 
 dered, than that. And if we give ourselves to 
 the observation of things of nature, as we call them ; 
 the ordinary sort of men rest barely in sense and 
 experience. The farmer casts his corn in the 
 ground, because he finds by experience it produceth 
 a crop the next summer. And that more observant 
 rank of men, the natural philosophers' observations 
 are indeed more curious : but when all is done by 
 them, it is but a more vigilant employment of their 
 senses : and so far as their sense can carry them, so 
 far they are able to give a better account of the rea- 
 son of things than others that are less observant. 
 But where once that fails, the reasons of thing* 
 which they attempt to give, are such insipid, uncer- 
 tain conjectures, that nothing of truth can be built 
 upon them. The very inquiries that might be made 
 upon a fly, or a grain of corn (the instance of the 
 text) is able to gravel and confound the greatest 
 master of reason that ever was: and he must, if he 
 will be but ingenuous, and not go about to please 
 himself, or delude others by ungrounded fancies, 
 acknowledge that in these small ordinary trivial dis- 
 positions of natural effects, there is the finger and 
 word of omnipotence itself. And hence it is that 
 
155 
 
 Almighty God, when he would convince Job of the 
 narrowness of his understanding, reads him a lec- 
 ture upon those creatures and things which were of 
 ordinary occurrence, and, from them demonstrates 
 the infinite power, majesty, and wisdom of God. 
 Job had often heard the wind, seen the rain, felt his 
 clothes warm, seen the lightning, heard the thunder, 
 discoursed with men of reason ; and yet because 
 they were things of daily conversation, he passes 
 them over, and did not consider them : he took 
 them in the lump, and in the ear, but never sifted 
 out the corn till God mentions them distinctly to 
 him, and doubtless with it did infuse into his soul, 
 a deliberate, clear, distinct observation of the things 
 that were mentioned; and then he could read 
 another lesson of the wisdom and omnipotence of 
 God, in those creatures and things which were of 
 ordinary concurrence. And upon the same account 
 it is, that when God was pleased to set forth the 
 excellence of his power, in putting understanding 
 into the heart of man ; he sends us not to consider 
 of the wisdom of the great statesman, or the learn- 
 ing of the profound scholar: but sends us to that 
 simple discretion, that without any improvements, or 
 arts, or learning, appears in the ploughman in thresh- 
 ing of his corn: " This also cometh forth from the 
 Lord of hosts, who is wonderful in counsel, and ex- 
 cellent in working." And, accordingly, here the 
 Apostle chides the inadvertence and inconsiderateness 
 of the naturalist, who hath every day an experiment 
 before him, but little short of the strangeness and 
 wonder of the resurrection ; and yet takes no notice 
 of it to allay his infidelity : " Thou fool, that which 
 
156 
 
 thou sowest is not quickened, except it die." As if 
 he should say : ' Thou that makest this objection 
 dost not consider what thou sayest. Thou hast 
 everyday in thy view the corn that thou sowest; 
 and the bread thou eatest carriest in it a wonder, 
 not much inferior to this whereof we treat. Yet 
 because this is common, thou art bHnd, and dost not 
 observe it : thy corn dies before it Hves. And now 
 suppose thou hadst never seen nor heard of any such 
 thing, as that corn, or any other seed cast into the 
 ground in Spring, should in Autumn following live 
 again, with an increase of a hundred fold; and this 
 were now told thee, would not thy narrow reason 
 frame the same objection, " How shall it arise, and 
 with what body?" And wouldst thou not count 
 the ploughman mad that buries his corn, in expecta- 
 tion of a resurrection of it the next year? But now 
 common observation and experience hath made that 
 credible and evident unto thee. And canst thou 
 not, out of that experience, find an argument to 
 check thy own infidelity in the point in hand ? 
 What reason canst thou assign, that this grain of 
 corn should have such a seed of life in it, that though 
 the body, the grain in which it is enclosed, dissolve ; 
 yet the energy of that vegetative principle, can cause 
 a new stalk, and attract a nourishment suitable to 
 it ? Or what is that seed of life that is in it, whence 
 comes it ? Tell me if thou canst resolve it into any 
 thing but the mighty power and word of the omni- 
 potent God : and cannot the same Omnipotent re- 
 concile life to thy corrupted body?' 
 
 But to come to the instance itself, and to follow 
 it; these things are asserted, and most exactly true 
 in nature, concerning this grain of corn. 
 
157 
 
 First, That the grain of corn dies: "it is not 
 quickened, except it die." That is, the matter of it 
 is corrupted, and there is a separation between that 
 matter of the grain, and that seed of life, or vegeta- 
 tive principle that is in it. 
 
 Secondly, That it is quickened; namely, the 
 same thing that dies is again quickened. The prin- 
 ciple of life that lay, as it were, asleep in it, revives, 
 resumes, and attracts so much of the body of that 
 grain as is serviceable for it, to serve this principle 
 of life in its act of life and growth. For it is most 
 evident, in ordinary experience, that vegetable prin- 
 ciple, by the help of moisture, will draw out the 
 substance of the grain, though it be not cast into 
 the earth : so that the very life of the seed borrows 
 as much of the grain of corn to secure its new life, 
 as is fit and useful for it. 
 
 Thirdly, That that quickening cannot be, unless 
 the grain dies, namely, so much as is taken in unto 
 the new growth, ceaseth to be a grain of corn, or 
 indeed parcel of a grain of corn, but assumes a new 
 shape : and yet still it is the same grahi of corn that 
 died, and is now quickened : the same vegetative 
 principle that lay lurking and secret in the grain of 
 corn before it grows, and puts itself forth in act, 
 and the same substance that was before a ffrain of 
 corn it attracted and fashioned into the stalk and 
 ear, though it received an accession of increase, the 
 vegetative principle that was in the grain of corn, 
 cannot put forth itself into an act, except there 
 come something that must bring a degree of cor- 
 ruption of the grain from what it was, and fit it to 
 be serviceable to, and attend the motion of this 
 
158 
 
 vegetative principle, namely, moisture, which cor- 
 rupts the body of the grain. 
 
 Fourthly, That yet though this new production 
 be the same vegetative principle, that lay inactive 
 in the grain of corn, and the same matter that was 
 in the grain of corn attracted to, and accompanying 
 this vegetative principle, yet it is not the same that 
 it was : not the same in external form and appear- 
 ance ; it is one single grain when it is sown, and 
 after it is sown, the hulk which served to enclose 
 and defend the vegetable matter, and vegetative 
 form, rots, when it becomes useless, but it riseth in 
 beauty ; first a stalk, then the ear, then the flower ; so, 
 though it be the same individual matter, the same 
 individual vegetative principle that it was before, 
 yet it is altered in the appearance, in the beauty, 
 in the advantage of increase : before it was a grain, 
 now it is an herb, including many grains. 
 
 Fifthly, Though it thus be altered from what it 
 was, it is not altered specifically, but every seed 
 hath its own body ; the grain of barley bears a body 
 of barley, and the grain of wheat a body of wheat. 
 Thus the matter is the same, the spirit or indivi- 
 dual form is the same, the species or kind is the 
 same, though the external appearance or fashion of 
 it differs from what it was. 
 
 Sixthly, And all this by the finger and power of 
 God. God hath given it a body as it hath pleased 
 him, though, as we before observed, the progress 
 of the generation of vegetables is for the most part, 
 regular and uniform ; and the same being ordinary, 
 and found by experience to be so, it is made a matter 
 of no wonder. The countryman knows, that if 
 
159 
 
 his corn be cast into the ground, and there be 
 seasonable moisture, it will the next summer become 
 a crop, and so it is past over as a matter of no 
 marvel: we see it so every year; yet if we should 
 examine how or by what means there comes such a 
 vegetable principle in a small inconsiderable grain of 
 corn, that all the men in the world cannot tell what 
 it is, much less frame the like by all their power 
 and skill: how it comes to pass that the same will 
 lie inactive, and unmoving a year or two, or more, 
 in that little body, and yet when it hath the oppor- 
 tunity of moisture, thrust out itself: how it attracts 
 and draws the substance of the grain itself after it, 
 to feed and serve it ; and when it hath assimilated 
 the whole to what it is, it attracts from the earth 
 supplies convenient for it, and assimilates these sup- 
 plies to itself and its own nature, and carries them 
 along to that action to wliich it is designed : and 
 how it comes to pass, that in all this, it moves uni- 
 formly unto one end. First produceth the blade, 
 then the stalk, and when that hath strength enough 
 to bear, and height enough to defend, it sends forth 
 the ear; and till that ear is proof against the cold, 
 closes it with a husk: and in that ear the corn spe- 
 cifical, according to its nature; the grain of wheat 
 brings wheat, and the grain of barley brings barley, 
 and their kinds are not confounded. And as the 
 grain is suitable in kind to the seed, so in the man- 
 ner of its placing upon the stalk, and that in that 
 excellent order, both for its own conservation and 
 use, that any alteration thereof would be to the dis- 
 advantage of it and the user. And all this so cer- 
 tainly, constantly, and universally, without some 
 
160 
 
 accidental impediment, and that without any choice 
 or understanding of its own to dispose it to what it 
 is. Certainly, this most ordinary creature, which 
 we converse with every day, must needs drive us to 
 acknowledge the almighty wisdom and power of 
 God, to which alone, and to nothing else, we can 
 resolve this ordinary, but wonderful production : and 
 to the virtue of that powerful word and commission 
 of his, which hath continued in its strength, without 
 any intermission, for above five thousand years. 
 " Let the earth bring forth grass, and every herb 
 yielding seed after his kind." 
 
 Now, from this instance, and resemblance, the 
 Apostle answers that curious question, " How shall 
 the dead be raised, and with what bodies shall they 
 arise?" For if it be well considered, the great 
 work of the resurrection hath many things in it very 
 suitable and parallel to this resemblance of this 
 grain of corn. 
 
 1. As the very same spirit of life, as I may 
 call it, which was in the grain of corn before it 
 was sown, is that which animates and actuates 
 the herb that springs out of it; so it is the very 
 same individual soul that shall animate, and actuate 
 the body in the resurrection. Here indeed is the 
 difference : the life or soul, as I may call it, is thrown 
 with it into the ground, and is never separated from 
 it till it draw it with it: but the soul of man is 
 separated from the body ; the body sown in the 
 earth, the soul reserved in a place of bliss or misery, 
 according to its condition, till rejoined to the body. 
 
 2. As when the seed is cast into the ground and 
 dies, the vital flower in the seed attracts the very 
 
161 
 
 same substance of the grain, and carries it along 
 with it into the stalk and the ear; so the soul of 
 man shall again assume the very same body, and be 
 united to it in the resurrection. It is that very 
 body that is sown in corruption, which shall rise in 
 incorruption : " Though after my skin, worms de- 
 stroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." 
 The body destroyed, yet the same flesh shall see 
 God: my body destroyed, yet my flesh shall see. 
 For as the same persons that shall be living at the 
 second coming of Christ, shall not die, but be 
 changed. That is, though there be an alteration 
 of the qualities and condition of the body, yet the 
 substance shall remain; so in the resurrection, the 
 bodies of them that sleep shall be the same, though 
 clothed with glory and incorruption. The resurrec- 
 tion of Lazarus, of the saints at Christ's resurrec- 
 tion, of our Saviour; as they were pledges, so they 
 are, in this respect, patterns of our resurrection : 
 they were the same bodies re-animated with the 
 same souls. It is true, the manner of this strange 
 reduction of a dissolved creature unto itself again, 
 is too difficult for us to apprehend; and it is no 
 wonder it should be so: for we see the transmutation 
 of the silk-worm, and creatures of the like nature: 
 that there are such changes of them it is plain ; yet 
 the reason or cause of it, the poor woman under- 
 stands not; nay, nor man, that is a superior creature, 
 endued with understanding. Ordinarily, things that 
 are without us, are more obvious to our observation, 
 or disquisition, than we ourselves are to our own 
 observation : and yet even in these translations of 
 vegetables, and of the lowest degree of sensible 
 
162 
 
 creatures, we must acknowledge the hand and power 
 of God, and that is the last resolution of our best 
 observation. 
 
 But when we come to ourselves, there our dis- 
 coveries are more imperfect, because the observation 
 is more difficult. All the knowledge we have of 
 our own origin, is but by tradition from those that 
 knew us born; and by observation, that other men 
 have the like origin of their being. But take a 
 child from his infancy, and let him receive an edu- 
 cation estranged from this tradition, he will not be 
 able barely, from the strength of reason, to know 
 that his origin was by the ordinary course of genera- 
 tion. Again, when our experience and information 
 tell us, that we came into the world by the course 
 of natural generation ; yet we are not able to form a 
 reason why, or how, a human creature is so pro- 
 duced, but must sit down with Solomon, the wisest 
 of men, and conclude, " That we know not the way 
 of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the 
 womb of her that is with child." And, therefore, 
 those that have been over-bold in searching into 
 that wonder of the generation of animals, tell us, it 
 is not this, and it is not that ; but what it is they 
 cannot determine; or if they do, yet their determi- 
 nations are such, as convince not of the truth of 
 of what they say. Their history, or narrative there- 
 of, can go no farther than their bare sense leads 
 them ; and where that fails, either they are silent, 
 or guided by mere imagination. And certainly, 
 if there be so much difficulty, and indeed impossi- 
 bility, to discover the true cause, or manner of the 
 first origination of a man, of a worm, of a straw ; 
 
163 
 
 wherein we have the help of our senses, observation, 
 and traditions of others, how then shall we expect 
 to form a conception of the manner of the resurrec- 
 tion, a new birth of the body to what it was before? 
 And hence, they are called " children of the resur- 
 rection." Therefore I shall not perplex myself 
 with inquiring, how the pieces of the body, distri- 
 buted into several places that have undergone mil- 
 lions of transmutations, shall be brought together 
 without violation of those substances to which they 
 have been united: or whether, by some secret power 
 of providence, those parts of human flesh shall not 
 be subject to a transmutation into another substance; 
 or how that separation shall be wrought ; or what 
 parts of the body shall be the substance of the body 
 in the resurrection. These are matters that are 
 unnecessary, and should be left to the almighty 
 power of God. We know not the things obvious 
 to our sense, much less these matters that are re- 
 served in the cabinet of the council of tbe Almighty, 
 who knows all the works that he has made; and 
 the least dust is not estranged from his distinct 
 knowledge. Only thus much we may and must 
 conclude with Job, as before, " though after my 
 skin, worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I 
 shall see God." 
 
 Thirdly, To follow the comparison : " It is not 
 quickened, except it die." And herein the compari- 
 son falls short. For though those that die shall 
 be quickened, yet some shall be quickened that have 
 not died : " We shall not all die, but we shall all be 
 changed." " We which are alive, and remain unto 
 the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them 
 
164 
 
 that are asleep." At that same instant wherein the 
 trumpet shall sound, " The dead shall hear the 
 voice of God, and be raised, and the living shall be 
 changed." 
 
 Fourthly, That as in the growth of the grain, 
 though the substance remain, yet the form or shape 
 is changed; so in the resurrection, "That which 
 was sown a corruptible body, shall be raised in in- 
 corruption ; sown in dishonour, raised in glory ; 
 sown in weakness, raised in power; sown a natural 
 body, raised a spiritual body." And, therefore, 
 there are these several qualities of the body in the 
 resurrection : 
 
 First, Incorruption. 
 
 Secondly, Glory, or Splendour. 
 
 Thirdly, Strength. 
 
 Fourthly, Spirituality. 
 
 First, For Incorruption ; it is true, that by the 
 ordinary course of nature, whatever is subject to 
 generation, is subject to corruption. But yet it is 
 in the power of God that gave it being, to preserve 
 and uphold that being unto everlasting. 
 ^ Thus are the angels incorruptible, not simply and 
 absolutely of their own nature; but the will of God 
 preserves that being in their original constitution. 
 The heavens and earth have a certain but lonjr con- 
 tinned duration; but still it is by the word, the 
 power of God. Thus the bodies of our first 
 parents in innocence, were incapable of corruption, 
 not in their own nature, or by the innate qualities 
 of their bodies, but by a continued act of divine 
 power and providence, supplying the defects and 
 decays of nature, and correcting the opposites to its 
 
165 
 
 consistence. And as it is the same power that pre- 
 serves the times of particular men to an ordinary 
 measure of age, namely, sixty or eighty years; so it 
 was that which did preserve the bodies of the an- 
 cients before the flood, unto ten times that age. 
 As their breath was given unto them, so it was pre- 
 served in them, and is taken from them, by the 
 same infinite power of God : " Thou takest away 
 their breath, they die, and return to their dust." 
 And as the providence and continual influence of 
 the divine will and power, is that which maketh the 
 soul immortal ; so the same influence shall in, and 
 after the resurrection, preserve the body and soul in 
 a perpetual and incorruptible union and condition. 
 And this condition of the resurrection is common 
 both to the good and bad: the bodies of the wicked 
 are endued with incorruptibility, that they may be 
 subjects capable of everlasting wrath: " Their worm 
 dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." " The 
 beast and the false prophet shall be tormented day 
 and night for ever and ever." And on the other 
 hand, the elect of God shall be endued with im- 
 mortal and incorruptible bodies, that they may be 
 fit subjects of an everlasting and incorruptible bles- 
 sedness : " They shall reign for ever and ever," 
 " So shall vve be ever with the Lord." As the in- 
 heritance is an " incorruptible inheritance, that 
 fadeth not away," so the inheritors thereof are " in- 
 corruptible inheritors, born of " an incorruptible 
 seed." Plants fixed in an incorruptible root, 
 Christ Jesus. " And because that root liveth, wg 
 shall live also." And hence it is, that this body 
 which is, and shall be the tabernacle or house of the 
 
166 
 
 ^oul, is called " a building of God, a house noti 
 made with hands, eternal in the heavens :" wherein 
 mortality shall be swallowed up of life. And in- 
 deed it is not consistent with perfect blessedness, to 
 have the subject thereof capable of corruption. The: 
 fear and expectation of a second dissolution, would 
 mingle unhappiness and sorrow with the most ab- 
 solute enjoyment of the highest felicity. 
 
 The second quality of the body in the resurrec- 
 tion, is glory and beauty : " It is sown in dis- 
 honour, it is raised in glory." And this is a pri- 
 vilege that belongs only to the members of Christ 
 Jesus, " who shall change our vile body, that iti 
 may be fashioned like unto his own glorious body, 
 according to the working whereby he is able to 
 subdue all things unto himself." Thus as that con- 
 versation of Moses, with the eminent manifestation 
 of God's presence in the mount, did imprint a splen- 
 dour and glory upon the face of Moses, so that the 
 Israelites were notable to behold him; so we, by, 
 virtue of our union with Christ, our glorious head, 
 and by the intuition of his glory, " shall be changed 
 into the same image, from glory to glory." And 
 what Daniel, speaking of the resurrection, saith, 
 shall be true, even in the very body of the saints: 
 " They that be wise shall shine as the brightness ofl 
 the firmament; and they that turn many to righteous- 
 ness as the stars for ever and ever." And certainly 
 we have good ground to think, that the bodies of the 
 saints, in the resurrection, shall bear some resem- 
 blance to the transfigured body of our Saviour, 
 '* Whose face shone as the sun, and his raiment white 
 as the light." That as our Redeemer's body shines as 
 
167 
 
 the sun in his brightness, so the bodies of his saints 
 shall shine as the stars, though one star exceed an- 
 other in glory. And from hence is likewise in- 
 sinuated, that though every body shall have an 
 aspect of glory upon it, yet according to the dif- 
 ferent degrees of grace in the soul, shall be different 
 degrees of glory in the body, for one star exceedeth 
 another in glory: yet such shall be the beauty of all, 
 that in the least star there shall be a fulness of 
 glory : so that one star shall not envy, but rejoice in 
 another's glory. And here will be the most glorious 
 sight in the world, to see our Lord Jesus Christ 
 come in the clouds in his own glorified body, which 
 shall outshine the sun in its highest lustre, accom- 
 panied with all the angels of heaven, in their highest 
 dress of glory and splendour, to attend their Lord 
 in the greatest business that ever was or shall be, — 
 the judgment of the whole world. Men and angels 
 to see and hear that great, powerful, and solemn 
 summons of all men that ever were, to their finul 
 judgment by the trumpet, and voice of an arch- 
 angel : to see the graves opening, and yielding up 
 their dead: and those poor despised saints of Christ, 
 those hidden ones, that the world, when they were 
 upon earth, knew not; or if they knew them, knew 
 them with scorns, derision, and persecution: to see 
 these arise in glory and splendour, as bright as the 
 light, or as the angels, at the resurrection of our 
 Lord, with as much beauty, grace, and glory, as the 
 omnipotence and boundless love of Christ can put 
 upon human creatures, whom he intends to make 
 the beholders of his own glory to all eternity. 
 Those, thus arrayed, and conducted by the guidance 
 
168 
 
 of angels, into the presence of that Christ that died 
 for them, and now reigneth and judgeth for them, 
 brought unto those mansions, which now, above 
 sixteen hundred years since, he went to heaven to 
 provide for them. Certainly this appearance will 
 be a most glorious and blessed appearance. 
 
 But, on the other hand, though the resurrection 
 is common both to the good and bad, yet the manner 
 is different: for as shame and confusion shall be the 
 portion of the wicked, from the time of the judg- 
 ment, so shall it be from the time of the resurrec- 
 tion. The same distress, and shame, and astonish- 
 ment that shall fall upon the wicked that shall be 
 living upon the earth, who shall beg the rocks and 
 mountains to cover them from the face of their 
 judge, shall also attend those that shall rise to the 
 judgment of condemnation. Guilt and shame, and 
 astonishment and fear, and a pre-apprehension of 
 their imminent judgment, a secret struggling against 
 that power that shall draw them before their judge, 
 all which cannot but work an impression of horror 
 and shame upon their very outward appearance. 
 In short, such shall be the condition of the wicked 
 in their resurrection, as becomes the face of a male- 
 factor drawn before his judge, as of a traitor drawn 
 before his prince armed with power and vengeance. 
 And on the other hand, such shall be the glory and 
 external splendour of the elect in that day, as be- 
 comes the inheritors of a kingdom, an eternal king- 
 dom, going to their installation. And as our 
 Saviour was here in this world, in a very low and 
 despised condition, and that condition, for the most 
 part, befalling his members in this world : so then 
 
169 
 
 at that day he shall he clothed with all the glory 
 and majesty that can he communicated to the view 
 of men and angels: and those despised ones, that 
 here were conformed to their Head, in sufferings and 
 shame, shall then be clothed with as much lustre 
 and glory as can be laid on a human nature thus 
 advanced in perfection : " When our Lord shall 
 come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired 
 in all them that believe." That very impression of 
 glory which this great king shall lay upon his saints 
 and followers, shall be such, as becomes the members 
 of such a head; the attendants, nay, friends of such 
 a prince; the spouse of such a husband. 
 
 Thirdly, The next quality of the body in the 
 resurrection, is strength: " It is sown in weakness, 
 it is raised in power:" not only by, but in power. 
 
 The power of our Saviour's resurrection shall 
 communicate a like power to the bodies of his 
 saints, that they shall break the bonds of the grave, 
 and of death itself, stronger than the grave. And 
 though the weight of the whole earth could be laid 
 upon it, yet it should make its way to meet its 
 Saviour in the clouds. The strength shall be 
 common to the wicked and the just, namely, to 
 break the chains of death : though those enter 
 through those chains into a second death, more 
 hideous than the former: but there is another power 
 that shall accompany the bodies of the just in the 
 resurrection, namely, agility, activity, such as shall 
 be admirably fitted to the locomotive faculty of the 
 soul. The body shall not be a clog and impedi- 
 ment, or burden to the soul, but exactly fitted to all 
 H 40 
 
170 
 
 its motions. But this will appear more evidently 
 in the next quality. 
 
 Fourthly, Spirituality: ** It is sown a natural 
 body, it is raised a spiritual body." Not a spirit, 
 but a spiritual body, a body spiritualized, or a body 
 stripped of those infirmities that now attend our con- 
 stitution, and are inconsistent with the blessed and 
 glorious condition which we expect in that other 
 life. And this spirituality of the body imports, 
 
 1. A rarity of the body: the body now is gross, 
 which is an impediment to the speedy transition, or 
 motion thereof from place to place: but in the re- 
 surrection, the body, though it continue a body, yet 
 it shall be endued with rarity and tenuity, whereby 
 it shall not be impeded in its motion, either by it- 
 self, or by the medium. And to this tends the ex- 
 pression of the Apostle, " We shall be caught up 
 together with him in the clouds, to meet the Lord 
 in the air:" a motion hardly consistent with a body 
 so gross as ours now is. 
 
 2. There shall be no necessity of supply, or sup- 
 port of our nature, with meat, drink, sleep: but we 
 shall be upheld in perfect subsistence, by the power 
 of God, without any of these supplies. That of 
 Rev. vii. 16. is true, as well literally as mystically, 
 " They shall hunger no more, neither shall they 
 thirst any more." 
 
 3. There shall be no sickness, or pain ; for these 
 were the fruits of sin. And as sin shall be no more, 
 *' So there shall be no more curse." 
 
 4. As they shall be delivered from those condi- 
 tions now incident to human nature, for the support 
 
171 
 
 of itself in iiidividuo, and in specie, so they shall be 
 void of those inclinations of the sensual appetite, 
 that move towards these supplies of human nature. 
 And, upon this account, our Saviour removes that 
 great objection which the Sadducees thought they 
 had made against the resurrection, " They marry 
 not, nor are given in marriage, neither can they die 
 any more, for they are equal unto the angels, and 
 are the children of God, being the children of the 
 resurrection.'* Eating and drinking, and sleep, are 
 the ordinary support of our natures here, while we 
 are in our journey: and marrying, and giving in 
 marriage, are ordinances appointed by God for the 
 propagation and preservation of the kind : and ac- 
 cordingly, our natures here are endued with natural 
 inclinations towards these: but in heaven, all these 
 will be at an end, because their use ceaseth. And 
 upon the same account also, these civil dependencies 
 that are in this life for the maintenance of human 
 society, will also cease and be laid aside : there will 
 be no superiority, or inferiority, or subordination 
 among the saints in heaven : but they shall be all 
 subjects unto one king, the great king of heaven 
 and earth. 
 
 5. They shall be delivered at least from the 
 actual use or exercise of all those affections or pas- 
 sions that import any defect or absence of a perfect 
 felicity. There shall be no hope; for hope shall be 
 swallowed up in enjoyment: no fear; for their feli- 
 city is founded upon the unchangeable decree of 
 Almighty God : no sorrow ; for all tears shall be 
 wiped away : no anger; for there shall not, cannot 
 be any occasion thereof. And indeed, all the affec- 
 h2 
 
172 
 
 tHons of the soul shall be, as it were, turned inta 
 love and joy : for there shall not be any object for 
 any of the rest of the affections. But these shall 
 never fail, because their object shall ever continue; 
 a continual sight of the perfection, glory, goodness, 
 excellence, and love of God, drawing out our love; 
 and continual enjoyment of the presence, goodness, 
 and favour of God, filling us with joy. 
 
 While we live in our houses of clay, the very 
 temper and disposition of our blood and constitu- 
 tion, create in us a disposition to certain passions, 
 various, according to the variety of our natural con- 
 stitutions; melancholy, to sadness; sanguine, to 
 levity and mirth; phlegm, to sluggishness; choler, to 
 anger. And these again, according as they are 
 mixed, produce several middle or compounded pas- 
 sions, which are not so much the affections of the 
 mind, as affections of the body affecting the mind. 
 And hence it is, that vvithout any excitation from an 
 external object, the very constitution of the body 
 carries itself and the mind into these passions and 
 distempers. But in that day all those shall be 
 cured. These^ complexions of the body are incident 
 to our earthly tabernacles, but not to the body 
 wherewith we shall be clothed in that day: which 
 shall be a body not injurious to the mind, but exactly 
 and admirably serviceable to it, in the highest per- 
 fection that it is capable of. 
 
 And thus we have considered the Apostle's an- 
 swer to the question de modo, as it refers to the 
 thing itself. But there is yet somewhat farther in 
 the question. How, or by what means shall it 
 arise? That a poor rotten carcass, borne down 
 
173 
 
 into the grave by a thousand distempers, and there 
 covered with earth, to hide its deformity and cor- 
 ruption, how shall such a body, that at the best is 
 but a corruptible thing, and in death corrupted, arise 
 with so much perfection, beauty, excellence? To 
 this the Apostle gives his answer, by that which is 
 still obvious to the view of a natural man ; and 
 wherein he must necessarily see the power of God, 
 and a power no less tlian in this of the resurrection, 
 " That which thou sowest, thou sowest not that 
 body that shall be:" as if he should thus say; the 
 grain that thou sowest, though it send up itself into 
 that which thou after reapest, differs very much from 
 what it was before, in beaut}^, quantity, and other 
 advantages. Thou seest the power of the great 
 Creator that gives a kind of resurrection to this corn, 
 gives it also another kind or shape and appearance 
 than what it has in the grain : " for God giveth it 
 a body as it hath pleased him." 
 
 Again, look upon the earth and heavens; the 
 glory of the heavenly bodies is one, that of the 
 earthly bodies is another. Again, look upon the 
 earthly bodies; they have great -variety in them, 
 though they own the same common earth for their 
 groundvvork or matter. Look also upon the celestial 
 bodies; which, though they consist probably of the 
 same matter, yet they have a diversity of beauty, glory, 
 and lustre upon them: " there is one glory of the sun, 
 another of the moon, another of the stars." Nay, 
 even in the very stars themselves, fixed in the same 
 sphere, we see one star cxcecdeth another in glory. 
 And whence comes this variety of the glory of the 
 creatures, that, it may be, were taken out of the same 
 
174 
 
 matter — or, if not, yet all their matter taken out of 
 the same nothing — but only the will and power of 
 the great Lord of all things? He that, by his 
 Almighty word, called the matter and mass of all 
 things out of nothing, can, with the same, and, in 
 respect to the nature of the thing, with much more 
 ease, recall something to what it was before. And he 
 that, out of the same common mass, or matter, could 
 frame several things, and dress them with differing 
 glory, one far excelling another; the same Almighty 
 God can, with the same ease, dress up that corrup- 
 tible corrupted piece, thy body, after it hath lain 
 many thousand years rotting in the dust, in a beauty 
 and glory equal to that of the sun. Had it been 
 possible, before thou wert, to have seen that little 
 mass of red earth, which thy Maker took, and out of 
 it formed thy first parent; and hadst seen him when 
 this rude material came out of God's hands, formed 
 into that excellent fabric, and dressed with that excel- 
 lent glory that Adam had in paradise; thou wouldst 
 have seen a progress of no less difficulty than that 
 we now speak of. And therefore, look upon the 
 creatures, and consider their original, thou wilt an- 
 swer thyself in thy objections against a resurrection, 
 and such a resurrection as this we have declared. 
 
 Now, this resurrection of the body is common to 
 the just and unjust: for, as we are taught in the 
 Old Testament, " God shall bring every work into 
 judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be 
 good, or whether it be evil;" And so we are taught 
 in the New Testament: " We must all appear be- 
 fore the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one 
 may receive the things done in the body, according 
 
175 
 
 to that he hath done, whetlier it be good or bad.** 
 The great Judge of heaven and earth respites his 
 distributive justice, and it doth not here so clearly 
 appear : " There are just men, to whom it happen- 
 eth according to the work of the wicked," and e con- 
 verso. But there will come a day of the manifesta- 
 tion of the righteous judgment of God, in which day 
 he will have the glory of his perfect justice. And as 
 the purity, justice, and glory of God, includes the 
 necessity of a judgment, so the necessity of that 
 judgment requires the appearance of the persons to 
 receive that judgment. And because all persons 
 that ever were or shall be, are subject to a rule of 
 justice and righteousness, given by the great Lord 
 of all things, therefore all persons shall come under 
 the scrutiny, search, and determination of that judg- 
 ment. And because the whole man was the subject 
 of that law, therefore the whole man shall be judged 
 by it. And so there is a necessity of a resurrection 
 as well of the just as unjust, that they may, in the 
 completeness of their constitution, receive their re- 
 ward or punishment, according to what they have 
 done in the flesh. We will, therefore, consider 
 wherein the members of Christ, and those that are 
 not, do agree and differ, in relation to the resurrec- 
 tion: and they agree in this, 
 
 1. That there shall be a resurrection both of the 
 one and of the other. 
 
 2. That in the resurrection the bodies of both 
 shall be spiritualized. 
 
 The present constitution of our bodies is such, that 
 they are unable to bear that measure of joy, comfort, 
 and glory, that shall belong to the blessed; and that 
 
17G 
 
 measure of vengeance and torment that is the portion 
 of the cursed. Therefore, as to the one there shall 
 be given a body, able to bear the weight of glory, 
 styled. by the Apostle, " an exceeding and eternal 
 weight of glory;" so to the others there shall be 
 given a body, though exquisitely sensible of the 
 burden of the wrath of God, and of that fire that 
 never goeth out, yet not consumed by it. As flesh 
 and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, so 
 neither can flesh and blood, in the present constitu- 
 tion thereof, dwell with those everlasting burnings 
 prepared for the wicked. 
 
 3. Consequently, the bodies, as well of the blessed 
 as of the cursed souls, shall be endued with incor- 
 luption and immortality ; those, that they may, to 
 all eternity, enjoy blessedness and glory ; these, that 
 to all eternity, they may suffer the vengeance, fury, 
 and wrath of God. 
 
 The immortality and incorruption of the bodies 
 of the saints, is their privilege, that renders them 
 capable of an everlasting fruition of the presence 
 and favour of God. The immortality and incor- 
 ruption of the bodies of the wicked, is the addition 
 of their misery : they shall everlastingly be, that 
 they may everlastingly be wretched; and so continue 
 for ever the monuments of the righteous judgment 
 of the glorious and eternal God. 
 
 Now, though they thus far agree, yet the resur- 
 rection of the just and unjust differs as follows : 
 
 1. In the cause: for though it is true, that the 
 resurrection of both is by the power of God, yet the 
 manner of the execution of this power is different. 
 For the members of Christ Jesus shall arise, by 
 
177 
 
 virtue of their union with their Head, by a kind of 
 secret and sweet sympathy with him, who is their 
 life, and their life hid in him: " He that eateth me, 
 even he shall live by me." " I ara the resurrection 
 and the life: he that believeth in me, though he 
 were dead, yet shall he live." " Because I live, ye 
 shall live also." And hence it is that our Lord 
 Jesus doth so frequently own the resurrection of his 
 people, as his own special and discriminative work : 
 ** I will raise him up at the last day." " And he 
 shall send his angels, and they shall gather his elect." 
 " Christ shall change our vile bodies." And this 
 atands upon this ground of our union with Christ our 
 head, and in our head is our life hid. Christ our head 
 is hid, and consequently our life is hid: " And when 
 our head shall appear, our life shall appear." So that 
 a man may say, that the resurrection of the just is, 
 as it were, a fruit, a consequent of the resurrection 
 of our Lord; and therefore he is called *' The first- 
 born from the dead." And the resurrection of the 
 just, attributed to his resurrection, to the virtual and 
 immediate cause thereof; and such as, being granted, 
 •doth, by way of consequence, infer, and, as it were, 
 necessitate the eflPect : " If we be planted in the 
 likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness 
 of his resurrection." " If Christ be risen, how say 
 some that there is no resurrection from the dead ?" 
 " If we believe that Jesus died and rose again; even 
 so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring 
 with him." The resurrection of the members of 
 Christ, though subsequent to his, in order of time, 
 yet, in consideration of nature, is a kind of necessary 
 concomitant of the resurrection of Christ. And, 
 H 3 
 
178 
 
 upon the same account as our Lord Christ's body 
 could not be longer detained under the power of 
 death than the determinative time of three days, 
 because the debt which he undertook was paid, so 
 that " it was not possible he should be holden of it;" 
 so Christ, having paid the debt of his elect, and 
 thereby abolished death, the wages of that debt, 
 there is the like necessity of the resurrection of the 
 members of Christ. It is not possible they can be 
 detained under natural death everlastingly, no more 
 than it was for our Lord Christ. " And this is that 
 victory which God hath given us over death by 
 Christ." So then, the resurrection of the righteous, 
 though originally and fundamentally it be attributed 
 to the power of God, yet im^mediately is to be attri- 
 buted unto our Lord Christ. 
 
 (L) As a fruit, a concomitant, or necessary con- 
 sequent of his resurrection, who is our head, and in 
 whom our life is hid. 
 
 (2.) As a fruit and consequent of his satisfaction, 
 by whom our debt is paid, and so this retentive 
 power of death abolished. And hence it is, that, as 
 by the power of the Spirit of Christ, working in us to 
 our first resurrection, we are made a willing people 
 in that day of his power ; so in our motion towards 
 this second resurrection, we move to it willingly: and 
 as all things in nature reach out after their perfec- 
 tion, and press towards it, so the members of Christ 
 reach out after the resurrection of their bodies, as to 
 that wherein, or immediately upon which, their per- 
 fection and blessedness consists : '' Waiting for the 
 adoption, to wit, the redemption of our bodies." 
 *' By any means to attain to the resurrection of the 
 
179 
 
 dead." And hence it is, that the bodies of the 
 blessed in the resurrection, shall most willingly, and 
 in a manner naturally, move to the presence of Christ, 
 as the eagle doth to his prey: " Where the carcase 
 is, thither will the eagles be gathered together." 
 
 But in the resurrection of the unjust it shall be 
 otherwise. The almighty and irresistible power of 
 God shall gather them from their graves. The 
 grave, as the minister of God, shall deliver up those 
 that she hath in her custody : " The earth shall 
 cast out the dead." " Death and hell delivered up 
 the dead which were in them." Such are detained 
 under the custody of death until the judgment; and 
 then, whether they will or not, they are delivered up: 
 aud as soon as they are out of the custody of the 
 grave, by the resurrection, and upon the voice of that 
 powerful trumpet that shall summon them, they are 
 immediately conducted, by the power of God, into 
 the presence of their Judge. And though they have 
 within them a secret reluctance and opposition against 
 it, so that they " wish the rocks and mountains to 
 cover them," yet all is in vain; go they must. 
 
 And this is the first difference. The elect in Christ 
 rise by virtue of a secret sympathy with their Savi- 
 our, and therefore do willingly and earnestly move to 
 it : the wicked are raised by the irresistible power of 
 God, and are unwillingly drawn into the presence of 
 their Judge. 
 
 2. The second difference is in the manner of their 
 resurrection. The bodies of the saints of God shall, 
 in the resurrection, " be fashioned like the glorious 
 body of the Son of God," — " bear the image of the 
 heavenly." Their countenances filled with joy and 
 
180 
 
 assurance, being now to approach to tlieir happiness ; 
 the angels shall be their convoy and attendance into 
 the presence of Christ their Saviour, and shall, with 
 all sweetness and cheerfulness, perform that office 
 to the meanest servant of Christ. On the other 
 side, the wicked shall arise with shame, fear, confu- 
 sion, and astonishment in their countenance, upon 
 the conscience of their former sins, and the pre- 
 apprehension of their imminent misery; and in that 
 condition shall be drawn before the judgment-seat of 
 Christ, whom, in this world, they condemned and 
 persecuted. 
 
 Thus far have we considered the resurrection in the 
 subject: somewhat is also shown to us in the Scrip- 
 tures concerning the adjuncts of it. And therein, 
 
 I. The time. 
 
 II. The concomitants. 
 
 III. The consequents. 
 
 I. ( 1 .) For the time, and wherein this shall be : '' He 
 hath appointed a day wherein he will judge the world 
 in righteousness." The day of judgment, and the 
 day of the resurrection to judgment, is the same day. 
 
 (2.) That though this day be fixed in the determi- 
 nate counsel of God, yet it is not discovered so 
 much as to the angels : " Of that day and hour 
 knoweth no man, no, not tlie angels of heaven, but 
 my Father only." And surely the certainty of the 
 time of the judgment is concealed from mani<ind, 
 much to our advantage. 
 
 First, To keep us always watchful. This is the 
 use our Saviour teacheth us: " W'atch therefore, 
 for ye know not what hour the Lord doth come." 
 
 Secondly, To keep us always in hope of the com- 
 
181 
 
 ing of our Lord, and a comfortable expectation of it: 
 " Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious 
 appearing of the great God, and our Saviour, Jesus 
 Christ." " Looking for, and hastening unto, the com- 
 ing of the day of God." Certainly it is a blessed ig- 
 norance, if it cause an improvement of these graces in 
 us; for they are the improvements of our future glory. 
 Thirdly, That though our Saviour Christ promis- 
 eth a speedy coming to judgment in many places, and 
 seems to speak, in many places, as if those very per- 
 sons to whom he spake should be the persons in 
 whose time this day shall come ; yet we know that 
 that was in no way intended by our Saviour. But 
 he spake to them, and to all persons of all ages of 
 the Church: " What I say unto you I say unto all. 
 Watch." For it is not reasonable or just to think, 
 that, when our Saviour brought life and immortality 
 to light; discovered to mankind the mercy and coun- 
 sel of God, whereby there was a greater means of 
 converting many to him ; when, as I may say, the 
 great Maker of salvation was, as it were, but begun 
 in the world, that presently the door shall be shut 
 up. God Almighty was, as it were, preparing the 
 world four thousand years for the great Prophet and 
 Saviour of the world; and it were not reasonable to 
 think he should close up all presently upon his com- 
 ing. And as this could not reasonably be conceived, 
 so, in truth. Almighty God, in the prophecies of the 
 Old Testament, expressly publisheth the contrary. 
 He expected a greater harvest, both of Jews and 
 Gentiles, after the coming of Christ, than was come 
 in before. And it is plain, our Saviour himself fre- 
 quently intimateth, and in express terms declares, 
 
1852 
 
 that many things of moment must first come to pass 
 before the end, which would require many ages to 
 bring to pass : as, namely, " the preaching of the 
 gospel among all nations," " the fulfilling of the times 
 of the Gentiles." And therefore, when, upon the 
 misapplication, or misapprehension of our Saviour 
 in the Apostle's time, there did arise scoffers, say- 
 ing, " Where is the promise of his coming ?" the 
 Apostle first settles our judgment, " That a thou- 
 sand years with the Lord is as one day," and e con- 
 verso. And truly, if it be rightly considered, we 
 mistake ourselves in the measure of time : for 
 though, by piecing one age to another, we have made 
 up sixteen hundred years since our Saviour's time, 
 yet, in truth, to every man it is but his own age. 
 Though, between my death and my judgment, a 
 thousand years should intervene, yet there will seem 
 little or no interval to my soul, whose duration will 
 be of another nature than it here is in composito. 
 Secondly, he renders the reason : because God is 
 not willing that any should perish. There are a 
 number of men, that, in the course of his providence, 
 shall yet be born, who are of the number of his elect, 
 who shall enlarge his kingdom ; and therefore he will 
 not interrupt his own glory, with an untimely cutting 
 off of mankind. As Almighty God hath appointed 
 the ages of men, wherein, without an untimely death, 
 they are, as it were, ripe, and come into the grave, like 
 a shock of corn in its season; so he hath appointed an 
 age to the world, a time when the number of his 
 elect is fulfilled, when the harvest of the world is 
 ripe : and then, and not till then, " shall the angel 
 put in his sickle." 
 
183 
 
 Fourthly, That though the certain fixed time of 
 the last day is unknown to us, yet so much is known 
 to us, that some of the forerunners thereof are not 
 past: some are past. Of those that are already past, 
 we may reckon these : 
 
 1. False Christs. And such have been in former 
 times, since the ascension of our Saviour, as appears 
 by ecclesiastical histories ; and such have been even 
 in our own times, and possibly may be hereafter. 
 Therefore, though this be past, in part, yet it may 
 be, not perfectly past. 
 
 2. The destruction of Jerusalem, fully, and to the 
 utmost. 
 
 Some are such, though they be partly past, yet 
 they are not perfectly fulfilled, but have a kind of 
 progress, or continuation ; such as many of those 
 signs predicted by our Saviour: 
 
 1. Wars, and rumours of wars. Matt. xxiv. 6. 
 
 2. Persecution of true Christians ; though emi- 
 nently begun shortly after our Saviour's time, in the 
 ten persecutions, yet continued in the Roman and 
 Turkish state. 
 
 3. A great defection and falling away from the 
 truth : " The love of many shall wax cold." " That 
 day shall not come, except there come a falling away 
 first." And though, in all the progress of the gos- 
 pel, it hath been attended with an apostacy, as ap- 
 pears in the Asian church, and in the Romish church, 
 and is to be feared in those churches that now are, or 
 lately have been famous, — the light of the gospel 
 traveUing still westward, and superstition, Mahome- 
 danism, and Paganism still following it, — yet, doubt- 
 less, before that great day there shall be a great and 
 
184. 
 
 visible apostacy, more than before: " In the last days 
 shall come scoffers, walking after their own lusts, 
 saying, Where is the promise of his coming ?" The 
 defection shall be so great, that, " at the coming of 
 our Lord, he shall scarce find faith upon the earth." 
 A kind of universal supinencss and atheism shall 
 overspread the face of the world, as it did before the 
 flood. Matt. xxiv. 39. 
 
 4. The revealing the man of sin, " the son of 
 perdition." 
 
 5. The universal promulgation of the gospel to 
 the Gentiles : " And this gospel shall be preached 
 in all the world, for a witness unto all nations, and 
 then shall the end come :" " And the gospel must 
 first be published among all nations." And this 
 hath been in part fulfilled in the preaching of the 
 Apostles and Fathers; so that the sound thereof hath 
 gone through most places of the known world, Asia, 
 Europe, and Africa. And it is now travelling into 
 America, by the means of several new plantations of 
 late times there. 
 
 There remain yet certain other preparatories and 
 prophecies, that are not yet effected, but rest in 
 expectations: such are, 
 
 1. The fulfilling of the times of the Gentiles, 
 and the conversion of the Jews to the faith of Christ. 
 This, as it is a thing often prophesied in the Old 
 Testament, so most plainly foretold in the New : 
 " Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles, 
 until the times of the Gentiles be fulfilled :" " I 
 would not have you ignorant of this mystery, that 
 blindness is in part happened unto Israel, until the 
 fulness of the Gentiles be come in. And so all 
 
185 
 
 Israel shall be saved." For the space of above two 
 thousand years, the church and household of God 
 were confined to the seed of Abraham, and the rest 
 of the world were strangers to God and his covenant. 
 Since the coming of our Saviour, they have been 
 scattered, and borne that curse which their fore- 
 fathers bound, as much as in them lay, upon them- 
 selves and their posterity; or the greatest part of 
 them have suffered a longer exile from the presence 
 of God, from their first captivity under the Assyrian. 
 And since that rejection of the Jews, under the 
 times of Vespasian, the whole world hath been called 
 into the fellowship of that covenant, and the Jews 
 sit under hardness. Thus, like Gideon's fleece. 
 Judges vi. 39. in the first age of the world, they 
 alone had the dew of the blessing of God upon them, 
 when the world round about was dry and barren : 
 and since the crucifying of Christ, the whole world 
 is filled with that dew, and the Jewish nation dry. 
 But we expect the manifestation of the mercy and 
 truth of God, that when he shall have gathered and 
 fulfilled the number of the elect out of the multitude 
 of the Gentiles, he will take off that vail of blindness, 
 and hardness, from the heart of that people, which 
 were sometimes his own; and that in so eminent and 
 notable a manner, that it shall be conspicuous to the 
 whole world. And it seems to be a great evidence 
 of the providence and truth of God, as well in their 
 dispersion, as in their future calling, that though 
 they are sown in the world, in several places, yet 
 their persons and families are distinctly known, both 
 to themselves and others : that so the truth of those 
 prophecies, and curse of dispersion of them, may 
 
18() ;' 
 
 be legible to all nations, and that tlieir conversion, 
 and re-gathering, in due time, may be visible and 
 apparent. 
 
 2. The consumption and abolition of that man of 
 ^ sin, styled, " The son of perdition :" '" Babylon the 
 
 great :" " Sodom and Egypt :" " The great whore 
 that sitteth upon many waters ; mystery, Babylon 
 the great : the mother of harlots, and abominations 
 of the earth:" " In whom was found the blood of the 
 saints, -and of all that were slain upon the earth." 
 
 3. Some eminent, remarkable, and terrible con- 
 cussion, even of the powers of heaven, which shall 
 cause astonishment and consternation in the hearts 
 of men : signified by our Saviour in those expres- 
 sions : " The sun and moon darkened, and the stars 
 falling, and the powers of heaven shaken :" " Distress 
 of nations, perplexity, men's hearts failing them for 
 fear, for the powers of heaven shall be shaken." 
 And yet, which is wonderful, such shall be the 
 strange defection that shall fall upon the generality 
 of mankind, that they shall not so much as suspect 
 the coming of our Lord, till they see him in the 
 clouds, " For as a snare shall it come on all them 
 that dwell on the face of the earth." 
 
 II. The concomitants of the resurrection. 
 
 1, The appearance of Christ personally in the 
 air, with infinite glory and majesty. Matt. xxiv. 30. 
 Luke xxi. 27. Mark xiii. 26. All the angels of 
 heaven attending upon him, Matt. xxv. 3L And 
 as their and our Lord shall visibly appear in the 
 greatest glory that can be conceived, so doubtless the 
 angels, his royal attendants, shall put on their best 
 dress of glory, conspicuous to the very sense ; and 
 
187 
 
 the sense of the beholders shall be so advanced, as 
 once Elisha's servants were, 2 Kings vi. 17. that 
 they shall behold the glory of those pure and incor- 
 poreal creatures attending the throne of our Saviour 
 in the clouds. 
 
 2. A majestical and loud summons, by the voice 
 of an archangel, at the command of Christ, sum- 
 moning all that ever were to their resurrection. 
 And at this powerful summons, the graves shall 
 yield up their dead : " He shall send his angels with 
 the great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather 
 together his elect from the four winds : " For the 
 trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised 
 incorruptible, and we shall be changed :" " For the 
 Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, 
 with the voice of an archangel, with the trump of 
 God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first.'* And 
 thus, as when God Almighty appeared from heaven 
 at the giving of the law, to augment the terrible 
 majesty and solemnities of that day, there was not 
 only a visible discovery of the presence of God in 
 that great and terrible fire in the midst of heaven ; 
 " But there was the terrible sound of a trumpet, 
 that sounded long, and waxed louder and louder — 
 that shook the very mountain — and amazed and 
 terrified the hearer." So in the great day, to 
 add to the majesty and terribleness thereof, there 
 shall be not only objects of glory and amazement 
 unto the eye, but a powerful voice that shall be 
 heard from one end of heaven to the other, sum- 
 moning all to judgment. 
 
 3. A mission to the holy angels, to receive the 
 elect from the womb of the grave, and to conduct 
 
188 
 
 them into the presence of Christ their Redeemer : 
 " They shall gather together tlie elect from the four 
 winds, from one end of heaven unto the other." 
 Thus the pure and glorious angels glory in this 
 office, to be " ministering spirits for them who shall 
 be heirs of salvation." Ministering for them in their 
 infancy, when they are not able to help themselves: 
 ** Their angels behold the face of my Father." 
 Ministering for them in their sufferings, as they did 
 to Peter and Paul. Ministering for them in their 
 death, and watching the expiring of their souls to 
 conduct them to a place of rest, as they did for 
 Lazarus. And ministering for them in their resur- 
 rection, to conduct them to the presence of their 
 Saviour. 
 
 4. An immediate change on all the persons that 
 shall be then living upon the face of the earth, 
 equivalent to a resurrection ; in an instant separating 
 from them all those corruptible qualities that attend 
 our houses of clay : " The dead shall be raised, and 
 we shall be changed." And it should seem by the 
 Apostle, that the resurrection shall go before that 
 change, at least in some small portion of time : 
 " And the dead in Christ shall rise first, then we 
 which are alive and remain, shall be caught up 
 together with them." 
 
 III. The consequents of the resurrection are 
 principally these : 
 
 1. A dissolution of the present frame of the world, 
 at least in respect of the present constitution of it : 
 " The day of the Lord will come as a thief in the 
 night, wherein the heavens shall pass away with a 
 great noise : the elements shall melt with fervent 
 
189 
 
 lieat : the earth also, and the works that are therein, 
 shall be burnt up." 
 
 2. The last judgment: and this takes in the third 
 general consideration of the state of the soul and 
 body in the last judgincnt. And therefore we shall 
 consider distinctly, 
 First, The Judge. 
 
 Secondly, The persons to be judged. 
 Thirdly, The rule by which they shall be judged. 
 Fourthly, The judgment. 
 Fifthly, The execution of the judgment. 
 First, Touching the Judge : it shall be Christ 
 Jesus, our Mediator, God and man in one person : 
 " When the Son of man shall come in his glory, 
 and all the holy angels with him, then he shall sit 
 upon the throne of his glory: and before him shall 
 be gathered all nations:" " For we must all appear 
 before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one 
 may receive the things done in the body :" " When 
 our Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, with 
 his mighty angels in flaming fire." True it is, that 
 the authoritative judgment is the Father's, but he 
 hath committed the execution, or administration of 
 the great tribunal to the Son. Hence our Saviour 
 saith, " The Father hath committed all judgment 
 to the Son :" *' He hath appointed a day in which 
 he will judge the world by the man whom he hath 
 ordained." And hence it seems to be, that " the 
 Ancient of days did sit, and his throne was like 
 the fiery flame, and thousand thousands ministered 
 unto him. And the judgment was set and the 
 books were opened." " One like the Son of man 
 came to the Ancient of days, and there was given 
 
190 
 
 him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom." The 
 former importing the original, or foundation of the 
 authority, or the preparation of the throne in the 
 heavens: the latter, the delegation and actual ad- 
 ministration of the judgment. For it is plain that 
 the actual and visible exercise of that power shall be 
 in our Saviour: " Then shall the King say, Come, 
 ye blessed of my Father:" " When the Son of man 
 shall sit in the throne of glory." And certainly 
 the appearance of this day, shall be an appearance 
 of unspeakable glory and majesty. Christ, the 
 second person in the blessed Trinity, clothed with 
 ail the majesty and glory that becomes the greatness 
 of his person, and the solemnity of the business, set 
 on a throne of glory, eminently conspicuous to all 
 the persons that ever were, or shall be ; and from 
 whence they shall receive their doom ; accompanied 
 with all the angels in heaven as the ministers and 
 messengers of his will; accompanied with all the 
 blessed saints that ever were, or shall be, to whom 
 he gives the honour, not only to be beholders, but, 
 as it were, assessors in his judgment, though not in 
 the power of his authority, yet in the suffrage and 
 applause of his justice : " Ye also shall sit on twelve 
 thrones, judging the twelve tribes:" " Know ye not 
 that the saints shall judge the world?" Thus he 
 shall be glorified in his saints, and admired in all 
 them that believe. Not only admired by them, but 
 admired in them, for that impression of glory and 
 majesty that he shall then put upon them. 
 
 Secondly, The persons judged : the whole race 
 of Adam, not a person excepted : " The hour is 
 coming, in which all that are in the graves shall hear 
 
191 
 
 his voice, and shall come forth : they that have done 
 good, unto the resurrection of life ; and they that 
 have done evil, to the resurrection of damnation :" 
 " We must all appear before the judgment-seat of 
 Christ." And though the multitude will be exceed- 
 ing great, yet it shall not confound the sentence of 
 the Judge, he will, with most exquisite and infallible 
 judgment, divide the one from the other : and every 
 person shall have so distinct and clear a representa- 
 tion of his sentence to himself, and so convincing a 
 satisfaction therein, and of the evidence, clearness 
 and justice thereof, as if he were the only person to 
 be judged. 
 
 Thirdly, The subject matter upon which the 
 judgment shall be, are the works of men: " God 
 shall bring every work into judgment." Whatso- 
 ever cometh under the command, or prohibition of 
 the law of God, shall come under the judgment of 
 God : and these are of three kinds : 
 
 1. The works. 
 
 2. The words. 
 
 3. The thoughts and purposes. For all these, 
 as they are the acts of a rational creature, come under 
 the law of God. 
 
 1. For the works of men : these are the last and 
 complete acts of rational creatures, and are the final 
 productions of the mind formed into external actions: 
 and all these shall God bring into judgment : " The 
 Son of man shall come in the glory of the Father, 
 and shall reward every man according to his works." 
 Some works there are, which, in the external admi- 
 nistration of justice among men, do escape their 
 reward of human distributive justice, whether they 
 
192 
 
 be good or evil : some in respect of injustice of those 
 that are in power ; others in respect of the impotence 
 of those that should reward or punish. And thus 
 many offences pass unpunished, because they are 
 committed by persons above the reach of human jus- 
 tice : others in respect of the secrecy of the fact, 
 that they avoid the detection, and consequently the 
 execution of justice. But it shall not be so in that 
 day : as all persons are under the authority, so all 
 persons are under the power of this judge, " Strong 
 is the Lo»-d that judgeth." And as the power of the 
 offender shall not exempt the offence from judg- 
 ment ; so neither shall the secrecy of the work 
 escape the judgment ; " For he shall bring into 
 judgment every work, with every secret thing, whe- 
 ther it be good, or whether it be evil :" " In that 
 day God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus 
 Ctirist :'* " For there is nothing covered that shall 
 not be revealed, and hid, that shall not be made 
 known." There is not a good action in all thy life, 
 though ever so secretly done, but then it shall be 
 proclaimed before men and angels : not a prayer that 
 thou hast made in thy closet, when no ear heard thee 
 but the Almighty : not a tear shed for thy sins, 
 when no eye saw thee, but his that made thee : not 
 an alms, given so privately that the party relieved 
 knew not his benefactor : not a cup of cold water, 
 given in the name of a disciple, though he knew not 
 from whence it came : not an acting in sincerity for 
 the glory of thy Maker, though hid and vailed from 
 the eyes of all men living ; but shall be then made as 
 manifest as the sun, and attended with an open reward : 
 " The Father, that seeth in secret, shall reward thee 
 
193 
 
 openly." Again, if thy villanies be hatched in 
 darkness, and none privy to them but thine own 
 conscience : if thou hide thy counsels of mischief as 
 low as hell, that no mortal eye can discover them : 
 if thou transfer thy mischief into other hands, and 
 act by them, whilst they and the world think they 
 act by themselves, and by their own contrivances and 
 principles : if thou mask thy wickedness under the 
 disguise of religion, holiness, necessity, pretences of 
 good ends ; so that thou dost not only hide thy vil- 
 lany from the world, but even from thyself; yet, in 
 that day, all this shall be detected in the presence of 
 a light brighter than the sun ; in the presence of the 
 whole world : and all those disguises taken off', and the 
 wickedness exhibited as it is, without any other dress, 
 than of its own shame and vileness. And as thus 
 the sins of commission shall be unvailed, -though 
 ever so secret ; so shall thy sins of omission, and 
 that with all the circumstances and aggravations. 
 Such a time thou hadst an opportunity to do this or 
 that good work, to the honour of thy Maker, to the 
 good of thy brother, to the salvation of thy soul : 
 and thou hadst not only an opportunity, but the 
 secret motion of the Spirit of grace in thy conscience 
 did importune thee to lay hold on the opportunity; 
 and yet thou didst neglect the opportunity, despise 
 the persuasion. Matt. xxv. 45. The world con- 
 demned for sins of omission. 
 
 2. And as thus it is for works, so for words : 
 for these come under the law of God, and shall come 
 under the judgment of reward and punishment : " By 
 thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words 
 thou shalt be condemned." Therefore our very 
 I 40 
 
194 
 
 words shall come into judgment ; for "they are the 
 immediate production of the heart." Instances we 
 Iiave of bothj that in the great day, God, the judge, 
 will bring into the judgment of approbation, good 
 words tending to the honour of our Maker, or the 
 good of others: ** Then they that feared the Lord 
 spake often one to another; and the Lord hearkened 
 and heard it ; and a book of remembrance was writ- 
 ten before him for them that feared the Lord, and 
 that thouglit upon liis name." 
 
 On the other hand, sinful words shall come into 
 condemnation: tending to the dishonour of God, 
 blasphemies, " Taking his name in vain :" to the 
 reproach of our neighbour : cursings, upbraidings : 
 ** AVhosoever shall say to his brother, Thou fool, 
 shall be in danger of hell-fire." Vain idle words 
 not seasoned with salt: "But I say unto you, that 
 every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give 
 an account thereof in the day of judgment." *' Fool- 
 ish talking and jesting." And surely, if of idle and 
 foolish words, much more of sinful words; lying, 
 " Whispering and backbiting. Corrupt communi- 
 cation. The corrupt exhalation of that open se- 
 pulchre, a sinful heart. The fume of hell-fire 
 within." And surely, as there was much reason 
 that the tongue, that great instrument of the glory 
 and good of others, should come under the law of 
 God ; so the breach of that law must needs come 
 under judgment. 
 
 3. As the works and words of man' shall come 
 under this judgment : so shall the thoughts and 
 secret motions of the soul. And indeed it is the 
 inward action of the soul that most properly comes 
 
195 
 
 under tlie law of God. As it hatli an operation 
 without the concurrence of the body, so it is that 
 which doth specificate all the external actions, and 
 gives them their true denomination of ffood or evil. 
 The very external worship of God enjoined by him, if 
 not actuated by a soul righ.tly principled and moved, 
 becomes an abomination to him. And those things 
 that are for the matter of them the same in the ex- 
 ternal act, are oftentimes diversified into good or 
 evil, or neither ; according to the diversity of tlie 
 temper of the soul, whereby they are done. And 
 hence it was that God m.easured the wickedness 
 of the old world, by the constitution and tem- 
 per of the motions of their soul : " And God saw 
 that the wickedness of man was great in the earth : 
 and that every imagination of the thoughts of his 
 heart was only evil continually." And hence it is, 
 when under the law, God showed man the measure 
 of that purity which he required from him, he shows 
 it in the root : " Thou shalt love the Lord tliy 
 God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul," 
 styled by our Saviour, " The first and great com- 
 mandment." And our Saviour, giving the true and 
 natural scope and sense of the law of God. brings it 
 still to the working of the soul; as that which was 
 originally and especially the subject of the law. In 
 the matters belonging to the first table, '* God is a 
 Spirit, and will be worshipped in spirit and in truth." 
 In the matter of the second table, "Whosoever 
 looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath commit- 
 ted adultery in his heart." Unadvised anger comes 
 under the command, " Thou shalt not kill." 
 
 It is true, that with men the external action is the 
 I 2 
 
196 
 
 subject of distributive justice, because the thoughts 
 and intentions of the heart are not discoverable to 
 man but by the external act : yet when that act, be 
 it good or evil, is rewarded or punished, it is not, 
 even among men, merely in reference to the act, but 
 because the act is the product of the internal man, 
 the external sign of the will. And hence, even 
 morally, the external act, not proceeding from the 
 will, is neither rewarded nor punished ; as in fortui- 
 tous acts, and acts of persons wanting the use of 
 reason. 
 
 But Almighty God, whose prerogative alone it is 
 to know the heart, begins not with the action, but 
 with the heart, and thereby measures the action, if 
 produced ; or the man, if not produced into action : 
 and because he hath the prerogative to determine of 
 the motions of the heart, though never produced into 
 an external act, therefore also his law hath the pre- 
 rogative to lay hold of the very motions of the heart. 
 And hence it is, that as Almighty God, being the 
 most pure and immortal Spirit, gets within the spirit 
 of man, and discerns those invisible operations of the 
 soul, so the word and law of God enters into the 
 very spirit of man, and carries with it an obligation, 
 even upon those secret and invisible motions of the 
 soul : *' Piercing even unto the dividing asunder of 
 soul and spirit ; and is a discerner, or discriminator, 
 of the thoughts and intents of the heart." And 
 therefore, as the law of God extends unto, and lays 
 hold of the very thoughts, so the violation of that 
 law, in the very thoughts, contracts a guilt upon the 
 soul. Hence it was, that that holy man. Job, con- 
 cluded a necessity of a sacrifice, even for the sin of 
 
197 
 
 the thought : " It may be my sons have sinned, and 
 cursed God in their hearts." Simon, that cursed 
 man, was in the gall oF bitterness, even wliile " the 
 very thoughts of his heart were not forgiven;" and 
 the wise man tells us, " That the thought of fool- 
 ishness is sin." 
 
 Now, because the subject matter of the judgment 
 are the works, words, and thoughts of men, the same 
 being the subject matter of the law of God, it is 
 necessary that there be an evidence, or conviction of 
 the fact : for such shall the solemnity of that judg- 
 ment be, that there shall be no less evidence to dis- 
 cover the fact upon which the judgment is to pass, 
 than there shall be justice in the judgment upon that 
 fact. And as every man shall be judged most 
 exactly according to his works ; so there is a neces- 
 sity that every one of those works, upon which the 
 judgment shall pass, must be evidently and convin- 
 cingly proved upon the person judged. 
 
 Now we must know, there are two books, wherein 
 the actions of men and their words and thoughts 
 are written : and these books shall then be opened : 
 " The judgment was set, and the books were 
 opened :" *' I saw the dead, small and great, stand 
 before God, and the books were opened." 
 
 I. The book of conscience. 
 
 II. The book of God's knowledcre : the former 
 
 o 
 
 a testimony within us ; the latter without us : but 
 both so exactly agreeing, as if the former were but a 
 transcript or counterpart of the other. These two 
 great witnesses, without exception, shall state and 
 determine the fact impartially and unquestionably. 
 I. The book of conscience. This is a book 
 
198 
 
 wherein, from the first use of our reason till our death, 
 we are continually writing all our thoughts, words, 
 and actions. A constant and vigilant companion 
 and observer of our lives and of our hearts. There 
 is not the smallest good or evil action, or passage of 
 our life, but, whether we observe it or not, here it is 
 registered, and leaves the character and impres- 
 sion of itself in this marble. And what a history 
 should we find of ourselves, if we could but distinctly 
 read this book? It may be, here and there some 
 few scattered entries of a good work, a good prayer, 
 a good purpose ; but yet presently inscribed with it 
 so many vain thoughts in that prayer; so much vain- 
 glory or self-end in that good action ; the rejection 
 of that purpose in practice; and all the rest of that 
 mighty volume filled with the history of our sinful 
 and impure actions, our vain and unprofitable and 
 sinful words, our deceitful, disobedient, rebellious, 
 unprofitable thoughts. Our best actions entered, 
 but the defects and contaminations thereof entered 
 in the same paper with them : and the rest nothing 
 else but a tedious bloody bill of debts of guilt to our 
 Maker, with all the aggravations of them. And 
 these inscriptions engraven with the point of a dia- 
 mond in sheets of steel, not capable of any oblitera- 
 tion, unless it be by the blood of Jesus Clirist. It 
 is true, whilst we are in this life, we throw dust upon 
 the writing: or, it may be, in the writing of a new 
 leaf, we turn over that which is past, and never 
 trouble ourselves more about it all our lives after : 
 new sins, as it were, antiquating those that are past, 
 and silencing their remembrance. But God Al- 
 mighty shall, at the last day, open this book and cast 
 
199 
 
 ofF the dust from it: tlien every item shall be as 
 legible and as visible to the view, as it was at the 
 time of the first acting of it. The multitude of the 
 particulars shall ]iot hinder the distinct representa- 
 tion of them to the mind. It was one of Job's 
 greatest complaints, " That God made him to pos- 
 sess the iniquities of his youth :" " That his trans- 
 gression was sealed up in a b:ig." Wlien God was 
 pleased to open those entries that were made in the 
 conscience, even of his own servant, those very sins 
 which were of the most ancient date, and therefore 
 least remembered, the sins of his youth, which had 
 the less malignity, because probably acted with less 
 deliberation ; yet when God is pleased to unvail the 
 conscience, these old, these youthful sins, made a 
 hideous representation to Job himself: how much 
 more terrible shall it be, when all those remembrances 
 of the conscience shall be at once tendered to the 
 view, and "all set in order before a man." And 
 this is that " engraving of sin upon the heart with 
 the point of a diamond," that writes in wounds, and 
 not in colours only. 
 
 II. Again, the eternal God hath his book, which 
 shall then be opened; and in that book are written 
 all the actions of men. On the one side, not the 
 least good action but there it is entered: as he telleth 
 our wanderings, so he registereth our tears. Not a 
 few good words, spoken in sincerity and love to God, 
 but there is a memorandum made of them : " Then 
 they that feared the Lord spake often one to ano- 
 ther; and the Lord hearkened, and heard it; and a 
 book of remembrance was written before him for 
 them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon 
 
200 
 
 his name." And on the other side, all those evils 
 that are done by the children of men, are all regis- 
 tered. And though we might hope that some of 
 these might slip the diligence and animadversion of 
 the recorder that is within us, there is no hope to 
 avoid the record that Almighty God makes; for "he 
 is greater than our conscience, and knoweth all 
 things." 
 
 There are two acts of the divine wisdom that are 
 of infinite concern for us practically to know and 
 remember, which, nevertheless, we are apt to forget. 
 
 1. That all our ways, even of our very hearts, 
 are strictly observed by God : " For mine eyes are 
 upon all their ways, they are not hid from my face, 
 neither is their iniquity hid from mine eyes." 
 
 2. Th^t what is once seen by God, is always 
 seen, and not forgotten. It is true, we sin daily, 
 and the new sins obliterate the sense and remem- 
 brance of the old: but it is not so with God: 
 " They consider not in their hearts that I remember 
 all their wickedness." That sin that seems to be 
 lost, is but laid up: " The iniquity of Ephraim is 
 bound up, his sin is hid." And when God is 
 pleased to reckon with a man, or nation, even in 
 this life, he can recall a sin past and forgotten many 
 years ago, and render it visible to the soul in all its 
 dimensions : *' Remember not against us former 
 iniquities." How much more shall it be in that 
 great day when he shall to the uttermost, set our 
 iniquities before him, and make them conspicuous in 
 the light of his countenance? 
 
 And yet there is one remains besides this; the 
 two former are such books as we cannot think of 
 
201 
 
 without trembling. Every moment of time we fur- 
 nish new materials for the two former books ; and 
 if we look back a little into ourselves and our lives, 
 we shall find very little but black and sad materials 
 and reckonings, when every sin makes our soul a 
 debtor of its whole self unto eternity. What shall 
 become of us, when almost every instant of our lives 
 gives in such an item against us? And if perchance 
 we do any thing that is good, yet it is spoiled in the 
 doing, mixed with so many defects, spots, and enor- 
 mities, that can render us but little comfort to be- 
 hold it. And surely, if either of these two former 
 books be opened against the best of men at that day; 
 they must, with everlasting shame, inherit the por- 
 tion due to their sins. But here is the comfort of 
 all; " The blood of Christ that cleanseth us from 
 all sins." Though, it is true, the best of men have 
 run infinitely in debt to God, and filled the book of 
 conscience, and the book of God's remembrance full 
 of sad accounts; yet our Saviour, if we have laid 
 hold on him, and entered into covenant with God 
 in him, hath paid all our reckonings, and the books 
 are crossed. 
 
 And upon this, first of all, the book of conscience, 
 that was all stained with crimson inscriptions, would 
 have been more terrible to us than hell itself; yet 
 when this conscience " is sprinkled with the blood 
 of Christ," the conscience is healed, the stains obli- 
 terated, the accounts discharged, and colour thereof 
 quite changed: and though as well the conscience 
 as the sins inscribed in it, were as " scarlet, they are 
 become as white as snow." 
 
 Secondly, And as thus the conscience is healed, 
 I 3 
 
Q02 
 
 and all the black and bloody inscriptions thereof 
 defaced, so is Almighty God pleased, upon the same 
 account, to strike out all the remembrance of sins 
 past out of his book of remembrance : this is that 
 which is so frequently expressed by those effectual 
 expressions — " Sin covered," " Blotting out trans- 
 gressions, so as they shall not be remembered," 
 *' Blotting them out as a cloud," that after its dissi- 
 pation leaves no mark where it was. " So discharge 
 them, that upon a diligent search they shall not be 
 found." Nay, they shall not only be removed from 
 the view of men and angels, but even in the account 
 of Almighty God they shall be as if they never had 
 been: " For I will forgive their iniquity, and re- 
 member their sin no more." 
 
 Th.ivdly, And all this ariseth upon the producing 
 of that third book by the Mediator unto the Father. 
 A book of life: a rec^ister of all whose debt our Lord 
 hath paid: and the debt being discharged, the former 
 books are no longer to be used as evidence against 
 them. Their dear Mediator, who is now to be 
 their judge, brings in an acquittance for all that 
 lar<je roll, which otherwise miijht have stood afjainst 
 them, " For he hath borne their sins." And upon 
 the day of his passion, nailed this handwriting unto 
 his cross, hanged it upon the file, as that which he 
 hath paid, and so is no more to be mentioned. 
 
 Fourthly, We come to the rule, whereby all men 
 shall be judged. Though in respect of the most 
 infinite obligation of the creature to God for their 
 greatest good, their being, and their preservation : 
 it had been most unquestionably just, that upon the 
 ground of this absolute and infinite dominion over 
 
Q03 
 
 his creatures, he might have imposed what law, and 
 under wliat sanction he pleased; yet he was pleased 
 to enter into a pact and covenant with his creature, 
 and so to bind him, not simply upon the absolutions 
 of his own power aiid authority, but partly even upon 
 the voluntary stipulation and submission of his crea- 
 ture. And the law of this covenant is that which 
 shall be the rule of the judgment of that great day. 
 Now this covenant of God is double: 
 
 I. The covenant of works; the covenant made 
 with man in his first creation ; and this extends to 
 all mankind, as before appears, which is a covenant 
 of life, in case of perfect obedience to the will and 
 law of God, given to man in his creation ; and a 
 covenant of death, and the curse, in case of any 
 failing. And when afterwards, this covenant, and 
 the remembrance thereof, was very much defaced, 
 God was pleased expressly to renew the same with a 
 select people, which he picked out of mankind, the 
 Jewa; which renewed covenant differed from the 
 former : 
 
 1. In the extent of it; the former was universal; 
 this, limited to a select people : yet so, as it did not 
 abrogate the former, but illustrate it. 
 
 2. In the nature of it : for whereas the former 
 was purely a covenant of works, this was not so; 
 but though it seemed to run in the same tenor, vet 
 there was under it secretly lodged a covenant of 
 grace, even the sacrifice of Christ typified in it, in- 
 tended by it, and that alone made it useful to as 
 many as laid hold of that mystery that was intended 
 in it according to that manifestation that God was 
 pleased to send along with it. 
 
204 
 
 II. The covenant of grace, Christ Jesus, and him 
 crucified, received, as given by God ; and this re- 
 ceiving of Christ was the very tenor of this covenant. 
 
 God was pleased, after the covenant of works be- 
 came ineffectual to mankind, in respect of their dis- 
 ability to perform it, to reach out Christ to them, as 
 a covenant of life to as many as receive him : and 
 the ordinary way of receiving him, is, " By believing 
 in his name." Now, according to these covenants, 
 shall the whole world be judged. For all mankind 
 are under one of these covenants : whosoever is not 
 within the latter, is certainly within the compass of 
 the former. 
 
 Now, of such as are under that first covenant, as 
 not being partakers of the benefit of the second, 
 there are four ranks of men given us in the Scrip- 
 ture. 
 
 First, such as are purely under the first cove- 
 nant, without any farther degree; such are those 
 that never heard either of law or gospel. Such are 
 those spoken of: " As many as have sinned without 
 law, shall perish without law." 
 
 And though it is true, that God were most just, 
 if he should judge even these by the severest rule 
 of that exact law which was given to Adam, because 
 they were within that covenant : yet the Scripture 
 warrants us to think, that in that day he will pro- 
 ceed to judge these persons, even by so much of the 
 law that hath been communicated to them, either in 
 the external means of good discipline or education ; 
 or that secret dictate of their own conscience, styled 
 by the Apostle, "The law written in their hearts." 
 
 This is one of those two great parties that shall 
 
205 
 
 be the object of vengeance in that day: "Taking 
 vengeance on them which know not God," &c. 
 The knowledge of God is so visibly discovered in 
 the creature, that it shall be a most just conviction 
 of such persons in that day : " For the invisible 
 things of him from the creation of the world are 
 clearly seen, being understood by the things that are 
 made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that 
 they are without excuse." 
 
 And certainly in that day, the whole world of men 
 that have the use of reason, will be found guilty be- 
 fore him, even in not knowing those things con- 
 cerning God, which, by the light of nature they 
 might know ; or in not observing some of those very 
 dictates, which that truth once known, or the light 
 of their own conscience did carry them into, without 
 any necessity of resorting to so much of that law 
 whereof they were ignorant. This is that which is 
 perishing without the law. 
 
 Secondly, such as, though under the first cove- 
 nant, have nevertheless a superaddition of light, and 
 consequently of guilt, by the accession of that re- 
 newed covenant of works given by the ministration 
 of Moses. 
 
 And this concerns principally the Jews, who su- 
 peradded another covenant to the former, and so 
 have a superadded guilt by their offence. 
 
 1. Because against greater light. 
 
 2. Because against a renewed covenant, and by 
 them violated. " Such as have sinned in the law, 
 shall be judged by the law;" and this is, in effect, the 
 scope of the second chapter of the epistle to the 
 Romans. 
 
206 
 
 Thirdly, Such as have had an oflPer of Christ, the 
 second covenant, and yet have rejected it. 
 
 These, though they are still under the obligation 
 of the first covenant, yet by rejecting either the 
 faith or obedience of Christ, they superadd a greater 
 guilt to themselves than any of the former : and 
 therefore it is styled by our Saviour, the condemna- 
 tion : " This is the condemnation, that light is 
 come into the world, and men loved darkness rather 
 than lifjht." We have as well those of the first, as 
 those of the latter rank joined together : " To 
 render vengeance on them that know not God, 
 and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ." The former are judged, because the 
 works of God leave them inexcusable in their igno- 
 rance of God, or neglect of the duty that results from 
 that knowledge ; the latter are judged inexcusable, 
 because the gospel and the message of it is pro- 
 claimed to them, and yet rejected by them. 
 
 Fourthly, Such as have not only the light of na- 
 ture, the light of the written law of God, the light 
 of the gospel tendered, but that light in some mea- 
 sure received, and afterwards rejected, which adds 
 apostacy to their rebellion ; and thus superadds a 
 higher guilt than any of the former : " If we sin 
 wilfully, after we have received the knowledge of 
 the truth, there remains no more sacrifice for sin, but 
 a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery 
 indignation." 
 
 The former sorts of men are not within the bene- 
 fit of the second covenant, nor can expect the fruit 
 thereof in the judgment. 
 
 But there is a company of persons that have laid 
 
207 
 
 liold of this second covenant, and shall be judged by- 
 it, such as have received Christ as he is offered to 
 the world ; received him as their righteousness, as 
 their sacrifice, as their instructor, as their comman- 
 der and generaL 
 
 The obedience of faith is as universal as the law, 
 or command of faith, it fastens upon every part of 
 its object; and to such tlicre is no condemnation : 
 " Whosoever believeth in me shall not come into 
 condemnation, but is passed from death to life." 
 
 This discharge and acquittal of these persons 
 stands founded upon the immutable truth and jus- 
 tice of God. For though it was his own free and 
 undeserved goodness that at first moved him to ten- 
 der this second covenant to mankind, to accept of 
 the righteousness and satisfaction of another for 
 them : and when none in heaven or earth could be 
 found to perform the one, or undergo the other, to 
 send his own Son to do and suffer it, and to proclaim 
 to mankind, that as many as betake themselves to 
 this covenant, and do accordingly lay hold of it, to 
 give to them the pardon of their sins, and the en- 
 joyment of blessedness. 
 
 Yet, when this great word is pronounced by him, 
 his truth and justice are engaged in the performance 
 of it : the righteousness and satisfaction of Christ is 
 as effectually theirs, as if performed by them : their 
 debt paid, and their persons accepted. 
 
 And so in that great day, the great God shall, in 
 the face of the whole world, have the glory, as well 
 of his justice as of his mercy, in the salvation of 
 his saints. 
 
OF 
 
 WISDOM, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE FEAR OF GOD; 
 
 THAT THAT IS TRUE WISDOM. 
 
 Job XXVIII. 28. 
 
 " And unto man he said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, 
 that is wisdom ; and to depart from evil is under ^ 
 standing.''^ 
 
 The great pre-eminence that man hath over beasts, 
 is his reason; and the great pre-eminence that 
 one man hath over another, is wisdom : though 
 all men have ordinarily the privilege of reason, yet 
 all men have not the habit of wisdom. The great- 
 est commendation that we can ordinarily give a 
 man, is, that he is a wise man; and the greatest re- 
 proach that can be to a man, and that which is worst 
 resented, is to be called or esteemed a fool : and yet 
 as much as the reputation of wisdom is valued, and 
 the reputation of folly is resented, the generality of 
 mankind are in truth very fools, and make it the 
 great part of their business to be so ; and many that 
 pretend to seek after wisdom, do either mistake the 
 thing, or mistake the way to attain it. Commonly, 
 
209 
 
 those that are the greatest pretenders to wisdom, 
 and the search after it, place it in some little narrow 
 concern, but place it not in its true latitude commen- 
 surate to the nature of mankind : and hence it is, 
 that one esteems it the only wisdom to be a wise 
 politician or statesman ; another, to be a wise and 
 knowing naturalist ; another, to be a wise acquirer 
 of wealth, and the like : and all these are wisdoms 
 in their kind; and the world' perchance would be 
 much better than it is, if these kinds of wisdom were 
 more cultivated than they are : but yet these are 
 but partial wisdoms; the wisdom that is most worth 
 the seeking and finding, is that which renders a man 
 a wise man. 
 
 This excellent man. Job, after a diligent search 
 (in the language of this chapter) after wisdom, what 
 it is, where to be found, doth at length make these 
 two conclusions, namely, 1. That the true root of 
 wisdom, and that, therefore, he that best knew where 
 it was to be found, and how to be attained, is cer- 
 tainly none other but Almighty God, ver. 23. '* God 
 understandeth the way thereof, and knoweth the 
 place thereof." And, 2. As he alone best knew it, 
 so he best knew how to prescribe to mankind the 
 means and method to attain it. " To man he said, 
 To fear God, that is wisdom ;" that is, is the proper 
 and adequate wisdom suitable to human nature, and 
 to the condition of mankind. And we need not 
 doubt but it is so; because he that best knew what 
 was the best rule of wisdom, prescribed it to man, 
 his best of visible creatures, whom we have just rea- 
 son to believe he would not deceive with a false or 
 deficient rule of wisdom ; since as wisdom is the 
 
210 
 
 beauty and glory of man, so wisdom in man sets 
 forth the glory, and excellency, and goodness of 
 God. And, consonant to this, David, a wise king, 
 and Solomon, the wisest of men, affirms the same 
 truth : " The fear of the Lord is the beginning of 
 wisdom ; a good understanding have all they that 
 do his commandments." — *' The fear of the Lord 
 is tlie beginning of knowledge; but fools despise 
 wisdom and instruction. — The fear of the Lord is 
 the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the 
 holy is understanding." And when the wise man 
 had run all his long travel of experiments, to attain 
 that which mif;ht be that oood for the children of 
 men, in the end of his tedious chase and pursuit, he 
 closeth up all with this very same conclusion : " Let 
 us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear 
 God, and keep his commandments, for this is the 
 whole duty of man." And he gives a short, but 
 effectual reason of it : " For God shall bring every 
 work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether 
 it be good, or whether it be evil." And hence it is, 
 that this wise man, who had the greatest measure of 
 wisdom of any mere man since the creation of Adam; 
 that had as great experience and knowledge of all 
 things and persons; that made it his business to 
 search and inquire, not only into wisdom, but into 
 madness and folly; that had the greatest opportunity 
 of wealth and power, to make the exactest inquiry 
 therein : this wise, and inquisitive, and experienced 
 man, in all his writings, styles the man fearing God, 
 and obeying him, the only wise man ; and the person 
 that neglects this duty, the only fool and madman. 
 And yet it is strange to see how little this is 
 
211 
 
 thought of, or believed in the world ; nay, for the 
 most part, he is thought the wisest man, who hath 
 the least of this principle of wisdom appearing in 
 him; that shakes off the fear of God, or the sense 
 of his presence, or the obedience to his will, and the 
 discipline of his conscience, and by craft, or subtlety, 
 or power, or oppression, or by whatsoever method 
 may be most conduciblc, pursues his ends of profit, 
 or power, or pleasure, or what else his own vain 
 thoughts, and the mistaken estimate of the generality 
 of men render desirable in this world : and, on the 
 other hand, he that governs himself, his life, his 
 thoughts, words, actions, ends, and purposes, with the 
 fear of Almighty God, with a sense and awe of his pre- 
 sence, according to his word ; that drives at a nobler 
 end than ordinarily the world thinks of; namely, peace 
 with Almighty God, and with his own heart and con- 
 science, the hope and expectation of eternity ; such 
 a man is counted a shallow, empty, inconsiderate, 
 foolish man ; one that makes no figure in the world ; 
 a man laden with a melancholy delusion, setting a 
 great estimate upon a world he sees not, and neglect- 
 ing the opportunities of the world he sees. 
 
 But upon a sound and true examination of this 
 business, we shall find that the man that feareth 
 God is the wisest man, and he that upon that ac- 
 count departs from evil, is the man of greatest un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 1 shall show, therefore, these two things : — 
 
 I. What it is to fear God. 
 
 II. That this fear of God is most demonstratively 
 the best wisdom of mankind, and makes a man truly 
 and really a wise man. 
 
212 
 
 I. Touching tbe first of these ; fear is an affec- 
 tion of the soul, that is as much diversified as any 
 one affection whatsoever; which diversification of 
 the affection ariseth from the diversification of those 
 objects by which this affection is moved. 1 shall 
 mention these four : 
 
 1. Fear of despondency or desperation ; which 
 ariseth from the fear of some great and important 
 danger that is unavoidable, or at least so appre- 
 hended; and this is not a fear that is here com- 
 mended to mankind. 
 
 2. Fear of terror or affrightment ; which arises 
 on the sense of some great important danger, that 
 though possibly it may be avoided, yet it carries with 
 it a great probability and immediate impendency ; as 
 the fear of mariners in a storm ; or a fear that befals 
 a man in some time or place of great confusion, or 
 visible calamity. And this kind of fear of Almighty 
 God, is sometimes effectual and useful to bring men 
 to repentance, after some great displeasure of Al- 
 mightyGod by sin or apostacy; but this is not that 
 fear that is here, at least primarily and principally, 
 meant, but these two that follow. 
 
 3. A fear of reverence or awfulness : and this 
 fear is raised principally upon the sense of some ob- 
 ject, full of glory, majesty, greatness, though pos- 
 sibly there is no cause of expecting any hurt from 
 the person or thing thus feared. Thus a subject 
 bears a reverential fear to his prince, from the sense 
 of his majesty and grandeur : and thus, much more 
 the majesty and greatness of Almighty God, excites 
 reverence and awfulness, though there were no 
 other ingredient in that fear : " Will ye not fear 
 
213 
 
 me, saith the Lord ? will ye not trembls at my pre- 
 sence?" "Who would not fear thee, O King of 
 nations ?" 
 
 4. A fear of caution or watchfulness. This is 
 that vvhich the wise man commends, Prov. xxvii. 14. 
 " Blessed is the man that feareth always." And 
 this fear of caution is a due care, and vigilancy not 
 to displease that person from whom we enjoy or 
 hope for good ; the fear of a benefactor, or of that 
 person from whom we may, upon some just cause or 
 demerit, expect an evil, as the fear of a just and 
 righteous judge. And these two latter kinds of 
 fear ; namely, the fear of reverence, and the fear of 
 caution, are those that are the principal ingredients, 
 constituting this fear of God, that these excellent 
 men commend to us as true wisdom. 
 
 Now this fear of God ariseth from those right 
 and true apprehensions concerning Almighty God, 
 that do excite both these two kinds of fear; and 
 those seem to be principally these three : 
 
 1. A true and deep sense of the being of God; 
 namely, that there is a most excellent and perfect 
 Being, which we call God, the only true God, the 
 Maker of all things. But this is not enough to con- 
 stitute this fear ; for Epicurus and Lucian did be- 
 lieve that there was a God, yet were without the fear 
 of him. 
 
 2. A true and deep sense, knowledge, and con- 
 sideration of the attributes of God are but so many 
 expressions and declarations of his perfection and 
 excellency, and therefore all contribute to advance 
 and improve this fear, especially of reverence ; yet 
 there are some attributes that seem, in a more special 
 
214 
 
 manner, to excite and raise this affection of fear, as 
 well the fear of reverence as that of caution and 
 vigilance. As, namely, 1. The majesty and glory 
 of God, at which the very angels of heaven, that are 
 confirmed in an unchangeable estate of happiness, 
 carry an inward, and express an outward reverence. 
 2. But majesty and glory, without power, is not 
 perfect; therefore the sense and knowledge of the 
 Almighty power of God, is a great object of our 
 fear; he doth whatsoever he pleaseth ; all things 
 had their being from him, and have their dependence 
 on him. 
 
 3. The deep knowledge of the goodness of God, 
 and that goodness not only inherent in himself, 
 but diffusive and communicative : and from this 
 diffusive and communicative goodness of God, all 
 things had their actual being, and from him they 
 do enjoy it. And both these goodnesses of God, 
 the inherent and emanating goodnesses, are the no- 
 blest exciters of the noblest fear ; a fear springing 
 from love, and that love fixing upon the inherent 
 goodness of God, which is altogether lovely and 
 perfect ; and so upon the emanating and com- 
 municative goodness of God, as he is our bene- 
 factor; and wherever there is love, there is the fear 
 both of reverence and caution. We cannot but 
 honour and reverence, and be careful to observe 
 and please whatsoever we thus love; the intrinsic 
 nature of that which we love for its own worth and 
 perfection, binds us, by a kind of natural bond, to 
 reverence and honour ; and the extrinsic emanation 
 of that goodness to us, binds us to reverence, and 
 esteem, and honour it as our benefactor, by a double 
 
215 
 
 bond, namely, 1. Of gratitude, or benevolence, to 
 him that communicates this good. 2. By a bond of 
 prudence and self-preservation, not to disoblige him 
 from whom we have our good, and upon whom we 
 have our dependence, lest a disobligation should occa- 
 sion his abatement of that good from us. Wherever 
 there is a dependence, as there must be natural love 
 to that upon which is our dependence, so there must 
 be necessarily a fear both of reverence and caution, 
 even upon principles of self-love, if there were no- 
 thing else to command it. 
 
 4. A deep sense, knowledge, and consideration 
 of the divine omniscience. If there were all the 
 other motives of fear imaginable, yet if this were 
 wantiijg, the fear of God would be in a great mea- 
 sure abated; for what availeth reverence or caution, 
 if he to whom it is intended do not know it? and 
 what damage can be sustained by a neglect or omis- 
 sion of that fear, if God Almighty knew it not? 
 The want of this consideration hath made even 
 those atheists that yet acknowledged a God ; such 
 were Epicurus, Diagoras, Lucretius, Lucian, and 
 others among the philosophers; and such was 
 Eliphaz's oppressor, " How doth God know? and 
 can he judge through the thick cloud?" Or David's 
 fool, " The Lord shall not see, neither shall the 
 God of Jacob regard." But the all-knowing God 
 searcheth the very thoughts, and knows the heart, 
 and all the actions of our lives: *' Not a word in our 
 tongue, but he heareth it, and knows our thoughts 
 afar off." 
 
 5. A deep sense of the holiness and purity of 
 God, which must needs cause in him an averseness 
 to, and abhorrence of, whatever is sinful or impure. 
 
216 
 
 Lastly, the sense of the justice of God, not only 
 an inherent justice, which is the rectitude of his 
 nature; but transient or distributive justice, that will 
 most certainly distribute rewards to obedience, ob- 
 servance, and the fear of his name, but punishment 
 to the disobedient, and those that have no fear of 
 him before their eyes. The deep consideration and 
 sense of these attributes of the divine perfection, 
 must needs excite both the fear of reverence and the 
 fear of caution, or fear of offending, either by com- 
 mission of what may displease God, or of omitting 
 of what is pleasing to him. 
 
 But although this knowledge of Almighty God 
 and his attributes, may justly excite a fear both of 
 reverence and caution; yet without the knowledge 
 of something else, that fear will be extravagant and 
 disorderly; and sometimes beget superstition or 
 strange exorbitancy in this fear, or in the expres- 
 sions of it, and a want of regularity of duty or obe- 
 dience: if a man know that Almighty God is just, 
 and will reward obedience, and punish disobedience; 
 yet if he knows not what he will have to be done or 
 omitted, he will indeed fear to displease him, but he 
 will not know how to please or obey him. There- 
 fore, besides the former, there must be a knowledge 
 of the will or law of God in things to be done or 
 omitted. This law of God hath a double inscrip- 
 tion. 1. In nature; and that is again twofold; 
 1st, The natural rudiments of morality and piety 
 written in the heart. 2d, Such as are deducible 
 by the exercise of natural reason and light; for even 
 from the notion of God, there do result certain con- 
 sequences of natural piety and religion; as, that he 
 
217 
 
 is to be prayed to, to be praised; that he is to be 
 imitated as far as is possible by us; therefore, as he 
 is holy, beneficent, good, and merciful, so must we 
 be. 2. But we have a more excellent transcript of 
 the divine will; namely, the Holy Scriptures, which, 
 therefore, a man that fears God will study, observe, 
 and practise, as being the best rule how to obey him. 
 And the very fear of God arising upon the sense of 
 his being and attributes, will make that man very 
 solicitous to know the will of God, and how he will 
 be worshipped and served, and what he would have 
 to be done, or not to be done: and therefore, since 
 the glorious God hath so far condescended, as by 
 his providence to send us a transcript of his mind, 
 will, and law, he will be very thankful for it, very 
 studious of it, much delighted in it, very curious to 
 observe it, because it is the rule and direction how 
 he may obey, and consequently please that great 
 God whom he fears; this word he believes and prizes 
 as his (Tcat charter, and in this word he finds much 
 to excite and regulate, and direct his fear of God; 
 he sees examples of the divine justice against the 
 otFenders of his law; of the divine bounty in reward- 
 \ncr the obedience to it; threateninirs on one hand, 
 
 iT) 
 
 promises on the other: greater manifestations of the 
 divine goodness in the redemption of mankind by 
 Christ Jesus, and therefore greater obligations as 
 well to fear as to love such a benefactor. 
 
 II. And thus far of the kinds of the fear of God, 
 and of the causes of objects exciting it. Now let 
 us see how it doth appear that this fearing man is 
 the wise man, and how the fear of God discovers 
 itself to be the true, and best, and only wisdom ; 
 K 40 
 
218 
 
 which will appear in the following particular con- 
 siderations : 
 
 1. Many learned men, considering that great 
 similitude and image of ratiocination in some brutes 
 especially, have therefore declined to define a man 
 by his reason, because of that analogical ratiocina- 
 tion which they find in brutes; but define a man by 
 his religion. Homo est animal religiosian ; because 
 in this they find no communication, or similitude of 
 natures and operations between man and brute 
 beasts: for man is the only visible creature that ex- 
 presseth any inclination to religion, or the sense of a 
 Deity, or any exercise of it. I do not stand to 
 justify this opinion in all particulars; only these 
 things are most certain: 1. That only the human 
 nature seems to have any sense or impression of any 
 regular religion upon it. 2. That the sense of a 
 Deity, and religion resulting from it, is the great 
 ennobling and perfection of the human nature. 
 3. That take away the fear of God, all sense and all 
 use of religion falls to the ground. So that the 
 fear of God is the great foundation of religion, and 
 consequently the great ennobling and glory of human 
 nature, that seems almost as great a superiority of a 
 man truly religious, above an irreligious man, as to 
 operation and use, as there is between an irreligious 
 man and a brute. As relifjion advanceth, so irrcli- 
 trion debaseth the human nature. 
 
 2. .Justice is of two kinds; distributive, which is 
 the justice, of a magistrate or judge, distributing 
 rewards and punishments, favour and displeasure, 
 and due retribution to every man, according to the 
 merits of his cause. 2. Commutative, which is in 
 
219 
 
 all civil contracts and dealings between persons ; as 
 dealing honestly, keeping promises, and using plain- 
 ness, sincerity, and truth, in all a man saith or doth: 
 and both these kinds of justice are effects of excellent 
 wisdom; without these, states, and societies, and 
 persons, fall into disorder, confusion, and dissolution; 
 and therefore, those very men that have not this 
 justice and righteousness, vet honour and value 
 those that have it, and use it. And the fear of 
 Almighty God is that which begets and improves 
 both these kinds of justice. Hence it was, that 
 Moses, in his choice of judges, directs that they 
 should be " men fearing God, and hating covetous- 
 ness." Jehoshaphat, in his charge to his judges, 
 thought this the best expedient to contain them 
 within the bounds of justice, to put them in remem- 
 brance before whom, and for whom, they are to 
 judge. And some of the very heathens themselves 
 used to set an empty chair in the place of judicature, 
 as an emblem of the presence of God, the invisible, 
 and yet all-seeing God, as present in the courts of 
 justice, observing all the judges do, and this they 
 esteemed an excellent means to keep judges to their 
 duty, by representing to them the glorious God 
 beholding them. And as thus in distributive justice, 
 the fear of God is a great means to keep and improve 
 it; so in commutative justice the fear of God gives 
 a secret and powerful law to a man to keep and ob- 
 serve it. And hence it is, that Joseph could give 
 no greater assurance to his brethren of his just deal- 
 ing with them than this, " This do, for I fear 
 God;" and on the other side, Abraham could have 
 no greater cause of suspicion of ill and unjust dealing 
 k2 
 
^20 
 
 from the people with whom he conversed, than this, 
 that they wanted the fear of God, " Because I 
 thought the fear of God was not in this place," &c. 
 The sense of the greatness, and majesty, and power, 
 and justice, and all-seeing presence and command of 
 Almighty God, lays a greater obligation upon a man 
 to fear a heart-searching God, to deal justly and 
 honestly, than all the terrors of death itself can do. 
 
 And if any one say, how came it to pass that the 
 heathens that knew not, and therefore feared not 
 the true God, were yet great assertors, maintainers, 
 and practisers of all civil justice and righteousness 
 between man and man? I say, though they knew 
 not the true God, they knew that there was a God, 
 whom (though ignorantly) they feared: and this im- 
 perfect fear of God was the true cause of that justice 
 and righteousness that was sincerely, and not for 
 ostentation, practised among them; and though they 
 mistook the true God, yet in this they were not 
 mistaken, that there was a God; and this truth had 
 that great influence upon them, to do justly: and if 
 that imperfect fear of God in them did so much pre- 
 vail as to make them so just, how much more must 
 the true knowledge and the fear of the true God 
 prevail to advance righteousness and justice in them, 
 that have that fear of God in their hearts? 
 
 3. It is a great part of wisdom that concerns a 
 person in the exercise of the duties of his relations ; 
 and indeed it is a great part of justice and righte- 
 ousness. Now, the fear of Almighty God hath these 
 two great advantages therein: 1. The will of God 
 instructs exactly all relations in their duties of those 
 reciprocal relations; and this will of God is revealed 
 
in his word, which contains excellent precepts of all 
 kinds, suitable to every several relation. 2. The 
 fear of God sets these directions close upon the heart, 
 and is a severe and constant obligation to observe 
 them. And so this fear of God doth effectually fit, 
 habituate, guide, and oblige a man to the duties of 
 his several relations: it makes a good magistrate, a 
 good subject, a good husband, a good wife, a good 
 father, a good child, a good master, a good servant : 
 in ail those several kinds of goodness that are pecu- 
 liar and proper to the several relations wherein a 
 man stands. 
 
 4. Sincerity, uprightness, integrity, and honesty, 
 are certainly true and real wisdom. Let any man 
 observe it where he will, a hypocrite, or dissembler, 
 or double-hearted man, though he may shuffle it out 
 for a while, yet at the long-run he is discovered and 
 disappointed, and betrays very much folly at the 
 latter end; when a plain, sincere, honest man holds 
 it out to the very last; so that the proverb is most 
 true, that ' honesty is the best policy.' Now the 
 great privilege of the fear of God is, that it makes 
 the heart sincere and upright, and that will certainly 
 make the words and actions so: for he is under the 
 sense of the inspection and animadversion of that 
 God that searches the heart, and therefore he dares 
 not lie, nor dissemble, nor flatter, nor prevaricate; 
 because he knows the pure, all-seeing, righteous 
 God, that loves truth and integrity, and hates lying 
 and dissimulation, beholds, and sees, and observes 
 him, and knows his thoughts, words, and actions. 
 It is true, that vain-glory, and ostentation, and re- 
 putation, and designs, and ends, may, many times, 
 
2^2 
 
 render the outward actions specious and fair, when 
 the heart runs quite another way, and accordingly 
 would frame the actions, if those ends and designs, 
 and vain-glory and ostentation were not in the 
 way; but the fear of God begins with the heart, 
 purifies and rectifies it; and from the heart, thus 
 rectified, grows a conformity in the life, the words, 
 and actions. 
 
 5. The great occasions and reasons of the folly 
 of mankind, are, 1. The unruliness and want of go- 
 vernment of the sensual appetite or lusts: hence 
 grows intemperance, and excess in eating and drink- 
 ing, unlawful and exorbitant lusts; and these ex- 
 haust the estate, waste and consume the health, 
 debase and impoverish the mind, destroy the repu- 
 tation, and render men unfit for industry and busi- 
 ness. 2. The exorbitancy, and unruliness, and 
 irregularity of the passions ; as, excessive love of 
 things that are either not lovely, or not deserving 
 so much love ; excess of anger, which oftentimes 
 degenerates into malice and revenge ; excess of joy, 
 in light, trivial, inconsiderable matters; excess of 
 fear, where either no cause of fear, or no cause of 
 so much fear is ; and these exorbitances of passion 
 betray the succours of reason, break out into very 
 foolish, vain, imprudent actions, and fill the world 
 with much of that folly and disorder that is every 
 where observable. 3. Those diseases and distem- 
 pers of the mind; as pride, vain-glory, ambition of 
 honour, and place, and power, insolency, arrogancy, 
 envy, covetousness, and the like: these, I say, are 
 so many sicknesses and cankers, and rotten ulcers 
 in the mind ; and, as they, like the furies that were 
 
2-23 
 
 let loose out of Pandora's box, do raise most of these 
 storms and tempests that are abroad in the world, 
 so they disease and disorder, and beset the mind 
 wherein they are, and make men's lives a torment 
 to themselves, and put them upon very foolish, vain, 
 and frantic actions and deportments, and render 
 men perfect fools, madmen, and without understand- 
 ing; and their folly is so much the greater, and the 
 more incurable, that, like some kind of frantic 
 men, they think very goodly of themselves, think 
 themselves passing wise men, and applaud them- 
 selves; though it is most apparent to any indifferent 
 by-stander, that there are not a sort of vainer fool- 
 ish persons under heaven. Now, as we are truly 
 told, that the first degree and step of wisdom is to 
 put off folly : 
 
 - Sapientia prima est. 
 
 Stultitia caruisse 
 
 so it is the method of the fear of God, the begin- 
 ning of all true wisdom, to disburthen a man of 
 these originals and foundations of folly. It gives a 
 law to the sensitive appetite, brings it in subjection, 
 keeps it within the limits and bounds of reason, and 
 of those instructions and directions that the wise 
 God had prescribed : it keeps under discipline and 
 rule; it directs the passions to their proper objects, 
 and keeps them within the due measures, and within 
 the due lines and limits of moderation, and as be- 
 comes a man that lives in the sight and observation 
 of the God of glory, majesty, and holiness; it cures 
 those diseases and distempers of the mind, by the 
 presence of this great preservative, the fear of God. 
 
224 
 
 If pride or vain-glory begin to bud in the soul, he 
 considers that the God he fears resists the proud. 
 This fear puts a man in remembrance of the glorious 
 majesty of the nfost glorious God ; and what is a 
 poor worm, that he should be proud or vain-glorious 
 in the presence and sight of that mighty God? If 
 ambition or covetousness begin to appear, this fear 
 of God presently reminds a man, that the mighty 
 God hath prohibited them; that he hath presented 
 to us things of greater moment for our desires than 
 worldly wealth or honour; that we are all of his 
 household, and must content ourselves with that 
 portion he allots us, without pressing beyond the 
 measure of sobriety, or dependence upon, or sub- 
 mission to him: if revenge stirs in our hearts, this 
 fear of God checks, tells a man that he usuros God's 
 prerogative, who hath reserved vengeance to himself 
 as a part of his own sovereignty : if that vermin, 
 envy, begins to live and crawl in our hearts, this fear 
 of God crusheth it by reminding us that the mighty 
 God prohibits it, that he is the sovereign Lord and 
 dispenser of all things; if he hath given me little, 
 I ought to be contented; if he hath given another 
 more, yet why should my eye be evil, because his 
 eye is good? thus the fear of the Lord walks 
 thorough the soul, and pulls up those weeds and roots 
 of bitterness and folly that infect, disquiet, disorder, 
 and befool it. 
 
 6. Another great cause of folly in this world is 
 inadvertence, inconsiderateness, precipitancy, and 
 over hastiness in speech or action. If men had but 
 the patience many times to pause but so long iu 
 actions and speeches of moment, as might serve to 
 
2^5 
 
 repeat the Creed or Lord's Prayer, many follies in 
 the world would be avoided, that do very much 
 mischief, both to themselves and others ; and there- 
 fore, inadvertence and precipitancy in things of great 
 moment, and that require much deliberation, must 
 needs be a very great folly, because the consequence 
 of miscarriage in them is of greater moment. Now, 
 the fear of the Lord of heaven and earth beinor ac- 
 tually present upon the soul, and exerting itself, is 
 the greatest motive and obligation in the world to 
 consideration and attention, touching things to be 
 done or said. When a man is to do any thing, or 
 speak in the presence of a great earthly prince, the 
 very awe and fear of that prince, will give any man 
 very much consideration touching what he saith or 
 doth, especially to see that it be conformable to those 
 laws and edicts that this prince hath made. Now, 
 the great God oF heaven and earth hath, in his holy 
 word, given us laws and rules touching our words 
 and actions; and what we are to say or do, is tQ be 
 said or done in no less a presence than the presence 
 of the ever-glorious God, who strictly eyes and ob- 
 serves every man in the world, with the very same 
 advertence as it" there were nothin"^ else for him to 
 observe; and certainly there cannot be imagined a 
 greater motive to advertence, and attention, and 
 consideration, than this; and, therefore, if the ac- 
 tion or speech be of any moment, a man that fears 
 God, will consider, L Is this lawful to be done or 
 not ? if it be not, " how shall I do this great evil, and 
 sin against God?" 2. But if it be lawful, yet is it 
 fit? is it convenient? is it seasonable? if not, then 
 I will not do it, for it becomes not that presence 
 k3 
 
226 
 
 before whom I live. 3. Again, if the thing be 
 lawful and fit, yet I will consider how it is to be 
 done, what are the most suitable circumstances to 
 the honour and good pleasure of that great God be- 
 fore whom 1 stand. And this advertence and con- 
 sideration doth not only qualify my actions and words 
 with wisdom and prudence, in contemplation of the 
 duty I ovve to God ; but it gives an excellent op- 
 portunity, very many times, by giving pause and de- 
 liberation, in reference to my duty to God, to dis- 
 cover many human ingredients of wisdom and pru- 
 dence requisite to the choice of actions and words, 
 and the manner of doing them; so that, besides the 
 greater advantage of consideration and advertence, 
 in relation to Almighty God, it doth superadd this 
 advantage also, for opportunity thereby of human, 
 prudential considerations, which otherwise, by haste 
 and precipitance in actions or words, would be lost ; 
 and it habituates the mind to a temper of caution, 
 advertence, and consideration in matters as well of 
 smaller as of greater moment, and so makes a vvise, 
 attentive, and considerate man. 
 
 7. It mightily advances and improves the worth 
 and excellency of most human actions in the world, 
 and makes them a nobler kind of a thing than 
 otherwise they would be without it. Take a man 
 that is employed as a statesman or politician, though 
 he have much wisdom and prudence, it commonly 
 degenerates into craft, and cunning, and pitiful 
 shuffling, without the fear of God ; but mingle the 
 fear of Almighty God with that kind of wisdom, 
 it renders it noble, and generous, and honest, and 
 stable. Again, a man that is much acquainted with 
 
227 
 
 the subtiler kind of learning, as philosophy, for in- 
 stance, without the fear of God upon his heart, it 
 will carry him over to pride, arrogance, self-conceit, 
 curiosity, presumption ; but mingle it with the fear 
 of God, it will ennoble that knowledge, carry it up 
 to the honour and glory of that God that is the 
 Author of nature; to the admiration of his power, 
 wisdom, and goodness; it will keep him humble, 
 modest, sober, and yet rather with an advance than 
 detriment to his knowledge. Take a man indus- 
 trious in his calling, without the fear of God, he 
 becomes a drudge to worldly ends, vexed when dis- 
 appointed, overjoyed in success; mingle but the 
 fear of God with it, it will not abate his industry, 
 but sweeten it; if he prosper, he is thankful to God 
 that gives him power to get wealth; if he miscarry, 
 he is patient under the will and dispensation of the 
 God he fears, it turns the very employment of his 
 calling to a kind of religious duty and exercise of 
 his religion, without damage or detriment to it. 
 
 8. The fear of God is certainly the greatest wis- 
 dom, because it renders the mind full of tranquillity, 
 and evenness, in all states and conditions; for he 
 looks up to the great Lord of heaven and earth, 
 considers what he commands and requires, remem- 
 bers that he observes and eyes all men ; knows that 
 his providence governs all things, and this keeps 
 him still even and square, without any considerable 
 alteration, whatever his condition is. Is he rich, 
 prosperous, great? yet he continues safe, because 
 he continues humble, w^atchful, advertent, lest he 
 should be deceived and transported; and he is care- 
 ful to be the more thankful, and the more watchful. 
 
228 
 
 because the command of his God, and the nature of 
 his condition require it. Is lie poor, neglected, 
 unsuccessful? yet he remains still patient, humble, 
 contented, thankful, dependent upon the God he 
 fears. And surely every man must needs agree, 
 that such a man is wiser than he who is ever 
 changed and transported with his condition; that if 
 he be rich or powerful, there is nothing more vain, 
 proud, insolent than he. And again, let his condi- 
 tion become poor, low, despised, there is nothing 
 under heaven more despondent, dispirited, heartless, 
 discontented, and tortured, than sucli a man ; and 
 all for the want of the fear of Almighty God, which 
 being once put into the heart, like the tree put by 
 Moses into the water, cures the disorder and un- 
 easiness of all conditions. 
 
 9. In as much as the true fear of God is always 
 mingled with the knowledge of the will of God, 
 and that will is contained most fully in his written 
 word, it must needs be, that a man that truly fears 
 the Lord, and is instructed in the word of God, the 
 precepts thereof must needs be deeply digested into 
 his mind. Now, as this word is the word of the 
 ever-wise God, and therefore certainly must be full 
 of most wise directions; so let any man but impar- 
 tially and deeply consider the precepts contained in 
 the word of God, he shall assuredly find the best 
 directions in the v^wrld for all kind of moral and 
 divine wisdom : and I do confidently say, that in all 
 other books of morality, there are not so sound, 
 deep, certain, evident instructions of wisdom (yet 
 most strictly joined with innocence and goodness) as 
 there is in this one book, as would be easily demon- 
 
^29 
 
 strable even to a reasonable judgment; but this is 
 too large a theme for this place. 
 
 10. But besides all this, there is yet a secret, 
 but a most certain truth, that highly improveth 
 that wisdom, which the fear of the Lord bringeth, 
 and that is, that those that truly fear God, have a 
 secret guidance from a higher wisdom than what is 
 barely human; namely, " By the Spirit of truth and 
 wisdom," that doth really and truly, but secretly 
 prevent and direct them. And let no man think 
 that this is a piece of fanaticism. Any man that 
 sincerely and truly fears Almighty God, relies upon 
 him, calls upon him for his guidance and direction, 
 hath it as really as the son hath the counsel and 
 direction of his father; and though the voice be not 
 audible, nor the direction always perceptible to 
 sense, yet it is equally as real as if a man heard the 
 voice, saying, " This is the way, walk ye in it :" and 
 this secret direction of Almighty God is principally 
 seen in matters relating to the good of the soul; 
 but it may also be found in the great and momen- 
 tous concerns of this life, which a good man that 
 fears God, and begs his direction, shall very often, 
 if not at all times, find. 2. Besides this direction, 
 a good man fearing God, shall find his blessing upon 
 him. It is true, that the portion of men fearing 
 God is not in this life; oftentimes he meets with 
 crosses, afflictions, and troubles in it; his portion is 
 of a higher and more excellent state and condition 
 than this life; yet a man that fears God, hath also 
 his blessing in this life, even in relation to his very 
 temporal condition: for either his honest and just 
 intentions and endeavours are blessed with success 
 and comfort, or if they be not, yet even his crosses 
 
230 
 
 and disappointments are turned into a blessing; for 
 they make him more humble and less esteeming this 
 present world, and setting his heart upon a better. 
 For it is an everlasting truth, that all things shall 
 work together for the best, to them that love and 
 fear Almighty God; and therefore, certainly such a 
 man is the wisest man. 
 
 11. But yet further: certainly it is one of the 
 greatest evidences of wisdom, to provide for the 
 future, and to provide for those things for the future 
 that are of greatest moment, importance, and use. 
 Upon this account, the wise man admires the wis- 
 dom of the ant, that little creature, that yet provides 
 his meat in summer; and we esteem the folly of 
 children and prodigals to lie in this, that they have 
 no prospect for the future how they shall subsist 
 hereafter. Now the wisdom of a man that feareth 
 God, discovereth itself in this, that it provides and 
 lays up a good and safe store for the future, and 
 that in respect of these three kinds of futurities: 
 1. For the future part of his life. 2. For the 
 future evil days. 3. For the future life, that is to 
 take place after this present, short, uncertain, and 
 transitory life. 
 
 1. In respect of the future time of his life. It 
 is true, our lives in this world are but short at best; 
 and together with that shortness, they are very un- 
 certain. But yet the man fearing God, makes a 
 due and safe provision for that future portion of his 
 life, how short or how long soever it be. 1. By a 
 constant walking in the fear of God, he transmits 
 to the future part of his life, a quiet, serene, and 
 fair conscience, and avoids those evil fruits and con- 
 sequences which a sinful life produceth, even in the 
 
mi 
 
 after-time of man's life. The bruises and hurts we 
 receive in youth, are many times more painful in old 
 age, than when we first received them. Our lives 
 are like husbandmen's seed-time; if we sow evil seeds 
 in tiie time of our youth, it may be they may live 
 five, ten, or more years, before they come up to a 
 full crop, and possibly then we taste the fruit of 
 those evil ways, in an unquiet mind or conscience, 
 or some other sour effects of that evil seed. All 
 this inconveniency a man fearing God prevents, and 
 instead thereof reaps a pleasing and comfortable fruit 
 of his walk, in the fear of God: namely, a quiet 
 conscience, and an even, settled, peaceable soul. 
 3. But besides this, by this means he keeps his 
 interest in, and peace with, Almighty God: and 
 makes sure of the best friend of the world for the 
 after-time of his life, to whom he is sure to have 
 access at all times, and upon all occasions, with 
 comfort and acceptance; for it is an infallible truth, 
 that God Almighty never forsakes any man that for- 
 sakes not him first. 
 
 2. The second futurity is, the future evil day, 
 which will most certainly overtake every man; either 
 the day of feeble and decrepit age, or the day of 
 sickness, or the day of death: and against all those, 
 the true fear of God makes a safe and excellent pro- 
 vision : so that, although he may not avoid them, he 
 may have a comfortable passage through them ; and 
 in the midst of all those black clouds, the witness of 
 a good conscience, fearing God, and the evidence of 
 divine favour, will shine into the soul like a bright 
 sun, with comfort, when a man shall be able, with 
 Hezekiah, to appeal to Almighty God, " Remember 
 now, O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked 
 
232 
 
 before thee in truth, and in uprightness of heart, 
 and have done that which was good in thy sight." 
 This will be a cordial under the faintness of old age, 
 a relief under the pains of sickness, and a cure of 
 the fear of death itself, which, to such a soul, will 
 be only a gate and passage to a life that will be free 
 from all the pains and infirmities, a life of glory and 
 immortality. 
 
 3. The third futurity is, the life and state after 
 death. Most certain it is, that such a state there 
 will be, and that it is but of two kinds, a state 
 of everlasting happiness or a state of everlasting 
 misery ; and that all the men in the world do most 
 certainly belong to one of these two estates or con- 
 ditions: and as it is most just and equal, so it is 
 most true, that they that truly fear God, and obey 
 him, through Jesus Christ, shall be partakers of 
 that everlasting state of blessedness and immortal 
 happiness; and, on the other side, they that reject 
 the fear of God, contemn and disobey his will, shall, 
 without true repentance, be subject to a state of 
 everlasting misery. Now, herein the truest and 
 greatest wisdom of man appears, that he duly pro- 
 vides against the latter, and to obtain the former; 
 all other wisdom of men, either to get human learn- 
 ing, wealth, honour, power; all wisdom of statesmen, 
 and politicians, in comparison of this wisdom, is but 
 vain and trivial. And this is the wisdom that the 
 fear of God teacheth and bringeth with it into the 
 soul. 1. It provides against the greatest of evils, 
 the everlasting state of misery, and infelicit}', and 
 eternal death. 2. It provides for, and attains an 
 everlasting state of blessedness and happiness, of 
 rest and peace, of glory and immortality, and eternal 
 
^33 
 
 life; a state of happiness and glory that exceeds ex- 
 pression and apprehension; for " eye hath not seen, 
 nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart 
 of man, the things that God hath laid up for them 
 that love him." And they only truly love God, 
 that truly fear him. " And they," namely, that 
 fear God, " shall be mine, saith the Lord, in that 
 day when 1 make up my jewels." 
 
 And now, for the conclusion of this whole matter, 
 let us make a short comparison between the persons 
 that fear not God, and those that truly fear him; 
 and then let any man judge who is the fool, and who 
 is the wise man. A man hath but a very short, un- 
 certain time, in this life, which, in comparison of 
 eternity, is less than a moment. The great God of 
 heaven in his word assures us, that there is a stale 
 of immortality after this life, and that that immortal 
 state is but of two kinds, a state of never-dying 
 misery, or a state of endless glory; and tells them, 
 " If you fear me, and obey those easy commands 
 that are contained in the book of the Holy Scrip- 
 tures, which I have given you, you shall infallibly 
 attain everlasting Yii'e and happiness; and, even in 
 this present life, shall have the influence and pre- 
 sence of my favour, to support, to direct and bless 
 you: on the other hand, if you refuse my fear, and 
 reject my commands, and prefer the unlawful and 
 vain delusions of this present life before the obe- 
 dience of my will, and persist impenitently in it, 
 your portion shall be everlasting misery." And 
 now, everlasting life, and everlasting death, being 
 set before the children of men, there are a sort of 
 men that rather choose to disobey the command of 
 God, reject his fear; and all this, that they may 
 
Q34< 
 
 enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, those plea- 
 sures that are fading and dying, that leave behind 
 them a sting, that render their very enjoyment 
 bitter, and that make even that very little life they 
 enjoy, but a life of discomfort and unhappiness, in 
 spite of all their pleasures; or be they as sincere as 
 their own hearts can promise them, yet they are but 
 for a season, a season that in its longest period is 
 but short, but is uncertain also; a little inconsiderate 
 accident, the breach of a vein, an ill air, a little ill- 
 digested portion of that excess wherein they delight, 
 may put a period to all those pleasures, and to that 
 life, in a year, in a week, in a day, in an hour, in an 
 unthought moment, before a man hath the oppor- 
 tunity to consider, to bethink himself, or to repent; 
 and then the door of life and happiness is shut. 
 Again, there are a sort of men, that consider this 
 great proposal, and choose the fear of Almighty 
 God, and with it eternal life, and are content to 
 deny themselves in things unlawful, to obey Al- 
 mighty God, to keep his favour, to walk humbly 
 with him, to accept of the tender of life and salva- 
 tion upon the terms propounded by Almighty God: 
 and in the practice of this fear, they enjoy his fa- 
 vour, and presence, and love; and after this life 
 spent, whether it be long or short, and whether 
 their death be lingering or sudden, are sure, the 
 next moment after death, to enjoy an immortal life 
 of glory and happiness. Judge, then, which of these 
 is the truly wise man; whether this be not a truth 
 beyond dispute, *' The fear of the Lord, that is wis- 
 dom; and to depart from evil is understanding." 
 
THE 
 
 VICTORY 
 
 OF 
 
 FAITH OVER THE WORLD. 
 
 1 John v. 5. 
 
 " For whosoever is born of God overcometh the 
 world ; and this is the victory that overcometh 
 the world, even your faith''' 
 
 These things are herein to be considered : — 
 
 I. The act which is here declared, victory, or 
 overcoming. 
 
 II. The person that exerciseth this act, or con- 
 cerning whom this is affirmed, a person that is born 
 of God. ^ 
 
 III. The thing upon which this act of victory is 
 exercised, namely, the world. '-' 
 
 IV. The instrument or means by which this act 
 is exercised, namely, faith. 
 
 V. The method or formal reason, whereby faith 
 overcometh this world. 
 
 I. Victory, or overcoming, is a subjugation, or 
 bringing under an opposing party to the power and 
 will of another. And this victory is of two kinds; 
 
^236 
 
 complete or perfect, and incomplete or imperfect. 
 1. The notion of a complete victory is, when either 
 the opposing party is totally destroyed, or at least 
 despoiled of any possibility of future resistance : 
 thus the Son of God, the Captain of our salvation, 
 overcame the world : " Be of good cheer, I have 
 overcome the world." And thus, when we are de- 
 livered from this body of death, we shall overcome 
 the world. This complete victory will be the por- 
 tion of the Church and Christian triumphant. 
 Again, 2. There is a victory, but incomplete, such 
 as the victory of the children of Israel over the 
 Canaanites, which, though they w^ere subdued, as to 
 any possibility of a total re-acquiring of a superiority 
 or equality of power, yet they were not subdued 
 from a possibility of annoying, disquieting, and re- 
 belling; they still remained thorns to vex and disturb, 
 though not to subdue their conquerors ; there was 
 still an overbalance of power in the victors, though 
 not wholly to extirpate them: and this is the condi- 
 tion of the Christian militant in this world. He 
 keeps the world in subjection, and every day gets 
 ground upon it ; but he cannot obtain a perfect, 
 complete, and universal conquest of it, till he can 
 truly say, with our blessed Lord, " The prince of 
 this world hath nothing in me;" which cannot be 
 till our change comes; for till then we carry about 
 with us our lusts, and passions, and corruptions : 
 which, though, with all vigilancy and severity, kept 
 under, and daily impaired in their power and malig- 
 nity, will hold a correspondence with the world and 
 prince thereof, and be ready to deceive and betray 
 us, though never to regain their empire and so- 
 
237 
 
 vereignty; and the reason is significantly given by 
 the same Apostle: " For his seed abideth in him, 
 and he cannot sin, because he is born of God." 
 Indeed he may, and shall have sin as long as he 
 hath flesh about him : " If we say we have no sin, 
 we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." 
 But although we have sin still abiding in us, and, 
 like the bias in a bowl, warping us to the world; 
 yet that vital seminal principle of the grace of God 
 in Christ, always keeps its ground, its life, and ten- 
 dency towards heaven ; and wears out, wastes, and 
 jrradually subdues the contrary tendency of sin and 
 corruption. 
 
 II. The person exercising this act of victory and 
 conquest, is he that is born of God. All men, by 
 nature, may be said, in some sense, to be born of 
 God; the Apostle tells the Athenians, " We are 
 all his offspring." But in this place, this hea- 
 venly birth is a second, a superinduced birth from 
 God; and hence it is called regeneration, the new 
 birth, birth of the water and Spirit, birth of the 
 Spirit, the formation of Christ in the soul ; and the 
 creature so new born, is styled the new creature, the 
 new man, a partaker of the divine nature, "born not 
 of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but 
 born of the will of God." And all these, and the 
 like expressions, are figurative, and seem to carry in 
 them a double analogy: First, to the first creation 
 of mankind ; and, secondly, to the ordinary genera- 
 tion of mankind since their first creation. 1. As to 
 the former analogy; we know, by the holy word, 
 that the first man was the root of all mankind, 
 stamped with the signature of the image of Almighty 
 
238 
 
 God, principally consisting in knowledge, righteous- 
 ness and holiness, and stood or fell as the common 
 representative of all mankind: this image of God 
 was in a great measure lost and defaced by the fall 
 of man, and more every day spoiled by the actual 
 sins and acquired corruptions of his descendants ; 
 Christ, the second Adam, hath instamped upon him 
 a new inscription of the glorious God: came to be a 
 common head, root and parent of as many as are 
 united by faith, love, and imitation, and to instamp 
 anew upon them, that lost and decayed image of God ; 
 who thereby " put on the new man, which after God 
 is created in righteousness and true holiness," and 
 so becoming " a new creature, renewed in know- 
 ledge after the image of him that created him," they 
 receive a new stamp and impression from this great 
 exemplar, Christ Jesus, the true image of the invi- 
 sible God. 2. The second analogy is to the ordi- 
 nary generation of mankind; wherein as a little, but 
 powerful, vital principle, which we call the soul, 
 forms and moulds the fetus according to the special 
 nature of man in all his lineaments and proportions, 
 and never gives over its operation till it hath com- 
 pleted that bodily mass into its full complement of 
 parts, and afterwards gradually augments and per- 
 fects it in its organs and faculties: so by a vital 
 principle derived from God, through Christ, into the 
 soul, the same is moulded, fashioned, formed, in- 
 creased, and perfected according to this new principle 
 of life, which is usually called grace: whereby it comes 
 to pass, that, as the soul is the vital and conform- 
 ing principle of the body, so this grace is the very 
 life, and vital and conforming principle of the soul: 
 
239 
 
 and hence this formative principle is called the life 
 of the soul, the quickening spirit; and the formation 
 of the soul to the will of God thereby, is called the 
 forming of Christ in them, the life of Christ, the in- 
 dwelling of Christ in the heart by faith. And this 
 new principle exerciseth in the soul all the acts 
 analogical to that natural vital principle in the body, 
 giving to it as it were the image, lineaments, pro- 
 portion and increase conformable to the image of 
 God in Christ, as true wisdom, righteousness, jus- 
 tice, holiness, integrity, love of God, submission to 
 his will, dependence upon him ; and translates them 
 into all the communicable relations that Christ him- 
 self had, and invests them in his communicable 
 privileges. If he be the Son of God by nature, so 
 are they by interpretation, '« by adoption and parti- 
 cipation of the divine nature." Is he an heir of 
 heaven ? so are they co-heirs with him: is he accep- 
 table to God ? so are they : is he an heir of glory? 
 so are they. And as this conformation of the body, 
 by this vital principle, is performed by a seminal 
 principle (at least as the instrument of its activity) 
 derived from the parent, so the analogy holds here : 
 we find a double seminal principle in this conforma- 
 tion, and both derived from Christ our head, namely, 
 one external, another internal. 1. The external 
 seminal principle is the word and message of the 
 divine doctrine, exemplary and holy life, singular 
 love of Christ, and of God through him to mankind, 
 whereby we understand what he would have us do- 
 the danger if we do otherwise, the blessed reward of 
 obedience, the great engagements of the love of God 
 in sending his Son to die for us, the plain, familiar 
 
240 
 
 easy way of attaining happiness; and because we 
 often learn better by example than by precept, the 
 same word exhibits to us a lively picture of his holy 
 conversation, his humility, meekness, obedience, 
 love, patience, goodness: and this external means is 
 in itself a great moral means to conform our wills 
 and lives thereunto. And therefore it is called the 
 incorruptible seed of the word of God, whereby we 
 are born again. 2. The internal seed is that spirit 
 of grace sent out from Christ, which doth communi- 
 cate a quickening, lively power to the word and to 
 the soul, whereby it makes it effectual to its end, 
 and is therefore called a spirit of life and power, a 
 quickening spirit; and this, not by transfusing a 
 new substance or substantial nature, which before it 
 had not; but by its lively, yet secret operations, 
 changing and moulding it to the image of him 
 whose spirit it is, and adding energy and efficacy to 
 that other seed of the word, as the sun doth to the 
 seminal principles of vegetables and animals. 
 
 III. Touching the thing over which this victory 
 is obtained, and conquest made, it is the world : 
 which comprehends in its latitude a double world ; 
 the world within us, and the world without us. 
 
 The world within us, which may be so called 
 principally, that a greater part of its relation and 
 tendency is toward the world, which is for the most 
 part the object upon which it fixeth, the subject 
 after which it reacheth, and the business upon which 
 it fasteneth and exerciseth. And hence it is, that 
 the apostle St. John divides the world without us, 
 with relation to the world within us, namely, " The 
 lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride 
 
241 
 
 of life." Tlie world that is within us taketh in the 
 two great faculties or powers, namely, 1. The pas- 
 sions of the soul. And, 2. The sensual appetite. 
 Both these are in their own nature good, placed in 
 us by the wise God of nature, for most excellent 
 ends and uses. Our business therefore is to keep 
 in order and subjection, and not to extirpate and root 
 them out; for they are radicated in our nature by 
 the God of nature. But of this more particularly. 
 1. Our passions: such as love, hatred, anger, 
 hope, fear, joy, sorrow; these, and the like passions 
 of the human soul, are not simply in themselves evil; 
 nay, being rightly placed, and duly ordered and re- 
 gulated, they become serviceable to excellent ends 
 and uses; and therefore simply in themselves they 
 are not the subject of a Christian's victory: but then 
 they become such when they become the world in 
 the text, and that is principally in these cases. 
 I. When they are misplaced; as when we love the 
 things we should hate, hope for the things we should 
 fear, rejoice in that which we should grieve, or the 
 converse. 2. When they are immoderate or exces- 
 sive about their proper objects: which comes to pass, 
 when in those things about which we may exercise 
 our passions lawfully, we exceed that measure or 
 proportion that is due to them. For instance, I 
 may lawfully love a competency of worldly substance, 
 but I exceed in this, if I love it too much, and be- 
 yond the worth that is truly in it: I may be lawfully 
 angry with him that injures me, but I exceed in the 
 measure, or degree, or time, or duration, and be- 
 come implacable. 3. When my affections or pas- 
 sions are not acted to that height they ought to be: 
 L 40 
 
242 
 
 all finite objects of our passions require a propor- 
 tionate degree of our passions ; but where the ob- 
 ject is infinite, my affections raay err in being too 
 remiss, but not in the excess: I cannot love God 
 too much, for I am to love him with all ray might; 
 but I may love him too little, and then my affection 
 errs : I cannot hate sin too much, because I cannot 
 love God too much; but I may hate it too little. 
 4. When my affections or passions are acted unrea- 
 sonably, in respect of the competition between ob- 
 jects of several values, I may, nay, I must love mv 
 father; but if I love my father more than my 
 Saviour, my Saviour hath pronounced me unworthy 
 of him. 5. When my passions degenerate into 
 vices and corruptions, and so become not so much 
 powers or faculties, as diseases and sicknesses of the 
 soul : as when anger degenerates into malice or re- 
 venge ; when self-love degenerates into envy; when 
 desire of, or delight in, the profits or honours of 
 the world degenerates into covetousness or ambition, 
 and the like. 6. When my passions are not under 
 the management, guidance, or conduct of my su- 
 perior faculties, my reason and judgment; but either 
 go before they are sent, or go beyond for what they 
 are sent, or return not and subside when recalled : 
 and then they breed infinite perturbation in the soul, 
 invert the order of nature, and become furies and 
 tempests, and imprison and captivate the mind and 
 understanding, and become a worse part of the world 
 than that which is without us. Ur.der these con- 
 ditions, our passions and affections are part of that 
 world which is the object of a Christian's warfare 
 and victory. 
 
243 
 
 The other part of this world within us is, the 
 motions and tendencies of our sensual appetite. 
 This sensual appetite is in itself good, placed in us 
 by the God of nature for excellent finds, namely, for 
 the preservation of the individual nature, as eating 
 and drinking, and those invitations of sense, sub- 
 servient thereunto: or for the preservation of the 
 species, as the desire of sexes. But they then be- 
 come a sinful part of this inferior world : 1. When 
 they become inordinate. 2. Or excessive. 3. Or 
 unseasonable, or improper. 4. When they are not 
 subordinate in their actings to the government of 
 reason enlightened by moral or religious lio-ht. A 
 Christian hath no such enemies without him, as 
 unruly and undisciplined lusts and passions within 
 him: and it is a vain thing to think of overcoming 
 the world without us, until this world within us be 
 brought into subjection ; for without the corrup- 
 tions and lusts within, the world, and the evil men 
 of the world, and the evil one of the world, could 
 not hurt us. 
 
 Non vulnus adacti$ 
 
 Debetur gJadiis, percussum est pectore ferrum. 
 
 The wedge of gold was an innocent thincr, but 
 Achan's covetous heart within gave it strength to do 
 harm. We come into the Morld, as into a great 
 shop full of all variety of wares, accommodated to 
 our senses, lusts and aflPections; and were it not for 
 these, those wares would lie long enough upon the 
 hands of the prince of the world, before they could 
 get within us or corrupt us. 
 
 2. The world without us is of three kinds: 
 l2 
 
244 
 
 1. The natural world, which is the work of Al- 
 mighty God, is most certainly in itself good, and only 
 evil accidentally, by man's abuse of himself or it. 
 It contains a general supply of objects answerable to 
 the desires of our vegetable and sensible nature, and 
 the exigencies and conveniencies of it ; it is a great 
 shop full of all sorts of wares, answerable to our 
 wants or conditions ; there is wealth, and places, 
 and delights, for the senses, and it becomes an enemy 
 to us by reason only of the disorder and irregularity 
 of those lusts and passions that are within us, and by 
 reason of the over-value that we are apt to put upon 
 them : they are indeed temptations, but they are 
 only passive, as the wedge of gold did passively 
 tempt Achan; but it was his own lust and covetous- 
 ness that did him the harm : the rock doth not strike 
 the ship, but the ship strikes the rocks and breaks 
 itself. The world as it is not evil in itself, so most 
 certainly it is full of goodness and benevolence to 
 us; it supplies our wants, is accommodated to the 
 exiofencies and conveniencies of our nature; fur- 
 nisheth us with various objects and instances of the 
 divine goodness, liberality, bounty; of his power, 
 and majesty, and glory; of his wisdom, provi- 
 dence, and government : which are so many in- 
 structions to teach us to know, and admire, and 
 magnify him ; to walk thankfully, dutifully, and 
 obediently unto him; to teach us resignation, con- 
 tentedness, submission, and dependance upon him. 
 A good heart will be made better by it ; and if there 
 be evil in it, it is such as our own corrupt natures 
 occasions or brings upon it, or upon ourselves by it; 
 and it is a great part of our Christian warfare and 
 
245 
 
 discipline to teach us to use it as it ought to be 
 used, and to subdue those lusts and corruptions tliat 
 abuse it, and ourselves by it. 
 
 Again, 2. There is another world without us, 
 the malignant and evil world, the world of evil 
 angels, and of evil men ; Miindiis in maligno posi- 
 tus ; and the great mischiefs of this world are of 
 two kinds, namely, 1. Incentives and temptations 
 from it, that are apt to bring the rest of mankind 
 into the evil of sin and offence against God ; such as 
 are evil examples, evil commands, evil counsel, evil 
 persuasion, and solicitations. 2. The troubles, in- 
 juries, vexations, persecutions, oppressions, calum- 
 nies, reproaches, and disgraces, that are inflicted 
 by them : and the evils that arise from these are 
 of two kinds, namely, such as they immediately 
 cause, which is great uneasiness in griefs and sor- 
 row. And, such as consequently arise from these : 
 namely, the evil of sin ; as impatience, discontent, 
 unquietness of mind, murmuring against the divine 
 providence, doublings of it, letting go our confidence 
 in God, distrust, unbelief, and putting forth our 
 hands to iniquity to deliver ourselves from these in- 
 conveniences, either by unlawful or forbidden means, 
 by sinful compliances with the sinful world, by fall- 
 ing in with them to deliver ourselves from their 
 oppressions, persecutions or wrongs; by raising 
 commotions, engaging in parties, and many more 
 unhappy consequences. 
 
 And, 3. There is a third kind of world, which 
 is in a great measure without us; namely, the acci- 
 dental, or more truly the providential world, in re- 
 lation to man and his condition in this world; and 
 
246 
 
 it is commonly of two kinds, namely, prosperous, 
 or adverse. 1. External or worldly prosperity, con- 
 sists in an accommodate condition of man in this 
 world, as health of body, comfort of friends and 
 relations, affluence, or at least competency of wealth, 
 power, honour, applause, good report, and the like. 
 The dangers that steal upon mankind, in this con- 
 dition, are pride, haughtiness of mind, arrogance, 
 vain -glory, insolence, oppression, security, contempt 
 of others, love of the world, fear of death, and de- 
 sires of diversion from the thoughts of it; luxury, 
 intemperance, ambition, covetousness, neglect, for- 
 cretfulness, and a low esteem of God, the life to come 
 and our duty. 2. Adversity ; and sickness and dis- 
 eases, poverty, loss of friends and estate, public or 
 private disturbances, or calamities, and the like : and 
 though oftentimes these are occasioned by the evil or 
 malignant world, yet many times they seem to come 
 accidentally, and are apt to breed impatience, discon- 
 tent, unquietness of mind, distrust of providence, 
 murmuring, envy at the external felicity of others, 
 and that common discomposure which we ordinarily 
 find in ourselves and others upon like occasions. 
 
 IV. The fourth consideration is, what is this 
 faith which thus overcometh the world, which is 
 nothing else but a deep, real, full, sound persuasion 
 of, and assent unto those great truths, revealed in 
 the Scriptures of God, upon the account that they 
 are truly the word and will of the eternal God, who 
 is truth itself, and can neither deceive, nor be de- 
 ceived : and herein these two matters are to be con- 
 sidered. ]. What are those divine truths, which 
 being really and soundly believed, enable us to gain 
 
247 
 
 the victory over the world, or the special objects of 
 that victorious faith. 2. What is that act of faith, 
 or belief of excellent objects, which thus overcometh 
 the world. 
 
 1. For the former of these, although the whole 
 body of divine truth is the adequate object of faith, 
 yet there seem to be certain special parts of divine 
 truths, that have the greatest influence on this victory 
 over the world. I shall mention some of them ; 
 namely, 1. That there is one most powerful, wise, 
 gracious, bountiful, just, and all-seeing God, the 
 Author of all being, that is present in all places, 
 knows our thoughts, our wants, our sins, our desires, 
 and is ready to supply us with all things that are good 
 and fit for us, beyond all we can ask or think; hath 
 incomprehensible wisdom, and irresistible power to 
 eft'ect what he pleaseth ; that leaves not any of his 
 works, especially mankind, without his special care 
 and superintendence over them ; without whose will 
 or designed permission, nothing befalls us. 2. That 
 this most wise, and just, and powerful God, hath ap- 
 pointed a law or rule, according to which his will is 
 that the children of men should conform themselves ; 
 and according to the upright endeavours of the chil- 
 dren of men to conform thereunto, he will most cer- 
 tainly give rewards; and according to the wilful trans- 
 gressions thereof, he will inflict punishments; and that 
 he is a most strict and infallible observer of all the 
 ways of the children of men, whether of obedience or 
 disobedience thereunto. 3. That this law and will 
 of his, he hath communicated and revealed to the 
 children of men in his Holy Word; especially by 
 
2i8 
 
 the mitfioD of his Son Jesos Christ, who brought 
 into the voHd a fall aod eomplete collection of those 
 holy lavs of God^ to which he would have us con- 
 form. ' 4. That he hath given to mankind, in and 
 through Christ Jesos, a full manifestation of a future 
 life after this, of rewards and punishments; and 
 according to that law of his, thus manifested by his 
 Son, be will by the same Jesus Christ, dispense and 
 execute the sentences of rewards and punishments, 
 aod judge every man according to his works. 5. 
 And that the reward of faith and obedience, in that 
 other life to come, shall be an eternal, blessed, happy 
 estate of sool and body, in the glorious heavens, 
 and in the presence and fruition of the ever-glorious 
 aod eternal God« 6. And that the punishment of 
 the rebellions and disobedient onto his will and law 
 of God thus manifested by his Son, shall be an 
 eternal separation of soul and body from the presence 
 of Godf and the final confinement of them under 
 chains of darkness and everlasting torments in hell- 
 fire. 7. And that the Son of God hath given us 
 the greateiit assurance imaginable of the truth of this 
 will of God^ of this happiness and misery, by taking 
 upon him our nature, by his miracles,> by his death 
 and resurrection, and ascension into glory, and by 
 bis mission of the Spirit of wisdom and revelation 
 onto bis apostles and disciples, both to instruct the 
 world in his truth, and to evidence the truth of their 
 mission from him. 8. That Almighty God, though 
 foil of justice and severity against the obstinate and 
 rebellious ; yet is full o( tenderness, love, and com- 
 passion towards all those that sincerely desire to 
 
eio 
 
 «bcj bis wiD, Mid to »««piL of tenas ©i pewte umI 
 reeonaEiatioa with him, aai is i«*iij "^^^ rep«iitiL2*e 
 
 h.iba«JiSy~— ^^= aidihathehtfhthe 
 
 care» and lore, ana tendcfiicas oi « ^^^^-..^ . 
 «s: that in our sincere cndeaTOur of ob«fienee to 
 hiM. we shall he sure of lus Wte, fcinor md pto- 
 
 tection; that in aU onr affictions »* ***'™**^ 
 stands hy ns, and win not leave ns : that he will wMft 
 
 certainly make good eweiy p«-« that hy Ch«*^ 
 hath sent toas,forthclifediati5 presnt, and ttet 
 whidiisto come: that the Uw he hath ««* '^ 
 Christ to snhiait to, is an oey and good ***>^|* 
 t ; - " - ^-l^ct oar nature, and fit it lo he partanr 
 T : and that aU his thou^ts towaids ns, 
 
 in our ttuilul endeavours to obey hiia, are thoiB^ 
 of love, Civour, peace, bounty, and goodness ^And 
 of this he hath given the greatest assarance that b 
 possible for mankind to expect or desire, even the 
 sending of his eternal Son into the wotW, to tate 
 upon him our nature, to aeqaaint us with hk Falhef^ 
 
 will and love, to live a life of want and miseiT, and 
 to die a death foU of shame and honor ; to rise ^m 
 
 to despatch messengers into att the wotW to pubfish 
 the good wiU of God to mankind, to ascend^ iato 
 jloty, and there to make intercession for 
 
 woims, at the right hand of God; giving us also 
 hereby sssuiance of our tesumctMm, *^ -*^ U 
 coming again to judge the wodd, and to weeive hm 
 obedient serfants into etetnal ^oiy. "These ** 
 some of those principal ofcjects of tha t foith dmft 
 oveicometh the worid, being soundly imivcd, be- 
 heved, and dig«ted. 
 
 1.3 
 
2,50 
 
 2. As touching the act itself; it is no other than 
 a sound, real, and firm belief of those sacred truths: 
 and therefore it seems that they who perplex the 
 notion of faith with other intricate and abstruse 
 definitions, either render it very difficult or scarcely 
 intelligible, or else take into the definition or the 
 description of it, those things that are but the con- 
 sequents and effects of it. He that hath this firm 
 persuasion, will most certainly repent of his sins 
 past, will most certainly endeavour obedience to the 
 will of God, which is thus believed by him to be 
 holy, just, and good ; and upon the obedience or 
 disobedience whereof depends his eternal happiness 
 or misery; will most certainly depend upon the 
 promises of God for this life and that to come; for 
 those are as natural effects of such a firm persuasion, 
 as it is for the belief of a danger to put a man upon 
 means to avoid it, or for the belief of a benefit to 
 put a man upon means to attain it. Some things 
 are of such a nature, that the belief or knowledge 
 of them goes no further, but it rests in itself; as 
 the belief of bare speculative truths : but some things 
 are of such a nature, as being once truly and firmly 
 believed, carry a man out to action : and such are 
 especially the knowledge or belief of such things as 
 are the objects of our fears or hopes; the belief of 
 such objects doth naturally, and with a kind of moral 
 necessity, carry a man out to action ; to the avoiding 
 of such fears, and the attaining of such hopes: and 
 therefore faith and belief in reference thereunto, 
 comes often in the Scripture under the names of 
 hope and fear, as being the proper effects of it. 
 Instances we have of both : '* For we must all appear 
 
251 
 
 before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one 
 may receive the things done in his body, according 
 to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad. 
 Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we per- 
 suade men." " But we know that, when he shall 
 aj3pear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as 
 he is: and every man that hath this hope in him 
 purifieth himself, even as he is pure." 
 
 Therefore we need not be so solicitous touching 
 the nature of faith, what kind of faith it is that must 
 save us. Certainly, if it be a true and real assent of 
 the mind to these great truths of God, it must be 
 operative, according to the nature of the things 
 believed which are in order to working; and there- 
 fore, if it have not that effect, it is not faith nor 
 assent ; if it have it but weak and imperfectly, it is 
 evident that the assent is weak and fluctuating; if it 
 have that effect at some times, but not at others, it 
 it is evident that the assent is suspended, or inter- 
 mitted, and not actually exercised at these intermis- 
 sions. If a man were really and fully persuaded that 
 if he took such a journey to-morrow, he should 
 certainly break his leg, he would as certainly not 
 go: or if he were under a certain persuasion, that if 
 he took such a drink, he should certainly recover 
 his lost health, it were as certain he would drink it : 
 and if a man were actually and fully persuaded, that 
 if he used such a means he should attain everlastinc*- 
 
 o 
 
 happiness; or, if he should commit such a sin, he 
 should certainly lose it ; it were scarce morally 
 possible, that a reasonable man in his wits, would 
 omit the one, or commit the other. 
 
 And to say, this is but a historical faith, and that 
 
2o2 
 
 the devils have as much, they believe and tremble, 
 and they do as fully assent to divine truths as any 
 can do, vet it avails them not; concludes nothinfj : 
 the reason is evident, because the salvation to be 
 attained, and the faith which is the instrument to 
 attain it, concerns them not, neither are they in a 
 state to be advantaged by it; but it is otherwise 
 with men. If I should acquaint a stranger, that if 
 my son doth such a thing, I will give my son five 
 pounds; though the stranger believes it as really 
 true as any thing in the world, yet it puts him not 
 upon the action, because, as he is not concerned in 
 the reward, so he is not concerned in the means : 
 but according to the belief that my son hath, it will 
 or will not put him upon the action: if he believe 
 me not, he will not do it at all; if he believe it 
 faintly and doubtingly, he will perform the action 
 accordingly; but if he believe it truly and fully, and 
 set any value upon the reward, he will perform it 
 cheerfully; for he is concerned in the reward, and 
 in the means to attain it. 
 
 Faith therefore is a firm assent to the sacred 
 truths, whether the truths relate to things past, as 
 that God made the world, that Christ the Messiah 
 is come in the flesh, &c. or, to things present; as 
 that Almighty God beholds all I do, and knows all 
 1 think, or that he is a reconciled Father unto me 
 in Christ Jesus; or things to come, which principally 
 excite those two great movers of the soul, hope and 
 fear, in relation to the future life of rewards and 
 punishments. 
 
 V. I come to the fifth thing, namely, how faith 
 overcometh the world, which takes in these two 
 
253 
 
 considerations. 1. How tliat is, in what degree. 
 2. How that is, by what method or means. Touch- 
 incT the former of these, namely, the degree of the 
 victory that faith gives, it is a victory, but not a 
 victory to utter extermination. The Captain of 
 our salvation indeed overcame the world, totally, 
 perfectly, John xvi. 33. Our victory is not com- 
 plete, nor perfect on this side death ; but it is such a 
 victory as leaves still an adversary to contest with us, 
 though not to subdue and conquer us. It is a victory, 
 but not without a continued warfare. 2. Touch- 
 ing the method, whereby our faith overcometh the 
 world, I shall say something in general, and some- 
 thing more particularly, with relation to the world 
 under the former acceptations. 
 
 In general, therefore, the great method whereby 
 faith overcometh the world, is by rectifying our 
 judgments, and removing those mistakes that are 
 in us concerning the world, and our own condition. 
 1. Some things there are in the world, which we set 
 an esteem, and value, and love upon, which deserve 
 rather our hatred or detestation : as our sins, the 
 irregularities of our lusts and passions, and those 
 degenerate plants that arise from them; as pride, 
 ambition, revenge, intemperance, &c. These we 
 account our right hands, and our right eyes, in our 
 state of natural darkness. Faith rectifies this mis- 
 take of our judgment, by showing us the law and 
 will of God revealed by Christ, whereby we find that 
 these are our diseases, distempers, and sicknesses, 
 repugnant to the will, image, and command of God; 
 that they are our loss, and our danger, and our ruin; 
 and therefore not to be entertained, but mortified 
 
S54 
 
 and crucified. 2. Some things there are in the 
 world, that we may allow somewhat of our affections 
 to, but we overvalue them. We reckon wealth 
 and honours, and powers, the greatest happiness 
 imaginable, and therefore intensely desire them ; 
 sicknesses, and afflictions, and injuries, and losses, 
 the greatest misery imaginable, and therefore we fear 
 them excessively, we are intolerably discontented 
 under them. Faith rectifies our mistakes herein, 
 gives a just value of these things, shows us the law 
 of God, checking and forbidding immoderate aflPec- 
 tions or passions to be exercised about them; assures 
 us that we are, as well under the view and observa- 
 tion, as under the care and regimen of the great 
 Lord of heaven and earth, and therefore expects our 
 great moderation in relation to externals. 3. And 
 principally, for the most part, the children of men 
 esteem this life the uttermost term or limit of their 
 happiness or misery; and therefore make it their 
 whole business by all means possible, to make their 
 lives here as splendid and glorious, as delightful and 
 pleasant as it is possible; and use all means, whether 
 honest or dishonest, fit or unfit, to secure themselves 
 in the good they have, and to avoid any thing that 
 is grievous or troublesome. And if they cannot 
 compass it, they sink, and despond, and murmur, 
 and die under it, as the only hell imaginable; or if 
 they have any thoughts of a future state after death, 
 yet they are but languid, faint, and scarcely believed 
 in any tolerable degree, and suspected rather as the 
 impostures of politicians, or fables of poets, than 
 having any real truth in them. Faith rectifies this 
 mistake, and assures us there is a judgment to come. 
 
^55 
 
 a state of rewards and punishments of a far higher 
 nature than this world can afford, or indeed appre- 
 hend; that the happiness of that life outbids all the 
 greatest and most glorious entertainments that this 
 world can afford, and will infinitely exceed the 
 greatest losses or crosses that this v\^orld can yield. 
 And on the other side, the punishments of that life 
 will infinitely over-balance all the pleasures and 
 contentments that this life here can yield, and the 
 memory of them will but enhance the rate and degree 
 of those torments : and that accordingly as men spend 
 their lives in this short transitory life, either in obe- 
 dience or disobedience to the divine will, accordingly 
 the retribution of everlasting rewards and punish- 
 ments will be there given. This view of the future 
 state, presented by faith to the soul, will have these 
 two great effects, in order to the subduing and 
 conquering of the world without us, by rendering it 
 poor, inconsiderable, contemptible, in comparison of 
 those everlasting joys and happiness of the next life ; 
 and the world within us, by chaining up our exor- 
 bitant lusts and passions under the fear of the judcr- 
 ment to come, and by ordering, composing, and 
 regulating them in contemplation of the great reward 
 annexed to our dutiful obedience unto God in this 
 life. 
 
 But I shall come to particulars, and follow that 
 tract that is before given, in the distribution of the 
 world, as well within as without us ; and consider 
 the particular method of faith in subduing and con- 
 quering them. 
 
 1. Therefore, in reference to the world within us: 
 namely, First, Our passions. Second, Our lusts.. 
 
256 
 
 First, As for our passions. 1. Faith directs their 
 being placed upon their due objects, by discovering 
 what are the true and proper objects of them, out of 
 that large and comprehensive law of God, which 
 presents them as such to the soul, and to be ob- 
 served under the pain of the displeasure of the 
 glorious and Almighty God. 2. Upon the same 
 account, it teacheth our passions and affections 
 moderation in their exercise, even about their proper 
 objects, and due subordination to the supreme love 
 a man owes to the supreme good, God Almighty. 
 3. Upon the same account it teacheth us, under our 
 obligation of duty to God, to cut off, crucify, and 
 mortify the diseases and corruptions of passions, as 
 malice, envy, revenge, pride, vain-glory, ostentation. 
 
 Second, In reference to our desires. 1. Natural, it 
 teacheth us great moderation, temperance, sobriety ; 
 it tells us these very natural propensions are apt to 
 grow unruly, and consequently hurtful; and there- 
 fore that we are to keep them in subjection, and 
 under discipline, both to religion and to reason: and 
 this it doth, by assuring us that such is the will and 
 law of our Creator; by assuring us that the same 
 Almighty God is the constant observer of all our 
 most intimate deportments; it assures us that the 
 Son of God died to redeem us from the captivity of 
 our lusts; that if we be kept still in servitude under 
 them, we make an ungrateful return to his love, and 
 do what in us lies, to disappoint him of the end of 
 his sufferings: it shows us the great falseness, 
 deceit and treachery of these lusts, that they are 
 ready upon every occasion to rebel against God and 
 his law placed in our souls; that they are upon every 
 
257 
 
 occasion ready to betray us to our worst enemy, anc!, 
 if they once get loose from discipline and subjection, 
 they are hard to be reclaimed ; and therefore must 
 be kept under a careful, vigilant, and austere disci- 
 pline; that if we do so order them, we are safe in a 
 great measure from the temptations of the world and 
 the devil, who could not hurt us without the com- 
 pliance, inordinateness, treachery, and correspond- 
 ence of these close enemies within us, 2, As 
 touching those degenerate and corrupt lusts, a» 
 covetousness, malice, and envy, faith doth, first of all, 
 in general show us, that they are prohibited by the 
 great Lord and Lawgiver of heaven and earth, and 
 that under severe penalties; again, secondly, it 
 shows us that they are the great depravers and de- 
 basers of our nature, the disturbers of the peace, 
 security, and tranquillity of our minds; again, 
 thirdly, it shows us that they are vain, impertinent, 
 and unnecessary perturbations, such as can never da 
 us any real good, but feed our vain imaginations 
 with deceits instead of realities. But particular 
 instances in relation to these several lusts, will 
 render these truths more evident. L Therefore 
 for covetousness, or immoderate desire of wealth ; 
 and ambition, the immoderate desire of honour, or 
 power; we shall see how faith, or true assent to the 
 truths of God revealed in his word, doth correct and 
 crucify this lust, and that principally by these en- 
 suing considerations. (1.) Faith discovers to us that 
 the great Lord of heaven and earth, to whom we 
 owe a most universal and indispensable obedience, 
 hath forbidden this lust; hath told us that we must 
 not be over-solicitous for the things of this life, and 
 
^58 
 
 we have no reason to suspect his wisdom in such 
 prohibitions, for he is infinitely wise, and knows 
 best what is fittest for us to do, or not to do; 
 neither have we cause to suspect his love to us, or 
 to think he envies us in his commands, either to 
 enjoin what might be hurtful for us, or to forbid 
 what might be beneficial to us: for it was his free 
 and immense love that gave us at first our being, 
 and therefore certainly he can never envy us any 
 thing that might be good or convenient for that 
 being, which he at first freely gave, and still freely 
 continues to us. (2.) Faith shows us the vanity and 
 lowness of such desires, reminds us that when death 
 comes, all these objects will be utterly insignificant, 
 that they are transient, uncertain objects, such as 
 are not only fitted barely for the meridian of this 
 life, but such as oftentimes take wings and fly away 
 from us before we leave them ; such as their very 
 enjoyment satisfies not, but instead of satisfaction, 
 are oftentimes vexations and thorns to afflict us. 
 (3.) Faith presents us with better things, more safe 
 to be desired, more easily to be obtained, more 
 securely to be kept; namely, our peace with God, 
 and the firm and sound assurances of everlasting 
 happiness. (4.) Faith presents us with an assurance 
 of the divine particular providence which gives and 
 takes away, and grants or denies the things upon 
 which our desires are thus fixed, and therefore 
 renders our immoderate cares and thoughtfulness for 
 the business of this life, either needless or vain. 
 *' Your heavenly Father knoweth that you have 
 need of all these things;" commands us to cast our 
 care upon him, for he careth for us that knows what 
 
259 
 
 is fittest for us; if abundance, lie is able to supply 
 us without our torturing ourselves with care or soli- 
 citousness ; if the contrary, either we covet in vain, 
 and our endeavours shall be disappointed, or at least 
 they shall be given, but a curse and vexation with 
 them, given us in anger, given us to our hurt : and 
 the same may be said in all points in relation to am- 
 bition and desire of honours or powers. 2. Again, 
 in relation to malice or envy, against the prosperity 
 of others, faith shows us how vain and foolish a 
 thing it is; and the rather, because the wise and 
 great God is the dispenser of all things, hath the 
 absolute and unlimited propriety in them, disposeth 
 them according to his own good pleasure. What 
 reason hath any man to envy that disposal which the 
 God of heaven makes? Again, 3. For revenge, 
 the great Lord of the world hath reserved that as a 
 branch of his own supreme prerogative; " Vengeance 
 is mine, saith tlie Lord." What have you or I to 
 do to invade his prerogative ? it is his own right, 
 and he best knows when, and where, and in what 
 degree to exercise it. 
 
 2. I come to the consideration of the world with- 
 out us, as that which possibly is here principally 
 intended, and the victory of the Christian by his 
 faith over it : 
 
 x\nd. First, in relation to the natural world. 
 This world, as hath been observed, is in itself very 
 good, and the evil that ariseth from it, is only 
 accidental : which is thus ; it is a goodly place, fitted 
 with all grateful objects to our senses, full of variety 
 and pleasantness, and the soul fastening upon them, 
 is ready with Peter in the mount to conclude, " that 
 
2G0 
 
 it is good to be here ;" and therefore grows care- 
 less of the thoughts of another state after death, or 
 to think of the passage to it, or making provision 
 for it; but to set up its hope, and happiness, and 
 rest in it ; and in these dehghts and accommodations 
 that it yields our senses. Faith overcometh this part 
 of the world, by assuring the soul, that this lower 
 world is only the place of our probation, not our 
 happiness; our inn, not our home. It presents to 
 the mind a state of happiness, to be attained after 
 death, infinitely surpassing all the contents and con- 
 veniences that this world can yield ; and that one 
 great means to attain it, is by setting our hearts 
 upon it, and not upon the world, but using this pre- 
 sent world not as the end of our hopes, but as our 
 passage to it; and to carry a watchful hand over our 
 desires and delights towards it, that it steal not 
 away our heart from our everlasting treasure; to 
 carry a sober and temperate mind towards it, and the 
 use of it, as in the sight of that God that lends it to 
 us, to excite our thankfulness and try our obedience, 
 not to rob him. of the love, and service, and duty we 
 owe unto him. In short, the methods whereby 
 faith overcometh this part of the world, are these. 
 1. By giving us a true estimate of it, to prevent us 
 from over- valuing it. 2. By frequently reminding 
 us, that it is fitted only to the meridian of this life, 
 which is short and transitory, and passeth away. 
 3. By presenting to us a state of future happiness, 
 that infinitely surpasseth it. 4. By discovering our 
 duty in our walk through it, namely, of great mo- 
 deration and vigilancy. 5. By presenting to us the 
 example of the Captain of our salvation, his deport- 
 ment in it, and towards it. 6. By assuring us that 
 
261 
 
 we are but stewards to the great Lord of the family 
 of heaven and earth for so much as we have of it, 
 and that to him we must give an account of our 
 stewardship. 7. By assuring us, that our great 
 Lord and Master is a constant observer of all our 
 deportment in it. 8. And that he will most cer- 
 tainly give a reward proportionable to the manage- 
 ment of our trust and stewardship; namely, if done 
 sincerely, faithfully, and obediently to our great 
 Lord and Master, a reward of everlasting happiness 
 and glory; but if done falsely, sinfully, and disobe- 
 diently, then a reward of everlasting loss and misery. 
 Second, As to the second kind of world, the ma- 
 lignant world of evil men and evil angels; and therein, 
 first, in relation to the evil counsels, and evil exam- 
 ples, that solicit or tempt us to the breach of our duty 
 to God; the methods whereby faith overcometh this 
 part of the malignant world, are these: L It pre- 
 sents to us our duty that we owe to God, and which 
 we are bound indispensably to observe under the 
 great penalty of the loss of our happiness. 2. It 
 presents us with the great advantage that we have 
 in obeying God, above whatever advantage we can 
 have in obeying or following the sinful examples, 
 counsels, or commands of this world; and the great 
 excess of our disadvantage in obeying or following 
 the evil examples or counsels of the world. And 
 this makes him at a point with these solicitations, 
 peremptorily to conclude, it is better to obey God 
 than man; and with Joseph, " How can I do this 
 great wickedness, and sin against God?'' 3. It 
 presents Almighty God strictly observing our car- 
 riage in relation to these temptations. 4. It pre- 
 
262 
 
 sents us with the displeasure and indignation of the 
 same God, in case we desert him, and follow the 
 sinful examples or counsels of men; and with the 
 great favour, love, approbation, and reward of Al- 
 mighty God, if we keep our fidelity and duty to 
 him. 5. It presents us with the noble example of 
 our blessed Saviour. 6. It presents us with the 
 transcendent love of God in Christ Jesus, who to 
 redeem and rescue us from the misery of our natural 
 condition, and from the dominion of sin, and to 
 make us a peculiar people zealous of good works, 
 chose to become a curse and die for us, the greatest 
 obhgation of love, and gratitude, and duty imagin- 
 able : and then it leaves the soul impartially to 
 judge, which is better of the two; and whether the 
 malignant world can propound any thing that can be 
 an equivalent motive to follow their commands or 
 examples, or that can equal the love of our Saviour, 
 the reward of eternal life, and the favour of the 
 ever glorious God; all which must be denied and 
 lost, by a sinful compliance with evil counsels, com- 
 mands, or examples of an evil world. It is true the 
 world can perchance reward my compliance herein 
 with honour, and applause, and favour, and riches; 
 or they can punish my neglects with reproach, and 
 scorn, and loss, and poverty, and it may be with 
 death : but what proportion do these bear to the 
 favour and love of God, and eternal recompense of 
 glory and endless happiness ? The terms therefore 
 of my obedience to the loving and gracious God (to 
 whom I owe my utmost duty and obedience, though 
 there were no reward attending it) do infinitely out- 
 bid, and out- weigh whatever a sinful world can 
 
^63 
 
 either give or inflict. And, secondly, as to tlie 
 other part or scene of this malignant world, perse- 
 cutions, reproaches, scorns, yea death itself, faith 
 presents the soul not only with the foregoing con- 
 siderations, and that glorious promise, " Be faithful 
 unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life;" 
 but some other considerations that are peculiarly 
 proper to this condition, namely, 1. That it is this 
 state, that our blessed Saviour hath not only fore- 
 told, but hath annexed a special promise of blessed- 
 ness to, " Blessed are they that are persecuted 
 for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of 
 heaven." 2. That there have gone before us a 
 noble cloud of examples in all ages, yea, the Captain 
 of our salvation was thus made perfect by suffering; 
 that though it is troublesome, it is but short, and 
 ends with death, which will be the passage into a 
 state of incorruptible happiness: and this was that 
 which made the three children cry out, at a point 
 when the greatest monarch in the world was ready 
 to inflict the severest death upon them; " Our God, 
 whom we serve, is able to deliver us, &c. but if not, 
 know, O king, that we will not worship thy graven 
 image which thou hast set up." And therefore our 
 blessed Lord redoubles the injunction of our fear 
 toward him that can destroy both body and soul in 
 hell, but forbids any fear of such persecutors, who 
 can only destroy the body, and then can do no more. 
 And certainly that man that hath full assurance of 
 an esteem with the great God of heaven and earth, 
 of an incorruptible weight and crown of glory the 
 next moment after death, must needs have a low 
 esteem of the reproaches, and scorns, and persecu- 
 
264 
 
 tions of men for righteousness' sake; and so much 
 the rather, because that very favour with God, and 
 that very crown of happiness that he expects, is en- 
 hanced by these very scorns and those very afflic- 
 tions, " For our light afflictions, which are here for 
 a moment, work for us a far more exceeding and 
 eternal weight of glory." 
 
 Third, Concerning the third kind of world, 
 namely, the providential world, consisting in external 
 dispensations of adversity and prosperity. And 
 first, concerning the dark part of the world, namely, 
 adversity, as casualties, loss of wealth or friends, 
 sicknesses, the common effects whereof are impa- 
 tience, distrust, murmuring, and unquietness. Faith 
 conquers this part of the world, and prevents these 
 evil consequences, which either temptations from 
 without, or corruptions from within are apt to raise. 
 1. Faith presents the soul with this assurance, that 
 all external occurrences come from the wise dispen- 
 sation or permission of the most glorious God ; they 
 come not by chance. 2. That the glorious God 
 may, even upon the account of his own sovereignty, 
 and pro imperio^ inflict what he pleaseth upon any 
 of his creatures in this life. 3. That yet whatso- 
 ever he doth in this kind, is not only an effect of 
 his power and sovereignty, but of his wisdom, yea, 
 and of his goodness and bounty. No affliction can 
 befal any man, but it must be useful for his instruc- 
 tion or prevention. 4. That the best of men deserve 
 far worse at the hands of God, than the worst afflic- 
 tions that ever did, or ever can befal any man in 
 this life. 5. That there have been examples of 
 greater afflictions, that have befallen better men in 
 
265 
 
 this life: witness Job, and that excellent pattern of 
 all patience and goodness, even as a man, our Lord 
 Christ Jesus. 6. That these afflictions are sent for 
 the good even of good men ; as it is their fault and 
 weakness if they have not that effect. 7. That in 
 the midst of the severest afflictions, the favour of 
 God to the soul, discovering itself like the sun 
 shining through a cloud, gives light and comfort to 
 the soul. 8. That Almighty God is ready to sup- 
 port them that believe in him, and to bear them up 
 under all their afflictions, that they shall not sink 
 under them. 9. That whatsoever, or how great 
 soever, the afflictions of this life are, if the name be 
 blasted with reproaches, the estate wasted and con- 
 sumed by fire from heaven, if friends are lost, if 
 hopes and expectations are disappointed, if the body 
 be macerated with pains and disease, yet faith pre- 
 sents to the believer something, that can bear up 
 the soul under these, and many more pressures ; 
 namely, that after a few years or days are spent, an 
 eternal state of unchangeable and perfect happiness 
 will succeed : that death, the worst of temporal evils, 
 will cure all those maladies, and deliver up the soul 
 into a state of endless comfort and blessedness : and 
 therefore he bears all this with patience, and quiet- 
 ness, and contentedness, and cheerfulness, and dis- 
 appoints the world in that expectation, wherein its 
 strength rn relation to this condition lies, namely, it 
 conquers all impatience, murmuring, and unquietness 
 o/ mind. 
 
 Second, As to the second part of this providential 
 world, namely, prosperity, which in truth is the more 
 dangerous condition of the two, without the inter- 
 M 40 
 
266 
 
 vention of divine grace; the foils that tlie world puts 
 upon men by this condition, are commonly pride, 
 insolence, carnal security, contempt or neglect of 
 duty and religion, luxury, and the like. The 
 method whereby faith overcometh this part of the 
 world, and those evil consequences that arise from 
 it, are these: ]. Faith gives a man a true and equal 
 estimate of this condition, he keeps a man from over- 
 valuing it, or himself for it; lets him know it is very 
 uncertain, very casual, very dangerous, and cannot 
 outlast this life: death will come and sweep down all 
 these cobwebs. 2. Faith assures him, that Almighty 
 God observes his whole deportment in it; that he 
 hath given him a law of humility, sobriety, temper- 
 ance, fidelity, and a caution not to trust in uncertain 
 riches; that he must give an account of his steward- 
 ship also to the great Master of the family of heaven 
 and earth; that he will duly examine all his items, 
 whether done according to his Lord's commission 
 and command; and it lets him know the more he 
 hath, the greater ought his care to be, because his 
 account will be the greater. 3. Faith lets him 
 know, that the abundance of wealth, honour, friends, 
 applause, successes, as they last no longer than this 
 short transitory life, and therefore cannot make up 
 his happiness, no nor give a man any ease or rescue 
 from a fit of the stone, or colic; so there is an ever- 
 lasting state of happiness or misery, that must attend 
 every man after death. And, on the other hand, 
 all the glory, and splendour, and happiness, that this 
 inferior world can afford, is nothing in comparison of 
 that glory that shall be revealed to, and enjoyed by, 
 them that believe and obey. (I.) Nothing in respect 
 
267 
 
 of its duration ; if a man should live a thousand 
 years, yet that must have an end; and the very pre- 
 apprehension of an end, is enough to dash, and blast 
 and wither any happiness, even while it is enjoyed; 
 but that happiness that succeeds after death, is an 
 everlasting happiness. (2.) Nothing in respect of 
 its degree; there is no sincere, complete, perfect 
 happiness in this world: it is mingled with evils, 
 with fears, with vicissitudes of sorrow and trouble ; 
 but the happiness of the next life is perfect, sincere, 
 and unmixed with any thing that may allay it: and 
 upon these accounts, faith, (" which is the substance 
 of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not 
 seen," and therefore, by a kind of anticipation, gives 
 a presence to the soul of those future joys) renders 
 the best happiness this world below can yield, but 
 languid and poor, like the light of a candle in the 
 presence of the sun. On the other side, the misery 
 that after death attends the mispent present life, 
 over-balanceth all the good that this life can yield, 
 both in degree and duration; and therefore, with the 
 pre-apprehension of it, it sours and allays all the 
 good that is in the greatest happiness of this life. 
 4. Faith doth assure every believing soul, that as 
 sure as he now liveth, and enjoyeth that worldly 
 felicity he hath, so surely, if he, in belief and obe- 
 dience to the will of God, revealed in and through 
 Christ, shall use his stewardship thereof soberly, 
 faithfully, and obediently, he shall enjoy that ever- 
 lasting happiness that thus outweigheth the best 
 temporal felicity : and, on the other side, if he shall 
 use his prosperous condition vainly, proudly, inso- 
 lently, unfaithfully, intemperately, this short felicity 
 M 2 
 
268 
 
 that he hath here, shall be attended with an endless 
 and excessive misery to all eternity. 
 
 And now thus, upon these accounts and methods, 
 faith overcometh the world of external prosperity. 
 The corruption in the heart, and the temptations of 
 the evil one, and of evil men, would presently im- 
 prove this condition, to make the man proud, inso- 
 lent, intemperate, luxurious, secure, trusting in un- 
 certain riches, forgetful of God and religion : but 
 by the means before-mentioned, faith conquers the 
 world herein, disappoints the corruption of the heart, 
 the subtlety of the devil, the temptations of evil men, 
 and brings the man into a low esteem of his own 
 external happiness; keeps him in a high and just 
 valuation of heaven; keeps him temperate, sober, 
 watchful, humble, faithful, just ; makes him mindful 
 of his account, and studious and industrious for the 
 attaining and securing of an everlasting state of hap- 
 piness ; and that, when death shall render all his 
 wealth, and honour, and applause, and successes, 
 and glory, to be poor, empty, insipid things, yet he 
 may have and enjoy a fixed, permanent, everlasting 
 state of blessedness and glory with the ever-glorious 
 God, the blessed Redeemer, the holy angels, and 
 the spirits of just men made perfect. 
 
THE 
 
 GREAT AUDIT 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE GOOD STEWARD. 
 
 The great Lord of the world hath placed the chil- 
 dren of men in this earth as his stewards; and, ac- 
 cordint^ to the parable in Matth. xxv. he delivers to 
 every person his talents, a stock of advantages or 
 opportunities: to some he commits more, to some 
 less, to all some. 
 
 This stock is committed to every person under a 
 trust, or charge, to employ the same in ways, and to 
 ends, and in proportion suitable to the talents thus 
 committed to them, and to the measure and quality 
 of them. 
 
 The ends of this deputing of the children of men 
 to the employment of their talents are various. 
 1. That they may be kept in continual action suitable 
 to the condition of reasonable creatures, as almost 
 every thing else in the world is continued in motion 
 suitable to its own nature, which is the subject of 
 the wise man's discourse : " All things are full of 
 labour." 2. That in that regular motion they may 
 attain advantage to themselves ; for all things are so 
 
270 
 
 ordered by the most wise God, that every being 
 hath its own proportionable perfection and liappiness, 
 inseparably annexed to that way and work to which 
 his providence hath destined it. 3. That in that 
 due and regular employment, each man might be 
 in some measure serviceable and advantageous to 
 another. 4. That although the great Lord of this 
 family can receive no advantage by the service of his 
 creature, because he is perfect and all-sufficient in 
 himself; yet he receives glory and praise by it, and 
 a complacency in beholding a conformity in the 
 creature to his own most perfect will. 
 
 To the due execution of this trust committed to 
 the children of men, and for their encouragement in 
 it, he hath annexed a reward by his promise, and 
 the free appointment of his own good pleasure : this 
 reward, therefore, is not meritoriously due to the 
 employment of the talent; for as the talent is the 
 Lord's, so is the strength and ability whereby it is 
 employed ; but by his own good pleasure and free 
 promise, the reward is knit to the work. In this 
 case, therefore, the reward is not demandable, so much 
 upon account of the divine justice, as upon account 
 of the divine truth and fidelity. On the other hand, 
 to the male-administration of this trust, there is an- 
 nexed a retribution of punishment; and this most 
 naturally and meritoriously: for the law of common 
 justice and reason, doth most justly subject the 
 creature, that depends in his being upon his Creator, 
 to the law and will of the Creator; and therefore, 
 having received a talent from his Lord, and, together 
 with his being, an ability to employ it according to 
 the will of his Lord, a non-employment, or miscm- 
 
271 
 
 ployment thereof, doth most justly subject him to 
 guilt and punishment, as the natural and just conse- 
 quence of his demerit. 
 
 Of the persons that receive these talents, some 
 employ them well, though in various degrees; and 
 althoufrh the best husbands come short of what thev 
 should do, and at best are in this respect unprofitable 
 servants; yet if there be a faithful, conscientious, 
 and sincere endeavour to employ that talent to their 
 Master's honour, they are accounted good stewards, 
 and the merits of Christ supply by faith that wherein 
 they come short. 
 
 On the other hand, some persons are unfaithful 
 stewards of their talents, and these are of three 
 kinds. 1. Such as wholly misemploy their talents, 
 turning them to the dishonour and disservice of their 
 Lord, which they should have employed to his 
 service; and these have a double account to make, 
 namely, of their talent, and of their misemployment. 
 2. Such as do not at all employ their talent, but as 
 they do no harm, so they do no good with it : these 
 are negligent servants, and have not only the single, 
 but full account of their talents to make. 3. Such 
 as do make some use of thi'ir talents, but do not 
 produce an increase proportionable to their stock; 
 and so, though they are not debtors for their whole 
 talents, yet are in arrear ; and so, upon the footing of 
 their account, are found debtors to the Lord, which, 
 without faith in Christ, and his merits, will be 
 enough to cast them into prison, and there keep 
 them to eternity. 
 
 And according to these degrees, of good or bad 
 administration, are the degrees of reward or punish- 
 
272 
 
 ment. He that liath administered his trust well, so 
 that there is a great accession of his improvement, 
 hath the greater accession of glory; and he that hath 
 less increase upon his account, shall have the less 
 degree of glory : and, on the other hand, he that hath 
 many talents, and made no improvement, his debt 
 and punishment shall be the greater: he that hath 
 fewer talents, his non-improvement leaves him a 
 debtor in a less sum, and consequently subject to a 
 less punishment. 
 
 The great day of account will be the great day of 
 judgment, when the Lord of the families of the 
 whole earth will call every man to an account of his 
 stewardship here on earth. Wherein we may, with 
 reverence, and for the better impressing it on our 
 affections, suppose the Lord thus to be speaking to 
 all, and every particular person in the world : — 
 
 THE CHARGE. 
 
 '' Come, ye children of men, as I have formerly 
 made you stewards of my blessings upon eartli, and 
 committed to every one of you that come to the use 
 of your understanding, several talents to employ and 
 improve to tlie honour and service of me, your Lord 
 and Master; so now I come to call you to render an 
 account of your stewardship: and because you shall 
 see the particular charge of your several receipts, 
 to which you may give your answers, behold liere 
 is a schedule of the particulars with which I will 
 charge you. Give in your particular answer how 
 you have employed and improved them, and see you 
 do it truly: for know, I have a control and check 
 upon you ; a control within you, your own con- 
 
273 
 
 sciences, and a control without you, my book of re- 
 membrance, wherein all your receipts, disbursements, 
 and employments are registered. 
 
 1. ** I have given to you all your senses, and 
 principally those two great senses of discipline, your 
 sight and your hearing. 
 
 Item^ " I have given to you all, understanding 
 and reason, to be a guide of your actions, and to 
 some of you more eminent degrees thereof. 
 
 Item^ " I have given you all memory, a treasury 
 of things past, heard, and observed. 
 
 Item^ " I have given you a conscience to direct 
 you, and to check you in your miscarriages, and to 
 encourage you in well-doing; and I have furnished 
 that conscience of yours with light and principles of 
 truth and practice, conformable to my will. 
 
 Item^ *' I have laid open to your view the works of 
 my power and providence, the heavens and the earth, 
 the conspicuous administration of my wisdom and 
 power in them. 
 
 Item^ " I have delivered over to your view, ray 
 more special providences over the children of men, 
 the dispensation of rewards and punishments, accor- 
 ding; to eminent deserts or demerits. 
 
 Item^ " 1 have given you the advantage of speech, 
 whereby to communicate your minds to one another, 
 and to instruct and advantage one another by the 
 help thereof. 
 
 Item^ " I have given you time of life in this world, 
 to some longer, to some shorter, to all a time of life, 
 a season wherein you might exercise those other ta- 
 lents I have entrusted you with. 
 
 Item^ " I have delivered over unto you the rule 
 M 3 
 
TI4^ 
 
 and dominion over my creatures, allowing you the 
 use of them for your food, raiment, and other con- 
 veniences. 
 
 Itenii " Besides these common talents I have en- 
 trusted you with, I have delivered over to you, and 
 to you, &c. divers special and eminent talents above 
 others, namely, of the mind, or such as concern you 
 as intellectual creatures. 
 
 1. " Great learning and knowledge in the work 
 of nature, arts, and sciences ; great prudence and 
 wisdom in the conduct of affiiirs, elocution, excellent 
 education. 
 
 2. " Of the body, a firm.and healthy constitution, 
 strength, beauty, and comeliness. 
 
 3. " Of externals. Great affluence of wealth 
 and riches, eminence of place, and power and honour ; 
 great reputation and esteem in the world ; great 
 success in enterprises and undertakings, public and 
 private : relations economical. 
 
 4. " Of thijigs of mixed nature. Christian liberal 
 education ; counsel and advice of faithful and judi- 
 cious friends; good laws in the place and country 
 where you live; the written word of God, acquainting 
 you with my will, and the way to eternal life; the 
 word preached by able and powerful ministers 
 thereof; the sacraments, both for your initiation and 
 confirmation ; special and powerful motions and im- 
 pulses of my Spirit upon your consciences, dissuading 
 from sin, and encouraging to holiness ; special pro- 
 vidences, abstracting and diverting you from the 
 commission of things contrary to my will, dishonour- 
 able to my name, and hurtful to yourselves ; chastise- 
 ments and corrections eminently and plainly inflicted 
 
275 
 
 for sin committed by yourselves and others, so that 
 the guilt was legible in the punishment; eminent 
 blessings upon the ways of holiness and virtue, even 
 to the view of the world ; eminent restitutions and 
 deliverances upon repentance and amendment of life; 
 most clear and sensible experiences of my love, 
 favour, and listening to your prayers, to encourage 
 you to a dependence upon me; singular opportunities 
 put into your hands, of instructing the ignorant, 
 delivering the oppressed, promoting my honour. 
 
 " These are some of the many talents which I 
 have committed to you, though in different degrees : 
 give up your accounts, ye children of men, how you 
 have employed them." 
 
 THE ACCOUNT OF THE GOOD 
 STEWARD. 
 
 Lord, before I enter into account with thy Majesty, 
 I must confess, that if thou shouldest enter into 
 judgment with me, and demand that account, which 
 in justice thou mayest require of me, I sliould be 
 found thy debtor : I confess I have not improved 
 my talents according to that measure of ability that 
 thou hast lent me: I therefore most humbly offer 
 to thee the merit of thy own Son, to supply my 
 defects, and to make good what is wanting in my 
 account;* yet, according to thy command, I do 
 
 * As it is the grace of God which enables any man to employ- 
 well the talents committed to his charge, so he has no claim of 
 merit, either in whole or in part, on God, on account of the im- 
 
^76 
 
 humbly render my account of the trust thou hast 
 committed to me, as followeth : 
 
 I. In General. 
 
 As to all the blessings and talents wherewith thou 
 hast entrusted me; 
 
 I have looked up to thee with a thankful heart, as 
 the only Author and Giver of them. 
 
 I have looked upon myself as unworthy of them. 
 
 I have looked upon them as committed to my 
 trust and stewardship, to manage them for the ends 
 for which they were given, the honour of my Lord 
 and Master. 
 
 I have therefore been watchful and sober in the 
 use and exercise of them, lest I should be unfaithful 
 in them. 
 
 If I have at any time, through weakness, or inad- 
 vertence, or temptation, misemployed any of them, 
 I have been restless, till I have, in some measure, 
 rectified my miscarriage by repentance and amend- 
 ment. 
 
 II. In Particular. 
 
 Concerning my senses, and the use of them. 
 
 I have made a covenant with mine eyes, that they 
 should not rove after vanity, or forbidden objects ; 
 I have employed them in beholding thy works of 
 wonder and wisdom. 
 
 provement of his talents ; for after he has done all, he is still " an 
 unprofitahle servant," and he is accepted only and solely through 
 the merits of Jesus Christ. And it ought ever to be recollected, 
 that it is " in the keeping of the commandments," and not after 
 the keeping of the commandments, that " there is great reward." 
 —Ed. 
 
277 
 
 1 have busied them in reading those books and 
 writings, that may instruct me in the great concerns 
 of eternal life. 
 
 I have stopped my ears against sinful and unpro- 
 fitable discourse, and against slandering, and lying, 
 and flattering tongues. 
 
 I have exercised them in listening to those things 
 that might increase my faith, knowledge, and piety. 
 
 I have kept them open to the cry of the poor 
 and oppressed, to relieve them : the rest of the em- 
 ployment of these and my other senses, have been 
 for my necessary preservation, and the honest exer- 
 cise of an honest calling and conversation. 
 
 III. As to the Reason and Understanding 
 thou hast given m-e. 
 
 I have been careful to govern my senses and 
 sensual appetite by my reason, and to govern my 
 reason by thy word. 
 
 I have endeavoured to use and employ it, but 
 have not leaned or depended upon it ; I make it my 
 assistant, but not my idol. 
 
 I have been careful to wind up my reason and 
 understanding to the highest key in the searching 
 out of truths, but especially those that are of the 
 greatest concern in matters of faith. I have made 
 my understanding to be laborious and industrious, 
 but still kept under yoke and rule of thy word, lest 
 it should grow extravagant and petulant. 
 
 I have looked upon my understanding and reason, 
 as a ray of divine light ; and therefore, I have used 
 it for thee, and have counted it a most high sacrilege, 
 ingratitude, and rebellion, to employ it against thee, 
 thy honour or service. 
 
278 
 
 I have endeavoured principally to furnish it with 
 that knowledge, which will be of use in the other 
 world: this hath been my business; other studies 
 or acquisitions of other knowledge, have been either 
 for the necessary use of this life, or harmless recrea- 
 tions. In the exercise of my reason ; as on the one 
 hand, I have avoided idleness, supineness, or neglect; 
 so, on the other hand, I have not employed it in 
 vain, curious, unprofitable, forbidden inquiries ; I 
 have studied to use it with sobriety, moderation, 
 humility, and thankfulness; and as I have been 
 careful to employ it, so I have been as careful not 
 to misemploy it. I looked upon it as thy talent, 
 and therefore give to thee the glory, the use and 
 service of it. 
 
 IV. As to the Memory thou hast lent me. 
 
 On the contemplation of that strange and won- 
 derful faculty, tliat distinctly, and notwithstanding 
 the intervention of thousands of objects, retains their 
 images and representations, with all their circum- 
 stances and consequents, 1 have admired the wonder- 
 ful wisdom, power, and perfection of the Lord. 
 
 I have endeavoured principally to treasure up in 
 it those things that may be of most use for the life 
 to come, and most conducible to the attaining of 
 it: thy mercies, commands, directions, promises; my 
 own vows, resolutions, experiences, failings ; to keep 
 me constant in my duty, dependent upon thy good- 
 ness, humble and penitent. 
 
 Some things 1 have studied to forget; injuries, 
 vain and hurtful discourses, and such things as either 
 would make me the worse by remembering them, or 
 
279 
 
 take up too much room in my memory, which might 
 be employed and stored with better furniture. 
 
 The rest of the employment of my memory hath 
 been to assist me in the ordinary and necessary con- 
 versation with others, the ways of my calling, the 
 performing of my promises and undertaking, the 
 preservation of good and lawful learning, that thereby 
 1 might do service to tliy name, serve my generation, 
 and improve myself in knowledge, wisdom, and un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 V. As touching my Conscience, and the light 
 thou hast given me in it. 
 
 1. It hath been my care to improve that natural 
 light, and to furnish it with the best principles I 
 could. Before I had the knowledge of thy word, I 
 got as much furniture as I could from the writings 
 of the best moralists, and the examples of the best 
 men; after I had the light of thy word, I furnished 
 it with those pure and unerring principles that 1 
 found in it. 
 
 2. I have been very diligent to keep my conscience 
 clean; to encourage it in the vicegerency that thou 
 hast given it over my soul and actings, I have kept 
 it in the throne and greatest reverence and authority 
 in my heart. 
 
 3. In actions to be done or omitted : I have always 
 advised with it, and taken its advice; I have neither 
 stifled, nor forced, nor bribed it, but gave it a free 
 liberty to advise and speak out, and a free subjection 
 of my will, purposes, and actions to it. 
 
 4. If, through inadvertency of mind, or impor- 
 tunity of temptations, or precipitancy of occasion, 
 
280 
 
 or necessity of the times, I have at any time done 
 amiss, I have not taken her up short, or stopped her 
 mouth, or my own attention to her chiding and 
 reproof; but I have, with much submission of mind, 
 borne her chastisement, and improved it to an hum- 
 bling of myself before thee for my failings: for I 
 looked upon her as acting by thy authority, for thy 
 service and to thy glory ; and I durst not discourage, 
 discountenance, or disobey her. 
 
 5. When she was pleased, and gave me good 
 words, I was glad; for I esteemed her as a glass that 
 represented to my soul the favour or displeasure of 
 God himself, and how he stood affected towards me. 
 
 6. I have more trembled under the fear of a 
 seared or discouraged conscience, than under the 
 fear of a sharp or scrupulous conscience, because I 
 always counted the latter, though more troublesome, 
 yet more safe. 
 
 7. I have been very jealous either of wounding, 
 or grieving, or discouraging, or deadening my con- 
 science. I have therefore chosen rather to forbear 
 that which seemed but indifferent, lest there should 
 be somewhat in it that might be unlawful; and would 
 rather gratify my conscience, with being too scrupu- 
 lous, than displease, disquiet, or blunt it by being 
 too venturous : I have still chosen rather to forbear 
 what might be probably lawful, than to do that 
 which might be possibly unlawful; because, could I 
 not err in the former, I might in the latter. If 
 things were disputable whether they might be done, 
 I rather chose to forbear, because the lawfulness of 
 my forbearance was unquestionable. 
 
 8. As I have been careful to advise impartially 
 
281 
 
 with my conscience, before my actions, so, lest either 
 through inadvertence, precipitancy, thoughtlessness, 
 or sudden emergencies, I had committed any thing 
 amiss, either in the nature or manner of the action, 
 I commonly, every night, brought my actions, of 
 the day past, before the judicatory of my conscience, 
 and left her to a free and impartial censure of them; 
 and what she sentenced well done, I with humility 
 returned the praise thereof to thy name; what she 
 sentenced done amiss, 1 did humbly sue unto thee 
 for pardon, and for grace to prevent me from the 
 like miscarriages. By this means I kept my con- 
 science active, renewed, and preserved my peace with 
 thee, and learned vigilance and caution for the time 
 to come. 
 
 VI. As touching thy great Works of Crea- 
 tion and Providence. 
 
 1. I have not looked upon thy works inconsid- 
 erately and indifferently, and passed them over as 
 common and ordinary things, as men usually do 
 upon things of common and ordinary occurrence; but 
 I have searched into them as things of great emi- 
 nence and wonder, and have esteemed it a great 
 part of my duty, that the wise God of nature requires 
 of the children of men, who therefore exposed these 
 his great works to our view, and gave us eyes to 
 behold, and reason in some measure to observe and 
 understand them ; and therefore, I have strictly 
 observed the frame of the world, the motion, order, 
 and divine economy of them ; I have searched into 
 their qualities, causes, and operations, and have dis- 
 covered as great, if not greater, matter of admira- 
 
28^ 
 
 tion therein, than in the external beauty and pros- 
 pect, which, at the first view, they presented to my 
 sense. 
 
 2. And this inquiry and observation did not rest 
 only in the bare perusal of the works themselves, or 
 their immediate natural causes, upon which they 
 depended; but I traced their being, dependence and 
 government to thee, the first cause ; and by this pro- 
 secution and tracintj of thintj^s to their orioinal, I was 
 led up to a most demonstrative conviction, that there 
 is a God, who is the first cause of their being, and 
 motion: and in the contemplation of the admirable 
 vastness of the works, mine eyes behold their singular 
 beauty and order ; the admirable usefulness, conve- 
 nience, and adaptation of one thing to another ; the 
 constancy, regularity, and order of the motion of the 
 heavens and heavenly bodies ; the mutual subservi- 
 ency of one thing to another; the order and useful 
 position of the elements; the fertility of the earth; 
 the variety, beauty, and usefulness of the creatures ; 
 their admirable instincts; the wonderful fabric of the 
 body of man ; the admirableness and usefulness of his 
 animal faculties, and the singular adaptation of the 
 organs to these faculties; the strong powers of the 
 reasonable soul. In the contemplation of these, and 
 such as these varieties, I did, to the everlasting 
 silencing of the atheism that my own corruptions 
 were apt to nourish, conclude, that there is but one 
 God ; that he is most powerful, most wise, knowing 
 in all things, governing all things, supporting all 
 things. Upon these convictions, I was strengthened 
 in the belief of thy Holy Word, which had so great 
 a congruity with these truths, that the strict and due 
 
283 
 
 contemplation of thy creatures did so demonstratively 
 evince. 
 
 3. And upon these convictions, I learned the 
 more to honour, reverence, and admire thee, and to 
 worship, serve, and obey thee; to depend and rest 
 upon thee; to walk humbly and sincerely, and aw- 
 fully before thee; as being present with me, and 
 beholding me; to love and adore thee as the foun- 
 tain of all being and good. When I looked upon 
 the glory and usefulness of the sun, I admired the 
 God that made it, chalked out its motions for it, 
 placed it in that due distance from the earth, for its 
 use and conveniency. When 1 looked upon the 
 stars, those huge and wonderful balls of light placed 
 in that immense distance from the inferior bodies, 
 and one from another, their multitude and motion, 
 I admired the wisdom and power of that God, whose 
 hand spans the heavens, and hath fixed every thing 
 in its place. Nay, when I looked upon the little herbs 
 that arise out of the earth, the lowest of vegetables, 
 and considered the secret spark of life that is in 
 them, that attracts, increaseth, groweth, seminateth, 
 preserves itself, and its kinds ; the various virtues 
 that are in them for the food, medicine, and delight 
 of more perfect creatures; my mind was carried up 
 to the admiration and adoration, and praise of that 
 God, whose wisdom, power, and influence, and go- 
 vernment is seen in these little small footsteps of his 
 goodness ; so that take all the wisest, ablest, most 
 powerful and knowing men under heaven, they can- 
 not equal that power and wisdom of thine, that is 
 seen in a blade of grass ; not so much as trace out, 
 or clearly or distinctly decipher the great varieties 
 
284 
 
 in the production, growth, and process of its short, 
 yet wonderful continuance ; insomuch that there is 
 scarcely any thing that we converse with, but ex- 
 hibits inscriptions of the power and wisdom of their 
 Maker written upon them. 
 
 4. In the contemplation of thy great works of the 
 heavens, those goodly, beautiful, and numerous 
 bodies, so full of glory and light, I ever reflected 
 upon myself with David's meditation, " Lord, what 
 is man, that thou art mindful of him ? or the son of 
 man, that thou regardest him T' It is true, man, in 
 himself considered, is a creature full of wonder, but 
 compared with these goodly creatures, he is but an 
 inconsiderable thing. I learned by the creatures to 
 be humble, and adore thy condescension, that art 
 pleased from heaven, the dwelling-place of thy 
 majesty ai\d glory, to take care of such a worm as 
 man, sinful man. 
 
 5. In the contemplation of thy power and wisdom 
 in creating and governing the worlds I have learned 
 submission to thy will, as being the will of the same 
 most wise God, that by his wisdom hath created and 
 governs all things, and therefore his will, a most 
 wise, perfect will. I have learned to depend upon 
 thy providence, who, though I am but a worm, in 
 comparison of thy heavenly works, yet I am an ex- 
 cellent and eminent creature, in comparison of the 
 ravens and the grass of the fields ; yet those he 
 feeds, and these he clothes, and shall he not much 
 more clothe and feed me ? Thus, I have in some 
 measure improved the talents of thy works, thereby 
 to find and trace out thy majesty, thy power, wis- 
 dom, and greatness, and my own duty. 
 
285 
 
 VII. Touching thy more special Providences 
 toward the children of men. 
 
 1. As by the works of nature, I have learned 
 what thou art, and something of my duty thereupon 
 to thee ; so by thy providence towards the children 
 of men, I have, in some measure, leanied the same, 
 and a farther lesson, namely, what thy will is ; for 
 thou hast not left thyself without a witness thereof 
 to a mere natural man, observing thy providence to- 
 wards the children of men. I have observed some 
 men of eminent justice and uprightness of life, purity 
 and sanctimony, temperance and sobriety, mercy and 
 gentleness, patience and forbearance, bounty and 
 liberality ; and I have observed them to be very 
 happy men, and blessed in what was most desired by 
 them. It may be, they were rich and great ; but if 
 they were not, it was because riches and greatness 
 was not the thing they most valued ; perchance it 
 might have been a burden to them to be such; but 
 I have always observed them to be happy in what 
 they most desired and valued; they had serenity and 
 quietness of mind : if they were not rich, yet they 
 were visibly happy in their contentedness; and if 
 they were not great, yet they were apparently hon- 
 ourable in the esteem and value of others; nay, if 
 they were under external losses, crosses, reproaches, 
 yet, in the midst thereof, it was most apparent to all 
 men, they enjoyed that which they most valued, a 
 most composed, cheerful, patient, contented soul; 
 and this hath been apparently as visible to all spec- 
 tators, as if they had enjoyed a full confluence of 
 external happiness, and very many times, unless upon 
 eminent and visible reasons, before the end of their 
 
286 
 
 days, they have had signal returns of external en- 
 joyments. I have observed men of notorious and 
 wicked lives, traitors, murderers, oppressors, adul- 
 terers, covenant-breakers, and guilty of other vil- 
 lanies, secured by eminent power, policy, or secrecy; 
 yet, by wonderful providence, that power broken, 
 that policy disappointed, that secrecy discovered, and 
 eminent judgments, answerable to their eminent de- 
 merits, have overtaken them. I have seen and ob- 
 served, both in myself and others, our sins and 
 offences so suitably and proportionably answered 
 with punishments, that though they seem to be pro- 
 duced by strange and most casual conjunctures, yet 
 so exactly conformable to the nature, quality, and 
 degree of the offence, that they carried in them the 
 very effigies of their sins, and made it legible in the 
 punishment, sic ille manus^ sic ova gerebat. And 
 from these observations I found that those sins were 
 displeasing to thee; that thou wert most wise to 
 discover, and most just and powerful to punish 
 them; and did thereupon conclude: "Verily, there 
 is a reward for the righteous; verily, there is a God 
 that judgeth in the earth." 
 
 VIII. Concerning my Speech. 
 
 I have always been careful that I offend not with 
 my tongue ; my words have been few, unless ne- 
 cessity or thy honour required more speech than 
 ordinary ; my words have been true, representing 
 things as they were; and sincere, bearing conformity 
 to my heart and mind ; my words have been sea- 
 sonable, suitable to the occasion, and seasoned with 
 grace and usefulness. 
 
287 
 
 I have esteemed my words, though transient and 
 passing away, yet treasured up in thy remembrance; 
 for by my words I shall be justified, by my words 
 condemned ; and therefore, I have reflected often 
 upon my words ; and when I have found any thing 
 through inadvertency, or passion, hath passed from 
 me, I have endeavoured to reform it, and humbled 
 myself before thee for it. 
 
 I have esteemed it the most natural and excellent 
 use of my tongue, to set forth thy glory, goodness, 
 power, wisdom, and truth ; to instruct others as I 
 had opportunity, in the knowledge of thee, in their 
 duty to thee, to themselves, and others; to reprove 
 vice and sin; to encourage virtue and good living; 
 to convince of errors ; to maintain the truth ; to call 
 upon thy name, and by vocal prayers to sanctify my 
 tongue, and to fix my thoughts to the duty about 
 which I was ; to persuade to peace, and charity, and 
 good works; and in these employments I endea- 
 voured to wind up my tongue to the highest deo-ree 
 of elocution that I was capable of. 
 
 1 have often contemplated thy wonderful wisdom 
 and goodness to the children of men, in giving them 
 not only reason and understanding, but that admirable 
 faculty of speech, wherein one man might communi- 
 cate his mind, and thoughts, and wants, and desires, 
 and counsels, and assistance to others, the great en- 
 gine of upholding mutual society, and without which 
 our reason and understanding were imprisoned within 
 ourselves, and confusion would ensue, as once it did 
 at the confusion of tongues, by the most wise provi- 
 dence, for most excellent ends. 
 
 In fine, I have looked upon this, amongst the 
 many other conveniences I enjoy, as a treasure com- 
 
288 
 
 mitted to my trust for my Maker's use, I have ac- 
 cordingly employed it conscientiously, seemly, and 
 humbly, as thy gift, not my own acquest. 
 
 IX. Touching my time of Life. 
 
 First, I have duly considered what it is, and for 
 what end it is that thou gavest it me ; that it is but 
 a short time, and the minutes that are passed, and 
 the opportunities in them, are irrevocably and irre- 
 coverably lost, that all the wealth in the world can- 
 not redeem it; that the time that is before me, is 
 uncertain; when I look upon an hour-glass, or the 
 shadow of a dial, I can guess that here is half an 
 hour, or a quarter, or more, or less to come, but I 
 cannot guess what proportion of time remains in the 
 hour-glass of my life; only I know it is short, but 
 I know not how short it is, whether a year, or a 
 week, or a day, or an hour, and yet upon this little 
 uncertain portion of time, and the due use of it, de- 
 pends my everlasting happiness or misery. It is 
 ray seed-time, and if I sow not my seed here, it is 
 too late to think of that husbandry after death; and 
 if I sow, and sow not good seed, my crop will be ac- 
 cordingly in that other world that immediately en- 
 sues upon the close of this; and I have a thousand 
 diversions that rob me of much of this little portion 
 of time, and yield me no account in order to my 
 great concern ; when I cast out from the account of 
 my time the unprofitableness of my childhood and 
 youth, the hours spent in sleeping, eating, drinking, 
 recreations, travels, and other things that carry no 
 sin in them, there remains but a small portion of a 
 short life for concerns of everlasting importance; a 
 great business to be done, great difficulties and im- 
 
289 
 
 pediments in the doing of it, and but a little portion 
 of time, of a short and uncertain life, to do it in ; 
 and yet this life of mine was given by thee, not to 
 be trifled and squandered away, either in sin or idle- 
 ness; not to gain riches, honour, or reputation; for 
 when sickness comes, these will appear insipid and 
 vain things ; and when death comes, they will be 
 merely useless; but it was for a higher end, namely, 
 a time to trade for the most valuable jewel of eternal 
 happiness; a time to sow such seed as might yield a 
 crop of blessedness in the next world ; a time to 
 secure a title to an everlasting inheritance; such a 
 time, as if once lost, the opportunity is lost for ever; 
 lost irrecoverably; for the night cometh wherein no 
 man can work : " For there is no work, nor device, 
 nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither 
 thou goest." 
 
 And upon this consideration of the great end of 
 my life, the great importance of the business that is 
 to be done in it ; the brevity, and great uncertainty 
 of this life, and the utter impossibility after death to 
 redeem the neglect of the proper and important 
 business of my life, I have endeavoured to husband 
 this short, uncertain, important talent as well as I 
 can : 
 
 J. By a careful avoiding of sinful employments, 
 which at once do waste this precious talent, and con- 
 tract a farther debt upon me ; renders me in arrears 
 for the time raispent, and the guilt contracted. 
 
 2. By avoiding idleness, burning out my candle 
 to no purpose. 
 
 3. By avoiding unnecessary consumption of time 
 by long feastings, excessive sleep, impertinent visits, 
 
 N 40 
 
290 
 
 seeing of interludes, unnecessary recreations, curious 
 and impertinent studies and inquiries, that when 
 attained, serve to no purpose. 
 
 4. By applying, directing, and ordering even my 
 studies of human learning, histories, natural or 
 moral philosophy, mathematics, languages, laws, to 
 an end beyond themselves, namely, thereby to en- 
 able me to understand and observe thy excellent 
 wisdom and power, to maintain and uphold thy cause 
 against atheism, idolatry, and errors ; to fit me for 
 serving thee and my country, in the station wherein 
 I live. 
 
 5. By exercising myself in the very business of 
 my calling, as an act of duty and obedience to thee, 
 acting in it those virtues of Christianity that might 
 be honourable to thy name, of good example to 
 others, of improvement of grace unto myself; using 
 in it diligence without anxiety ; dependence upon thee 
 without presumption; contentedness, patience, thank- 
 fulness, honesty, justice, uprightness, plain dealing, 
 liberality; and by this means translating my secular 
 employment into the exercise of Christian duty, serv- 
 ing thee whilst I served myself, and converting that 
 very employment, and the time spent therein, to the 
 use, honour, and advantage of my Lord and Mas- 
 ter, the good example of others, and the increase of 
 my spiritual advantage, as well as my temporal. 
 
 6. By religiously observing those times that have 
 been set apart to religious duties, especially the 
 Lord's day, not mingling it with secular thoughts 
 or employments, but with much attention, striptness, 
 and care, laying hold upon those times and oppor- 
 tunities, and carefully applying them singly to the 
 proper business of the times. 
 
291 
 
 7. By dedicating and setting apart some portion 
 of thy tirae to prayer and reading of thy word, 
 which I have constantly and peremptorily observed, 
 whatever occasions interposed, or importunity per- 
 suaded to the contrary. 
 
 8. By making the great and one thing necessary, 
 the choice and principal business of my life, and the 
 great design of it; and esteeming that time spent 
 most naturally, profitably, and suitably, that was 
 spent in order to it; observing thy great works of 
 wisdom and power; contemplating upon thy good- 
 ness and excellency; hearing and reading thy word; 
 calling upon thy name; crucifying my corruptions; 
 exercising thy graces; humbling myself for my sins; 
 returning thanks for thy mercies ; studying the 
 mystery of God manifest in the flesh ; striving to 
 bring myself conformably to my pattern, and to have 
 him formed in my heart, and his life in mine; cruci- 
 fying myself to the world, and the world to me ; fitting 
 myself for death, judgment, and eternity. These, 
 and the like employments, I esteemed the flower, 
 the glory, the best of my spent time, because they 
 will be carried over with advantage into the life to 
 come; and therefore this I reckoned my business, 
 and accordingly I made it : other matters, that only 
 served for the meridian of this life, I used either 
 barely for necessity of my present subsistence, or as 
 a recreation, and sparingly, in order to those great 
 ends. Those were the business, these only the 
 embellishments of my life. 
 
 X. Touching thy Creatures, and the use of 
 them, and the dominion over them. 
 N 2 
 
292 
 
 1. 1 have esteemed them as thine in propriety: thou 
 hast committed unto me the use, and a subordinate 
 dominion over them; yet I ever esteemed myself an 
 accountant to thee for them, and therefore I have 
 received them with thankfulness unto thee, the great 
 Lord both of them and me. When the earth yielded 
 me a good crop of corn or other fruits; when flocks 
 increased; when my honest labours brout^ht me in 
 a plentiful or convenient supply, I looked up to thee 
 as the Giver, to thy providence and blessing, as the 
 original of all my increase : I did not sacrifice to my 
 own net or industry, or prudence, but I received all, 
 as the gracious and bountiful returns of thy liberal 
 hand ; I looked upon every grain of corn that 1 
 sowed, as buried and lost, unless thy power quickened 
 and revived it; I esteemed the best production 
 would have been but stalk and straw, unless thou 
 hadst increased it ; I esteemed my own hand and in- 
 dustry but impotent, unless thou hadst blessed it ; 
 for it is thy blessing that maketh rich, and it is thou 
 that givest power to get wealth : Prov. x. 22. Deut. 
 viii. 18. 
 
 2. I esteemed it my duty to make a return of 
 this my acknowledgment, by giving the tribute of 
 my increase in the maintenance of thy ministers, 
 and the relief of the poor: and I esteemed the 
 practice enjoined to the ancient people, of giving the 
 tenth of their increase, not only a sufficient warrant, 
 but instruction to me under the gospel, to do the like. 
 
 3. I have not only looked upon thy blessing and 
 bounty, in lending me thy own creatures for my 
 use ; but I have sought unto thee for a blessing 
 upon them in my use of them. I did very well 
 
293 
 
 observe, that there is by my sin a curse in the very 
 creatures that I receive, unless thy blessing fetch it 
 out; an emptiness in them, unless thy goodness fill 
 them ; though thou shouldest give me quails and 
 manna from heaven, yet without thy blessing upon 
 them, they would become rottenness, and putrefac- 
 tion to me; and therefore I ever begged thy blessing 
 upon thy blessings, as well as the blessings them- 
 selves, and attributed the good I found, or was to 
 expect in them, to the same hand that gave them. 
 
 4. I received and used thy creatures as com- 
 mitted to me under a trust, and as a steward and 
 accountant for them ; and therefore I was always 
 careful to use them according to those limits, and 
 in order for those ends, for which thou< didst com- 
 mit them to me: 1. With temperance and modera- 
 tion. I did not use thy creatures to luxury and 
 excess, to make provision for my lusts, with vain- 
 glory, or ostentation, but for the convenient support 
 of the exigencies of my nature and condition ; and 
 if at any time thy goodness did indulge me an use 
 of them for delight, as well as necessity, I did it 
 but rarely and watchfully. I looked not upon the 
 wine, when it gave its colour in the cup, nor gave 
 myself over, either to excess or curiosity in meats or 
 drinks; I checked myself therein, as being in thy 
 presence, and still remembered I had thy creatures 
 under an account; and was ever careful to avoid 
 excess or intemperance, because every excessive cup 
 or meal was in danger to leave me somewhat in super 
 and arrear to my Lord. 2. With mercy and com- 
 passion to the creatures themselves, which thou hast 
 put under my power and disposal : when I con- 
 
294 
 
 sidered the admirable powers of life and sense, 
 which I saw in the birds and beasts, and that all the 
 men in the world could not give the like being to 
 any thing, nor restore that life and sense which is 
 once taken from them ; when I considered how in- 
 nocently and harmlessly the fowls and the fish, and 
 the sheep and the oxen, take their food, that thou, 
 the Lord of all, hast given them, I have been apt to 
 think that surely thou didst intend a more innocent 
 kind of food to man, than such as must be taken 
 with such detriment to those living parts of thy 
 creation ; and although thy wonderful goodness hath 
 so much indulged to mankind, as to give up the 
 lives of these creatures for the food of man by thy 
 express commission, yet I still do, and ever did 
 think that there was a justice due from man, even to 
 these sensible creatures; that he should take them 
 sparingly, for necessity, and not for delight; or if 
 for delight, yet not for luxury. I have been apt to 
 think, that if there were any more liberal use of 
 creatures for delight or variety, it should be of 
 fruits, or such other delicacies, as might be had 
 without the loss of life ; that however it be, this 
 very consideration hath made me very sparing and 
 careful, not vainly or superfluously, or unnecessarily, 
 or prodigally to take away the life of the creatures, 
 for feasting and excess. And the very same con- 
 sideration hath always gone along with me, in re- 
 ference to the labours of his creatures. I have 
 ever thought that there was a certain degree of 
 justice due from man to the creatures, as from 
 man to man, and that an excessive, immoderate, 
 unseasonable use of the creatures' labour, is an 
 
295 
 
 injustice, for which he must account; to deny do- 
 mestic creatures their convenient food ; to expect 
 that labour from them, that they are not able to 
 perform; to use extremity or cruehy towards them, 
 is a breach of that trust under which the dominion 
 of the creatures was committed to us, and a breach 
 of that justice that is due from men to them ; and 
 therefore I have always esteemed it as part of my 
 duty, and it hath been always my practice to be 
 merciful to beasts : Prov. xii. 10. And upon the 
 same account I have ever esteemed it a breach of 
 trust, and have accordingly declined any cruelty to 
 any of thy creatures, and as much as I might, pre- 
 vented it in others, as a tyranny, inconsistent with 
 the trust and stewardship that thou hast committed 
 to me. I have abhorred those sports that consist 
 in the torturing of the creatures: and if either 
 noxious creatures must be destroyed, or creatures 
 for food must be taken, it hath been my practice to 
 do it in that manner, that may be with the least 
 torture or cruelty to the creature; and I have still 
 thought it an unlawful thing to destroy those crea- 
 tures for recreation sake, that either were not hurt- 
 ful when they lived, or are not profitable when they 
 are killed : ever remembering, that thou hast given 
 us a dominion over thy creatures ; yet it is under a 
 law of justice, prudence, and moderation, otherwise 
 we should become tyrants, not lords, over thy crea- 
 tures : and therefore things of this nature, that others 
 have practised as recreations, I have avoided as sins. 
 
 As to those HABITS of MIND and knowledge 
 that I have had or acquired; and namely. 
 
296 
 
 XL My Learning of natural causes and ef- 
 fects, and of ARTS and sciences. 
 
 L I have not esteemed them the chiefest or best 
 furniture of my mind, but have accounted them but 
 dross in comparison of the knowledge of thee and 
 thy Christ, and him crucified. In the acquiring of 
 them, I have always observed this care : That I 
 might not too prodigally bestow my time upon them, 
 to the prejudice of that time and pains for the ac- 
 quiring of more excellent knowledge, and the greater 
 concerns of my everlasting happiness. 
 
 2. I carried along with me, in all my studies of 
 this nature, this great design of improving them, 
 and the knowledge acquired by them, to the honour 
 of thy name, and the greater discovery of thy wis- 
 dom, power and truth, and so translated my secular 
 learning into an improvement of divine knowledge ; 
 and had I not had, and practised that design in my 
 acquisitions of human learning, I had concluded my 
 time raispent; because I ever thought it unworthy 
 of a man that had an everlasting soul, to furnish it 
 only with such learning, as either would die with 
 his body, and so become useless for his everlasting 
 state, or that in the next moment after death, would 
 be attained without labour or toil in this life ; yet 
 this advantage I made and found in my application 
 to secular studies. 
 
 L It enlarged and habituated my mind to far 
 more useful inquiries. 
 
 2. It carried me up, in a great measure, to the 
 sound and grounded knowledge of thee, the first 
 cause of all things. 
 
 3. It kept me from idleness and rust. 
 
297 
 
 4. It kept my thoughts, and life, oftentimes, from 
 temptations to worse employments. 
 
 My learning and knowledge did not heighten my 
 opinion of myself, parts, or abilities ; but the more 
 I knew, the more humble I was. 
 
 1. I found it was thy strength and blessing that 
 enabled me to it; that gave me understanding and 
 enlarged it. I looked upon it as a talent lent me, 
 not truly acquired by me. 
 
 2. The more I knew, the more I knew my own 
 ignorance. I found myself convinced, that there 
 was an ignorance in what I thought I knew; my 
 knowledge was but imperfect and defective; and I 
 found an infinite latitude of things which I knew 
 not; the farther I waded into knowledge, the deeper 
 still I found it, and it was with me, just as it is with 
 a child, that thinks, that if he could but come to 
 such a field, he should be able to touch the hemi- 
 sphere of the heavens; but when he comes thither, 
 he finds it as far off as it was before. Thus, while 
 my mind pursued knowledge, 1. I found the object 
 still as far before me as it was, if not much farther, 
 and could no more attain the full and exact know- 
 ledge of any one subject, than the hinder wheel of a 
 chariot can overtake the former: though I knew 
 much of what others were ignorant, yet still I found 
 there was much more, of which I was ignorant, than 
 what I knew, even in the compass of a most con- 
 fined and inconsiderable subject. And as my very 
 knowledge taught me humility in the sense of my 
 own ignorance, so it taught me that my understand- 
 ing was of finite and limited power, that takes in 
 things by little and little, and gradually. 2. That 
 
 N 3 
 
298 
 
 thy wisdom is unsearchable and past finding out. 
 3. That thy works, which are but finite in them- 
 selves, and necessarily short of that infinite wisdom 
 by which they are contrived, are yet so wonderful, 
 that, as the wise man saith, " No man can find out 
 the work that thou makest from the beginninfr to 
 the end." j If a man would spend his whole life in 
 the study of a poor fly, there would be such a con- 
 fluence of so many wonderful and difficult exhibitions 
 in it, that it would still leave much more undisco- 
 vered than the most singular wit ever yet attained. ) 
 
 3. It taught me also, with the wise man, to write' 
 vanity and vexation upon all my secular knowledge 
 and learning: Eccles. i. 14. That little that I 
 know, was not attained without much labour, nor 
 yet free from much uncertainty ; and the great 
 residuum which I knew not, rendered that I knew 
 poor and inconsiderable; and, therefore, 
 
 4. I did most evidently conclude, that the happi- 
 ness and perfection of my intellectual power, was 
 not to be found in this kind of knowledge; in a 
 knowledge thus sensibly mingled with ignorance in 
 the things it seems to know; mingled with a dissa- 
 tisfaction in respect of the things I know not; 
 mingled with a difficulty in attaining, and restless- 
 ness when attained : the more I knew, the more I 
 knew that I knew not; and the more I knew, the 
 more impatient my mind was to know what it 
 knew not; my knowledge did rather enlarge my 
 desire of knowing, than satisfy it ; and the most 
 intemperate sensual appetite under heaven, was 
 more capable of satisfaction by what it enjoyed, 
 than my intellectual appetite or desire was, or could 
 
299 
 
 be satisfied with what I knew; but the enlarg- 
 ing of my understanding with knowledge, did but 
 enlarge and amplify the desire and appetite I had 
 to know ; so that what Job's reply was, upon his 
 inquiry after wisdom, " The deep saith, it is not in 
 me; and the sea saith, it is not in me;" the same 
 account all my several kinds of knowledge gave me, 
 when I inquired for satisfaction in them : my ab- 
 stract and choice speculations in the metaphysics, 
 were of that abstract and comprehensive nature, that 
 when I had perused great volumes of it, and de- 
 voted my mind close to it, yet it was so mercurial, 
 that I could hardly hold it; and yet so extensive 
 and endless, that the more I read or thought of it, 
 the more I might. Natural philosophy (though it 
 were more tractable, because holding a greater 
 vicinity to sense and experiment, yet) 1 found full of 
 uncertainty, much of it grounded upon imaginary 
 suppositions, impossible to be experimented, the later 
 philosophers censuring the former, and departing 
 from them, and the latest despising and rejecting 
 both ; the subject as vast as the visible or tangible 
 universe, and yet every individual so complicated, 
 that if all the rest were omitted, any one had more 
 lines concentred in it, than were possible for any one 
 age to sift to the bottom ; yet any one lost, or not 
 exactly scanned, leaves all the rest uncertain and 
 conjectural ; the very disquisition concerning any 
 one part of the brain, the eye, the nerves, the blood, 
 hath perplexed the most exact scrutinizers. Those 
 more dry, but more demonstrable conclusions in the 
 mathematics, are yet endless and perplexed : the pro- 
 portion of lines to lines, of superficies to superficies, 
 bodies to bodies, numbers to numbers; nay, to leave 
 
300 
 
 the whole latitude of the subject, see what long, and 
 intricate, and unsatisfactory pains men have taken 
 about some one particular subject, the quadrature of 
 the circle, conical, oval, and spiral lines ; and yet if 
 it could be attained in the perfection of it, still these 
 three unhappinesses attend it. 
 
 1. That it is but of little use; it is only known 
 that it may be known ; that which is of ordinary use 
 either in architecture, measuring of bodies, and su- 
 perficies, mechanics, business of accounts, and the 
 like, is soon attained, and by ordinary capacities ; 
 the rest are but curious impertinencies, in respect of 
 use and application. 
 
 That they serve only for the meridian of this life, 
 and of corporeal converse ; a separated soul, or a spi- 
 ritualized body, will not be concerned in the use and 
 employment of them. 
 
 3. But admit they should, yet doubtless a greater 
 measure of such knowledge will be attained in one 
 hour after our dissolution, than the toilsome expense 
 of an age in this life would produce. And the like 
 may be said for astronomical disquisitions. What 
 a deal of do there is touching the motion or consis- 
 tency of the sun or earth ; the quality and habita- 
 bleness of the moon ; the matter, quantity, and dis- 
 tance of the stars; the several positions, continuity, 
 contiguity, and motion of the heavens; the various 
 influences of the heavenly bodies in their oppositions, 
 conjunctions, aspects ? When once the immortal 
 soul hath flown through the stories of the heavens, 
 in one moment all these will be known distinctly, 
 clearly, and evidently, which here are nothing but 
 conjectures and opinions, gained by long reading or 
 observation. 
 
301 
 
 Upon all these considerations, I concluded that 
 my intellectual power, and the exercise of it in this 
 life, was given me for a more sure and certain, use- 
 ful, advantageous, suitable, and becoming object, 
 even '* to know thee the only true God, and Jesus 
 Christ, whom thou hast sent." A knowledge that 
 is useful for the acquiring of happiness here and 
 hereafter; a knowledge of a subject, though infi- 
 nitely comprehensive, yet but one; a knowledge, 
 that though it still move farther, yet it satisfies in 
 what is acquired, and doth not disquiet in attaining 
 more; a knowledge, that is of such use in the world 
 that is to come, as it is here; a knowledge, that the 
 more it is improved in this life, the more it is im- 
 proved in that which is to come ; every grain of it 
 here is enlarged to a vast proportion hereafter; a 
 knowledge that is acquired, even with a consent, a 
 desire to know, because thy goodness pleaseth to 
 fill such a desire, to instruct from thyself, and there 
 is none teacheth like thee. 
 
 XII. Concerning human Prudence, and under- 
 standing in affairs, and dexterity in the managing of 
 them. 
 
 I have been always careful to mingle justice and 
 honesty with my prudence; and have always esteemed 
 prudence, acted by injustice and falsity, the most 
 arrant and devilish practice in the world ; because it 
 prostitutes thy gift to the service of hell, and mingles 
 a beam of thy divine excellence with an extraction 
 of the devil's furnishing, making a man so much the 
 worse by how much he is wiser than others. I al- 
 ways thought that wisdom which, in a tradesman, 
 
302 
 
 and in a politician, was mingled with deceit, falsity, 
 and injustice, deserved the same name; only the 
 latter is so much the worse, because it was of the 
 more public and general concern ; yet, because 1 have 
 often observed great employments, especially in pub- 
 lic affairs, arc sometimes under great temptations of 
 mingling too much craft with prudence, and then to 
 miscal it, policy; I have, as much as may be, 
 avoided such temptations ; and if I have met with 
 them, I have resolutely rejected them. 
 
 I have always observed, that honesty and plain- 
 dealing in transactions, as well public as private, is 
 the best and soundest prudence and policy, and com- 
 monly in the long-run over-matcheth craft and 
 subtlety; for the deceived and the deceiver are 
 thine, and thou art privy to the subtlety of the one, 
 and the simplicity of the other; and thou, as the 
 great moderator and observer of men, dost dispense 
 success and disappointments accordingly. 
 
 As human prudence is abused, if mingled with 
 falsity and deceit, though the end be ever so good; 
 so it is much more debased, if directed to a bad end, 
 to the dishonour of thy name, the oppression of thy 
 people, the corruption of thy worship or truth, or to 
 execute any injustice towards any person. As it 
 hath been my care, not to err in the manner, so 
 neither in the end of the exercise of my prudence. 
 I have ever esteemed my prudence then best em- 
 ployed, when it was exercised in the preservation 
 and support of thy truth, in the upholding of thy 
 faithful ministers, in the countermining, discovering, 
 and disappointing the designs of evil and treacher- 
 ous men, in delivering the oppressed, in righting 
 
303 
 
 the injured, in prevention of wars and discords, in 
 preserving the public peace and tranquillity of the 
 people whwe I live, in faithful advising of my 
 prince; and in all those offices incumbent upon me, 
 by thy providence, in every relation. 
 
 When my end was most unquestionably good, I 
 ever then took most heed that the means were suit- 
 able and justifiable. 1. Because the better the end 
 was, the more easily we are betrayed into the use of 
 ill means to effect it; we are too apt to dispense with 
 ourselves in the practice of what is amiss, in order 
 to the accomplishing of an end that is good ; we are 
 apt, while with great intentness of mind we gaze 
 upon the end, not to care what course we take, so 
 as we attain it ; and are apt to think that God will 
 dispense with, or at least over-look the evil in our 
 attempts, if the end be good. 2. Because many 
 times, if not most times, thy name and honour do 
 more suffer by attempting a good end by bad means, 
 than by attempting both a bad end, and also by bad 
 means; for bad ends are suitable to bad means; they 
 are alike; and it doth not immediately, as such, 
 concern thy honour; but every thing that is good, 
 hath somewhat of thee in it, thy name, and thy na- 
 ture, and thy honour, is written upon it, and the 
 blemish that is cast upon it, is, in some measure, 
 cast upon thee ; and the evil, and scandal, and infamy, 
 that is in the means, is cast upon the end, and doth 
 not disparage and blemish it, and consequently it 
 dishonours thee. To rob for burnt-offerings, and 
 to lie for God, is a greater disservice to thy majesty, 
 than to rob for rapine, or to lie for advantage. 
 
 Whenever my prudence was successful, duly to 
 
304 
 
 attain to a good end, I ever gave thy name the glory, 
 and that in sincerity. I have known some men (and 
 if a man will observe his own heart, h^will find it 
 there also, unless it be strictly denied) that will give 
 God the glory of the success of a good enterprise, 
 but yet with a kind of secret reserve of somewhat 
 of praise for themselves, their prudence, conduct, 
 and wisdom ; and will be glad to hear of it, and se- 
 cretly angry and discontented if they miss it ; and 
 many times give God the glory, with a kind of os- 
 tentation and vain-glory in doing so : but I have 
 given thee the glory of it, upon the account of my 
 very judgment, that it is due, and due only to thee. 
 I know that that prudence that I have, comes from 
 thee ; and I know that it is thy providential order- 
 ino" of occurrences that makes prudential deliberations 
 successful, and more is due to thy ordering, dispos- 
 ing, fitting, timing, directing of all in seeming casual- 
 ties, than there is to that human counsel by which it 
 is acted, or seems to be acted ; the least whereof, if 
 not marshalled by thy hand, would have shattered 
 and broken the counsel to a thousand pieces : thou 
 givest the advice by thy wisdom, and secondest it by 
 thy providence ; thou dealest by us as we do by our 
 children, when we set them to lift up a heavy staff, 
 or a weight, and we lift with them ; and we again 
 are too much like those children that think we move 
 the weight, when we move not a grain of it. 
 
 XIII. Concerning the gift of Elocution. 
 
 1. I have ever used that gift with humility; not 
 thereby seeking applause to myself ; because pride 
 and ostentation in this gift would be secret idolatry 
 
305 
 
 to myself, and sacrilege to thee, robbing thee of thy 
 glory, and therefore signally vindicated in the ex- 
 ample of Herod : Acts xii. 
 
 2. With truth. I never used the advantage of 
 my elocution either to maintain a falsehood, or to 
 abuse credulity into a foolish opinion or persuasion. 
 
 3. With integrity. I never used the advantage 
 of my eloquence or rhetoric to deceive people, or to 
 cozen them into a thing. My heart always went 
 along with my tongue ; and if 1 used intention of 
 speech upon any occasion, it was with an intention 
 of conviction in myself, of the truth, necessity, use- 
 fulness, and fitness of what I was so persuading to : 
 if my judgment was doubtful or uncertain, so was 
 my speech. I never used elocution or specious ar- 
 guments to invite any to that, which, in my own 
 judgment, I doubted, or doubted whether it were fit 
 or seasonable, all circumstances considered. I never 
 used my elocution to give credit to an ill cause; to 
 justify that which deserved blame; to justify the 
 wicked, or to condemn the righteous; to make any 
 thing appear more specious or enormous than it de- 
 served. I never thought my profession should 
 either necessitate a man to use his eloquence, by 
 extenuations, or aggravations, to make any thing 
 worse or better than it deserves, or could justify a 
 man in it. To prostitute my elocution or rhetoric in 
 such a way, I ever held to be most basely mercenary, 
 and that it was below the worth of a man, much 
 more of a Christian so to do. When the cause 
 was good, and fully so appeared to me, I thought 
 then was that season, that the use of that ability 
 was my duty, and that it was given me for such a 
 
S06 
 
 time as that, and I spared not the best of my ability 
 in such a season ; and, indeed, elocution or rhetoric 
 is a dead and insipid piece, unless it come from, and 
 with a heart full of the sense and conviction of what 
 the tongue expresseth, and then, and not till then, 
 elocution hath its life and energy. I esteemed 
 these cases best deserving my elocution, and in 
 these I was warm and earnest; the setting forth of 
 thy glory; the asserting of thy truth; the detection 
 and conviction of errors ; the clearing of the inno- 
 cent; the aggravating of sins, oppressions and de- 
 ceits: and though I was careful that I did not 
 exceed the bounds of truth, or due moderation, yet 
 I ever thought that these were the seasons for which 
 that talent was given me, and accordingly I em- 
 ployed it. 
 
 XIV. Touching my body and bodily Endow- 
 ments of health, strength, and beauty. 
 
 1. In general: I looked upon my body but as an 
 instrument, the vehicle of life, and not so much 
 given for its own sake, as to be an engine for the 
 exercise of my soul, and a cottage, wherein it might 
 inhabit and perfect itself; and upon that reason I 
 was very careful to keep it useful for that end ; and 
 that as on the one hand, by over-much severity or 
 tyranny over it, I might tire it; so, on the other 
 hand, by over-much pampering, or pleasing it, I 
 might not make it unruly or masterless, though I 
 held the latter far more dangerous: for, 
 
 2. I considered and found that my body was the 
 harbour of the most dangerous temptations, and the 
 receptacle of the most dangerous enemies to my 
 
307 
 
 soul. The greatest, and most intimate, and most 
 assiduous temptations, for the most part made their 
 applications to my body, and held correspondence 
 with the lusts and inclinations of my flesh and blood; 
 the wine, when it gave its colour in the cup, and 
 the pleasantness of it, variety and curiosity of meats, 
 beautiful and fleshly allurements, costly and exces- 
 sive apparel, precedence and honour, wealth and 
 power, the purveyor of all provisions convenient 
 for the sufficing fleshly desires, opportunities of 
 revenging, sense of injuries, ease, idleness, and de- 
 licacy; these, and a thousand more, made their 
 applications and addresses to my sensual and corpo- 
 real appetite : the motions of my blood, the con- 
 stitution or complexion of my body, the lust and 
 desires of my flesh, or rather this lust reached and 
 hunted after them, whereby my body, which was 
 given to be instrumental and subservient to my 
 soul, was ready still to cast off the yoke, and set up 
 for itself, and prostitute that noble part to be a ser- 
 vant, a bawd to it, and bring her to that servitude 
 and vassallage, that all her wit, skill, activity, and 
 power, was wholly taken up in contriving and mak- 
 ing provisions for the flesh. I found that the sen- 
 sual and beastly part was ready still to thrust the 
 heavenly and intellectual part out of her throne, and 
 to usurp it, and to invert the very order of nature 
 itself; so that both the parts of my composition 
 were disordered, and out of their place, and lost their 
 use. My body, which was given to serve and obey, 
 became the empress, and commanded and corrupted 
 my soul, debased and enslaved it to lust and disor- 
 der; and my soul, which was given to rule, became 
 
308 
 
 but the minister and slave of my body, and was 
 tainted and emasculated by the empire and dominion 
 of my body, and the lusts and streams of concupis- 
 cence that did arise from it; and 1 considered that 
 if the business was thus carried, my happiness was 
 only in this life. When sickness, or diseases, or 
 death should seize upon my body, I had an immor- 
 tal soul, that had lost her time wholly in this world ; 
 and not only so, but was debased and putrefied by 
 these noisome lusts; and that the very contagion of 
 my body was incorporated and diffused through my 
 soul, that could carry nothing with her but immor- 
 tality, and disappointment, and defilement, and con- 
 sequently could expect, to all eternity, nothing but 
 vexation, and dissatisfaction, and everlasting confu- 
 sion. Upon all these considerations, I resolved and 
 practised severity over this unruly beast, brought my 
 body into subjection, refused to gratify her intem- 
 perate desires, denied them, kept them in awe and 
 under discipline; and because I found that my fleshly 
 lusts grew petulant, imperious and unruly, by vari- 
 ety, curiosity, and plenty of meats, drinks, and by 
 ease and idleness, I subdued them by moderate diet 
 and temperance, by hard labour and diligence, till I 
 had reduced my body to that state and order that 
 became it, that it might be in subjection, and not in 
 dominion, might serve, and not rule. I denied 
 satisfaction to an intemperate appetite, a wanton eye, 
 a vain wish, a worldly desire. My table was sparing 
 to myself, my clothes plain, my retinue and attend- 
 ance but necessary. I chased away my lust, with 
 the contemplations of the presence of God, the end 
 of Christ's sufferings, the certainty, yet uncertainty 
 
309 
 
 of death, the state after death; and mingled all my 
 enjoyments and desires with these serious and clean- 
 sing considerations; and I peremptorily refused to 
 gratify the cravings of an importunate, inordinate, 
 sensual appetite; and did resolutely let them know, 
 they should not, might not, expect any better dealing 
 from me, and my practice was accordingly. 
 
 3. I found, by evident experience, that it is the 
 greatest difficulty that can be, for a man in a good 
 condition to give himself leave to think it may be 
 otherwise. There is a vanity that accompanies 
 health, that we can scarcely persuade ourselves that 
 we shall ever be sick or die : we cannot put another 
 estimate of our condition than we do at present 
 enjoy, especially if it be pleasing and delightful. To 
 wean myself from this impotency of mind, although 
 it hath pleased thee to give me a strong and healthy 
 constitution, yet I often put myself into the imagi- 
 nation and supposition of sickness, thoughts of my 
 mortality, abstracted myself from my present condi- 
 tion of life and health, and pre-apprehended sick- 
 ness, diseases, old age, infirmity, and death; and by 
 this means broke and scattered my confidence of 
 long life, continued health, and took up thoughts 
 becoming a sick, infirm, or dying man; considered 
 how my accounts stood, if God should please to call 
 me away, how I could alienate my mind from the 
 world; what patience I had to bear pain, and weak- 
 ness, and sickness. In my most entire and firmest 
 health, it was my care so to order my life and actions, 
 as if the next hour might despoil me of my life and 
 health too; I did not, durst not allow myself in any 
 considerate practice of any known sin, in procrasti- 
 
310 
 
 nation of my repentance, in a toleration of passions, 
 upon a supposition of a continuance of life, or of an 
 unshaken health ; but still considered with myself, 
 would I do thus, were the firmness of my health, or 
 the thread of my life, to be broken off the next hour ? 
 My firm and strong constitution made me neither 
 proud nor presumptuous, but the frequent interposi- 
 tions of the thoughts of my change kept me humble 
 and watchful. 
 
 4. In reference to my health, I always avoided 
 these two extremes. 1. I never made it my idol, I 
 declined not the due employment of my body in the 
 works of charity or necessity, or my ordinary calling, 
 out of a vain fear of injuring my health ; for I reck- 
 oned my health given me in order to these employ- 
 ments: and as he is over-curious that will not put on 
 his clothes for fear of wearing them out, or use his 
 axe in his proper employment, for fear of hurting it; 
 so he gives but an ill account of a healthy body, that 
 dares not employ it in an employment proper for 
 him, for fear of hurting his health. 2. I never was 
 vainly prodigal of it, but careful in a due manner to 
 preserve it ; 1 would decline places of infection, if I 
 had no necessary calling that brought me to them; 
 unnecessary journeys, exposing my body gratis to 
 unnecessary dangers, especially intemperance in eat- 
 ing and drinking. 
 
 5. I esteemed strength, and beauty, and come- 
 liness of body thy blessing, an invitation to thankful- 
 ness; I esteemed it to carry with it a secret admo- 
 nition to bear a proportionable mind and life to 
 a comely or beautiful body; and I looked upon a 
 beautiful countenance, as a just reprehension of a 
 
311 
 
 deformed or ugly life or disposition ; but I never 
 found in it matter of pride or vain glory. 1. Be- 
 cause it is thy gift, and not my own acquisition. 
 2. Because a small matter quite spoils it : a fall, or 
 a disease, spoils the greatest strength ; a humour in 
 the face, a rheum in the eye, a palsy, or the small 
 pox, ruin the greatest beauty; or if none of these 
 happen, yet either old age or death turns all into 
 weakness, deformity, or rottenness. I learn there- 
 fore, in the enjoyments of these blessings, to enjoy 
 them with humility and thankfulness; in the loss of 
 them, to lose them with patience and contentedness; 
 for I acknowledge thy hand both in the gift and in 
 the loss. I looked upon them as flowers of the 
 spring, pleasing to the eye, but of short continuance; 
 the casualty of an unruly wind and unseasonable 
 frost, a worm or fly, might intercept their natural 
 course of continuance; but they that escaped best, an 
 autumn or winter, will infallibly overtake and destroy 
 them. 
 
 XV. Concerning my Wealth and temporal sub- 
 sistence. 
 
 1. I esteemed these acquisitions rather the effects 
 of thy providence and blessing, than of my power or 
 industry; for if instrumentally my industry acquired 
 them, yet that industry is thy gift : it is thou that 
 givest me power to get wealth. Again, 
 
 2. Though my industry and dexterity to get 
 wealth were never so great, yet a small interposition, 
 either of thy providence or permission, might soon 
 disappoint and frustrate all that dexterity or indus- 
 try : a thief, or a storm, or a fire, or a leak, or the 
 
312 
 
 discomposure of the times, or a prodigal wife, or son, 
 or unfaithful servant, or a long sickness, or a misfor- 
 tune in others whom I trust, or a flaw in a title, or 
 a word misinterpreted, or a thousand other emergen- 
 cies, may in a little space ruin the product of many 
 years' labour and care. When 1 have looked upon 
 a spider, framing her web with a great deal of curio- 
 sity and care, and, after her industry of many days, 
 the maid with the broom, at one brush, spoils all; or 
 when I have seen a republic of pismires with great 
 circumspection choosing the seat of their residence, 
 and every one carrying his egg or provisions to their 
 common store-house, and the boy with a stick stir- 
 rino- it all abroad, or a hen or partridge scattering it 
 all asunder, so that, in a little moment, all the labour 
 of those poor innocent creatures is disappointed ; it 
 hath often put me in mind, how easily and suddenly 
 the collection of many years may be dissipated; and 
 the experience of these latter times gives sad and 
 plentiful instances of it. 
 
 1. But if none of all these visible emergencies 
 happen, yet it is most plain, that without thy secret 
 blessing upon honest and commendable industry, it 
 proves unsuccessful to that end. I have known, in 
 my own observations, oftentimes, two men equally 
 industrious, sober, watchful of opportunities, sparing, 
 yet one gets up in the world, the other goes back- 
 wards; and neither they nor I could possibly attri- 
 bute it to any other cause but this, thou didst bless 
 the labour of the one, and blow upon the labour of 
 the other. And upon all these considerations, 1 
 learned, in the midst of all my affluence, not to sacri- 
 fice to my own net, or to say in my heart, My might 
 
313 
 
 and tlie power of my hands, have gotten me tliis 
 wealth : hut I did remember the Lord my God, for 
 it is he that gave me power to get wealth: Deut. 
 viii. 17. 
 
 2. I did not measure thy favour to me, or the 
 goodness or safety of my own condition, by my 
 wealth and plenty: for I found that those externals 
 were either indifferently dispensed to the good and 
 bad, or, if there were any odds, the advantage of ex- 
 ternals seemed to be to those, whose portion we might 
 probably conjecture was only in this life. My wealth 
 and plenty, therefore, rather made me the more 
 jealous of my condition than secure in it: it made me 
 search and examine my condition the more strictly 
 and carefully; and when, upon the result, I found 
 ray sincerity and uprightness of heart, though I with 
 all thankfulness acknowledge thy goodness in giving 
 me externals, yet I often begged of thee that my 
 portion might not be in this life only; that, as thou 
 gavest me wealth, so thou wouldst give and increase 
 thy grace in my heart; that though I could wish the 
 continuance of any external advantages, as an oppor- 
 tunity to do the more good, yet if it were consistent 
 with my everlasting interest, my great expectation 
 in the life to come, I should choose to be without 
 the former, rather than lose the latter; and I made 
 it my choice rather to be poor here, and rich in the 
 hfe to come, than to be rich here, and lost in the life 
 to come. 
 
 3. And upon the same consideration, I judged 
 myself never the better man, nor the better Chris- 
 tian, for having much of these worldly advantages. 
 I looked upon them as external and adventitious 
 O 40 
 
314 
 
 advantages, that had no ingredience at all into my 
 soul, unless possibly for the worse. I found a man 
 might be rich or honourable, in respect of his birth 
 or place, and yet a fool, a glutton, luxurious, vain, 
 imperious, covetous, proud, and, in all probability, 
 the more obnoxious to these distempers by his 
 wealth or greatness : on the other hand, a man 
 might be poor, and wise, and learned, sober, humble, 
 and possibly his poverty might, in reference to these 
 virtuous habits, be an advantage. My riches and 
 honour, therefore, never made me set one grain of 
 value the more upon myself, than if I had been 
 without them. I esteemed it as an instrument, that, 
 being put into a wise, prudent, faitliful, and liberal 
 hand, might be of use; but gave no more value to 
 that inherent worth of the man, than the axe or saw 
 gives skill to the carpenter. 
 
 4. I esteemed all the wealth and honour that I 
 had, but entrusted to me by the great Master of the 
 world ; a talent which thou committedst unto me as 
 thy steward, and upon account ; and this considera- 
 tion caused me to judge and esteem of my wealth, 
 and dispense the same quite in another way, than is 
 ordinarily done. 
 
 (1.) I do not esteem myself the richer at all for my 
 multitude of riches; I esteem no more given me 
 than what was in a reasonable manner proportionable 
 to my necessities, to my charge and dependance, 
 and to the station I had in the world ; all the rest I 
 looked upon as none of mine, but my Master's; it 
 was rather my burden than my possession, the more 
 I had, the more was my care, and the greater the 
 charge that I had under my hands; and the more 
 
315 
 
 was my solicitude to be a faithful steward of it, to 
 the honour and use of my Master; but my part was 
 the least that was in it : indeed, I rejoiced in this, 
 that my Master esteemed me wise and faithful, com- 
 mitting the dispensation thereof to my trust; but I 
 thought it no more mine, than the lord's factor, or 
 the merchant's cash-keeper, thinks his master's rent 
 or money his. 
 
 (2.) And, therefore, thought it would be a breach 
 of my trust to consume or embezzle that wealth in 
 excessive superfluities of meat, drink, or apparel, or 
 in advancing myself or my posterity to a massy or 
 huge acquest. 
 
 (3.) But I employed that overplus in support of 
 the ministry, in relief of the poor, in redemption of 
 captives, in placing children to school and appren- 
 tice, in setting the poor to work ; and, with submis- 
 sion to thy wisdom, I thought that this latter was 
 an equal, if not a greater charity than the encourao-e- 
 ment of idle or dissolute persons by liberal supplies; 
 because it kept them in the way that wisdom and 
 providence hath designed for the children of men. 
 
 (4.) And in those employments of men in their 
 labours I still held this course. 1. To allow them 
 competent wages. 2. That the greatest expense 
 should be rather in the labour than in the materials. 
 3. That the nature of the work should be such as 
 might bring in a return of profit, rather than of 
 curiosity; because the proceed might be a stock for 
 farther charity, or public advantage. 4. But rather 
 than the poor should want employment and subsist- 
 ence, I thought it allowable to employ them in such 
 labours as might yield them a lawful profit, thoucj-h 
 o 2 
 
316 
 
 it yielded me only a lawful contentment; as in build- 
 ing, planting, and the like honest, though not alto- 
 gether profitable employments; in all which, my 
 pYincipal design was the support of others, and my 
 own contentment was only a concomitant of it; and 
 I thought such an unprofitable contentment lawfully 
 acquired, when it was attained by the honest labour 
 and convenient profit of those I employed. 5. And 
 by this consideration, I kept my heart from making 
 ray wealth either my confidence or my treasure; I 
 kept a loose affection towards it. If I had it, I 
 esteemed it as thy depositum, an increase of my ac- 
 count and care; if I lost it, without my own folly 
 and fault, I looked upon that loss as a discharge of 
 so much of my accounts and charge, and I had the 
 less to answer for. 
 
 5. I;>esteeraed my wealth: ]. As uncertain to 
 continue with me; for it hath its vvings, and might 
 take its flight, when I little thought of it. 2. As 
 that which 1 must leave when I die. 3. As not 
 useful after death for any purpose whatsoever to me. 
 4. As that which makes me obnoxious to envy and 
 rapine, while I live. 5. As unuseful at all, but 
 when it is going away, namely, in tlie expense of it. 
 6. As a great temptation to pride, vanity, insolence, 
 and luxury. And, upon all these, and many more 
 considerations, I ever thought it too low to set my 
 heart upon it, and too weak to place my confidence 
 in it. When I had it, therefore, I received it 
 thankfully, used it soberly and faithfully ; when I 
 lost it, I lost it patiently and contentedly. 
 
 2. Inasmuch as my wealth in specie must be left 
 when I die, and I could not possibly carry that lug- 
 
317 
 
 gage into tlie other world ; and if I could, it would 
 not be of use there; I endeavoured so to order and 
 husband it, that I raight receive it, though not in 
 kind, yet by way of exchange after death, and be- 
 cause I found in thy word, that " he that giveth to 
 the poor, lendeth to the Lord," and " he that giveth 
 to a prophet but a cup of cold water in the name of 
 a prophet, should receive a prophet's reward." I 
 have taken that course so to dispose this unrighteous 
 mammon here, that I might make the God of 
 heaven my debtor, not by merit, but by promise; 
 and so I have made over that great wealth that thou 
 didst send me, to the other world ; and blessed be 
 thy condescension to thy creatures, that when thou 
 makest us thy debtors and accountants in this world, 
 by thy talents of all kinds that thou deliverest us, 
 thou art pleased, upon the performance of our duty 
 in that trust, to make thyself debtor to thy creature, 
 by a promise of an everlasting reward. 
 
 XVI. Touching my eminence of Place or 
 Power in this world, this is my account. 
 
 1. I never sought or desired it, and that upon 
 these reasons: 1. Because I easily saw that it was 
 rather a burden than a privilege; it made my charge, 
 and ray accounts the greater, my contentment and 
 rest the less; I found enough in it to make me de- 
 cline it in respect of myself, but not any thing that 
 could invite me to seek or desire it. 2. That ex- 
 ternal glory and splendour that attended it, I es- 
 teemed as vain and frivolous in itself, a bait to allure 
 vain and inconsiderate persons to aflPect and delight, 
 not valuable enough to invite a considerate judg- 
 
318 
 
 ment to desire or undertake it. I esteemed tliem 
 as the gilt that covers a bitter pill, and I looked 
 through this dress and outside, and easily saw that 
 it covered a state obnoxious to danger, solicitude, 
 care, trouble, envy, discontent, unquietness, tempta- 
 tion, and vexation. I esteemed it a condition, 
 which, if there were any distemper abroad, they 
 would infallibly be hunting and pushing at it; and 
 if it found any corruptions within, either of pride, 
 vain-glory, insolence, vindictiveness, or the like, it 
 would be sure to draw them out, and set them to 
 work, which, if they prevailed, it made my power 
 and greatness not only my burden, but my sin ; and 
 if they prevailed not, yet it required a most watchful, 
 assiduous, and severe vigilant labour and industry 
 to suppress them. 
 
 . 2. When I undertook any place of power or 
 eminence, 1. I looked to my call thereunto, to 
 be such as I might discern to be thy call, not my 
 own ambition. 2. That the place were such as 
 might be well filled by suitable abilities in some 
 measure to perform. 3. That my end in it might 
 not be the satisfaction of any pride, ambition, or 
 vanity in myself, but to serve thy providence and 
 my generation honestly and faithfully. In all 
 which, my undertaking was not an act of my choice, 
 but of my duty. 
 
 3. In the holding or exercising of these places, 
 ]. I kept my heart humble, I valued not myself one 
 rush the more for it; 1. Because I easily found 
 that that base aflPection of pride, which commonly is 
 the fly that haunts such employments, would render 
 me dishonourable to thy Majesty, and unserviceable 
 
319 
 
 in the employment. 2. Because I easily saw great 
 places were slippery places, the mark of envy. It 
 was therefore always my care so to behave myself in 
 it, as I might be in a capacity to leave it; and so to 
 leave it, as that when I had left it, I might have no 
 fears and blemishes adhering to me. I carried, 
 therefore, the same evenness of temper in holding 
 it, as might become me if I were without it. 3. I 
 found enough in a great employment, to make me 
 sensible of the danger, troubles, and cares of it ; 
 enough to make me humble, but not enough to 
 make me proud and haughty. 
 
 4. I never made use of my power or greatness to 
 serve my own turns, either to heap up riches, or to 
 oppress my neighbour, or to revenge injuries, or to 
 uphold or bolster out injustice; for though others 
 thought me great, I knew myself to be still the 
 same, and in all things, besides the due executions 
 of my place, my deportment was just the same, as if 
 I had been no such man ; for, first, I knew that I 
 was but thy steward and minister, and placed there 
 to serve thee and those ends which thou proposedst 
 in my preferment, and not to serve myself, much 
 less my passions or corruptions. And farther, I 
 very well and practically knew, that place, and 
 honour, and preferments are things extrinsical, and 
 have no ingredience in the man ; his value and esti- 
 mate before, and under, and after his greatness, is 
 still the same in itself; as the counter that now 
 stands for a penny, anon for sixpence, anon for 
 twelvcpence, is still tlie same counter, though its 
 place and extrinsical denomination be changed. 
 
 5. I improved the opportunity of my place, emi- 
 
320 
 
 nence and greatness, to serve thee and ray country 
 in it, with all vigilance, diligence, and fideHty : pro- 
 tected, countenanced, and encouraged thy worship, 
 name, nay, people; I did faithfully execute justice 
 according to the station I had ; I rescued the op- 
 pressed from the cruelty, malice, and insolence of 
 their oppressors ; I cleared the innocent from unjust 
 calumnies and reproaches; I was instrumental to 
 place those in offices, places, and employments of 
 trust and consequence, that were honest and faithful ; 
 I removed those that were dishonest, irreligious, 
 false or unjust; I did discountenance, and as they 
 justly fell under the verge of the law, 1 punished 
 profane, turbulent, atheistical, licentious persons. 
 My greatness was a shelter to virtue and goodness, 
 and a terror to vice and irreligion ; I interposed to 
 cool the ferocity and violence of others against good 
 men, upon mistake, or slight and inconsiderable dif- 
 ferences: in fine, I so used my place and greatness, 
 and so carried myself in all things, as if all the while 
 I had seen thee, the great Master of all the families 
 in heaven and earth standing by me. I often con- 
 sulted my instructions by the written word, and the 
 impartial answers of my conscience, and I strictly 
 pursued it; and when I found myself at any time at 
 a loss, by reason of the difficulty and perplexity of 
 emergencies, I did in a special manner apply myself 
 to thee for advice and direction. 
 
 XVII. Touching my Reputation and Credit. 
 1. I never affected the reputation of being rich, 
 great, crafty, politic; but I esteemed much a de- 
 served reputation of justice, honesty, integrity, 
 virtue, and piety. 
 
3^1 
 
 2. I never thought that reputation was the thing 
 primarily to be looked after in the exercise of virtue; 
 for that were to affect the substance for the sake of 
 the shadow, which had been a kind of levity and 
 impotence of mind; but I looked at virtue, and the 
 worth of it, as that which was the first desirable, 
 and reputation as a handsome and useful accession 
 to it. 
 
 3. The reputation of justice and honesty I 
 was always careful to keep untainted, upon these 
 grounds: 1. Because a blemish in my reputation 
 would be dishonourable to thee. 2. It would be 
 an abuse of a talent which thou hadst committed 
 to me. 3. It would be a weakening of an instru- 
 ment which thou hadst put into my hands, upon 
 the strength whereof, much good might be done 
 by me. 
 
 4. I found, both in myself and others, a good 
 reputation had these two great advantages in it : 
 1. In respect of the party that had it, it was a 
 handsome incentive to virtue, and did strengthen the 
 vigilance and care .of them that had it, to preserve 
 it. There is a certain honest worth and delight in 
 it, that adds somewhat to the care and jealousy of 
 good minds not easily to lose it. The value and 
 worth of virtue, though it far exceeds the value of 
 that reputation that ariseth from it, yet it is more 
 Platonic and spiritual, and hath not always that im- 
 pression upon us, as the sense of our reputation hath ; 
 and I always looked upon it as no small evidence of 
 thy wisdom in governing men, in adding a kind of 
 external splendour and glory to goodness and virtue, 
 which might be, and is a means to preserve the 
 o 3 
 
3^2 
 
 other, as the shell or husk to preserve a kernel. 
 2. In respect of others, because it is both an allure- 
 ment to the practice of that virtue which it attends, 
 and also gives a man a fairer opportunity and strength 
 to exercise any worthy and good actions for the 
 good of others. A man of a deserved reputation 
 hath oftentimes an opportunity to do that good which 
 another wants, and may practise it with more secu- 
 rity and success. 
 
 5. These temptations I always found attending a 
 fair reputation, and I still watched and declined 
 them as pests and cankers: 1. Pride and vain- 
 glory : I esteemed this, as that which would spoil 
 and deface, not only my soul, but even that very re- 
 putation which I had acquired. There is nothing 
 sooner undoes reputation than the pride and vain- 
 glory that a man takes in it. 2. Idleness and re- 
 missness: when a man beijins to think that he hath 
 such a stock thereof, that he may now sit still, and, 
 with the rich man in the gospel, please himself that 
 he hath enough laid up for many years, and there- 
 fore he at once starves both his goodness and repu- 
 tation. 3. A daring to adventure upon some very 
 ill action, upon a secret and deceitful confidence in 
 his reputation, thinking now he hath acquired such 
 a stock of reputation, that he may with secrecy, and 
 safety, and success, adventure upon any thing, in 
 confidence that his reputation will bear him out. 
 4. A man of great reputation shall be sure, by those 
 in power, to be put upon actions that may serve a 
 turn; this is the devil's skill; for if he carry it out 
 upon the strength of his reputation, the devil makes 
 the very result of virtue and worth the instrument 
 
3^3 
 
 of injustice and villany; but if he miscarry, the devil 
 liath got his end upon him, in that he had blasted 
 him, and wounded liis honour, which suffers in his 
 disreputation. 5. A great reputation, and the sense 
 of it, and delight in it, is apt to put a man upon any 
 shifts, though never so unhandsome, to support it. 
 6. It makes a man oftentimes over-timorous in doincr 
 
 o 
 
 that which is good and just, lest he should suffer in 
 his reputation with some party, whose concern may 
 lie in it. 7. It is apt to make a man impatient of 
 any the least blemish that may be causelessly cast 
 upon him, and to sink under it. A man of a great 
 reputation, and who sets his heart upon it, is des- 
 perately sensible of any thing that may wound it. 
 Therefore, 
 
 6. Though I have loved my reputation, and have 
 been vigilant, not to lose or impair it by my own 
 default or neglect; yet I have looked upon it as a 
 brittle thinf:r; a thin^r that the devil aims to hit in a 
 special manner; a thing that is much in the power 
 of a false report, a mistake, a misapprehension, to 
 wound and hurt ; notwithstanding all my care, I am 
 at the mercy of others, without God's wonderful 
 over-ruling providence. And as my reputation is 
 the esteem that others have of me, so that esteem 
 may be blemished without any default. I have 
 therefore always taken this care, not to set my heart 
 upon my reputation. I will use all fidelity and 
 honesty, and take care it shall not be lost by any 
 default of mine; and if, notwithstanding all this, my 
 reputation be foiled by evil or envious men or angels, 
 I will patiently bear it, and content myself with the 
 serenity of my own conscience, Hie miiriis ahcreus 
 csto. 
 
324 
 
 7. When thy honour, or the good of my country- 
 was concerned, I then thought it was a seasonable 
 time to lay out my reputation for the advantage of 
 either; and to act by, and upon it, to the highest, 
 in the use of all lawful means : and upon such an 
 occasion, the counsel of Mordecai to Esther was my 
 encouragement: " Who knoweth whether God hath 
 given thee this reputation and esteem for such a time 
 as this ?" 
 
A 
 
 GOOD METHOD 
 
 TO 
 
 ENTERTAIN UNSTABLE AND TROU- 
 BLESOME TIMES. 
 
 The first expedient is to expect them before they 
 come : the very state of the world is uncertain and 
 unstable, and for the most part stormy and trouble- 
 some: if there be some intervals of tranquillity and 
 sedateness, they are commonly attended with longer 
 periods of unquietness and trouble: and the greatest 
 impressions are then made by them, when they 
 surprise us, and come unexpected. When the 
 mind is prepared for them by a kind of anticipation, 
 it abates the edge, and keenness, and sharpness of 
 them. By this means a man, in a great measure, 
 knows the worst of them before he feels them, which 
 renders the very endurance of them not so smart and 
 troublesome to sense, as otherwise they would be. 
 This pre-apprehension and anticipation of troubles 
 and difficulties is the mother of prevention, where it 
 is possible; and where it is not, yet it is the mother 
 of patience and resolution when they come. Bilney 
 the martyr, was wont, before he suffered, to put his 
 
326 
 
 finger in the candle, to habituate himself to patient 
 undergoing of his future martyrdom; by this means, 
 he, in a great measure, knew the worst of it, and 
 armed himself with resolution and patience to bear 
 it. Men are apt to feed their fiincies with the anti- 
 cipation of what they hope for and wish in this 
 world, and to possess it in imagination before they 
 attain it in fruition, and this makes men vain: but 
 if they would have the patience sometimes to antici- 
 pate what they have just cause to fear, and to put 
 themselves under a pre-apprehension of it, in relation 
 to crosses and troubles; it would make them wise, 
 and teach them a lesson of patience and moderation, 
 before they have occasion to use it; so that they 
 need not then begin to learn it, when the present 
 and incumbent pressure renders the lesson more dif- 
 ficult. This was the method our blessed Lord took 
 with his disciples, frequently to tell them before- 
 hand vv^hat they must expect in the world, Matt. x. 
 and in divers other places, telling them they must 
 expect in this world the worst of temporal evils, that 
 they might thereby be prepared to entertain them 
 v/ith resolution and patience, and might habituate 
 their minds for their reception. 
 
 2. The second expedient is, that we use all dili- 
 gence to gain such a treasure as lies above the reach 
 of the storms of this world ; a kingdom that cannot 
 be shaken ; namely, our peace with God in Christ, 
 the pardon of our sins, and a well-grounded hope 
 and assurance of eternal life. These be the things 
 that lie out of gun-shot, and will render the greatest 
 troubles that can befall this lower world, or us in it, 
 not only tolerable, but small and inconsiderable, 
 
327 
 
 when, in tlie midst of all the concussions of the 
 world, in the midst of losses of goods, or estate, in 
 the midst of storms, and confusions, and disas- 
 ters, and calamities, a man can have such deep and 
 settled considerations as these : " Thoufrh I can see 
 nothing but confusions, and little hopes of their 
 amendment, yet I have that which is out of the 
 reach of all these; that which is infinitely more 
 valuable to me, than the best which the world can 
 give; that which I can please and comfort myself 
 in, notwithstanding all these worldly distractions and 
 fears ; namely, the assurance of my peace with the 
 great God of heaven and earth. The worst that I 
 can suffer by these discomposures, and the most I can 
 fear from them, is but death ; and that will not only 
 put a period to the things I suffer, or can fear in this 
 life, but will let me into the actual possession of my 
 hopes, even such a state of glory and happiness as 
 can never be ended or shaken." Such a hope, and 
 such an assurance as this, will keep the soul above 
 water, and in a state of peace and tranquillity in all 
 the tempests and shipwrecks that can befall either 
 this inferior world, or any person in it. 
 
 3. The third expedient is this, that a man be 
 resolvedly constant to keep a good conscience, both 
 before the approach of troubles, and under them. 
 It is most certainly true, that the very sting and 
 venom of all crosses and troubles, is sin, and a con- 
 sciousness of the guilt of it. This is that which 
 gives troubles, and crosses, and calamities, their 
 vigour, force, and sharpness ; it is the elixir, the very 
 life of them, when a man shall be under extreme 
 outward calamities, loss of goods, loss of liberty, loss 
 
S€8 
 
 of country, all outward hopes failing, and still greater 
 billows, and waves, and storms, and fears in prospect, 
 and within an angry, unquiet, avenging conscience, 
 then indeed troubles have their perfection of malig- 
 nity. But, if a man, in the midst of all these dark 
 and stormy appearances, hath a conscience full of 
 peace and integrity, and comfortable attestation, this 
 gives a calm in the midst of all these storms. And 
 the reason is apparent, for it is not the tempestuous- 
 ness or tranquillity of externals, that creates the 
 trouble or the quietness of the man, but it is the 
 mind, and that state of composure or discomposure 
 that the mind is put into occasionally from them : 
 and since there is nothing in the world that con- 
 duceth more to the composure and tranquillity of the 
 mind, than the serenity and clearness of the con- 
 science, keep but that safe and untainted, the mind 
 will enjoy a calm and tranquillity in the midst of all 
 the storms of the world: and although the waves 
 beat, and the sea works, and the wind blows, that 
 mind that hath a quiet and clear conscience within, 
 will be as stable and as safe from perturbation, as a 
 rock in the midst of a tempestuous sea, and will be 
 a Goshen to and within itself, when the rest of the 
 world without, and round about a man, is like an 
 Egypt for plagues and darkness. If, therefore, 
 either before the irruption of troubles, or under their 
 pressure, any thing or person in the world solicit thee 
 to ease or deliver thyself by a breach or wound of 
 thy conscience, know they are about to cheat thee 
 of thy best security under God, against the power 
 and malignity of troubles ; they are about to clip off 
 that lock, wherein next under God thy strength 
 
329 
 
 lieth. Whatever therefore thou dost hazard or 
 lose, keep the integrity of thy conscience both be- 
 fore the beginning of troubles, and under them. It 
 is a jewel that will make thee rich in the midst of 
 poverty; a sun that will give thee light in the midst 
 of darkness; a fortress that will keep thee safe in 
 the greatest danger, and that is never to be taken 
 unless thou thyself betray it and deliver it up. 
 
 4. The next expedient is this; namely, an as- 
 surance that the divine wisdom, power, and provi- 
 dence, doth dispose, govern, and order all the things 
 in the world, even those that seem most confused, 
 irregular, tumultuous, and contumacious. This, as 
 it is a most certain truth, so it is a most excellent 
 expedient to compose and settle the mind, espe- 
 cially of such a man who truly loves and fears 
 this great God, even under the darkest and most 
 dismal troubles and confusions ; for it must most 
 necessarily give a sound, present, and practical argu- 
 ment of patience and contentment : for even these 
 dark dispensations are under the government and 
 management of the most wise and powerful God. 
 Why should I, that am a foolish vain creature, and 
 can scarcely see to any distance before me, take upon 
 me to censure those dispensations, to struggle im- 
 patiently with them, to disquiet and torment myself 
 with vexation at them : let God alone to govern and 
 order the world as he thinks fit : as his power is in- 
 finite, and cannot be resisted, so is his wisdom in- 
 finite, and knows best what is to be done, and when, 
 and how. As it gives a sound argument of patience 
 and contentedness, so it gives a clear inference of 
 resignation of ourselves up to him, and to his will 
 
330 
 
 and disposal, upon the account of his goodness. It 
 is the mere bounty and goodness of God that first 
 gave being to all things, and preserves all things in 
 their being; that gives all those accommodations and 
 conveniences that accompany their being; why should 
 I therefore distrust his goodness? As he hath 
 power to do what ho pleaseth ; wisdom to direct 
 and dispose that power; so he hath infinite good- 
 ness, that accompanies that power and that wisdom. 
 As I cannot put my will into the hands of greater 
 wisdom, so I cannot put my will into the hands of 
 greater goodness. His beneficence to his creatures 
 is greater than it is possible for the creatures to 
 have to themselves. I will not only, therefore, 
 patiently submit to his power and will, which I can 
 by no means resist, but cheerfully resign up myself 
 to the disposal of his will, which is infinitely best, 
 and therefore a better rule for my disposal, than my 
 own will. . 
 
 5. The next expedient is f\iith and recumbence 
 upon those promises of his, which all wise and good 
 men do, and must value above the best inheritance 
 in this world; namely, that he will not leave nor 
 forsake those that fear and love him : " How much 
 more shall your heavenly Father give good things 
 to them that ask him ? — He that spared not his 
 own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall 
 he not with him also freely give us all things ? — All 
 things shall work together for good to them that 
 love God." Upon the assurance of these divine 
 promises, my heart may quiet itself in the midst of 
 all the most dark and tumultuous concussions in the 
 world. Is it best for me to be delivered out of 
 
331 
 
 them, or to be preserved in or under them? I am 
 under the providence and government of my hea- 
 venly Father, who hath said, he " will not leave 
 me, nor forsake me;" who takes more care of me, 
 and bears more love to me, than I can bear to my 
 most dutiful child; that can in a moment rescue me 
 from the calamity, or infallibly secure me under it; 
 that sees and knows every moment of my condition, 
 and a thousand expedients to preserve or relieve me. 
 On the other hand, do I fall in the same common 
 calamity, and sink under it, without any deliverance 
 from it, preservation under it? His will be done, 
 I am sure it is for my good ; nay, it is not possible 
 it should be otherwise: for my very death, the worst 
 of worldly evils, will be but a transmission of me 
 into a state of blessedness and immortality; for, 
 " Blessed are they that die in the Lord, they rest 
 from their labours, and their works follow them." 
 
 6. The next expedient is prayer. The glorious 
 God of heaven hath given us a free and open access 
 to his throne, there to sue out by prayer, those 
 blessings and mercies which he hath promised. It 
 is not only a duty that we owe in recognition of 
 the divine sovereignty; a privilege of greater value 
 than if we were made lords of the whole earth ; but 
 a means to attain those mercies that the divine wis- 
 dom and goodness knows to be fittest for us : by 
 this means we may be sure to have deliverance or 
 preservation, if useful or fit for us; or if not, yet 
 those favours and condescension from Almighty 
 God, that are better than deliverance itself; namely, 
 patience and contentedness with the divine good 
 pleasure; resignation of our wills to him; great 
 
382 
 
 peace and tranquillity of mind; evidences and com- 
 munications of his love and favour to us ; support 
 under our weaknesses and despondencies : and many 
 times Almighty God, in these wildernesses of dis- 
 tractions, and confusions, and storms, and calami- 
 ties, whether public or private, gives out, as a re- 
 turn to hearty and faithful prayer, such revelations 
 of his goodness, and irradiations of his favour and 
 love, that a man would not exchange for all the ex- 
 ternal happiness that this world can afford, and 
 recompenseth the loss and troubles in relation to 
 externals, with a far greater measure of the mani- 
 festations of his favour, than ever a man did receive 
 in his greatest confluence of external advantages. 
 Yea, and possibly, the time of external storms and 
 troubles is far more seasonable for such returns of 
 faithful and humble prayer, than the times of ex- 
 ternal affluence and benefits; and the devotion of 
 the soul by such troubles is raised to a greater 
 height, and accompanied with more grace, and hu- 
 mility, and fervency, than is ordinarily found in a 
 condition of external peace, plenty, and serenity. 
 
 CHANGES AND TROUBLES. 
 
 Peace, wayward soul ! let not those various storms, 
 Which hourly fill the world with fresh alarms, 
 Invade thy peace, nor discompose that rest, 
 Which thou may'st keep untouch'd within thy breast, 
 Amidst those whirlwinds, if thou keep but free 
 The intercourse betwixt thy God and thee. 
 
333 
 
 Thy region lies above these storms ; and know 
 Thy thoughts are eartlily, and they creep too low, 
 If these can reach thee, or access can find 
 To bring or raise like tempests in thy mind. 
 But yet in these disorders something lies 
 That's worth thy notice, out of which the wise 
 May trace and find that just and powerful Hand, 
 That secretly, but surely doth command. 
 And manage these distempers with that skilJ, 
 That while they seem to cross, they act his will. 
 Observe that silver thread, that steers and bends 
 The worst of all disorders, to such ends 
 That speak his justice, goodness, providence, 
 Who closely guides it by his influence. 
 And though these storms are loud, yet listen well, 
 There is another message that they tell : 
 This world is not thy country ; 'tis thy way ; 
 Too much contentment would invite thy stay 
 Too long upon thy journey ; make it strange. 
 Unwelcome news, to think upon a change: 
 Whereas these rugged entertainments send 
 Thy thoughts before thee to thy journey's end ; 
 Guide thy desires all homewards; tell thee plain, 
 To think of resting here is but in vain ; 
 Make thee to set an equal estimate 
 On this uncertain world, and a just rate 
 On that to come ; they bid thee wait and stay 
 Until thy'Master's call, and then with joy 
 To entertain it. Such a change as this, 
 Renders thy loss, thy gain ; improves thy bliss. 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNCLE ANNESS OF THE HEART, 
 
 AND 
 
 HOW IT IS CLEANSED. 
 
 Psalm li. 10. 
 
 " Create in me a clean lieart^ O God.^' 
 
 This prayer imports or leads us into the considera- 
 tion of these things : 1. What the condition of every 
 man's heart is by nature : it is a foul and unclean 
 heart. 2. Wherein consists this uncleanness of 
 heart. 3. What is the ground or cause of this 
 uncleanness of the heart. 4. Whence it is that the 
 condition of the heart is changed: it is an act of 
 divine Omnipotence. 5. What is the condition of 
 a heart thus cleansed, or wherein the cleanness of 
 the heart consists. 
 
 1. If the heart must be created anew before it 
 can be a clean heart, certainly, before it is thus new 
 formed, it is an impure and unclean heart. And 
 what is here implied, is frequently in the Scriptures 
 directly affirmed : " The imagination of the thoughts 
 of the heart of man is only evil continually. — The 
 heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately 
 
335 
 
 wicked, who can know it ? — Out of the heart pro- 
 ceedeth evil thoughts, aduheries, Sec." And, in- 
 deed, all the evils that are in the world, are but 
 evidences of the impurity of the heart, that unclean 
 fountain and original of them. 
 
 2. Wherein the uncleanness of the heart consists. 
 The heart is, indeed, the collection of all the powers 
 of the soul in the full extent of it; and therefore 
 takes in not only the will and affections, but the 
 understanding and conscience, and accordingly hath 
 its denomination proper to those several faculties, as 
 a wise heart, a foolish heart, a believing heart, an 
 unbelieving heart, a hard heart, a soft heart, and 
 the like. But, agreeably to the propriety of the 
 epithets clean or unclean, it principally concerns the 
 hearer under the notion of will or desire, and their 
 consequents; and therefore, according to the pro- 
 priety of application, a clean heart is such a heart as 
 hath clean desires and affections ; an unclean heart 
 is that which hath unclean and impure desires, a 
 heart full of evil concupiscence. And because the 
 cleanness or uncleanness of the desires are denomi- 
 nated from their objects, and not from the affections 
 or desires themselves, which are diversified according 
 to their objects; hence it is that a heart that flxeth 
 its desires upon pure and clean objects, is said, in 
 that act, to be a clean heart; and that which fixeth 
 its desires upon unclean and impure objects, is an 
 unclean heart in that act. Therefore, before we 
 can determine what an unclean heart is, it is neces- 
 sary to know what are unclean objects, the tendency 
 of the desires of the heart, which denominate an 
 unclean heart. Generally, whatever is prohibited 
 
336 
 
 by the command of God, carries in it an impurity 
 and uncleanness : but thafis not the uncleanness 
 principally intended; it is more large and spa- 
 cious than the intent of the text bears : but there 
 are certain lusts, and impure or immoderate propen- 
 sions in our natures after certain objects, which 
 come under the name of unclean lust; and those are 
 of two kinds, the lust of the mind, and the lust of 
 the flesh ; for so they are called and distinguished 
 by the Apostle. The lusts of the mind are such 
 as have their activity principally in the mind, though 
 they may have their improvements by the constitu- 
 tion of the body; as the lust of envy, revenge, 
 hatred, pride, vain-glory; these are more spiritual 
 lusts; and therefore, though they are more devilish, 
 yet they are not properly so unclean as those we 
 after mention. The lusts of the flesh are such lusts 
 as arise from our sensual appetites after sensual ob- 
 jects; as the lust after meats, drink, and carnal plea- 
 sures. And although these objects are not in them- 
 selves sinful, nor consequently the appetites of them 
 unlawful (for they are planted in our natures by the 
 wise and pure God of nature, for most necessary and 
 excellent ends, for the preservation of ourselves and 
 our kind) yet they do accidentally become impurities 
 and uncleanness to us, when inordinately affected or 
 acted. And these are those unclean objects, the 
 desires whereof do denominate an unclean heart ; 
 but principally the latter, the lust of carnal concu- 
 piscence, called by the Scriptures, in an eminent 
 manner, " The lust of the flesh. — Fleshly lusts 
 that fight against the soul. — Walking after the 
 flesh in the lusts of uncleanness." Perchance 
 
337 
 
 bearing some analogy to those legal iincleannesses 
 in the Levitical law, especially to those of Levit. xv. 
 Even the very natural infirmities; nay, those that 
 are not only tolerated, but allowed, carry in them a 
 kind of impurity and uncleanness. And hence 
 grow those many legal impurities which disabled the 
 Jews from coming into the camp or tabernacle till 
 they were purified, as that of leprosy, touching 
 of dead bodies, unclean issues, uncleanness after 
 childbirth, uncleanness of natural commixions; the 
 uncleanness of natural successions ; the washings of 
 Aaron and his sons. All which are but emblems 
 of the impurity of the heart, and of the great care 
 that is to be used in the keeping of it clean: and the 
 reason is morally and excellently given : " For the 
 Lord thy God walketh in the midst of the camp, 
 to deliver thee, and to give up thine enemies before 
 thee: therefore shall thy camp be holy, that he see 
 no unclean thing in thee, and turn away from thee." 
 The conclusion thereof is, that this carnal concu- 
 piscence, the lust of the flesh, predominate in the 
 heart, is that which principally, and by way of emi- 
 nence, in respect of the subject-matter of it, deno- 
 minates an unclean heart. But in as much as this 
 concupiscence hath somewhat in it that is natural, 
 and, consequently, is not simply of itself sin and 
 uncleanness, therefore it is requisite to give a deno- 
 mination of uncleanness and impurity to those desires, 
 that there be some formalities requisite to the deno- 
 mination of this to be unclean and sinful, which is, 
 when those desires are not in subjection to right 
 reason; for it being a proceed of the inferior faculties, 
 the sensual appetite, when the same is not in subor- 
 P 40 
 
338 
 
 dination to that empire which God hath given the 
 more heavenly and noble powers of the soul, it be- 
 comes confusion, and inverting of the order of nature; 
 and this is principally discovered when these desires 
 are, 1. Immoderate. 2. Unseasonable. 3. With- 
 out their proper end. 4. Irregular. 5. Unruly, 
 and without the bridle of reason. 
 
 III. The causes of this uncleanness of the heart 
 are principally these two: 1. The impetuousness 
 and continual solicitations of the sensual appetite, 
 which continually sends up its foul exhalations and 
 steams into the heart, and thereby taints and infects 
 it. The soul of man is like a kind of fire, which, 
 if it be fed with clean and sweet materials, it yields 
 sweet and comfortable fumes; but, if it be fed with 
 impure, unclean, and stinking oil and exhalations, it 
 is tainted with them, and makes unsavoury thoughts, 
 which are a kind of fume that rise from this fire ; 
 and therefore, if the distemper of the body, or sen- 
 sual appetite, sends up choleric steams in this sacred 
 fire, it yields nothing but thoughts of anger and in- 
 dignation ; if it sends up melancholy and earthly 
 fumes, it fills the soul with dark, and dismal, and 
 discontented thoughts; if it sends up, as most or- 
 dinarily it doth, sensual and fleshly steams, it fills 
 •the heart with sensual and wanton thoughts. 2. The 
 weakness and the defect of the imperial part of the 
 soul, the reason and understanding, and this defect 
 is commonly upon these two occasions. 1. The 
 soul wants a clear sense and judgment, that these 
 desires are not fit to be gratified, but to be denied, 
 at least, when they become immoderate or unsea- 
 sonable. It is ordinarily our infirmity to judge of 
 
389 
 
 things as they are at present; and therefore, if the 
 present, presents itself pleasing, or displeasing, we 
 accordingly entertain it or refuse it, without any 
 due prospect to the event or state of things at a dis- 
 tance, either because we know it not, or believe it 
 not, or regard it not. If a man, being solicited to 
 unwarrantable or unseasonable carnal pleasures, hath 
 not a prospect that the end thereof will be bitterness; 
 or if he have such a prospect, yet he believes it not; 
 or if he do, yet if his judgment prefer the satisfac- 
 tion of a present lust, before the avoiding of an end- 
 less pain, it is no wonder if he submit to the solici- 
 tation of his sensual appetite. 2. But if the judg- 
 ment be right, yet if the superior and more noble 
 part of the soul have not courage and resolution 
 enough to give the law to the inferior, but yields, 
 and submits, and becomes base, the sensual appetite 
 gets the throne, and captivates reason, and rules as 
 it pleaseth; and this is commonly the condition of 
 the soul after a fall ; for the sensual appetite, once a 
 victor, becomes imperious, and emasculates and cap- 
 tivates the superior faculty to a continued subjection. 
 And this is the reason why, when lust of any kind, 
 especially that of the flesh, having gotten the mas- 
 tery, makes a man, endued with reason and under- 
 standing, yet infinitely more intemperate and impure 
 than the very beasts themselves, which have no such 
 check or advantage of reason; for those noble facul- 
 ties of imagination, and memory, and reason itself, 
 being prostituted to lust, doth bring in all the ad- 
 vantages of its own perfection to that service, and 
 thereby sins beyond the extent of a bare sinful crea- 
 ture : the very reason itself invents new and prodi- 
 p2 
 
340 
 
 gious lusts, and provisions for tliem, and fiilfillings 
 of them; the phantasy improves them; the heart and 
 thoughts feed upon them ; and so, by that very 
 perfection of his nature, which was placed in him to 
 command and regulate these lusts or desires of the 
 sensual appetite, becomes the most exquisite and 
 industrious advancer of them, and makes a man infi- 
 nitely worse than a beast; for a beast hath no an- 
 tecedent speculations of his lust, no provisions for 
 them, but when the opportunity, and his own natural 
 propensions, incline him to them; when he hath ful- 
 filled his lust, he thinks no more of it: but man, by 
 the advantage of his reason, his phantasy, his memory, 
 makes provisions for his lust, yields up his thoughts 
 to speculations of them, studies stratagems and con- 
 trivances to satisfy them. So that by how much 
 his nature is the more perfect, his sensual lusts are 
 the more exquisite and insatiable; by how much his 
 nature is the more perfect, his wantonness and im- 
 purity, a box full of nothing but stinking and un- 
 savoury vapours and steams, the very sink and re- 
 ceptacle of all the impure desires of the flesh, where 
 they are cherished, and entertained, and subHmated, 
 into impurities more exquisite, and yet more filthy, 
 than ever the sensual appetite could arrive to; and 
 this is an unclean heart. 
 
 And upon these considerations a man may easily 
 see bow little ground there is to think there should 
 be a communion between Almighty God, or his 
 most Holy Spirit, with a man thus qualified: I. The 
 heart, as it is the seat of the desires, is the only fit 
 sacrifice to be offered up to God ; as it is the cham- 
 ber of our thoughts, it is the only fit room to enter- 
 
341 
 
 tain him in; as it is the fountain of our actions, the 
 fittest part to be assisted with the Spirit of God, it 
 is the only fit thing that we can give to God ; and 
 indeed the only thing, in effect, that he requires of 
 us. 2. Again, God is a most pure God, his Spirit 
 a most pure and delicate Spirit; and let any man 
 then judge, whether such an impure, unclean heart, 
 is a fit sacrifice to be offered to such a God; or a fit 
 receptacle for such a Spirit. It therefore imports 
 such a man, as hopes to have communion with God, 
 to have his heart in a better temper. Again, it 
 seems more than probable to me, that as a body fed 
 with poisonous and unwholesome food, must needs, 
 by such a diet, contract foulness and putrefaction: 
 so the very soul of man, which hath so strict a con- 
 junction with a union to the body, by continual con- 
 versation with, and subjection to, such unclean and 
 fleshly thoughts, receives a tincture and debasement 
 by them ; which, if there were no other hell, must 
 needs make it miserable in its separation upon these 
 two accounts: 1. Upon the consideration of that 
 defilement which it hath contracted by those impure 
 conversations; and which it might have avoided, if 
 it had, in the body, exercised its proper empire over 
 them. 2. By that disappointment, which it finds in 
 the state of separation, from the fulfilling and satisfy- 
 ing those sensual inclinations, which it efiected here, 
 and now carrieth with it, but stands utterly disap- 
 pointed of any satisfaction of them. 
 
 IV. We consider how it comes to pass, that a 
 heart, thus naturally unclean, is cleansed : which, in 
 general, is by a restitution of the soul to its proper 
 and native sovereignty and dominion over the sensual 
 
342 
 
 appetite ; and those lusts that arise from the consti- 
 tution of the body, and the connexion of the soul 
 with it. And this restitution is answerable to the 
 depravation or impotence whereby the soul is sub- 
 jected and captivated under those lusts, which are 
 principally these following : 
 
 1. The first ground of the impotency of the soul, 
 in subduing the sensual appetite, is in the under- 
 standing, which is so far weakened or darkened by 
 natural corruptiouj that it is ready, in point of judg- 
 ment, to prefer the present fruition of corporeal 
 pleasures, and the satisfaction of the sensual appetite 
 before the denying of it; for it sees and finds a pre- 
 sent contentment in the former; but sees not the 
 danger and inconvenience that will ensue upon it, 
 nor the benefit and advantage that will ensue upon 
 a due restraint and moderation of them. It finds a 
 present contentment and satisfaction in the one, but 
 it hath not the prospect of the other; or, if it have, 
 yet the conviction thereof is so weak and imperfect, 
 that the pleasures of sin for a season overcome and 
 subdue it. For the cure, therefore, of this error 
 and impo.tency in the judgment, there ought to be, a 
 conviction that there is a danger and inconvenience 
 that will certainly attend the dominion of lust over 
 the soul; and a benefit and advantage that will at- 
 tend the victory of the soul over these lusts. 
 
 2. And because there may be an inconvenience 
 in the former, and a benefit in the latter, but yet 
 not such as may with considerable advantage pre- 
 ponderate over the desire of lust, which is present 
 and sensible, there ought to be a conviction of such 
 an inconvenience in the former, and such a benefit 
 
343 
 
 in the latter, as may most evidently and clearly pre- 
 ponderate over the desire and advantage of the satis- 
 fying of a lust. 
 
 3. And because, though these inconveniences 
 and benefits be ever so great, yet if there be but 
 a faint, weak, and imperfect conviction of it, it will 
 work but a weak resistance ajjainst the invasions and 
 rebellions of lust; and a sensible, present enjoyment 
 of what delights, will easily preponderate over the 
 weak, and faint, and imperfect convictions, or suspi- 
 cions, of what is future ; it is necessary, that such 
 convictions should be sound, deep, and strong; or 
 otherwise they will be but sluggish and languishing 
 opponents against the rhetoric of lusts, that yield a 
 present delight and advantage. 
 
 4. And because, though the convictions are ever 
 so strong, yet if they be not accompanied with con- 
 stancy, vigilancy, and supplemental excitements, as 
 the opportunity requires, the constant and perpetual 
 importunity of lust may happen upon a time of in- 
 termission, and gain an advantage against a soul 
 habitually thus convinced; it is further necessary, 
 that there be a frequent, constant acting of that con- 
 viction upon the soul, or otherwise it may be en- 
 tangled by the assiduous importunities of his lusts. 
 
 These things being thus premised, it is necessary 
 to see what kind of means it must be that must 
 work such a conviction of such weight and evidence, 
 that may rectify the judgment, in reference to this 
 contest with the sensual appetite, and actuate such 
 a conviction to attain its due effect. Moral philoso- 
 phy contains in it excellent precepts and reasonings, 
 to the subjecting of the sensual appetite to the die- 
 
844 
 
 tates of reason, and to a moral cleansing of the 
 heart. But it cannot attain its end : for though it 
 propounds inconveniencies on the one side, and con- 
 veniencies on the other, yet they have great defects 
 that make it ineffectual. 
 
 1. The things which it proposeth are in them- 
 selves of unequal weight to the pleasure and content 
 of satisfying the sensual appetite, namely, on the 
 one side, fame, and glory, and reputation, and 
 serenity of mind; on the other side, the baseness of 
 lust, in comparison of the excellency of reason, that 
 it is a thing common to us with the beasts, and such 
 like. And therefore, though these be fine notions, 
 and such as may be weighty with old men, whose 
 lusts have left them, yet to young men they import 
 nothing. And therefore the philosopher well pro- 
 vides for it, by determining, that Jiweiiis non est 
 idoneus auditor moralis philosopJiice ; and, conse- 
 quently, it is a kind of physic that may be good for 
 them that need it not, but of no use for them that 
 want it : for the truth is, the fame and the infamy 
 are not of weight equivalent to counterpoise the 
 satisfaction of a lust in those that are inclinable to 
 them. 
 
 2. Another great defect in the things pro- 
 pounded, is this, which is also common to human laws, 
 that though they may be of some efficacy to prevent 
 the external act, when it meets with infamy in the 
 action, or reputation in the forbearing, yet it doth 
 inevitably give a dispensation to sin, if committed 
 with secrecy; much less doth it at all cleanse the 
 heart from the love of lust, the deliglit in it, the 
 contemplation of it. We are therefore to search 
 
S45 
 
 for a higher, or more effectual conviction than this ; 
 and therefore, 1. We must see whether there be 
 any thing that propounds something that may over- 
 balance the advantage of lust, or the love of it in the 
 heart. 2. A means of conviction of the truth and 
 reality of the thing so propounded. 
 
 1. For the former, it is apparent, that the sacred 
 Scriptures, and they alone, furnish us with materials; 
 prohibiting not only the acts of lust, but also the 
 very motions and inclinations to it, the desires of the 
 heart to it, the love of the heart to it; and this, un- 
 der pain of the displeasure of God, everlasting death, 
 hell-fire, on the one side; on the other side, in case 
 of obedience to this command, the favour of God, 
 everlasting life, and happiness ; and in order to the 
 discovering whether our hearts walk in sincerity, 
 according to the command of God, assure us, that 
 God beholds and observes the motions, desires, in- 
 clinations, thoughts, and purposes of our hearts, and 
 will one day lay them open, " when the secrets of 
 all hearts shall be revealed." And these are things 
 that are of such a nature as preponderate over all 
 the good that can be in lust, furnish the soul with 
 arguments against it, as carry thunder in them. 
 
 2. And that these may be effectually assented to 
 by the soul, without which they import nothing to 
 the end we speak of, there are these effectual means, 
 which Almighty God affords us: 1. The word of 
 God, which does not only contain materials and 
 persuasions for the cleansing of the heart, but also a 
 high evidence of the truth, and reality, and benefit 
 of those materials and persuasions: it is a convincing 
 and a cleansing word, " Ye are clean through the 
 
 p3 
 
346 
 
 word which I have spoken unto you." 2. A high con- 
 gruity of the word of God, in relation to a future life 
 of rewards and punishments, to the very sentiments 
 of reason, and the light of nature itself; the sense 
 of which life of future rewards and punishments 
 carries with it not only a conviction of the great ad- 
 vantage of a clean heart above an unclean heart, but 
 also a very effectual motive to the cleansing of the 
 heart, greater and more vigorous than all the argu- 
 ments of the best philosophers. 3. The powerful 
 Spirit of God works up in 'the soul an assent to 
 them; and that of such a strength as is no less con- 
 vincing than science itself, which is faith : and 
 therefore faith thus wrought, purifies the heart as 
 well as the life. 4. And for a constant and unin- 
 termitted application and reminding us of these 
 truths, God is pleased to assist us with the continual 
 assisting grace of his Spirit, acting in and by the 
 conscience, which is, in a great measure, cleansed, 
 quickened, and actuated, which watcheth us and our 
 very thoughts, and chides them, reminding us of 
 these great truths which we have received ; and 
 thereby actuating our faith of these truths, as often 
 as the occasion offers itself. 
 
 V. And by this means, 1. The intellectual power 
 of the soul is restored, in a great measure, to its 
 primitive dominion, or, at least, is qualified aright, 
 in order to the exercising of it. 2. The will, 
 wherein, indeed, the empire of the soul is princi- 
 pally seated, is likewise restored to its domination 
 and rule. 
 
 1. Partly by these impressions, which are, as be- 
 fore, received by the understanding and the practical 
 
347 
 
 determination thereof; for it is clearly presented 
 now to her, that it is the greater good to deny lust, 
 both in the practice and love of it, than to entertain 
 it; and, consequently, the will moves towards the 
 greater good, according to its proper and natural in- 
 clination. 2. There is yet a further effect wrought 
 upon the will : namely. The sense of the love of 
 Christ, the end of his death, to redeem us from 
 these lusts, whereby, even by an obligation of grati- 
 tude, it takes up resolutions of obeying him. This 
 tJTuth, though it be first received in the understand- 
 ing, and entertained by faith, yet it doth immediately 
 work upon the will and affections, namely, an aver- 
 sion to that lust that crucified her Saviour, and 
 which the same Saviour, upon the endearment of 
 his own blood, begs us to crucify. There is yet a 
 further work upon the will, by the secret and power- 
 ful working of the Spirit of God, strengthening, 
 and persuading, and restoring it to its liberty aiui 
 just sovereignty over the sensual appetite. 
 
THE 
 
 FOLLY AND MISCHIEF OF SIN. 
 
 It is a most unprofitable and foolish thing. The 
 content that is in it is but imaginary, and dies in 
 the compass of a thought; the expectation of it is 
 nothing but disappointment, and the fruition of it 
 perisheth in a moment. 
 
 2. It is the infallible seed of shame and mischief, 
 which, without it be intercepted by repentance and 
 the mercy of God, doth as naturally and infallibly 
 grow from it, as hemlock and henbane do from their 
 proper seeds. And though the nature of some sins 
 is more speedy and visible in producing that fruit ; 
 yet most certainly, sooner or later, every sin yields 
 its crop, even in this life. The best fruit it yields 
 is sorrow and repentance, which, though it be good 
 in comparison of their fruit ensuing, if omitted, yet 
 certainly, it is not without much trouble and dis- 
 composure of mind; and the bitterness, even of re- 
 pentance itself, infinitely overbalances the content- 
 ment that the sin did yield. 
 
 3. Sin doth not only produce an ungrateful fruit, 
 but there is also a certain spite and malignity in the 
 fruit it yields, carrying in it the very picture, resem- 
 blance, and memorial of the sin, for the most part, 
 
34^9 
 
 which dogs a man in the punishment of it, with the 
 very repetition of the guilt, from the law of retalia- 
 tion. 
 
 4. It poisons and envenoms all conditions. If a 
 man be in prosperity, it either makes it an occasion 
 of new sins, to cover or secure those that are past, 
 or it sours and infests the very state itself with sad 
 pre-apprehensions of the fruit due to his sin, or 
 haunts him in his jollity, like as I have seen an im- 
 portunate creditor a young gallant, which blasts all 
 his comfort and contentment. If a man be in ad- 
 versity, it adds affliction to affliction. The best 
 companion of affliction is a clear conscience; but 
 when a man hath outward troubles, and a misgiving 
 guilty soul, it makes his affliction dark and desperate. 
 5. It discomposes, and disorders, and unqualifies, 
 a man for any good duty, either to God or man. 
 I pray, but I bring along with me a sense of sin, 
 that makes me ungrateful to myself; and how can 
 I expect to be acceptable to God, the pure and holy 
 God, who hates nothing but sin ? I beg blessings, 
 but how can I expect to receive a blessing from him, 
 whom I but lately presumptuously offended ? If 
 my son or servant hath offended me, and comes to 
 ask a benefit of me, I look upon it as a saucy pre- 
 sumption ; and can I expect to have a better en- 
 tertainment from my Maker, than I think fit to 
 allow my fellow-creature? The truth is, there is 
 no petition comes seasonably from a man under the 
 guilt of sin, but pardon, forgiveness, and mercy. 
 
 If I do a good work, the sin, that I stand guilty 
 of, makes the comfort I take in it, or in other com- 
 mendations of it, insipid and empty. My heart tells 
 
350 
 
 me there is a sin in my conscience, that makes me 
 ashamed to own the good that is in the action. 
 
 If I see a fault in another, that my place or con- 
 dition requires me to reprove, the sense of njy own 
 guilt makes me either backward to reprove, or con- 
 demn myself while I am reproving another, with 
 such thoughts as these : " I am reproving a sin in 
 another, where I stand as guilty, in the sight of 
 God, as the person reprehended. If he knew my 
 sin, how justly might he throw my reprehension into 
 my own face? and if he knew it not, yet the God 
 of heaven, before whom I stand, and the conscience 
 which I bear within me, makes my reprehension of 
 another a condemnation of myself." If I go about 
 any action of my life, though ever so honest, just, 
 and lawful, yet my misgiving thoughts make me 
 either inactive in it, or fill me with pre-apprehensions 
 of mischief or disappointment in it; how can 1 ex- 
 pect a blessing' from God, whom I have offended, 
 in any business I undertake ? I carry along with 
 me, in all I do, the curse that the Lord threatened, 
 Deut. xxviii. 20. " The Lord shall send upon thee 
 cursing, vexation, and rebuke, in all that thou set- 
 test thy hands unto." And verse 29. " Thou shalt 
 not prosper in thy ways." And verse 34. " So 
 that thou shalt be mad for the sight of thine eyes 
 which thou shalt see." And verse 67. " In the 
 morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even- 
 ing ! and at the evening thou shalt say. Would God 
 it were morning ! for the fear of thine heart where- 
 with thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine 
 eyes which thou shalt see." 
 
 And certainly all this grows from the congruity 
 
351 
 
 and discordancy that is between sin, and the true 
 constitution of the nature of man, that is thereby 
 made useless for his proper operations ; just as a 
 sore, or a bone out of joint, disables the proper ser- 
 viceableness of a limb; or as a noxious humour dis- 
 orders the stomach, liver, or spleen, in its proper 
 office; or as a disease, or ill disposition of the body, 
 makes it unserviceable to its proper actions; so do 
 the sins, and defilements, and guilt, the result of it 
 upon the soul, disable it in its works and offices. 
 And this is the evidence of it — every thing is then 
 in its right constitution, when it is in that state 
 that the wise God of nature ordered it; and so far 
 as it declines from that position or state, so far it 
 loseth its usefulness and proper happiness; and, 
 therefore, it is consequently evident, that every thing 
 that loseth its usefulness and happiness is out of 
 that constitution that God Almighty meant for it; 
 and, therefore, in as much as apparently all sin doth 
 introduce disorder and irregularity, it is plain that 
 mankind thereby is in another condition than God 
 at first made him, and intended he should be in. 
 
 Hence, therefore, it is apparent, that all sin is 
 against nature, and a violation and breach even of 
 the law and order of nature; which is nothino- else 
 but the station, course, and frame, that God, with 
 most admirable wisdom and goodness, framed for 
 man. Man stands in a double subordination: 1. 
 A subordination within himself, namely, of t^e infe- 
 rior faculties to the superior; and, 2. A subordination 
 to something without himself, namely, to the will of 
 his Creator, which, though it seems extrinsical, yet, 
 in truth, it is essential and necessary. 
 
352 
 
 The internal subordination is, of the inferior 
 parts and faculties to the superior; naraely, the sen- 
 sual appetite and passions to reason and to judgment. 
 God hath committed the body of man, and those 
 faculties that are subservient to it, unto the govern- 
 ment of the light of judgment and understanding 
 that he hath put into the soul. And, because as it 
 is most just that the soul, and its superior faculties, 
 should be subordinate to the will and direction of 
 God, so the soul stands in need of that direction, 
 in order to the government of his little province 
 committed to him; and therefore, as it happens in 
 government, when the people break the subordina- 
 tion to the intermediate magistrates, or the inter- 
 mediate magistrates break the subordination to the 
 supreme, presently there ensues disorder, and mis- 
 chief, and confusion. So when the body, or those fa- 
 culties that are exercised in order to it, as the natural 
 lusts and inclinations of the body, or those that re- 
 sult much from it ; as the passions prevail over the 
 judgment or reason, either by their violence, or want 
 of due vigilance and severity in the soul in its ad- 
 ministration; or if the reason and judgment do ne- 
 glect or cross the commands of God, or neglect to 
 make use of the divine directions to assist and guide 
 her in her administration ; this is sin, and presently 
 brings confusion, and disorder, and discomposure, 
 in the whole man, and makes it unserviceable for the 
 ends to which it was ordained. 
 
OF 
 
 SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 God Almighty hath substituted the soul of man, 
 as his deputy, or vicegerent, in that province which is 
 committed to him, and expects an account from the 
 soul at his return, or sooner, how he hath managed 
 that province or petty dominion committed to him. 
 
 2. The province, or territory, committed to the 
 management of the soul, are his body, and those 
 affections and inclinations incident to it; and also the 
 place, condition, relation, abilities, and opportunities, 
 put into his hand by providence and the divine dis- 
 pensation, together with that body in this world. 
 
 3. The end of this substitution of the soul, in 
 this province, is, First, The improvement of the 
 revenue of this principle, namely, the glory of his 
 name. Secondly, The improvement of the perfec- 
 tion and advantage of the soul, the perfecting of 
 the soul thereby in a conformity to his Master's will, 
 and fitting of itself and the body for a more noble 
 and divine condition and employment. 
 
 4. The breach of that trust committed to the 
 soul, consists, either in the want of that due improve- 
 ment of the province committed to the soul's vice- 
 gerency, according to the advantages that it hath, 
 
354 
 
 (which is the case of the unprofitable servant, that 
 did not misemploy his talent, but did not improve it 
 to his Master's advantage) or, which is worse, mis- 
 government and misemployment of the province 
 committed to its charge, to the disadvantage of the 
 sovereign and itself. 
 
 5. The misgovernment of this province consists 
 principally in these particulars, namely, either in the 
 original and primary defection of the soul itself in 
 its commands and proceedings, whereby it studieth, 
 practiseth, and commands, originally and primarily, 
 against its principal; and this is devilish: or. Se- 
 condly, In not exercising a due superintendency 
 over its province, whereby the subjects, which should 
 be under its rule and superintendency, are not kept 
 in their due subjection, neither to the vicegerent 
 nor to the sovereign ; but rebel, and by their rebel- 
 lion, either wholly cast off their vicegerent and so- 
 vereign together, or, by degrees, draw over the 
 vicegerent or deputy to their defection. 
 
 6. The great engines of this defection, are the 
 corrupt inclinations of the sensual appetite, lusts, 
 and passions of the body, and especially those which 
 are the great favourites, and most powerful, in re- 
 spect of their congruity to the natural inclinations 
 and temper, or rather, distemper of the body; or 
 those temptations which the world offers, especially 
 such as are most incident to our place, station, relation, 
 or condition, in the world. The former come under 
 the name of" the lusts of the flesh," the latter, under 
 the name of " the lusts of the eye, and pride of life." 
 
 7. Those lusts and temptations are the instru- 
 ments, in the hand of Satan, either by solicitation to 
 
355 
 
 corrupt, or by power to oppose, the vicegerency 
 of the soul under God, and to bring it over, by al- 
 lurements or force, to a defection from him, and in 
 both ways fight against the sovereignty of God, and 
 consequently, his glory; and against the perfection 
 of the soul, and, consequently, its happiness. 
 
 8. Those lusts are of the greatest power, that 
 have the greatest dearness to the body, either in 
 respect of age, inclination, condition, or station; and 
 therefore of greatest danger to the soul, and fight 
 against it with greatest advantage. In a young 
 man, or a strong sanguine constitution, luxury, 
 wantonness, and uncleanness, are ordinarily most 
 prevalent ; in an old or melancholy man, covetous- 
 ness; in a middle aged or clioleric man, anger, am- 
 bition, violence.; in a rich or powerful man, oppres- 
 sion, disdain, pride; in a poor man, discontent, 
 rapine. And there is scarcely any man, but hath 
 some beloved lust or sin, that he will be content to 
 sell all the rest of his lusts for the enjoyment of 
 that. Tempt him to a lust not suitable to his con- 
 stitution, age, or condition, he will easily reject it; 
 but if it be a lust suitable to his age, constitution, or 
 condition, he will hardly, or with difficulty enough, 
 refuse it. 
 
 9. As every lust suitable to our age, constitu- 
 tion, or condition, is of greatest power, and, conse- 
 quently, of greatest danger; so every such lust, once 
 entertained in practice, becomes of greater strength, 
 and consequently of greater danger, than before; 
 and this, for a double reason : First, Because the 
 soul is made the weaker, and more emasculated by 
 the reception and entertainment of a lust. Then 
 
356 
 
 it is like amissa piidicitia^ which is the likelier to 
 make a prostitute. Sense of reputation is a great 
 matter to keep innocence, but a lost reputation 
 makes way for a further degree of guilt. Again, 
 the soul, by admittance and entertainment of lust, 
 gains a kind of intimacy and dearness with the lust, 
 and admits it with less difficulty a second time, be- 
 cause it is now become an acquaintance. And, 
 lastly, Every sin causeth a withdrawing of divine 
 assistance from the soul, and an estranging of the 
 soul from it, a kind of shameful absenting of the 
 soul from God, and so as it loseth its strength, it 
 loseth its confidence of address for it, which every 
 man's experience will tell him. Secondly, On the 
 part of lust, it is made more bold, and confident, 
 and adventurous, than it was before it was enter- 
 tained; it was then more modest and bashful, be- 
 cause it knew not how it should be entertained; 
 but now it grows confident and imperious, 
 
 10. When lust hath gotten the victory in the 
 soul, it either makes the soul, which is God's vice- 
 gerent, his vassal, or his prisoner; either the soul 
 becomes servant and vassal to sin, or, at the best, it 
 is led away captive by it. And in both cases God 
 is dethroned, the soul debased, and lust gets the 
 empire and dominion; and the soul hath either 
 broken its trust with God, or not performed it as it 
 should; the province committed to his management 
 lost, the government abused, the sovereign injured, 
 and the vicegerent is either become a rebel, or at 
 best a prisoner, by his own default. 
 
 11. The means of preventing this inversion of 
 the order settled by the great Sovereign, is, First, 
 
357 
 
 That the deputy take due notice of his instructions; 
 for he is not placed in that province without his 
 rules of government, which his Sovereign hath de- 
 livered him. Secondly, That he be very vigilant 
 over the secret confederacies, motions, and risings 
 of lust against those instructions; for lust is busy, 
 troublesome, and active, and studies and watcheth 
 all opportunities of defection. Thirdly, That he 
 keep his authority with resolution and courage; for 
 lust, if it be worthy the name of a subject, is a petu- 
 lant and saucy, but yet a slavish, base-minded sub- 
 ject; a little countenance will make it insolent, and 
 a severe hand over it will make it servile; and espe- 
 cially, that this severity be held over those lusts that 
 have or pretend to the greatest interest in the age, 
 constitution, disposition, quality, station, or condi- 
 tion of the province ; for as they have the greatest 
 opportunities to do mischief, so they will soonest 
 grow insolent. 
 
 12. Though a slight and gentle superintendency 
 over lust will teach it to command, yet under a 
 severe and rigid government, the most it will adven- 
 ture upon will be to ask admission. And upon 
 such addresses, the duty of this deputy is to be so 
 far from giving admission to it, that it ought not to 
 compliment, or treat, or hold conference, or debate 
 with it, but flatly deny it. As a severe deport- 
 ment of the soul must keep lust from commanding, 
 so it must check and discountenance it in asking; 
 the holding of conference and debate, and reasoning 
 with any lust, is but a preparatory to its admission, 
 and gives but the more confidence, boldness, impor- 
 tunity, and hope of success to it. Eve's reasoning 
 
358 
 
 with the serpent was the first breach of her inno- 
 ceiicy: lust must not be mannerly treated, but flatly 
 denied. This is that great doctrine of self-denial 
 which the New Testament so solemnly enjoins. 
 For though, in truth, our lusts are not ourselves, 
 yet those that grow out of our natural constitution 
 or condition, are next to ourselves, and by mistake 
 we are apt to esteem them our eyes, our hands, our- 
 selves. 
 
 13. This kind of dealing with lusts and tempta- 
 tions, will, in a little time, disacquaint the soul with 
 them, and make the soul and them strangers one to 
 another. It is easily seen, that those things which 
 a man useth himself to, so that they seem to become 
 another nature; yet some desuetude from them, evi- 
 dences to him, that they are not so necessary and 
 inseparable as he once thought them. A man that 
 hath accustomed himself to vain swearing, so that 
 he can scarcely speak a sentence without an oath, 
 and when he is told of it, professeth he cannot help 
 it; yet let him resolvedly break the custom, he will 
 not find that he misseth that unhappy rhetoric in his 
 discourse; the same is easily seen in drinking, 
 gaming, wantonness, and those other sins that are 
 precious and dear to a man in his custom and use of 
 them ; by a little resolute disuse of them, he will 
 soon find he doth not miss them, he can easily spare 
 them, and be witiiout them. Nay, he finds as great 
 an inconveniency and burdensomeness to re-assume 
 them, as before to leave them. And besides the 
 reasons before given, there is this more in it, that 
 the value and contentment that is taken in them, is 
 from the great expectation and contentment that the 
 
359 
 
 mind seeks, in the pre-apprehensions and image that 
 the mind makes to itself of them ; for the content- 
 ment of the things themselves, barely considered, is 
 but flat and empty ; but the imagination dresseth 
 them up beyond themselves, both in their pre- 
 apprehensions and fruition ; and so the value and 
 contentment of them is due more to the fancy and 
 false idea of the mind, than to the things themselves; 
 and therefore, if once the mind can be estranged 
 from conversing with the thought and imagination 
 of them, they will soon lose their estimate and de- 
 light; because they are separated and kept asunder 
 from that which gilds and dresseth them in that 
 delightful and amiable form which cozens and de- 
 ceives men into their actings of them. Now, this 
 severe hand against them, denying their access, re- 
 fusing converse with them, prevents the mind from 
 fashioning imaginations of them, and dressing up 
 those imaginations of them in pleasing and delight- 
 ful representations, and then, in a little while, they 
 are quite laid aside, and not missed nor thought of; 
 and their own natural worth, without that secret 
 brooding of the mind upon them, doth not, with any 
 strength, solicit or subdue the mind to the actings 
 of them. We are, in this kind, like children who 
 have gotten some toys into their hands, that may 
 be hurtful, and they mightily prize them, and set a 
 great value upon them; but let them be taken away, 
 in a little time they will not miss them, but be as 
 merry and contented as when they had them. 
 
 14. The success of this uncourteous dealing with 
 our lusts and temptations, will much countervail the 
 unpleasingness of the duty. A man is tempted to 
 
360 
 
 a sin, he holds conference with it, and is enticed to 
 treat with it, and to think of it, and it pleaseth him; 
 but it is a thousand to one if it stay there; but 
 unless some powerful interference of the grace of 
 God, or some external restraint, by shame or pun- 
 ishment, prevent him, he commits the sin; and so 
 lust, when it hath conceived, will bring forth sin, 
 and sin, when finished, will bring forth shame and 
 death ; or, at the best, shame and sorrow. How 
 will a man reckon with himself: " What am I the 
 better for that contentment that I took in this sin? 
 the contentment is past, and that which it hath left 
 me, is nothing else but a misgiving conscience, a 
 sense of a displeased God, ashamed to bring my 
 mind in his presence, a pre-apprehension of some 
 mischief or inconvenience to follow me, a despond- 
 ency of mind to draw near to God under it; and 
 either a great deal of sorrow and vexation, or afflic- 
 tion under it; or, which is the usual gratification of 
 Satan after sin committed, to put away the remem- 
 brance of a sin past, when committing another; till 
 at last the guilt grows to such a moles, that a man 
 is desperately given over to all kinds of villany ; and 
 as his sins increase, his guilt and shame increaseth. 
 On the other hand, I have denied my lust, or my 
 temptation, and it is gone : First, I am as well 
 without it as if I had committed it; for, it may be, 
 the sin had been past and the contentment that I 
 took in it, and I had been as well without it; but, 
 besides all this, I have no guilt cleaving to my soul, 
 no sting in my conscience, no despondent nor mis- 
 giving mind, no interruption of my peace with God 
 or myself; I enjoy my innocence, my peace, my 
 
361 
 
 access to God with comfort: nay, more than all 
 this, I have a secret attestation of the Spirit of God 
 in my conscience, that I have obeyed him, and have 
 pleased him, and have rejected the enemy of his 
 glory and my happiness. I have a secret advance 
 of my interest and confidence in him, and depend- 
 ence upon him, and favour with him, and liberty of 
 access to him, which doth infinitely more than 
 countervail the satisfaction of an impure, and unpro- 
 fitable, and vexing lust, which leaves no footsteps 
 behind it but shame, and sorrow, and o-uilt." 
 
 15. As resolution and severity to a man's self, 
 is one of the best remedies against the flattery and 
 deceit of lust, so there are certain expedients that 
 are subservient to that resolution; as namely, First, 
 Avoiding of idleness; for the soul in the body is 
 like a flame, that, as it were, feeds upon that oily 
 substance of the body, which, according to the 
 various qualifications or temper of the body, gives it 
 a tincture somewhat like itself; and unless the soul 
 be kept in action, it will dwell too much upon that 
 tincture that it receives from it, and be too intent 
 and pleased, or, at least, too much tainted, and 
 transported, and delighted .vith those foul vapours 
 that arise from the flesh and natural constitution. 
 Keep it therefore busied about somewhat that is 
 fitted for it, that may divert that attention and com- 
 placency that the inferior part of the soul is apt to 
 take in them, and so to be tempted, transported, or 
 abused by them. Secondly, A frequent and con- 
 stant consideration of the presence of God and his 
 holy angels, who are spectators of constancy to God 
 and his party, and delighted in it; of thy apostacy, 
 Q 40 
 
36^ 
 
 brutishness, and baseness of mind, and grieved at it. 
 If a good man were but acquainted with all my 
 actions and motions of my mind, upon the advance 
 of lust and temptations, it would make me ashamed 
 to offend in his sight. But much more if a pure 
 and glorious angel did in my view attend, observe, 
 and behold me; but when the eternal God doth 
 behold me, who hath given me this command to 
 deny my lusts, and hath told me the danger of 
 yielding to them, that they bring forth sin, and 
 death, and hell, and offers his grace to assist me, 
 promiseth reward to my obedience and constancy, 
 how shall I then dare to offend with so much pre- 
 sumption? Thirdly, A frequent consideration of 
 Christ's satisfaction, sufferings, and intercession. 
 These lusts that now solicit me to their observance, 
 were those that crucified my Saviour; it was the 
 end of his passion to redeem me, not only from the 
 guilt, but from the subjection to them. It is he 
 that beholds me; how shall I trample his blood un- 
 der foot ? If I prostitute myself to them, how shall 
 I despise, and as much as in me lies, disappoint him 
 in the very end of his incarnation ? How shall I 
 shame his gospel before men, and, as much as in me 
 lies, put him to shame in the presence of the Father, 
 and all the holy angels, when they shall be witnesses 
 of my preferring a base lust before him ? How can 
 1 expect the intercession of my Saviour for me at the 
 riaht hand of God, who beholds me thus unworthily 
 serve a lust, though to my damnation, rather than 
 obey my Redeemer to my salvation. Fourthly, Fre- 
 quent considerations of death and judgment. A base 
 lust solicits me to obey it; shall I accept or deny it? 
 
363 
 
 It may be this may be the last action of my life ; and 
 possibly deaths that might have been respited, if I 
 shall deny my lust, may be my next event, if I obey 
 it; and as death leaves me, so will judgment find me. 
 Would I be content that such an act as this should 
 be the Amen of my life, and, it may be, seal me up 
 in eternal rejection ? Would I be content that my 
 soul should be presently carried into the presence of 
 God, under the last act of my life, to his dishonour? 
 Or, on the other hand, if I deny this base importu- 
 nate messenger of hell, and it should please God to 
 strike me presently after with sickness or death, 
 would it not be a more comfortable entrance into that 
 black valley, with a clear conscience, and an innocent 
 heart, that could with com.fort say, as once Hezekiah 
 did upon the like occasion, '' Remember, O Lord, I 
 beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth, 
 and with a perfect heart." Fifthly, A due con- 
 sideration of the issue of those solicitations of lust. 
 If assented unto, the end of it is death; it will be 
 bitterness in the end ; it cannot, with all its plea- 
 sures, countervail that bitterness that will most cer- 
 tainly attend it; nor can it give any security against 
 it. Suppose thou art solicited to a thought or act of 
 injustice, impurity, or intemperance, if thou wilt needs 
 be talking with the temptation, ask it, " Whether 
 it be not a sin against that God, in whose hands thy 
 soul is? and if it be, whether his anger or displeasure 
 be not a necessary consequence of that sin ? and if 
 it be, may he not afflict the issues of that wrath of 
 his, when and in what measure he pleaseth ? and if 
 he may, what security can this temptation give against 
 it ? hath it an arm of omnipotence, to secure me 
 o 2 
 
364 
 
 against the power of Him that is omnipotent? and if' 
 it cannot, what compensation or amends can it make 
 me, to countervail the damage of his wrath, or the 
 very danger of it ? Can the pleasure or contentment 
 of the sin do it? Alas ! the pleasure will pass away, 
 in, it may be, a life, a day, a moment; but the guilt 
 and torment continues to eternity." 
 
MOTIVES TO WATCHFULNESS, 
 
 IN REFERENCE TO 
 
 THE GOOD AND EVIL ANGELS. 
 
 As we see plants in a nursery, when they come to 
 a due growth, are transplanted into orchards, and 
 those that are useless are pulled up and cast into the 
 fire; or, as we see boys in a free school, such as are 
 undisciplinable, are, after some years of probation, 
 sent away to mechanical employments, and those 
 that are ingenious and diligent are transplanted to 
 the universities: so, among the children of men in 
 this life, those that are vicious and incorrigible, are 
 by death rooted out and cast into a suitable condi- 
 tion; and those that are vessels fit for the Master's 
 use, towardly plants, are by death transplanted into 
 another region, a garden of happiness and comfort. 
 And possibly, by continuance of time, they received 
 improvement and perfection here: so, in that other 
 region, they add to their degrees of perfection, and 
 are promoted to further accessions, and degrees, and 
 stations of happiness and glory, till they come to the 
 state of spirits of just men made perfect. 
 
366 
 
 Could we see the invisible superintendence of the 
 world, by the subordinate government of good and 
 evil angels, as once Elisha's servant saw the fiery 
 chariots and horsemen in the mount, it would give 
 us another tepresentation of things, than now they 
 appear to us. We have just reason to believe, that 
 there are infinite numbers of spirits, of both kinds, 
 that have their passions and negotiations, as well 
 among themselves, as among the children of men; 
 and as ravens, kites, and other kind of unclean birds, 
 haunt carrion, and as vermin haunt after putrefaction, 
 and are busy about it; or as disorderly debauched 
 companions, and ruffians, ever haunt out, and hang 
 upon a dissolute and foolish heir, till they have 
 sucked out all his substance and wealth; so the im- 
 pure and corrupted angels haunt and flock about a 
 man given over to vice, till they have wholly cor- 
 rupted and putrefied his soul; and those good men 
 whom they cannot win over to them, they pursue 
 with as much malice and envy as they possibly can: 
 and although they cannot come within them, yet, 
 as far as they can, they raise up external mischiefs 
 against them, watch opportunities to insnare or 
 blemish them, though the vigilancy of a better 
 guard, and their own prudence and circumspection, 
 do, for the most part, disappoint and prevent them. 
 Besides the displeasure of the great God, there are 
 some considerations, even in reference to those good 
 and evil angels, to make men very watchful, that they 
 fall not into presumptuous or foul sins. 
 
 1. It cannot but be grief to the good angels, to 
 be present, and spectators of the enormities of those, 
 for whose preservation they are employed. 
 
367 
 
 2. It must, in all probability, work in them a 
 nauseousiiess, and retiring of themselves from such 
 ofFenders, at least, till they have renewed and washed 
 themselves by repentance, and made their peace with 
 God in Christ; for there is no greater antipathy 
 than between tliese pure and chaste spirits, and any 
 sin or foulness. 
 
 3. It cannot but be a most grateful spectacle to 
 these envious and malignant evil spirits, who, upon 
 the discovery of such a fall of a good man, call their 
 impure company together, and make pastime about 
 such an object, as boys do about a drunken man, 
 and upbraid the sacred and pure angels. Look, here 
 is your pious man, your professor: come, see in what 
 a condition he is, and what he is about. 
 
 4. It lays open such a man to the power and 
 malice of those envious spirits; they have gotten 
 him within their territories and dominions, and, unless 
 God in great mercy restrain them, leave a good man 
 obnoxious to their mischief. And as the contagion 
 and noisomeness of sin drives away the pure and 
 holy spirits ; so it attracts and draws together those 
 impure and malignant spirits, as the smell of carrion 
 doth birds and beasts of prey. It concerns us, there- 
 fore, to be very vigilant against all sin ; and if, through 
 inadvertence, infirmity, and temptation, we fall into 
 it, to be diligent to make our peace, and wash our- 
 selves as soon as we can, in the blood of Christ, and 
 water of repentance. 
 
OF THE 
 
 MODERATION 
 
 OF 
 
 THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 Philippians IV. 5. 
 " Let your moderation be knoixsn unto all men" 
 
 Moderation is that grace of virtue whereby a man 
 governs his sensual appetite, his passions and affec- 
 tions, his words and actions, from all excess and 
 exorbitancy. 
 
 It refers, 1, To the sensual appetite. 2. To the 
 passions of the mind. 3. To speech and words. 
 4. To the actions of our life. 
 
 1. Moderation in the sensual appetite. And 
 this is properly temperance, which is a prudent 
 restraint of our appetite from all excess in eating, 
 drinking, and those other inclinations tiiat gratify 
 our senses. 
 
 And certainly this becomes us, not only as Chris- 
 tians, but as reasonable creatures; for the sensual 
 appetite, and those inclinations that tend to the 
 gratification of our external senses, are in a great 
 measure the same in men and brutes, and they are. 
 
369 
 
 in their due order and use, good and convenient for 
 both; we cannot live without them. But Almighty 
 God hath given to mankind a higher and a nobler 
 nature; namely, understanding and reason, which, 
 in the right posture and constitution of the human 
 nature, is to govern, guide, moderate, and order 
 that inferior faculty that is common to the brutes, 
 as well as to man. And that man that keeps not 
 this government and superintendency of his nobler 
 faculty, degrades himself into the condition of a 
 brute, and indeed into somewhat worse; for even 
 the instinct of brutes do, for the most part, regulate 
 their sensual appetite from excess and immoderation. 
 But because this belongs to that distinct virtue of 
 temperance, I forbear further instances therein. 
 
 2. Moderation of our passions and affections; 
 and these are here principally intended; namely, 
 love, hatred or anger, joy, grief, hope, fear, and 
 other mixed or derivative passions, that arise in man 
 upon the presence of their several objects. 
 
 And although the passions of the mind, considered 
 simply in themselves, are a part of our nature, and 
 not evil, but when duly regulated and ordered are 
 of excellent use to us; yet if they become once un- 
 ruly, misplaced, or over-acted, they occasion the 
 greatest trouble in the world, both to the persons 
 themselves in whom they are, and to others. We 
 may easily trace almost all the sins and enormities, 
 and distempers, and troubles, and disorders, that we 
 observe in ourselves or others, to the immoderation 
 and disorder of the passions. 
 
 And therefore, the due moderation of them is of 
 great consequence, both for the attaining of true 
 83 
 
370 
 
 tranquillity of mind, of great regularity in all we do 
 or say, and to the common peace, order, and benefit 
 of mankind. 
 
 The moderation therefore of all our passions, con- 
 sists principally in these two things: 1. That they 
 be not misplaced or set upon wrong objects, as, to 
 love that which we should not love, but possibly 
 hate; or, to hate that which we should love, and so 
 for the rest. 2. That being rightly placed, in respect 
 of their objects, yet that they be not acted beyond 
 that degree that may be justly allowed to those ob- 
 jects: and this is properly immoderation; the former 
 is merely misprision, error, enormity, folly. 
 
 And therefore, when we speak of moderation of 
 our passions, it is intended, in relation of those 
 things, about which our passions may be lawfully 
 used or exercised, so that they be kept in their just 
 bounds and measures. 
 
 And since all the objects of our passions are either 
 something that is good, or so thought, as the objects 
 of our love, joy, hope; or something that is evil, or 
 so esteemed, as the objects of our hatred, anger, 
 sorrow, fear. The true measure of these affections 
 or passions is to be made according to the true mea- 
 sure of that good, or that evil, that is the present 
 object of my passion. If the good or evil be great, 
 it deserves a greater devotion of that passion or 
 affection that is employed about them; if it be but 
 little, the measure of my passion or affection ought 
 not to exceed it; if it doth, it becomes immoderate. 
 
 And hence it is, that the same passion or affection 
 may be, and indeed ought to be, variously acted or 
 affected about objects of the same nature; yet under 
 
371 
 
 (lifFerent degrees of good and evil. I may at the 
 same time have different objects of my love, different 
 kinds of good, and of different alloys, some more, 
 some less good, and my love may be extended to 
 them all at the same time; but the degrees of my 
 love are diversified according to the diversity of the 
 degrees of good that each object hath, all circum- 
 stances, and consequences being considered. The 
 like may be said touching evils, that are the objects 
 of my hatred, anger, sorrow, or fear. 
 
 The moderation therefore of affection requires 
 these things principally: 1. A right judgment or 
 estimate of things good or evil, according to their 
 true natures or degrees; for without this we shall 
 not only mistake in the degrees of good and evil, 
 but even their very natures: we shall not only 
 take the lesser good or evil for the greater, or 
 the greater for the less, but we shall be apt to 
 mistake the things themselves, and call evil good, 
 and good evil. Now it is certain, that according to 
 the judgment that we have, touching things good or 
 evil, and their values and degrees, accordingly are 
 our passions, and their transports measured out. 
 If I judge or esteem that to be truly good which in- 
 deed is not, I deliver over to it my affection of love, 
 joy, or hope: and if I judge that to be a great and 
 important good, which is but small or inconsiderable; 
 yet, according to the measure or proportion of such 
 estimate, I measure out the degree of love, joy, or 
 delight in such good. A child will set as great a 
 value, and consequently allow as great a measure of 
 his love or delight to a rattle, as a boy doth to a top 
 and scourge, or a man doth to a diamond ; all aris- 
 ing from the variety of their judgment or estimate 
 
37^ 
 
 of the value of the thing. And the hke may be 
 said of evils, and their several degrees, with relation 
 to the passions of hatred, sorrow, or fear. 2. The 
 second thing required to moderation, is a prudent 
 staid deliberation, before the passion be put into 
 motion, that so the judgment be consulted touching 
 the nature of the object; first, whether it be good 
 or evil ; and then what degree of good or evil it 
 hath ; for be the judgment ever so good, yet if 
 passion run before it, and be precipitate upon the 
 first and sudden apprehension of the thing proposed, 
 or objected, and so anticipate the use of deliberation, 
 and the ripening of the judgment, there must neces- 
 sarily, or, at least ordinarily, follow either mistake 
 or disorder, or immoderation in the passion of what 
 kind soever; and then the mind is disturbed and put 
 into disorder suddenly; it is difficult then to make 
 a right judgment, or, at least, it comes too late, and, 
 many times, after the mischief is done, by the hasty 
 and precipitate passion, either without, or at least, 
 within the mind, thus transported with passion of 
 any kind. 
 
 And therefore, the general rule for moderation of 
 all kind of passions, is resolutely to prescribe to a 
 man's self this law — that before he any way gives 
 leave to his passion, he will pause and consider a 
 while, touching the object presented, what it is, 
 whether good or evil; and if either, then what de- 
 gree or value it bears. And when once a man hath 
 thus peremptorily resolved to give himself this law, 
 and hath a little while inured himself to the practice 
 of it, he will find it easy and familiar. 
 
 This will better appear in the several instances of 
 the several affections or passions of the mind ; prin- 
 
373 
 
 cipally in these of love and hatred, or anger, joy, 
 and sorrow, hope, and fear. 
 
 1. The affection of love, is the principal and 
 governing affection of the mind, and the root of 
 all other passions : for whatsoever I love, renders 
 that hateful and displeasing, which either prevents 
 me from it, or deprives me of it: and so occasions 
 the passions of hatred or anger. Whatsoever I love 
 makes me joyful or delighted in the enjoyment of 
 it, or sorrowful in the loss or deprivation of it; and 
 so produceth joy and sorrow. Whatsoever I love, 
 I hope for, if absent, or I fear the loss or depriva- 
 tion of it; and so produceth hope and fear. 
 
 The object of this affection is something that is 
 good, or so apprehended. The greater that good is, 
 the greater is the love of it : therefore the chiefest 
 good draws out the chiefest love; and an infinite 
 good an immeasurable and boundless love. And 
 since Almighty God is the chiefest and infinite 
 good, there cannot be any immoderation or excess 
 of love to him : and therefore this m>oderation of the 
 affection of love hath no place, in relation to my love 
 of God, for I cannot love him too much. But this 
 moderation of this affection principally respects the 
 good things of the world : as wealth, honour, power, 
 reputation, relations, friends, health of body, plea- 
 sures, and external contentments, recreations, good 
 clothesy equipage and state, and such like. 
 
 These good things of this life have, in them- 
 selves, a just measure of good; and therefore, ac- 
 cording to that measure of good that is in them, they 
 deserve a proportionable measure of our love ; for 
 external blessings are really blessings. 
 
 And among the several good things of this world, 
 
374 
 
 there are several degrees of good ; and accordingly, 
 the proportion or measure of* love that I give to 
 tliem, is to be moderated, and distributed, and ex- 
 pressed, according to tlie different degrees of good 
 that we find in them, or the relation they bear to 
 me: for instance, I may love my wealth, but since 
 wealth is but a useful instrument directed to other 
 ends, as to support my life, my health, my relations, 
 I am to love it less than these, because these are 
 more valuable, and my wealth is only desirable or 
 good to these ends, and subordinate to these uses. 
 
 Moderation of the affection of love, in relation 
 to externals, consists, therefore, principally in these 
 things: — 
 
 1. That we have a just estimate of the good that 
 is in the thing we set our love upon, and that we do 
 not overvalue them, expect that good to be in them 
 that really is not; we must look upon them as they 
 are; it may be they are such as have not a perfect 
 sincere good in them, but mixture of evil ; or such 
 as have not a stable or permanent good in them, but 
 are mutable or mortal ; or such as have a good in 
 them proportionate only to our present condition ; 
 and when our condition is altered, the good that is 
 in them vanisheth ; and if they be such, we must 
 esteem and love them as such ; and such, for the 
 most part, are all worldly things, — health, wealth, 
 friends, relations, nay, our very lives. 
 
 2. That we look upon all the good that is in the 
 world, as derived from the goodness of God, and in- 
 finitely below that good that is in him; and there- 
 fore, all our love to them must be subordinate to that 
 love that we owe to God, and must be controlled by 
 it, and, in all competitions, must give place to it. 
 
S75 
 
 Suppose I have great wealth and many relations, I 
 may, nay, in reason, I ought, to bear some love to 
 them ; but I must remember it is but a derivative 
 and subordinate good, and therefore I must love them 
 with this reserve and quahfication, that, if God please 
 to call for them, I must quietly part with them : for 
 as I have them under that condition, so the love I 
 owe to God, the supreme Good, engageth me to sub- 
 mit to his will, and to obey it ; for if I love him best, 
 I must be pleased with what his will is pleased ; for 
 I judge him the best good, and therefore his will the 
 best will : and the good pleasure of his will must be 
 the rule of my subjection, otherwise his love hath not 
 the pre-eminence. 
 
 3. That we make a right, a due comparison 
 between good things of several kinds, and give that 
 the preference in our love, which upon a due judo-, 
 ment ought to be preferred; and this concerns and 
 pnnc.paJly discovers itself in the competition of 
 several good things, and of our affections to them. 
 The merchant loves his goods well, but in a storm, 
 to save his life, is content to throw his goods over- 
 board. And the exercise of wisdom in this way 
 principally consists in the due weighing the several 
 values of good things of several natures, and ranginc. 
 them in their several ranks; and also in the diliaeiu 
 consideration of the several circumstances that^'ac 
 company several things; for many times, some good 
 things, that are in themselves preferable before 
 others, receive an abatement and alloy by circum- 
 stances; and others less preferable, receive a'n advance 
 by the circumstances that attend them. ]. There- 
 fore, touching the different ranks of things themselves 
 
376 
 
 in matters of my own private concern, I am to prefer 
 my soul, and the good thereof, before all my ex- 
 ternal advantages ; " For what shall a man give in 
 exchange for his soul?" I am to prefer the good 
 of my health before the good of my wealth. Again, 
 in things relating to myself and others, I am to 
 prefer the safety of the state wherein I live, before 
 my wealth, yea, and before my own safety; because 
 I am sure, when the whole is in danger, I must 
 needs be in danger, and many more : I am to prefer 
 a great good that may accrue to many, before a 
 smaller good, nay, possibly, an equal good that may 
 accrue to myself; nay, I am to prefer an apparent 
 greater good to any person, before a small and in- 
 considerable good to myself. But, above all, I am 
 to prefer the honour and glory of God, before my 
 own honour, reputation, estate, contentment, or life 
 itself; because he is the greatest good, and most to 
 be loved, and the love to his honour, is but the 
 result of my love to him. Again, in things relating 
 to others, I am to prefer a greater good that may 
 accrue to one, before a smaller good to another; the 
 good of our neighbour's soul, before the good of 
 another's estate, where the one, but not both, are 
 justly in my power; I may prefer an equal good to 
 a relation, before an equal good to a stranger, where 
 the concern or condition of both are equal; because 
 I have just reason to love a relation before a stranger. 
 Again, 2. As there are different ranks of good, so 
 different circumstances make one good preferable 
 before another : if I see two men in danger, and I 
 can but relieve one of them, both being equal to me, 
 I am to prefer the relief of him whose danger is 
 
377 
 
 greater and more imminent, before the relief of hira 
 whose danger is less or more remote; and herein 
 prudence and integrity of heart must be the direc- 
 tor of my love, and of the emanations of it, always 
 provided that nothing unjust or dishonest be mingled 
 with what I do. 
 
 4. That as among goods of different degrees, I 
 am to prefer the best; so among good things, that 
 at least seem equal, I must prefer the most lasting 
 and durable : for lastingness and durableness is a 
 special part of the goodness of any thing; nay, 
 oftentimes a good, that in its present degree or ex- 
 tent is greater, yet, if it be less durable, is not so 
 valuable as a less, but more lasting good; as the 
 greater wealth that must be spent in a year, is truly 
 less valuable than a smaller portion that lasts two 
 years. 
 
 5. That we observe that general rule before 
 given ; namely, that we never give our affection of 
 love leave to run out alone without iudo-ment and 
 consideration going before it, and going along with 
 it. That we suffer not our passions to deal out 
 their own measures, but our judgment and delibera- 
 tion. That we always keep this affection especially 
 under discipline and government, and suffer it not to 
 run away from us, as an unruly beast without a 
 chain : for it is certain, the due government of this 
 affection governs all the rest. 
 
 And now, if we look abroad into the world, or, 
 indeed, but strictly and impartially observe ourselves, 
 we shall easily observe a marvellous want of modera- 
 tion of this affection. For, not to mention the mis- 
 placing of this affection upon what we should really 
 hate, we may see a great irregularity in the measure 
 
378 
 
 and order of exertinfj this affection about thinss that 
 we may, in their measure and kind, love. We talk, 
 indeed, of loving God above all; and of the great 
 value we set upon our souls and everlasting life, and 
 of self-denial, and against loving of the world, and 
 how vain and contemptible a thing the world is; 
 but, for the most part, they are but words and spe- 
 culations : when we come to practice and life, there 
 appears nothing, or very little, that answers these 
 notions and speculations; little of that moderation 
 that those notions import. We love the world, the 
 wealth, the honours, the pleasures, the profit of it, 
 with all our souls; we make it our principal business 
 to attain and enjoy it, we account it our greatest ca- 
 lamity when we are crossed or disappointed in it. 
 One man sets his whole heart upon his greatness; 
 another upon his wealth; another upon his pleasures 
 and recreations; another upon his preferment; an- 
 other upon the favours of great men; another upon 
 the applause of his learning or eloquence; another 
 upon the beauty of a mistress or servant : nay, so 
 childish we many times are, that we are enamoured 
 of very toys, as fine clothes, handsome furniture, a 
 fine house, splendid entertainments, a fine head of 
 hair, or mad antic postures, or compliments, affected 
 words, gestures or phrases, apish imitation, plays and 
 gaming, new fashions; that many there are that make 
 such feathers as these the principal object of their 
 love, the business and study of their lives, and are as 
 much concerned in the disappointment herein as if 
 they were undone. These are preposterous, and 
 want moderation in their affection, because they have 
 no true judgment or estimate of things according to 
 their true value. 
 
OF 
 
 HUMILITY. 
 
 James iv. 6. 
 
 " God resist eth the proud, hut giveih grace unto the 
 humhle.^^ 
 
 Pride and humility are two opposite habits or dis- 
 positions of the mind; and therefore, the discussion 
 and examination of the latter, will of itself give us 
 a discovery of the former; and the discovery of the 
 benefits and advantage of the virtue of humility, 
 will give us also an account of the mischiefs and 
 inconveniences of pride, that is its opposite vice. 
 
 In the examination of the true nature of humi- 
 lity, we must take notice that there are two extremes, 
 and between these the virtue of humility is placed. 
 
 The two extremes are, In the excess, pride, and 
 in the defect, baseness of mind. 
 
 Pride ariseth from an over-valuation of a man's 
 self, or the want of a due sense of his dependence 
 upon Almighty God. And though all pride be an 
 extreme foolish distemper of the mind, yet some kind 
 of pride is far more unreasonable and vain than others; 
 namely, that kind of pride that ariseth from such ob- 
 
380 
 
 jects that are less valuable in themselves, or less his 
 own that grows proud of them. 
 
 It is a foolish thing for a man to be proud of the 
 endowments of his mind, — as wit, memory, judg- 
 ment, prudence, policy, learning, nay, of a man's 
 goodness, virtue, justice, temperance, integrity; for 
 though these be most a man's own, yet he hath them 
 by the bounty and goodness of that God to whom he 
 owes his being: " What hast thou which thou hast 
 not received?" These are matters, indeed, to stir 
 up gratitude to the giver of them, but not sufficient 
 grounds to make thee proud. Again, though the 
 things themselves be excellent, and more thine 
 own than any other outward thing, yet thou art but 
 a temporary owner of them; a violent fever, or a fit 
 of palsy or apoplexy, may rob thee of all these en- 
 dowments, and thou mayest possibly over-live thy wit, 
 parts, or learning; and if thou escapest these concus- 
 sions, yet, if thou live to old age, (a thing that na- 
 turally all men desire,) that will abate, if not wholly 
 antiquate, thy wit, learning, and parts ; and it is a 
 foolish thing for a man to be proud of that which he 
 is not sure to keep while he lives, and must lose at 
 last in a great measure when he dies, even by reason 
 of that very pride which accompanies them here. 
 Again, that very pride which accompanies those ex- 
 cellent parts and habits, is the very thing that either 
 spoils, or very much debaseth them, both in the sight 
 of God and man; it is like the dead fly in the con- 
 fection, the worm at the bottom of the gourd, that 
 taints and withers these excellencies, and renders 
 them either contemptible, or, at least, much less valu 
 able. The more a man values himself for these 
 
381 
 
 things, the less he is valued by others; and it is a 
 thousand to one, that this foolish vain humour of 
 pride, mingles some odd, fanciful, ridiculous ingredi- 
 ent, in the actions or deportment of such men, though 
 of eminent abilities: so that, they receive more re- 
 proach by their pride, than they receive applause by 
 their parts : for as God resists the proud, so doth 
 mankind also, and that very pride gives their adver- 
 saries an advantage. 
 
 And as pride of parts, and habits of the mind, is 
 a foolish thing, so pride of bodily endowments is yet 
 more foolish and vain ; because it is raised upon a 
 thing of a baser alloy than the former; such as are 
 beauty, stature, strength, ability : for though these 
 are a man's own, yet they are things that are not only 
 subject to more casualties than the former, but they 
 are of an inferior nature. 
 
 Again, yet more vain and foolish is that pride that 
 is raised upon things that are either purely adventi- 
 tious or foreign, or in the mere power of other men; 
 as pride of wealth, honour, applause, successes in 
 actions, titles, gay clothes, many attendants, great 
 equipage, precedency, and such little accessions: and 
 yet it is wonderful to observe the vanity of the gene- 
 rality of mankind in this respect. There is scarcely 
 a man to be found abroad in the world, who hath 
 not some elation of mind, upon account of these and 
 the like petty, vain, inconsiderable advantages ; in all 
 professions, as well ecclesiastical as secular; in all 
 ranks and degrees of men, from the courtier to the 
 page and foot-boy ; in all ages, as well old as young, 
 almost every person hath some hobby-horse or other 
 wherein he prides himself. 
 
382 
 
 And this humour of pride doth rarely contain itself 
 within the breast of that person wherein it lodgeth, 
 (though, if it went no farther, it is foolish enough,) 
 but spreads itself into numerous branches ; such as 
 are contempt and scorn of others; contention and ani- 
 mosity against those that in any degree cross them ; 
 ambition; envy against any that are above them; 
 vainglory and ostentation ; hunting after applause ; 
 desire and delight in flattery and adulation of others; 
 impatience of control, or contradiction, or disappoint- 
 ment of what they affect; and detraction from the 
 worth or value of others. 
 
 And besides the disturbance that it makes abroad, 
 it is an intolerable disease in the soul that is possessed 
 therewith, renders his life miserable, and puts it in 
 the power of every man to be his tormentor. If a 
 poor man, a Mordecai, deny but his cap or his knee, 
 it makes Haman stark sick and half mad, Esth. v. 13. 
 All his honour, and glory, and favour, went for no- 
 thing, so long as Mordecai sat in the gate, and did 
 him no reverence. Any small neglect oraftront, any 
 cross in expectation, any little inconsiderable disap- 
 pointment in what he sets his mind upon, disorders 
 him even to distraction. 
 
 The other extreme is, baseness and sordidness of 
 mind, which, though it carries the shadow of humi- 
 lity, yet it is indeed quite another thing. And 
 though sometimes, as in pride, so in this of baseness 
 of mind, the temperament may have an influence, yet 
 it is most commonly upon another account; namely, 
 when a man is forlornly given over to the love of 
 wealth, or honour, or of bodily pleasures or lusts ; 
 this doth make him prostitute himself to any base 
 
383 
 
 sordid means or compliances to compass and attain 
 those ends : there is nothing so base or unworthy, 
 that such a man will not undertake or do, to the at- 
 tainment of what he designs; such are the base flat- 
 tery of men in power ; mean compliance with their 
 humours, though most vile and unworthy; creeping 
 and cringing, even almost to the adoration of them ; 
 making pitiful addresses to their meanest depend- 
 ents, even as low as pages and foot-boys, performing 
 the most unwarrantable offices for them ; and many 
 times an external disguise, a shape of lowliness and 
 humility in gesture, shape, habits, and deportment, 
 till they can attain their ends : like the monk, that 
 was always looking upon the earth in a shape of hu- 
 mility, till he was chosen abbot, and then changed 
 his figure; and being questioned for his sudden 
 change by one of his convent, answered, " In his 
 former posture he was only looking for the keys of 
 the abbey, but, now he had found them, he needed 
 not the former posture." 
 
 And this baseness of mind is many times also the 
 effect of the fear of men, which many times works so 
 much upon tlie mind, that it carries men to base and 
 unworthy compliances. 
 
 But true humility is a virtue and temper of mind 
 of another nature, and arising from better principles. 
 It is a lowly frame and habit of spirit, arising from 
 the due sense of the glorious excellency of the Al- 
 mighty God, and our own frailty and infirmities, and 
 of our entire dependence upon his bounty, goodness, 
 mercy; whereby we are under a constant, firm, and 
 sound connection, that all that is in us, or that is en- 
 joyed, or can be expected by us, is from the free, un- 
 deserved liberality of that glorious God. 
 
384 
 
 So that, although possibly the help of constitution 
 and education may contribute to the more easy acqui- 
 sition and exercise of this virtue, yet it is in itself the 
 effect of a mind truly and soundly principled : " The 
 spirit of a sound mind." And this humility of the 
 mind is not barely in the external habit or counter- 
 feited deportment: many times a cynical, intolerable 
 pride, is clothed with the mantle of humility; but 
 principally it is rooted in the very mind itself, and 
 for the most part evidenceth its being there, by the 
 following particulars : — 
 
 1. A most awful and sincere reverence of the 
 great and glorious God; a habitual prostration of our 
 souls before him, as the great and glorious Sovereign 
 of heaven and earth, in whose presence we always 
 are, and to whom we owe an infinite subjection and 
 dependence. 
 
 2. A most high and constant gratitude and thank- 
 fulness of heart and soul to him, for all the good we 
 have in us, or that is or can be enjoyed by us ; re- 
 cognizing him as the giver of our being, of our facul- 
 ties, our abilities, and strength of mind and body; 
 our wealth, our honour, our comforts, our hopes, and 
 expectations; that he is not only the giver of them, 
 but the sovereign Lord of them, and may resume 
 them when he pleaseth. 
 
 3. And consequently upon this, that we owe to 
 the great and sovereign Lord a due employment of 
 all that he hath thus given us, to his glory and ser- 
 vice ; and that we must therefore be accountable for 
 them to him who is our great Lord, Proprietor, and 
 Master. 
 
 4. A constant vicrilance and attention of mind 
 
385 
 
 upon all our thoughts, words, and actions ; but 
 especially lest we forget that habitude of mind that 
 we thus owe to Ahnighty God, and lest pride, arro- 
 gance, vanity, or vainglory, steal in upon us; check- 
 ing and plucking up the first ebullitions and risings, 
 the first buds and motions thereof. 
 
 5. Which is but the consequence of the former: 
 a sober opinion concerning ourselves, and all we do 
 and say; not thinking of ourselves above what we 
 ought to think : and since self-love so naturally ad- 
 heres to us, to be very jealous of ourselves, especially 
 in those actions that are good, or that meet with 
 some applause in the world; lest we either value 
 them too high, or overvalue ourselves by reason of 
 them ; or lest we are short in giving to Almighty 
 God that honour that is due to him, and to him 
 only, for them. 
 
 6. A diligent, impartial, and frequent considera- 
 tion and animadversion of our defects and failin(>"s : 
 for these, and these only, are truly and properly our 
 own. There are a sort of artificial pictures, that, if 
 a man look upon them one vvay, they represent some 
 beautiful comely person ; but, if we look upon them 
 another way, they represent some deformed or mis- 
 shapen monster. Our own partiality to ourselves 
 prompts us to look upon the picture of our lives and 
 actions, in that position or posture that renders them 
 beautiful and virtuous; and we have seldom the pa- 
 tience to look upon it in that position that may show 
 our deformities and vices: and thereupon we give our- 
 selves the denomination accordingly of good and vir- 
 tuous, and either do not observe, or do not consider, 
 our own failings and defects. If we did as well con- 
 
 R 40 
 
386 
 
 sider our sins which we commit, as the duties which 
 we perform ; and if, in the consideration of our du- 
 ties, we did but consider how much more of duties 
 we omit than we perform; and in the duties we per- 
 form, if we did consider how much deadness, for- 
 maUty, hypocrisy, vainglory, self-seeking, and other 
 improper ingredients, were mingled with them ; and 
 should lay our sins, our omissions, our defects, in 
 one scale, and that which were really and truly good 
 and worthy in another scale ; the best of mankind 
 would soon find that which was truly good, in the 
 whole course of his life, were a pitiful, slender 
 scantlet, and would be infinitely outweighed by his 
 sins, omissions, and defects; and the due comparison 
 and view of this would quickly give him a lecture of 
 humility : the good we do would indeed make us 
 thankful, but the good we omit, the evil we com- 
 mit, and the deficiencies of our duties, would make 
 us humble. 
 
 7. Charitable opinions of the persons of others, 
 as far as possibly may be. It is true, that neither 
 religion nor charity commands, or allows, any man to 
 say or think that that which is in itself a sin, is not so ; 
 as that drunkenness, or whoredom, or pride, or vain- 
 glory, are not sins. The law of God, and the law 
 of nature, tell us they are sins ; but an humble man, 
 sensible of his own sins and failings, will not pre- 
 sently be over-censorious of persons, or pronounce 
 them reprobates, or men wholly destitute of the hope 
 of salvation ; but will pity their failings and back- 
 slidings, but yet not exclude them from heaven. And 
 therein there must be duly considered the difference 
 between a private person and a public person, whether 
 
387 
 
 minister or magistrate : the former, namely, a private 
 person, humility must teach him compassion, chari- 
 tableness, gentleness ; but the latter, being entrusted 
 in a public ministration or office, doth alterius vices 
 agere ; his personal humility, as a private person, 
 must teach him to be charitable, but yet not to be 
 remiss or unfaithful in the exercise of his office. 
 
 The farther consideration of the principles and 
 accompaniments of humility, will appear in the con- 
 sideration of the fruits, advantages, and benefits of 
 true humility. 
 
 And these I shall reduce to these three relations : 
 I. In relation to Almighty God. II. In relation to 
 the humble person himself. III. In relation to others. 
 It is true, that all virtues, if they be real, have a 
 connexion with one another : they are never single ; 
 for the same principle that begetteth one, begetteth 
 all the rest, and habituates and influenceth the soul 
 in all its motions: but especially, this virtue of humi- 
 lity, when it is genuine, is ever accompanied with all 
 those excellent habits and graces that perfect the 
 soul; as the fear and love of God, obedience to him, 
 dependence on him, beneficence and charity to man- 
 kind, and the like. But yet, in the pursuit of the 
 fruits and advantages of humility, I shall apply my- 
 self to such as do most naturally, and with a kind of 
 special reason and appropriation, belong to, or flow 
 from, this virtue as such, and as do especially belong 
 to its nature in a kind of abstract consideration. 
 
 I. Therefore, in relation to Almighty God, the 
 
 humble man hath, in a special manner, these two 
 
 great advantages. 1. He receives grace, or favour, 
 
 and honour from God. 2. He receives direction, 
 
 r2 
 
388 
 
 guidance, and counsel from God. Both which are 
 singularly promised, and, by a kind of suitableness 
 and congruity, conferred by Almighty God upon an 
 humble soul. 
 
 1. Favour, honour, and grace from God, is a spe- 
 cial portion of the humble man. The wise man tells 
 us here, " He gives grace to the humble." And 
 although grace is a comprehensive word, and includes 
 in itself, not only favour and acceptance with God, 
 but also those other accessions of the gifts of his 
 bounty and goodness, which come from this great 
 giver of every perfect gift, as wisdom, peace, righ- 
 teousness, purity of heart, and the like, which are 
 also the portion of a truly humble man ; yet I think 
 the former is that which is specially intended here, 
 namely, favour, honour, and acceptance with God, so 
 expressed in the Old and New Testament, by the 
 phrase of finding grace in the sight of God: " Be- 
 hold now I have found grace in thy sight." " He 
 that bade thee, shall say unto thee. Friend, go thou 
 up higher; then thou shalt have worship or grace in 
 the presence of them that sit at meat with thee: for 
 he that exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that 
 abaseth himself shall be exalted." So that, by grace 
 is principally intended favour, acceptance, honour, 
 and esteem, with the great and glorious God of 
 heaven and earth. And certainly, were there no 
 other reward of humility, than acceptance and favour 
 with the great Sovereign of the world, it were reward 
 enough. We see daily what pains, and charge, and 
 expense, and servitude, men undergo, to attain the 
 favour of a prince or great man, though he be but a 
 poor mortal worm ; and how men please themselves, 
 
389 
 
 when tbey have attained some little unprofitable re- 
 spect from a great man. But what is that in com- 
 parison of being in grace and favour with the King 
 of kings, the Lord of heaven? especially when we 
 consider, that the favour or acceptance of the glorious 
 God is not a bare unprofitable esteem or grace, such 
 as many times the great favourites of princes obtain 
 from them ; but the favour and acceptance of God is 
 always accompanied with bounty and beneficence : 
 and, as he is the sovereign ocean of all good, so we 
 may be sure he will be communicative and liberal of 
 it to such as he favours. He, whose benignity is 
 hourly extended to the meanest of his creatures, 
 nay, to the very worst of men, cannot be parsimoni- 
 ous or strait-handed to those whom he accepts, and 
 esteems, and honours. So that the humble man 
 finds grace in the sight of the glorious God; and, as 
 an effect of that grace, the bountiful communication 
 of all necessary good from the munificence, bounty, 
 and liberality of him that thus favours him: and this 
 is reward enough for the most profound humility. 
 
 The reason why Almighty God accepts thus an 
 humble person, is the very same that makes him 
 resist the proud, which is this; the great God made 
 all things in the world for two ends, namely, 
 ]. Thereby to communicate his own difi'usive good- 
 ness and beneficence, and principally for the glory 
 of his own greatness, wisdom, power, and majesty : 
 and although he receives no addition of happiness by 
 the return of glory from his creatures, yet it is a 
 thing he values, (his glory he will not give to 
 another;) and it is unbecoming the excellency of his 
 majesty to be disappointed in his end. Glory is 
 
390 
 
 out of its place, when it is not returned to the God 
 of glory, or in order to him. It is the natural, as 
 well as the reasonable tribute of all his creatures, 
 and a kind of proper reflection of the bounty and 
 splendour of all his works unto the God that made 
 them. Now, the proud man usurps that glory 
 which is due to his Maker, and takes it to himself; 
 intercepts that due and natural return and reflection 
 due unto the Creator of all things ; takes that tri- 
 bute that is due to God, and applies it to himself; 
 puts glory out of its place and natural course, which 
 it should hold towards the glorious God, as the 
 rivers do to the sea : and this usurpation, as it is a 
 kind of rebellion against God, so it inverts and dis- 
 orders the true and just natural course of things; 
 and therefore, as the proud man herein walks con- 
 trary to God, so God walks contrary to him. 
 " Them that honour me, I will honour; they that 
 despise me, shall be lightly esteemed." And as this 
 is a most reasonable act of divine justice, so there 
 are two things that, even on account of natural con- 
 gruity, must needs make the condition of a proud 
 man uneasy and unhappy, in relation to Almighty 
 God. 1. Every thing is beautiful and useful, and 
 convenient in its proper place ; but when it is out of 
 its place, it becomes troublesome and disorderly, 
 like a bone out of joint, it causeth discomposure. 
 When, therefore, the proud man arrogates to himself 
 glory, and intercepts its free return to the God of 
 glory to whom it belongs, glory is out of its place, 
 and disorders and discomposeth the usurper of it, so 
 that he grows sick of it, sometimes to madness, but 
 always to distemper and discomposure. 2. The 
 
391 
 
 proud man is so full of himself, and of the honour 
 and glory which he usurps and attracts to himself, 
 that he is incapable of an accession of grace or 
 favour from God ; for he thinks he hath enough of 
 his own, and this obstructs the access and irradiation 
 of the divine favour, grace, and benediction. Intiis 
 cxisteJis prohibet alicnwn. It is the empty soul, 
 empty I mean of pride, self-conceit, and vainglory, 
 that is capable of satisfaction with the divine good- 
 ness. 
 
 But, on the contrary, the humble man hath these 
 two opposite advantages. 1. He carries glory and 
 honour to him to whom it belongs, to its proper 
 centre ; namely, to the ever-glorious God, and that 
 ocean of goodness and perfection that resides in 
 him; and this gives the man ease, and quietness, 
 and composure of mind; for he doth not intercept 
 the tribute that is due to his Maker, but pays it 
 over to the right owner. If he doth any good, 
 noble, or becoming action, he checks the first mo- 
 tion of pride or ostentation in himself, and receives 
 not the applause of others, but directs all the praise 
 and glory of it to that God that hath done it by 
 him, or in him, or for him : " Not unto us, but to 
 thy name give the glory." And this gives him 
 sinf^ular quietness, serenity, and evenness of mind, 
 because he is not surcharged with that which be- 
 loufTs not to him, nor under those tortures of mind, 
 which this tribute due to his Maker riseth, when 
 usurped by man to whom it belongs not. Again, 
 2. By this humility and lowliness of mind, the soul 
 is empty, not of what it should have, but of what it 
 should not have ; and by that means becomes re- 
 
392 
 
 ceptive and capable of blessing from tbe God of 
 heaven, " who filleth the hungry with good things, 
 but sends tlie rich empty away." And this seems 
 to hold agreeable to the very nature of every intel- 
 lectual agent, that acts with understanding and will. 
 We find, even in the regulated motions of our own 
 nature, a secret averseness to gratify a proud and 
 haughty man ; for he either scorns or rejects a 
 kindness, as beneath him; or arrogates and owns it 
 as his own due, and not a bounty: but a person 
 truly humble, sensible of a benefit, thankful for it, 
 gets in with us, invites beneficence. And surely, 
 though the blessed God be not at all under the 
 impotency of human passions, yet he is a God of 
 infinite wisdom, and placeth his best benefits where 
 they will be best received and used. 2. It seems 
 to be in accordance with the very course of natural 
 things: the divine benignity is much more diffusive 
 than the light, the air, the most communicable 
 element in the world, and filleth every thing accord- 
 ing to its measure and capacity of reception : it is 
 that which communicateth itself to vegetables in life 
 and vegetation, but not in sense, because not recep- 
 tive of it ; to animals in life and sense, but not in 
 reason or understanding, because not receptive of 
 it; to men in life, sense, and understanding, that is 
 common to the whole species; and if they have but 
 room in them for it, and do not wilfully thrust it 
 from them, in grace also, and favour, and accepta- 
 tion in the improving of their souls in the influences 
 of his love, direction, and guidance: and such a 
 vessel is the humble soul, empty of pride, vain- 
 glory; one that is glad of such guests as the grace, 
 
393 
 
 and favour, and acceptance of God, hath room for 
 therii in his heart, and so becomes a fit tabernacle 
 for the influence of that God that revives the spirits 
 of the humble. 
 
 And here, by the benignity and favour of God, 
 I do not mean the heaping of temporal honours, or 
 wealth upon men ; these are but small inconsider- 
 able things, such as are common to the proud, and 
 many times denied to the humble. But they have 
 a better exchange; namely, peace with God, inward 
 testimonies of his favour, secret indications of his 
 love, directions and instructions by the secret whis- 
 pers and intimations of his Spirit, quietness and 
 tranquillity of mind, and pledges of immortality and 
 and happiness, those 
 
 Animi bona, sanctosque recessus 
 
 Mentis, et incoctum generoso pectus honesto. 
 
 And these are things of far greater value than ex- 
 ternal wealth and honour; and as far before them, 
 as the mind and soul itself is. But of this more in 
 the next. 
 
 2. The second great advantage of the humble 
 soul is, that he shall be sure of direction, guidance, 
 and counsel, from the best of counsellors, the glo- 
 rious God of wisdom. " The meek will he guide 
 in judgment ; the meek will he teach his way." 
 Meekness and humility are but the same thing 
 under different names. 
 
 And this guidance and direction of Almighty 
 God is of two kinds, in relation to a double end. 
 1. Guidance and direction in relation to his ever- 
 lasting end, the salvation and happiness of the soul; 
 r3 
 
394 
 
 namely, what he is to believe, and know, and do, in 
 order to that greatest and most important end. — 
 And therefore it is observable, that although the 
 mystery of the gospel of Christ Jesus, the common 
 instrument of the salvation of mankind, is the most 
 wise and profound design and mystery, and of the 
 greatest importance that ever the world was ac- 
 quainted with; yet the most wise and most glorious 
 God did vail and dress that great and glorious mys- 
 tery quite contrary to the wisdom and grandeur of 
 the world; insomuch, that to the most knowing 
 people of tlie world, that were full of their own 
 knowledge, the Jews, it became a stumbling-block; 
 and to the Greeks, the most learned and wise people 
 in the world, that were full of the sense of their own 
 wisdom and learning, it was accounted foolishness. 
 '* After that by wisdom the world knew not God, 
 it pleased him, by the foolishness of preaching," 
 namely, of the things preached, Christ crucified, 
 " to save them that believe." And in the primitive 
 times it succeeded accordingly, the wise Rabbies of 
 the Jews, and the learned philosophers of the Gen- 
 tiles, for the most part derided or rejected it. " Not 
 many wise, not many mighty" entertained it; for 
 the wisdom of God ordered the wisdom and mystery 
 of the gospel, quite counter to that wisdom that 
 was in vogue in the world. And we now see the 
 reason why it was fitly and wisely so designed, for it 
 was designed to thwart, and cross, and confound 
 that corrupt wisdom of the world, which had before 
 corrupted it ; " the world by wisdom knew not God." 
 But, on the contrary, the meek, and humble, and 
 lowly minds, and such were some learned, as well 
 
395 
 
 as unlearned, these receive the gospel : " The poor 
 received the gospel;" the poor in spirit, lowly, 
 meek. " He that receiveth not the kingdom of 
 God as a little child, shall in nowise enter into it." 
 It was fitted, and ordered, and modelled in such a 
 dress, and such a method, that it was suitable to the 
 reception of such souls; and none but such were re- 
 ceptive of it. Again, 2. Humility disposeth the glo- 
 rious God to give, and the humble mind to receive, 
 direction and guidance in all the concerns of this life. 
 A proud heart ordinarily disdaineth and undervalueth 
 all other wisdom but his own, and all other counsel 
 but such as suits with his own wisdom : and there- 
 fore, the glorious God most commonly crosseth or 
 disappointeth him, or leaves him to the headiness 
 and misery of his own counsels, and to eat the bitter 
 fruit of his own rashness or folly. For, whatever 
 the blind men of the world think, the actions of men 
 and their successes are under the government of the 
 divine will and providence; and it is no wonder if 
 he, that invisibly governs the events of the world, 
 takes the wise in their own craftiness, and mingles 
 giddiness and disappointment in their counsels, and 
 breaks the thread of all their contrivances ; for he 
 hath a thousand ways with ease and facility to do it. 
 We may every day see what a small intervention 
 quite shatters, and disorders, and overturns the most 
 politic, subtle, secret, and well-laid designs in the 
 world ; so that in one moment, a pitiful small unex- 
 pected occurrence wholly breaks in pieces a design 
 of men laid together with lonfj deliberation and 
 forecast; with immense prospect and precaution of 
 difficulties; with great reserves and preparations 
 
396 
 
 against all imaginable obstacles; with all the ad- 
 vantage of secrecy, power, combination of parties, 
 and connexion of subsidiary aids ; and yet one poor 
 unthought-of accident cracks in sunder, and breaks 
 all to shivers, the whole elaborate machine; so that, 
 in a moment the shivers thereof lie all broken and 
 disjointed, like a potsherd dashed against a wall; or 
 the whole contrivance disappears like the fabulous 
 enchanted castles. 
 
 But, an the other hand, an humble man leans not 
 to his own understanding; he is sensible of the de- 
 ficiency of his own power and wisdom, and trusts 
 not in them; he is also sensible of tiie all-sufficient 
 power, wisdom, and goodness of Almighty God, 
 and commits himself to him for counsel, guidance, 
 direction, and strength. It is natural for any man, 
 that is sensible of his own deficiency, to seek after 
 that which may be a support and strength to him ; 
 and as Almighty God is essentially good and per- 
 fect, so he is (if I may use the expression) most na- 
 turally communicative of it, to any that seek for it 
 in humility and sincerity. 
 
 The air doth not more naturally yield to our at- 
 traction in respiration, or insinuate itself into those 
 spaces that are receptive of it, than the divine assist- 
 ance, guidance, and beneficence, doth to the desire 
 and exigences and wants of an humble soul, sensible 
 of its own emptiness and deficiency, and imploring 
 the direction, guidance, and blessing of the most 
 wise and bountiful God. I can call my own ex- 
 perience to witness, that even in the external ac- 
 tions, occurrences, and incidents of my whole life, I 
 was never disappointed of the best guidance and 
 
397 
 
 direction, when, in humility and sense of my own 
 deficiency, and diffidence of my own ability, to direct 
 myself, or to grapple with the difficulties of my life, 
 I have, with humility and sincerity, implored the 
 secret direction and guidance of the divine wisdom 
 and providence : and I dare therein appeal to the 
 vigilant and strict observation of any man-s experi- 
 ence, whether he hath not found the same experience, 
 in relation to himself, and his own actions and suc- 
 cesses, and whether those counsels and purposes 
 which have been taken up after an humble invoca- 
 tion of the divine direction, have not been always 
 most successful in the end. 
 
 II. And as humility is of admirable use, in re- 
 lation to the glorious God, and the effluxes of his 
 blessing and direction ; so it is of singular advan- 
 tage, in relation to the humble man himself, as may 
 appear in the following considerations. 
 
 1. Humility keeps the soul in great evenness 
 and tranquillity. The truth is, that the storms and 
 tempests, and disorders of the soul, do not so much, 
 if at all, arise from the things without us, as from 
 the passions and distempers of the soul itself, espe- 
 cially that of pride and haughtiness, which, as the 
 wise man says, " is the mother of contention," and 
 that within the very soul itself; as, without, it is 
 that which blows up the passions of anger, and re- 
 venge, and envy, and hatred, and impatience, and 
 ambition, and vainglory ; and from hence it is, that 
 the passions do rage, and swell, and roll one upon 
 another like the sea troubled with a storm. What 
 is it, that upon any disgrace, or disrepute, or affront, 
 put upon a man, makes him vex himself, even to 
 
398 
 
 death, that he hath not leisure scarcely for one quiet 
 or composed thought? What is it that makes him 
 jealous of another man's advancement; that makes 
 him hate and envy another that hath attained greater 
 dignity than himself; that makes his thoughts and 
 endeavours restless, till he get to be greater or 
 richer than others ; and yet, when he hath attained, 
 not resting in it, but still aspiring higher; that fills 
 him with fears, and torturing cares, lest he should 
 either miss what he aims at, or lose what he hath 
 attained; that fills him with revenge against all 
 that oppose him, or stand in his way; with impa- 
 tience under any cross or disappointment, many 
 times almost to the extremity of madness and frenzy ; 
 that makes him unquiet and discontented with his 
 present condition, and raiseth a thousand such dis- 
 orders and discomposures in the minds of men? All 
 these are most plainly resolvable into this cursed 
 distemper of pride and haughtiness of mind, as 
 might most evidently be made out to any that will 
 but trace back these disorders to their root and 
 original; and certainly, therefore, the state of such 
 a man's mind must needs be marvellously disordered 
 and unhappy. 
 
 But humility cures this disease, this fever of the 
 mind; keeps the passions cool and calm, and quiet 
 and low, and keeps them under hourly discipline, 
 throws cold water upon them. Have I received an 
 affront, a disgrace with great men, contempt from 
 my equal or inferior, reproach and scandal, disap- 
 pointment in my expectation of some external ad- 
 vantage? Am I like to be turned out of oflSce, to 
 be made poor, or the like ? I have two considera- 
 
399 / 
 
 tions, that keep me still in an equal temper, and 
 that silence all those passions which presently in a 
 proud man would be all on fire, and in a tumult. 
 1. I know that those things come not without the 
 divine commission, or, at least, permission; and shall 
 I not quietly submit to the vvill of my great sove- 
 reign Lord, to whom I owe myself, and whose will 
 I pray daily may be done? It was an admirable 
 instance of this humility in David, when, to add to 
 his present sad condition, Shimei cursed him so 
 bitterly ; that although he had power and oppor- 
 tunity left him to revenge it, yet he forbade it, say- 
 ing, It may be the Lord hath bid Shimei to curse 
 David, 2 Sam. xvi. Again, 2. What am I, that I 
 must not be crossed, or reproached, or contemned, or 
 disappointed? alas! a poor, weak, sinful man; lean- 
 not be made lower in the esteem of the world, than 
 I am in my own. If the world reproach me, spoil 
 me of what I have: if I am poor or scorned, it is 
 but what I deserve, and less than I deserve for my 
 sins, at the hand of God : though perchance I am 
 slandered, or falsely accused by them, yet I know 
 ill enough of myself to make me bear patiently even 
 a false accusation, and they cannot make me more 
 low and vile, in the esteem of others, than I am in 
 my own. And thus humility breaks and quenches 
 the passions, and keeps the mind sedate and un- 
 disturbed under all external occurrences. But to 
 descend to particulars more distinctly. 
 
 2. Humility gives contentment in any condition 
 or station. And the reason is, because an humble 
 mind is never above that station or condition of life 
 that the divine providence orders, but rather below 
 
400 
 
 it, or, at the most, holds pace with it. When the 
 mind runs beyond the condition of a man, it is like 
 a spendthrift that lives beyond his estate; and 
 therefore becomes necessarily poor, and never enjoys 
 what he hath, because it busies itself evermore in an 
 anxious pursuit of what it hath not : and that mind 
 that, in relation to the things of the world, runs 
 beyond its station, can never be contented and quiet; 
 and though he attain this year what he anxiously 
 pursued the last year, yet still his mind will be 
 running farther still, and keep before his acquisi- 
 tions, as the fore-wheel of the coach will still run 
 before the hinder-wheel : but an humble man is 
 ever contented with what the divine providence and 
 honest industry allots him, and enjoys it comfortably 
 and thankfully, and can sit down with a narrow for- 
 tune, with this contenting contemplation, " That 
 which I have is given by the bountiful God, of 
 liberality, not of debt ; if I had less, it were more 
 than I could deserve : for I can with Jacob say, 
 out of the sense of my own unworthiness, * I am 
 less than the least of all his mercies/ Blessed, 
 therefore, be his name." 
 
 3. Humility gives always patience under all ad- 
 versity of what kind soever it be ; and this is always 
 an effect and companion of true humility. 1. The 
 greatest cause of impatience, is not so much from 
 the pressure and force of any external cross or 
 calamity, as from the great disturbance and reluc- 
 tance of the mind of him that suffers it ; and this 
 raiseth up the waves and billows within ; the cross 
 or calamity, it may be, is rough, and beyond the 
 power of him that suffers it, to extricate or control ; 
 
401 
 
 and, on the other hand, when it meets with a mind 
 as tumultuous and contumacious as the calamity or 
 cross, it raiseth a storm, as when the wind and tide 
 are contrary, or like the state of Paul's voyage in 
 the Adriatic sea, where two seas met, which often- 
 times endangers the vessel. He that violently and 
 impetuously contends against a calamity, is like one 
 bound with a strong yoke or bond ; his struggling, 
 like a wild bull in a net, galls him more than the 
 yoke itself otherwise would do; and a proud and 
 haughty spirit, commonly miscalled courage, contri- 
 butes more to his own uneasiness than his cross 
 doth : but an humble, lowly mind, is naturally more 
 able to bear his cross with more patience, because, 
 it is evident, that the softness, humiUty, quietness, 
 and calmness of his mind breaks the force of the 
 calamity, and renders it more easy by submission to 
 it. 2. Again, every truly humble man looks upon 
 the worst condition that he is under, to be less than 
 he deserves. As long as a man lives in the world, 
 there is no condition so troublesome, and painful, 
 and uneasy, but it may be worse; and an humble 
 man always thinks that that condition or circum- 
 stance of his life, which may be worse, is not the 
 worst that he deserves. It may be I am poor, but 
 yet I am well esteemed, I deserve both poverty and 
 disrespect ; it may be 1 am poor, and under a cloud 
 also of ignominy and reproach, yet I have ray health 
 of body, and composedness of mind, and this is more 
 than I deserve : it may be I am, with Job, un<ler a 
 confluence and complication of calamities, loss of 
 estate, of children, and relations, censured by my 
 very friends as a hypocrite, and one under the 
 
402 
 
 displeasure of Almighty God, ray body macerated 
 with diseases, yet I have life, and where there is 
 life there is hope ; " Wherefore doth a living man 
 complain, a man for the punishment of his sins?" 
 The living man hath no cause to complain, because, 
 although he suffer the loss of all other things, yet 
 his life is spared and given him for a prey. The 
 humble man is patient, therefore, under his suffer- 
 ings of any kind, because he carries with him the 
 true sense of his own unworthiness and demerit, and, 
 upon a judicious account, looks upon his meanest, 
 lowest, worst condition, as better than he deserves 
 at the hand of God. 3. The humble man is 
 patient under all conditions, because he always bears 
 a mind entirely subject and submitting to the will of 
 the great sovereign Lord of heaven and earth, whom 
 he knows to be the sovereign Lord of all his crea- 
 tures; to be the great dispenser or permitter, and 
 rectifier of all the events in the world; to be the 
 most wise, just, and gracious God ; and therefore he 
 doth not only submit to his will, as an act of neces- 
 sity which he cannot control, or as an act of duty in 
 obedience to his Sovereign, but as an act of choice 
 and prudence, because the will of his Maker is 
 wiser than his own, and more eligible than his own ; 
 and therefore he makes the will of his Maker his 
 own choice, and upon the account of true judgment 
 concludes, that whatsoever the most powerful and 
 irresistible, the most wise and prudent, the most 
 just and merciful will of God appoints for hira, is 
 not only fit for him to submit to, but also to choose, 
 and as well cheerfully and thankfully, as patiently 
 and quietly to follow and elect : and therefore, since 
 
403 
 
 he well knows that all the successes of his life are 
 under the government and providence of the most 
 glorious, sovereign, wise, and merciful God, even 
 those that seem in themselves most troublesome 
 and grievous, he patiently and cheerfully comports 
 with the divine will in the toleration of them, and 
 waits upon his all-sufficiency and goodness, in his 
 due time, either to remove them, or to support him 
 under them. 
 
 4. Humility gives great moderation and sobriety, 
 and vigilancy, in the fullest enjoyments of temporal 
 felicity of any kind whatever. There is a strange 
 witchcraft in prosperity, to rob a man of innocence: 
 how many in the world have I in my time seen, that 
 under the greatest pressures of crosses and calami- 
 ties, of poverty and reproach, have kept their con- 
 sciences fair and clean, their innocence, integrity, 
 piety, and goodness within them, that yet, by the 
 warm beams and sunshine of external prosperity, 
 have cast off their innocence, as the traveller did his 
 cloak in the fable, made shipwreck of their con- 
 sciences, and became as great oppressors, as disor- 
 derly and debauched livers, as proud and insolent, 
 and perfect worldlings, as if they had never heard of 
 a heaven or hell, of a God or a Redeemer, or of a 
 judgment to come ? True humility is a great guard 
 on the soul of a man against these rocks and hazards. 
 An humble man looks upon all his plenty and pros- 
 perity, not as his own, or the reward of his desert, 
 but as the depositum of the great Master of the 
 family of heaven and earth, talents entrusted to him 
 as a steward, to employ for his Master's use, service, 
 and honour, not for his own grandeur or pleasure; 
 
404 
 
 he considers, the more he hath, the greater is his 
 account, and the greater his charges, and in it finds 
 no matter to advance his thoughts concerning him- 
 self, or to make him proud, but to make him the 
 more careful how he employs it. And his humility 
 is not diminished by his plenty, but rather increased; 
 and this keeps him sober and moderate in the use of 
 what he hath; for he looks upon all he hath as none 
 of his own, but his Master's, to whom he is ac- 
 countable; and as it makes him sober and moderate 
 in the use of what he hath ; so it makes him 
 studious to employ it to the honour of his Master, 
 and faithful in that employment. Again, as he 
 looks upon the things of this world, as deposited in 
 his hands for the account of his Lord; so he looks 
 upon them as dangerous temptations to deceive him 
 of his innocence and integrity; and both these make 
 him ever more strictly vigilant over himself, lest the 
 present gayness and glory, and opportunities of pros- 
 perity get ground upon his mind, or his virtue, es- 
 pecially upon his humility: for worldly grandeur 
 secretly steals away that virtue, or impairs it, sooner 
 than any other. Pride is a kind of shadow, or 
 rather a devil, that ordinarily haunts and waits upon 
 worldly greatness or prosperity ; and therefore he 
 keeps a strict guard over his heart, and watches nar- 
 rowly the first blossoming of worldly-mindedness, 
 self-dependence, trusting in uncertain riches, making 
 them his hope or his confidence; but especially swel- 
 lings of vainglory, pride, self-applause, and those 
 other vermin that commonly breed in the soul, by 
 the warm influences of prosperity ; and he never 
 suflPers those unclean birds to rest in his soul; checks 
 
405 
 
 and rejects the very first motions of them, and 
 crushes these viperous eggs in the very first appear- 
 ance. And to prevent the very first opportunity 
 of' their production, he watcheth himself upon all 
 occasions; seriously reflects upon the danger he is 
 in; carefully tries every emergent thought, word, 
 and action, whether it hath any secret tincture of 
 pride or vanity ; and if he find the least rising of 
 them, he suppresseth and stifles them. 
 
 5. Humility is an excellent remedy against the 
 passion of fear, even of the worst of evils, death 
 itself, and much more against the fear of reproaches, 
 losses, and all external calamities whatsoever; pa- 
 tience under an incumbent evil, doth naturally, and 
 by a kind of necessary consequence, arm a man 
 against the fear of an imminent or impendent evil. 
 Commonly, surprise and unexpectedness of any evil, 
 renders the fear more terrible; because it takes a 
 man suddenly, before he can compose himself, or 
 rally the succours of hope and reason to support him 
 against it: it is like a sudden disease, that sur- 
 priseth the body that laboureth under ill humours, 
 before it can allay or moderate them by preparative 
 helps, whereby a sudden combustion ariseth ; and 
 many times more danger ariseth from the discom- 
 posure of the humours, than from the malignity of 
 the disease itself. But humility keeps the mind in 
 a sober well-prepared temper; keeps the passions 
 under discipline, and is always in a readiness to re- 
 ceive the shock of danger, or impendent evil, with- 
 out any great disorder or astonishment: an humble 
 man hath no such great value for himself, as to 
 think he is to be exempt from calamities : and there- 
 
406 
 
 fore, is not much startled at the approach of thera: 
 he reckons he hath portion enough in this world, if 
 he can keep his innocence, the peace of his con- 
 science, and quietness within ; as for matters of the 
 world, as he makes not their enjoyment the object 
 of his hope, so he makes not their loss any great 
 motive of his fear; God's will be done, is the lan- 
 guage of his soul in relation to them. Is he 
 threatened with the loss of his estate, of his friends 
 and relations, of his honour and esteem, and hath 
 he the news of his death, either from without, by 
 violences or persecutions, or from within, by its fore- 
 runners, sickness, or old age? yet he is by no means 
 tormented with fear by these messengers. 
 
 1. The evenness of his own mind furnisheth him 
 with the opportunity and use of his reason to check 
 his fear, as a vain, foolish, and unserviceable pas- 
 sion, that may torment him, and by anticipation of 
 the evil makes his present condition worse, and more 
 troublesome, but does not cure the danger. 
 
 2. The sense of his subordination to the divine 
 power and pleasure, quiets his mind with this 
 thought : " My Maker v/ants not power to rescue 
 me from the danger, if he please; but if he be not 
 pleased, it is my wisdom and my duty to submit to 
 his o-ood pleasure; it is the Lord that doth inflict or 
 permit ; his will be done." 
 
 3. Upon the approach of such dangers or evils, 
 he retires into himself: " What am I, that I should 
 think to be exempt from these imminent evils ? 
 what title have 1 to any the least good I enjoy ? is 
 it not the mere bounty of my Maker? if the dan- 
 gers I foresee leave me any thing, if they leave me 
 
407 
 
 life, they leave me more than I deserve : if they be 
 such as menace the loss of that also, yet they cannot 
 take away my innocence, my integrity, my peace with 
 God, and with myself; and it is an admirable bounty 
 that the God of heaven hath prescribed that to me, 
 and accepts this little, poor, small good that he finds, 
 or rather makes in me, so as to reward it with his 
 favour, acceptance, and peace with him. Good 
 God ! When I look upon that which I call my 
 innocence, what a spotted piece is it, that I am even 
 asliamed to call it innocence? when I look upon my 
 integrity, what a deal of secret hypocrisy hangs 
 about it, that it deserves not the name of integrity ? 
 and yet that little small particle of what I call my 
 innocence and integrity, which is truly such, it is 
 his gift to me, that is pleased to own and reward it 
 as mine, with peace and favourable acceptance : and 
 as long as he is pleased thus to continue to me what 
 indeed is his, and thus to accept it as if it were my 
 own, what reason have I to fear the loss of all things 
 else, even life itself? since still I enjoy much more 
 than I deserve, and which no man or devil, no cala- 
 mity or danger, no, nor death itself can deprive me 
 of?" And thus far respecting the advantages of 
 humility in relation to a man's self. 
 
 III. The advantage of humility in relation to 
 others, is of two kinds: 1. The advantage the 
 humble man causes to others. 2. The advantage 
 which the humble man receives from others. 
 
 1. As to the former of these, we may easily judge 
 what good an humble man brings to mankind, by 
 considering the evil that pride, or a proud man 
 bringeth thereunto. If a man duly considers most of 
 
408 
 
 the mischiefs that happen to mankind, and trace them 
 to their original, he shall find, that the most of them 
 owe their original to this root. Let a man but look 
 abroad in the world, he shall find a sort of evil spi- 
 rits or furies in it, that fill it with infinite disorders 
 and misery ; for instance, atheism, hatred, strife, 
 contention, wars, heresies, envy, ambition, sedition, 
 oppression, persecution, detraction, slandering, cruel- 
 ty, contempt, uncharitableness, censoriousness ; and 
 a thousand more such devilish furies, that fill the 
 world with blood, confusion, and disorder. And 
 now let us but trace these, or any of these, to their 
 original, we shall find that, for the most part, pride is 
 that Pandora's box, out of which they spring. Let 
 us take an estimate of some of them: atheism, that 
 cuts in sunder all the bonds of religion, government, 
 and society, whence comes it ? but by the pride of 
 men's hearts, that cannot endure to have a sove- 
 reign Lord above them, but that they may be self- 
 dependent ; or the pride of men's wits, that out of 
 scorn of any thing they think vulgar, and to mag- 
 nify themselves, dare attack the most sovereign 
 truth in the world, the being or providence of God. 
 So for contention, strife, disobedience to parents ; 
 rebellion against governors, they all spring most or- 
 dinarily from the same root of pride : " By pride 
 ^ometh contention." Men that cannot endure to 
 be controlled, either by laws or governors, by parents 
 or superiors, but think their own will and lusts must 
 be the uncontrollable rule of all their actions. So 
 again for wars ; there is rarely any wars between 
 princes or states, but either on both, or at least on one 
 fiide, pride and desire of dominion is the true root and^ 
 
 J 
 
409 
 
 cause of it, though it be oftentimes gilded over with 
 other pretences. Again, for the most part, the dis- 
 putes among persons of learning, or pretenders to it, 
 arise from lust or pride contending for a sovereignty 
 in wit or learning; impatient of contradiction, eaf'er 
 and implacable ; contesting for reputation, victory, 
 and the maintaining of what they have once assert- 
 ed, and scorning the least retraction. So that many 
 times, upon petty, inconsiderable, useless trifles, men 
 are as hotly engaged as if heaven were at stake upon 
 it, and from hence many times come heresies, when 
 men, pretending to greatness of wit and learning, 
 but in truth, of haughty and ungovernable spirits, 
 either upon the score of vain-glory and reputation, 
 or upon some conceived affront or neglect from the 
 orthodox, set up for themselves, draw parties to 
 them, and begin a scheme of religion of their own 
 devising; from the same root comes envy, ambition, 
 detraction from others, because they think all pre- 
 ferment due to their own worth, and that any good 
 that happens to others, is a kind of derogation from 
 themselves: aspiring thoughts, and parties endea- 
 vouring to crush and ruin all that stand in their way 
 to that mark of grandeur that they aim at. And 
 like instances might be given of almost all those tur- 
 bulent lusts and passions among men, that break out 
 to the common disturbance of mankind, and all 
 human societies. 
 
 And therefore, certainly, whatever virtue, or tem- 
 per, or habit (or whatever else we shall call it) there 
 is, that cures this mad, and unruly, and exorbitant 
 lust of pride among men, must needs be one of the 
 most benevolent and advantageous things to man- 
 S 40 
 
410 
 
 kind and human society ; and this is that excellent 
 virtue of humility and lowliness of mind. 
 
 If this virtue did obtain among all men, it were 
 not possible that those blustering storms, that dis- 
 quiet and disorder mankind, would be found in the 
 world ; but instead thereof peace and love, mutual 
 offices of kindness and charity, sweetness of conver- 
 sation ; every one giving preference to another, ra- 
 ther than invading his reputation or interest, being 
 beneficent to all. 
 
 But there is little hope that all mankind will 
 arrive to such a temper ; and this indeed makes 
 the only considerable objection against it, which may 
 be thus improved : — 
 
 " You commend humility as the great and sove- 
 reign antidote against pride, the common disturber 
 of mankind ; and certainly what you say is demon- 
 stratively true, if all the world could be persuaded of 
 it ; but this never was, nor never can be expected : 
 as there are wolves, and lions, and bears, and foxes 
 among brutes, as well as sheep and other innocent 
 animals ; and there are kites, vultures, and hawks 
 among birds, as well as doves, and other innocent 
 birds; so among men there ever have been, and ever 
 will be, men of pride and haughtiness, of ambition 
 and vain-glory, of savage, and cruel, and domineer- 
 ing spirits ; and therefore, unless all could be per- 
 suaded to be meek and humble, it were as good and 
 better that none should be such upon these two ac- 
 counts, viz. first, that as long as the most of man- 
 kind are guilty of this passion of pride, nay, if they 
 were but an equal, nay, a less number in proportion 
 to those that are humble and meek, the world would 
 
411 
 
 still be as tumultuous as ever. A violent wind com- 
 ing out of one coast, would make the sea as trouble- 
 some as if it came out of many. Again, secondly, 
 those that there were meek and humble, would be 
 exposed as a common prey to all the rest, and their 
 conditions would be so much the worse in the world 
 by their humility and meekness. Their case in the 
 world would be like a fair gamester that plays fairly, 
 meeting with a foul or a cheating gamester; he were 
 sure to go by the loss. Therefore, since pride, the 
 mother of violence, will exist in the world, and it may 
 be influence the greatest part of mankind, it is better 
 to be of the same spirit, to deal with them with their 
 own weapons ; to be proud, and consequently as 
 violent, as the rest of mankind, (for it is a part of 
 the game of the world,) and then a man may have 
 somewhat ; otherwise his humility makes his case 
 worse. Veterem ferendo injuriam invitas novam. 
 Where the country is full of wolves and tigers, it is 
 better to be a wolf or a tiger as well as they, than 
 be a sheep, and exposed to their violence." 
 
 I answer to this objection : — 
 
 1. As to the former part, though it be true, that 
 it can never be expected tiiat all the world should be 
 persuaded to be humble, no more than it can be ex- 
 pected that all should be persuaded to be virtuous, 
 just, or honest; yet if there were some, though the 
 lesser part of mankind, truly humble and lowly, it 
 would very much abate those evils that arise from the 
 pride and haughtiness of men. I. Because the 
 more humble men there are in the world, it neces- 
 sarily follows there are the fewer proud men, and 
 consequently fewer common disturbers of the peace 
 
 s2 
 
412 
 
 and welfare of mankind and human society. 2. 
 When the contest comes by the proud man against 
 the proud man, there is the same tumult between 
 them, as if there were none humble ; but when the 
 contest is by the proud man against the humble, the 
 strife is quickly at an end. It is a true proverb, 
 " It is the second blow makes the fray." The 
 humble man gives way to the wrath and insolence of 
 the proud man, and thereby ends the quarrel; " For 
 yielding pacificth wrath," saith the wise man. And 
 I have very often observed, that a man of quietness 
 of spirit and humility, attacked by a proud man, 
 hath subdued and conquered his pride and animosity 
 to a wonder, and made the man tame, that by oppo- 
 sition would have been furious and implacable. " A 
 soft tongue breaketh the bone." Soft words break 
 the bones, and a sword is sooner broken, by a blow 
 upon a cushion or pillow that yieldeth, than upon a 
 bar of iron that rests. But if it should fall out, that 
 the proud man's violence is not broken by the gen- 
 tleness and facility of the humble man, whereby he 
 suffers in his own case; yet there be two advantages 
 that hereby happen to the public: viz. 1. That the 
 contention is soon at an end ; the proud man hath 
 got the day, and the parties are quiet. 2. It gains 
 a secret compassion from the beholders to the injured 
 humble man, and a general resentment and detesta- 
 tion of the injury committed to the humble man, 
 who receives the injury with so much humility, and 
 bears it with so much patience; and thereby pride 
 and oppression become the common objects of the 
 general detestation ; and therefore the generality of 
 mankind look upon such as beasts of prey, with 
 
413 
 
 hatred and abhorrence, and endeavour to secure 
 themselves against tiiem. 3. A third advantage is 
 this, that though oftentimes humble and good men 
 are exposed to the injuries of the proud, violent, 
 and insolent, yet they are a kind of ferment or leven 
 in the places where they live ; and by the secret in- 
 fluence of their virtues, the commendableness of 
 their conversation, and the secret interest that vir- 
 tue hath in the soul, not only of the good, but even 
 of the worst of men, it doth work upon mankind, 
 assimilates them in some measure to itself, and 
 makes others good and humble, by a kind of secret 
 magnetism that that virtue hath upon the minds of 
 men : and the more of such as are in the world, the 
 more effectual and operative their example and influ- 
 ence will be upon those with whom they converse. 
 
 2. As to the second, namely, the detriment tliat 
 the humble man receives in the world, upon the verv 
 account of his humility: I answer, first, that detri"- 
 ment is abundantly recompensed with the quiet and 
 tranquillity of his own mind : as a man possesseth 
 his own soul in patience, so he doth by humility, 
 namely, the composedness, right temper, and due 
 state of his own mind, which no proud, violent, or 
 impatient man doth or can. But, secondly, it is 
 most certain, that though an humble man may, upon 
 the very score of his humility and meekness, receive 
 a brush in the world; yet at the long run he gains 
 advantage thereby, even in this present life. When 
 I first read the saying of our Saviour, " Blessed are 
 the meek, for they shall inherit the earth," I looked 
 upon it as a mere paradox, if applied to the com- 
 forts of this life; and therefore thought it must be 
 
414 
 
 only intended of that new heaven and new earth, 
 wherein dwelleth righteousness. But upon deeper 
 consideration, I found it, in a great measure, true 
 also of the former. For, 1. It is most certain, that 
 no proud man is truly loved hy any hut himself; 
 but, so far as relates to his pride, every man hates 
 him. One proud man perfectly hates another, and 
 looks upon him as his enemy ; and those very ac- 
 tions of pride, that his own self-love makes him 
 approve, or at least, allow in himself, he scorns, 
 derides, and abhors in another. And though an 
 humble man hath a common love to every man, 
 though proud, or otherwise vicious, as being one of 
 mankind ; yet, in relation to his pride, he loves him 
 not, nor approves. That very "consideration, there- 
 fore, that renders a proud man hated, or not loved, 
 renders an humble man loved or approved; yea, and 
 hy the very proud man himself; for he looks upon 
 him as no obstacle or impediment to the attaining of 
 his ends, as one that is injurious to none, beneficent 
 to all, gentle, and one that stands not in his way, 
 giving all due respect, honour, and deference suit- 
 able to his place and dignity; he wisheth all the 
 world were such as he, except himself, and there- 
 fore he respects him : yea, and we shall by daily 
 experience see in the world, that if one proud man 
 injure or oppress an humble man, it is a thousand to 
 one, another undertakes his patronage, defence, and 
 vindication, and very oftentimes is a means of his 
 protection and deliverance. 2. But, farther, it is a 
 certain and experienced truth, that virtue and good- 
 ness, especially that of humility, hath a secret party 
 and interest even in the worst of men ; and men se- 
 
415 
 
 cretly love, or at least approve it in another, though 
 they practise it not themselves ; for virtue, goodness, 
 and humility, have a secret accordance to the true 
 and genuine frame of the human nature ; and 
 though men's lusts and passions may in a great mea- 
 sure obscure the consonancy to them, they can never 
 extinguish it, but the mind and conscience will give 
 a secret suffrage to it, wherever it finds it. 3. It is 
 a thing observable, that though the generality of 
 mankind abound with pride, intemperance, injustice, 
 and almost all kinds of vicious dispositions, yea, 
 though the best of men are not without the irrup- 
 tions of some of these distempers, and though it 
 must needs be, that where there is the greatest num- 
 ber, there is the greatest external force, either to 
 make such laws as they please, or to make such 
 governors as may be suitable to their disposition ; 
 yet it is rare, and a very prodigy, to find any nation 
 make laws in favour of pride, ambition, intemperance, 
 luxury, oppression, violence, injustice, &c. or to 
 choose such magistrates or governors (where it is in 
 their choice), as are apparently inclined to those 
 vices; but, in the choice of laws, they choose such, 
 as may rather suppress those vices, and maintain and 
 encourage sobriety, humility, meekness, beneficence, 
 as things most convenient to human society ; and in 
 their choice of governors, they rather commit the 
 trust of themselves, and their estates and properties, 
 to the hands of those that they find sober, tem- 
 perate, humble, just, than of those that are loose, 
 intemperate, proud, ambitious, high-minded, inso- 
 lent, &c. which is not only an indication, but even a 
 demonstration, that although men's passions and lusts 
 
41G 
 
 may transport them into those vices, yet their judg- 
 ments and principles are against them : and by this 
 means, it commonly comes to pass, that though an 
 humble or a virtuous man may meet with jostles and 
 rubs from the proud and insolent ; yet at the long 
 run he comes oft' with advantage, because he hath 
 the greatest protection and countenance, not only 
 from the great Sovereign of heaven and eartJi, but 
 also of human laws and governors, which, next, 
 under God, is the greatest protection that can be 
 imagined in this world ; which very commonly 
 makes good, even to the letter, the saying of our 
 Saviour, " The meek shall inherit the earth ;" and 
 the sayings of the wise man, " Before honour is hu- 
 mility." '* Better it is to be of an humble spirit with 
 the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud." 
 " By humility and the fear of the Lord, are riches, 
 and honour, and life." These, and the like sen- 
 tences, as they proceeded from the wisest of mere 
 men ; so they were not spoken at a venture, but 
 upon sound deliberation, judgment and experience; 
 and from the true nature and circumstances of 
 things. 
 
 And now, the true consideration and digestion of 
 what hath been said, as they aff'ord excellent and 
 effectual motives to the following of this virtue of 
 humility, so they contain excellent means to attain 
 it; because they may put men upon due considera- 
 tion, and descending into themselves; the want of 
 which is the only, or principal cause of pride; for 
 so much of pride as any man hath, so much of folly, 
 inadvertence, and inconsiderateness, he hath ; and 
 true humility, on the other hand, is a kind of neces- 
 
417 
 
 sary result of wise, and deliberate, and attentive con- 
 sideration. 
 
 Yet some things I shall add as means naturally 
 conducing to the forming and improving of this 
 virtue in the minds of men. 
 
 1. Consider, " that whatsoever good thou hast, 
 which may occasion elation of mind, is but what 
 thou hast received from tlie free bounty and good- 
 ness of thy Maker. What hast thou, which thou 
 hast not received ?" 
 
 2. Consider, " that the good thou hast so "re- 
 ceived, thou hast not received as an absolute pro- 
 prietor, but only as a steward to improve it to the 
 Lord's use; and the more thou hast of any such 
 good, the greater is thy account; whether it be wit, 
 wisdom, learning, honour, power, or wealth." If 
 thou art a receiver, a treasurer, a steward of another 
 man, and, upon that account, hast a great treasure 
 of wealth in thy hands, thou hast indeed great oc- 
 casion of care and vigilance, and fidelity, and circum- 
 spection, to husband faithfully, and to keep thy ac- 
 counts fair and even, but no cause to make thee 
 proud. It is indeed thy burden, rather than bene- 
 fit or advantage ; " To whom much is given, of him 
 much shall be required." Be humble, therefore, 
 thou wilt perform thy trust the better; for thou art 
 but a steward of what thou hast received. 
 
 3. Consider, " what it is thou pridest thyself in, 
 and examine well the nature of the things them- 
 selves, how little and inconsiderable they are, or, at 
 least, how uncertain and unstable they are." Every 
 age, condition, and circumstance of life, commonly 
 afford to inconsiderate souls some little temptation 
 s3 
 
418 
 
 to pride and vanity, whicli yet, if men did well 
 weigh and consider, they would appear to be but 
 little bubbles, that would quickly break and vanish. 
 
 Thou hast fine gay clothes, and this makes chil- 
 dren, and young men, and women proud, even to 
 admiration ; but thou art not half so fine and gay 
 as the peacock, ostrich, or parrot; nor is thy finery 
 so much thine own as theirs is, but it is borrowed 
 from the silk-worm, the golden mines, the industry 
 of the embroiderer, weaver, tailor, and it is no part 
 of thyself. And hast thou the patience to suffer 
 thyself to be betrayed into this childish, pitiful, fool- 
 ish pride ? 
 
 Thou hast, it may be, wealth, store of money, but 
 how much of it is of use to thee ? That which thou 
 spendest, is gone; that which thou kecpest, is as 
 insignificant as so much dirt or clay; only thy care 
 about it makes thy life the more uneasy; besides, 
 the more thou hast, the more thou art the mark of 
 other men's rapine, envy, and spoil. It is a thou- 
 sand to one, thou carriest not thy wealth to thy grave ; 
 or if thou doest, thou canst not carry it farther, but 
 leave it, it may be, to a fool or a prodigal. And 
 why art thou proud of that which is of no great use 
 to thee while thou hast it; and commonly the faster 
 thou thinkest to hold it, the sooner it is lost ^ 
 
 Thou hast honour, esteem ; thou art deceived, 
 thou hast it not, he hath it that gives it thee, and 
 which lie may detain from thee at pleasure. The 
 respect, honour, and esteem thou hast, depend upon 
 the pleasure of him that gives it. Again, how 
 brittle a thing is honour, esteem, and reputation.'' 
 A false culumny, well and confidently broached, is 
 
419 
 
 able, many times, to give it an irrecoverable shock. 
 Tiie displeasure of the prince, or a greater man than 
 thyself, makes thy sun set in a cloud ; and a popular 
 jealousy, imputation, or misrepresentation, in a mo- 
 ment dasheth the applause, gloiy, honour, and es- 
 teem, that a man hath been building up twenty or 
 thirty years. And how vain a thing is it to be 
 proud of the breath, either of a prince or people, 
 which is theirs to recall every moment ? But sup- 
 pose it were as fixed and stable a reputation and 
 honour, as a rock of marble or adamant, and that 
 it were the best kind of honour imaginable, namely, 
 the result of thy virtue and merit; yet still it is but 
 a shadow, a reflection of that virtue or worth, which, 
 if thou art proud of, thou degradest into vanity and 
 ostentation; and canst thou think it reasonable to be 
 proud of the shadow, where thou oughtest not to be 
 proud of that worth that causeth it? 
 
 Again, Thou hast power, art in great place and 
 authority ; but thou art mistaken in this, the power 
 thou hast is not inherent in thyself; one of the 
 meanest of those, whom it may be thou oppressest, 
 is inherently as powerful as thou, and could, it may 
 be, overmatch thee in strength, wit, or policy; but 
 the power thou hast, is (next under the dispensation 
 of the divine providence) from those men, that, either 
 by their promises, faith, or voluntary assistance, 
 have invested thee with this power. This power is 
 nothing inherent in thee; but it depends upon the 
 fidelity or assistance of others, which, if they either 
 by perfidiousness to thee, or resistance against thee, 
 shall call again to themselves, thou att like Samson 
 having lost his locks, " Thy strength will go from 
 
420 
 
 thee, and thou wilt become weak, and be like an- 
 other man." And how have the histories of all 
 ages, and our own experience, shown us, by very 
 frequent examples, men, unexpectedly, and upon 
 many occurrences, seemingly small and inconsidera- 
 ble, tumbled in a moment from the most eminent 
 and high degree of power, into a most despicable 
 condition ? Power hath very often, like Jonah's 
 gourd, been extremely fair and flourishing, when, 
 at the same time, there lay a worm at the root of 
 it unseen, which, in a moment, hath gnawed asunder 
 the roots and fibres, and it hath withered; and gen- 
 erally the more extensive and immense human power 
 grows, the sooner it falls to pieces, not only by the 
 divine providence checking and dejecting it, but by 
 a kind of natural result from its own exorbitance and 
 excess; for the greater it is, the more difficult it is 
 to manage, it grows top heavy, and the basis grows 
 too narrow and weak for its own burden. Besides, 
 it is the common mark of envy and discontent, which 
 watcheth sedulously all occasions to unhorse it, and 
 oftentimes prevails. When power proves too griev- 
 ous and over-burdensome, it loseth the end for 
 which it is conferred, and makes people desperate 
 and impatient, Entia nohiiit male giibernari. If it 
 be managed with prudence and moderation, it is the 
 greatest benefit to human society; but it is the bur- 
 den of him that hath it ; if it be managed tyranni- 
 cally and exorbitantly, it fills the master full of fears, 
 the people full of rage, and seldom proves long-lived. 
 And what reason hast thou to be proud of what is 
 most certainly thy burden, or thy danger, or both? 
 Again, Thou hast strength, or beauty, or agility, 
 
4^1 
 
 of body. Indeed, these thou hast more reason to 
 call thy own, than any of the former; but yet thou 
 liast no cause to pride thyself in them ; thou canst 
 not hold them long at best, for age will decay that 
 strength, and wither that beauty, and death will 
 certainly put a period to them ; but yet, probably, 
 this strength or beauty is not so long-lived as thy- 
 self, no, nor as thy youth ; a disease, it may be, is 
 this very moment growing upon thee, that will 
 suddenly pull down thy strength, destroy thy beauty, 
 and turn them both into rottenness and loathsome- 
 ness; nay, let any observe it that will, that strength, 
 and that beauty that raiseth pride in the heart, is of 
 all others shortest lived, even upon the account of 
 that very pride; for the ostentation and vain-glory 
 of strength puts it forth into desperate and dangerous 
 undertaking?, to the ruin of the owner; and the 
 pride of beauty makes the owner thereof fond of 
 the praise of it, and to expose it to the view of 
 others, whereby it becomes a temptation to lust and 
 intemperance, both to the owner of it and others, 
 and in a little while becomes at once its own ruin 
 and shame. 
 
 But it may be thou hast wit and judgment, a 
 quick and ready understanding, and hast improved 
 them by great study and observation, in great and 
 profound learning. This, I confess, is much more 
 thy own than any of the former endowments; but 
 most certainly, if thou art proud of any of these, 
 thou art not yet arrived to the highest improvement 
 of understanding, namely, wisdom ; folly and mad- 
 ness may be consistent with a witty, nay, a learned 
 man, but not with a truly wise man. And this 
 
42^ 
 
 thy pride of these endowments or acquisitions, still 
 proclaimeth thee a fool, for all thy wit and learning. 
 For, consider with thyself, 1. That thy wit and 
 learning are hut pitiful narrow things, in respect of 
 the amplitude of the things that are to be known. 
 Maxima pars eorum qiice schnus, est minima pars 
 eorum quce nescimiis. Take the most learned prying 
 philosopher that ever was in the world; he never yet 
 was fully acquainted with the nature of these things 
 that are obvious to ordinary observation, and near to 
 him ; never was the man yet in the world, that could 
 give an accurate account of the nature of a fly, or a 
 worm, in its full comprehension, no, not of a blade of 
 grass; much less of himself and his nobler faculties; 
 much less yet of those glorious bodies that every 
 day and night present themselves to our view. 
 What a deal of uncertainty and contradiction do we 
 find in the determination of the choicest wits, and 
 men of greatest learning, even in things that are 
 obvious, in their outside, to all their senses? So 
 that the greatest knowledge that men attain to in 
 the things of nature, is little else but a specious piece 
 of ignorance, dressed up with fine words, formal 
 methods, precarious suppositions, and competent 
 confidence. Consider, 2. How brittle and unstable 
 a thing thy wit, thy parts, thy learning are. Though 
 old age may retain some broken monuments of thy 
 wit and learning thou once hadst, yet the floridness 
 and vigour of it must then decay, and gradually 
 wither, till very old age make thee a child again, if 
 thou live to it ; but besides that, a fever, or a palsy, 
 or an apoplexy, may greatly impair, if not wholly 
 deface and obliterate thy learning, deprive thee of 
 
423 
 
 thy memory, of thy wit and understanding; never 
 be proud of such a privilege or endowment, which 
 is under the mercy of a disease, nay, of a distemper 
 in thy blood, a hypochondriacal vapour, a casual 
 fume of a mineral, or a fall, whether thou shalt hold 
 it or lose it. 3. But yet farther, mark it when thou 
 wilt, (and it may be thou wilt sooner perceive it in 
 another than in thyself) wit and learning in any 
 man, never in any case receives more foils, more dis- 
 advantage, more blemishes, than by pride; he that is 
 proud of his own knowledge, is commonly at his non 
 ultia, and rarely acquires more, scorns instruction, 
 and stops the farther advance of his faculties, know- 
 ledge, or learning, and undervalues, and therefore 
 neglects, what he might learn from others. Again, 
 pride casts unseemliness, indecency, and, many times, 
 even a ridiculousness upon the greatest parts and 
 learning; it is like the dead fly in the apothecary's 
 confection, that makes the whole unsavoury. How 
 common is this unhappy censure, that attends the 
 commendation of such a man's wit and learning : 
 " Indeed he is a pretty man, a good scholar, of fine 
 parts, and good understanding ; but he knows it 
 too well, his pride, self-conceitedness, ostentation, 
 vain-glory, spoils it all, and render^ the man under 
 the just repute of a fool, and ridiculous, notwith- 
 standing all his learning." But farther, pride, by a 
 kind of physical and natural consequence, very of- 
 tentimes robs men even of that wit and learning 
 wherein they pride themselves, by carrying up into 
 the brain those exalted, hot, choleric humours and 
 fumes, that break the stable and right temper and 
 texture of the brain. More learned men grow mad 
 
424 
 
 and brain-sick with the pride of that learning they 
 think they have attained, than in the pursuit and 
 acquisition of it. Therefore, beware of pride of 
 thy wit, learning, or knowledge, if thou intendest to 
 keep it, or to keep the just esteem or reputation of 
 it. On the other hand, humility and lowliness of 
 mind is the best temper to improve thy faculties, to 
 add a grace to thy learning, and to keep thee master 
 of it; it cools and qualifies thy spirits, blood, and 
 humours, and renders thee fit to retain vvhat thou 
 hast attained, and to acquire more. 
 
 4. In all thy reflections upon thyself, and what 
 thou hast, never compare thyself with those that are 
 below thee in what is worthy or eminent, but with 
 those that are above thyself. For instance, in point 
 of learning, or knowledge, thy partiality and indul- 
 gence to thyself, will be apt to put thee upon com- 
 paring thyself with those that are ignorant, or not 
 more learned than thyself, as we see ordinarily idiots, 
 or fools, or men of weak intellects, delight to con- 
 verse with those they find or think more foolish 
 than themselves, and not with those that are wiser, 
 that they may please themselves with a thought that 
 they are the wisest in the company: but compare 
 thyself with those that are more learned or wise than 
 thyself, and then thou wilt see matter to keep thee 
 humble. If thou thinkest thou art a pretty pro- 
 ficient in philosophy, compare thyself with Aristotle, 
 with Plato, Themistius, or any great luminaries in 
 philosophy: if thou thinkest thou art a pretty profi- 
 cient in school learning, compare thyself with Acqui- 
 nas, Scotus, Suarez: if thou thinkest thou excellest 
 in the mathematics, compare thyself with Euclid, 
 
4^5 
 
 Archimedes, &c. and then thou wilt find thyself to 
 be hke a little candle to a star. The most of the 
 learning that this present age glories of, is but an 
 extract or collection of what we find in those men 
 of greater parts ; only we think we have done great 
 matters if we digest it into some other method, and 
 put in here and there a small pittance of our own, 
 or quarrel at something that the ancients delivered 
 in some odd particulars. And yet, even in this 
 attempt, self-love plays such a part, that unless 
 there be a great excess, and admirable advantage of 
 others that are above us in any learning, or know- 
 ledge, we are ready to exalt ourselves above our 
 standard, and seem in our own eyes to be at least 
 equal to those that exceed us ; or by envy and 
 detraction to bring down others below ourselves, 
 especially if we hit upon some little fancy that we 
 think they saw not. 
 
 5. And lastly, consider the great example of 
 our Lord and Maker, Jesus Christ, who was the 
 only Son of the glorious God, full of wisdom, know- 
 ledge, power, holiness, goodness, and truth, and 
 notwithstanding all this, " humbled himself, and 
 became of no reputation, and took upon him the 
 form of a servant," emptied himself, and " humbled 
 himself, and became obedient to death, even the 
 death of the cross." Christ Jesus brought with 
 him from heaven, the doctrine of holiness and righte- 
 ousness, and in all his sermons there is not any one 
 virtue that he commendeth and commandeth more 
 than humility and lowliness of mind, nor any one 
 vice that he sets himself more against than pride 
 and haughtiness of mind. In his Beatitudes, 
 
426 
 
 Matt. V. 3, 5. poverty of spirit hatli the first pro- 
 mise, and meekness or humility the third. He 
 checks and disparageth the pride of the Pharisees; 
 commands his disciples to run quite counter to their 
 method : " He that will be great among you shall be 
 your servant." Again, when the bubble of ambition 
 rose amongst the disciples, who should be greatest, 
 he checks their pride and ambition with the pattern 
 and commendation of a little child: and as he thus 
 taught, he lived. One of the great ends of the 
 mission of Christ into the world was, that he should 
 not only be a preacher of virtue, goodness and piety, 
 but also an example of it : and if we look through 
 the whole life of Christ, there is not one virtue that 
 he did more signally exercise, or by his example more 
 expressly commend to the imitation of Christians, 
 than humility. I do not remember that he saith in 
 any place, learn of me to do miracles, for I am 
 mighty in power; no, nor yet learn of me, for I am 
 holy, for I am obedient to the law of God, for I am 
 liberal, though in all these he exhibited an excellent 
 example of holiness, obedience, and charity, and 
 must be the pattern of our imitation : but, as if 
 humility and lowliness of mind were the great master- 
 piece of his example, he calls out, even when he was 
 in one of the highest extacies of spirit that we find, 
 until his passion : " Learn of me, for I am meek 
 and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your 
 souls:" and in that signal advice given by the Apostle: 
 " Let the same mind be in you, which was also in 
 Christ Jesus; who, being in the form of God, thought 
 it not robbery to be equal with God ; but made him- 
 self of no reputation, and took upon him the form of 
 
427 
 
 a servant, and was made in the likeness of man ; and 
 being found in the fashion of a man. he humbled 
 himself, and became obedient to death, even the 
 death of the cross." 
 
 But, blessed Saviour ! was there nothing else for 
 us to learn of thee, but thy meekness and humility? 
 Was there not something else wherein we were to 
 bear in mind thy image, and write after thy excellent 
 copy? Was there not thy holiness, purity, obedience, 
 patience, trust in God, and all that constellation of 
 virtues that appeared in thy doctrine and life ? 
 
 Surely yes, he was exhibited both as a prophet to 
 teach, and an example to be imitated in all these 
 also; but in this humility, if we may say so with 
 reverence, before all. 
 
 1. Because the example of his humility was the 
 most signal and wonderful of all the rest of his ad- 
 mirable virtues; that the eternal Son of the eternal 
 God should condescend so low, as to become a man, 
 born of a woman, and live upon earth such a despised 
 life, and die such an accursed death, is an instance 
 of humility, not only beyond all example, but an 
 instance that is impossible in nature to be paralleled. 
 
 2. Because pride and vainglory is so unhappily 
 riveted in the corrupt nature of man, and it is so 
 hard a thing to bring him to be humble and lowly, 
 notwithstandincr all the benefits and advantages af 
 it, that it did not only stand in need of the most 
 explicit doctrine of Christ to teach and commend it, 
 the most unparalleled example of Christ to win men 
 over to it, but also the most plain and direct, and 
 explicit application of that example, by that remark- 
 able and special invitation of our Lord to it, " Learn 
 
428 
 
 of me, for I am meek and lowly." And again, by 
 his Apostle, " Let the same mind be in you which 
 was in Christ Jesus," &c. 
 
 3. Because without humility to prepare and 
 mellow the hearts of men, it could not be morally 
 possible for them to receive the faith of Christ. It 
 was pride only that made the doctrine of Christ to 
 be to " the Jews a stumbling-block, to the Greeks 
 foolishness, but to them that are called, (namely, 
 that obey that call of Christ, ' Come unto me all 
 ye that labour and are heavy laden, &c. — learn of 
 me, for I am meek and lowly in heart,') it is Christ, 
 the power of God, and the wisdom of God." 
 
 4. Because without humility all the rest of those 
 excellent virtues, that were taught in the doctrine, 
 and exhibited in the example of Christ, had been 
 but unacceptable. A visible holiness, yet accom- 
 panied with pride and ostentation, is but a disguise 
 of holiness, and that accursed hypocrisy, that our 
 Saviour condemned in the Pharisees and others. 
 Obedience to the law of God, good works, fasting, 
 prayer, if done with pride, ostentation, and vain- 
 glory, are dead and unacceptable, Matt, xxiii. 5. 
 Charity, alms, and beneficence, if done with pride 
 and ostentation, and to receive glory of men, loseth 
 its worth and reward. Matt. vi. 12. So that hu- 
 mility and lowliness of mind, is the substratum and 
 ground-work, the necessary ingredient in all accept- 
 able duties towards God or men. 
 
OF THE 
 
 CHIEF END OF MAN. 
 
 THESIS I. 
 
 The chief end of man is to glorify God, and ever- 
 lastingli/ to enjoy him. 
 
 When we come to any reasonable measure of un- 
 derstanding, the first question we propound con- 
 cerning the actions of ourselves or others, is to 
 inquire the end, why this or that is done: and the 
 propounding of an end to what we do, is one thing 
 that gives reasonable creatures a privilege above the 
 beasts : and the wiser we grow, the more we inquire 
 after, and propound to ourselves more excellent ends, 
 and of the greater concern. 
 
 The end which most concerns us to inquire after, 
 as the end of our being, is, why, or for what end we 
 were made ? for, as that is the thing of greatest 
 moment to us, so the ignorance or mistake therein 
 is of the greatest danger. 
 
 Now, touching this end of man, we must know, 
 
 1. That in all wise workers, that act by delibera- 
 tion and choice, the appointment of the end of any 
 work belongs to him that makes it. 
 
 2. In as much, therefore, as mankind is in its 
 
430 
 
 original the workmanship of God, therefore it be- 
 longs to him to appoint the end of his own work- 
 manship ; and of him it must be inquired what that 
 end is. 
 
 3. That in as much as God is the wisest worker, 
 and in as much as mankind is a piece of excellent 
 workmanship ; as it becomes the wisdom of God to 
 appoint man to an end of his own designing, so also, 
 to appoint him to an end answerable to the ex- 
 cellency of the work, an end as much above other 
 creatures as man exceeds them in worth and ex- 
 cellency. 
 
 So that, certainly man is ordained by God to an 
 excellent end, beyond the condition of other inferior 
 creatures ; for we see them all appointed for the 
 use and service of man, to feed, and clothe, and 
 heal, and delight him. 
 
 What, therefore, is common to the beasts as well 
 as man, cannot be the end of man. The beasts eat, 
 and drink, and live, and propagate their kind with 
 as much delight, and much more contentment than 
 man : they are free from cares and fears, which man 
 is not, and though they die, so doth man also; 
 therefore, to live, and eat, and drink, and perpetuate 
 their kind, is too low an end for man : and if so, 
 then much more is it below him to make wealth, 
 and honour, and power, his end ; for they are but 
 in order to his temporal life here, either to provide 
 for or to secure it : and besides, they cannot answer 
 the desires and continuance of an immortal soul, 
 which man bears with him : and hence grows the 
 weariness, and vexation, and unquietness, and rest- 
 lessness of man, in the midst of all wealth, and 
 
431 
 
 honours, and pleasures : therefore, there is some 
 other end to which man was appointed. Which is, 
 I. In reference to God, to glorify hira. 
 
 1. What it is for man to glorify God. 
 
 There is a glorifying of God, common to all the 
 works of God, in as much as they all hear in them 
 the visible footsteps of the power, vvisdom, and 
 goodness of God. Thus the sun and heavens glo- 
 rify God, Psal. xix. 2. There is a glorifying of 
 God, properly belonging to intellectual creatures^ 
 such as angels and men. 
 
 First, In his understanding; whereby he learns 
 to know God in his word, and in his works, his 
 power, goodness, wisdom, and truth ; and with his 
 heart admires, and with his tongue praises him. 
 
 Second, In his will ; whereby he submits to him, 
 worships, fears him, and in the course of his life 
 obeys him ; whereby he acknowledges his sove- 
 reignty, and submits to it : " He that offereth praise 
 glorifieth him; and to him that ordereth his con- 
 versation aright will I show the salvation of God." 
 Both these are imperfectly done here, but shall be 
 perfectly done in the life to come. 
 
 2. Why the glorifying of God is made the chief 
 end of man. 
 
 First, It is the chief end that God proposed in 
 all his works of creation : " He made all things for 
 himself;" that is, his own glory. In his works of 
 preservation and providence : " Call upon me in the 
 day of trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou shalt 
 glorify me." In his works of redemption : " To 
 the praise of the glory of his grace, vvhereby he 
 hath made us accepted in the Beloved." In his work 
 
432 
 
 of sanctification : " That men, seeing your good works, 
 may glorify your Father who is in heaven." 
 
 Second, It is but just it should be the chief end 
 of man to glorify God ; because it is a most reason- 
 able tribute to pay hira for all his mercies and good- 
 ness : from him we receive our being, and all the 
 blessings of it ; and it is but just of God to require, 
 and for man to perform, the due acknowledgment of 
 the goodness of that God from whom he receives 
 them, which is his glorifying of God. 
 
 II. To enjoy God for ever. 
 
 1. To enjoy God, is either, 1. In this life; which 
 is to have peace with God, assurance of reconcilia- 
 tion with him ; for then we have peace with our- 
 selves, contentment and quietness of soul, access to 
 him as to our Father for all we want, and hope and 
 assurance of everlasting life, which will make the 
 comforts of our life safe, and the afflictions thereof 
 easy, and the end and dissolution thereof comfort- 
 able. 2. In the life to come, the fulness of fruition 
 of the knowledge, goodness, glory, and presence of 
 God, according to the utmost measure and capacities 
 of our faculties, which in the resurrection shall be 
 great and capacious ; and this is called the beatific 
 vision. 
 
 2. Why this is part of the chief end of man : 
 because this is the happiness and blessedness of man 
 to enjoy God; and nothing besides can make him 
 happy; which appears, 1. In all other enjoyments; 
 without the enjoyment of God, there is a great deal 
 of vanity and emptiness, whether in pleasures, or 
 profits, or worldly advantages. Men expect great 
 matters from them, but after a little enjoyment of 
 
433 
 
 them, they are weary, and find themselves disap- 
 pointed, and that there is not that comfort in them 
 they expected ; and then they travel to some otlier 
 worldly enjoyment, and there they find the same. 
 This, therefore, cannot afford man his happiness. 
 
 2. In all other enjoyments, without God, there 
 is a great deal of vexation and trouble ; the cares, 
 and fears, and sorrows, and disappointments, that we 
 meet with in the enjoyment of them, outweigh all 
 the contentment and benefit that we receive in them; 
 and, therefore, this cannot be our happiness. 
 
 3. All other enjoyments, without God, have their 
 full end and term : sometimes we over-live them ; 
 the pleasures and contentment of youth leave us 
 when we are old; and sometimes we see our riches, 
 our health, our earthly comforts, taken from us ; 
 but if not, yet when we die we leave them, and yet 
 our souls continue after death, and our bodies and 
 souls continue after our resurrection for ever. The 
 enjoyment, therefore, of this life cannot be our hap- 
 piness, which continues as long as we continue, 
 which is the enjoyment of the favour, love, and pre- 
 sence of God for ever. 
 
 Now put both together. The glorifying of God, 
 and the enjoyment of him for ever, is the happiness 
 and blessedness of man, the chief end for which he 
 was made. Such is the goodness and bounty of 
 God, that he doth not only enjoin man his duty to 
 glorify him, but also joins with it man's happiness to 
 enjoy him for ever: he that observes the former, 
 shall be sure not to miss the latter : in the same 
 path and track which leads us to glorify God, which 
 is our duty, we are sure to meet with our enjoyment 
 T 40 
 
434 
 
 of him, which is our everlasting happiness and 
 blessedness : and the business of true religion, re- 
 vealed in the Scriptures, is to lead us to that duty, 
 and to that happiness which is the chief end of man: 
 he that wants this, will be miserable in the midst of 
 all worldly enjoyments ; and he that attains this, his 
 comforts here shall be blessed, his crosses sanctified, 
 and his death a gate to let him into a most blessed, 
 and glorious, and everlasting life. 
 
 THESIS II. 
 
 Tlic Scriptures of both Testaments arc the only per- 
 fect rule for man''s attaining his chief end. 
 
 This is the end why man was made, and which 
 he ought principally to attend and look after : but 
 because, for the attaining of the end, it is necessary 
 that the due means of attaining thereof be known 
 and used; and because, as Almighty God, the 
 Maker of man, is he that alone must design the end 
 of his own work ; so likewise, it belongs to him alone, 
 to choose, and appoint, and order the means belong- 
 ing to the end ; therefore, as he is not wanting to 
 us in appointing a fit and blessed end to mankind, 
 so neither is he wanting in discovering unto man- 
 kind the means of attaining to that end. 
 
 This means is called a rule, a fixed and settled 
 direction, teaching and showing us what is to be 
 known, and what to be done and avoided in order 
 to that end. Beasts follow instincts of nature in 
 their actions: but man, that is endued with higher 
 faculties, and ordered to a better end, is to be 
 directed to that end by a rule given by that God 
 
435 
 
 who hath appointed this end. This rule, therefore, 
 that must guide man to his great end of his creation, 
 requires, 
 
 1. That it be a rule given by God himself: for 
 as he appoints the end of mankind, so he alone must 
 appoint the means of attaining it; and therefore, the 
 discovery thereof must come from him. 
 
 2. That it be a certain rule, in respect of the 
 great consequence that depends upon it, man's ever- 
 lasting happiness. 
 
 3. That it be a fixed and settled rule, for man- 
 kind is apt to wander, full of vain imaginations; 
 which, were not the rule fixed and stable, would 
 corrupt and disorder it. 
 
 4. A plain and easy rule; because it concerns all 
 men, as well the unlearned and weak, as the wise 
 and learned; their concern is equal; and therefore 
 the rule, that tends to that common concern, should 
 be plain and familiar. 
 
 Since it is necessary, therefore, that there should 
 be such a rule; we are to consider whether God 
 hath offered such a rule, and what it is ; which is 
 set down in these three particulars : 
 
 1. That God hath given his own word to be this 
 rule. 
 
 2. That the Scriptures of the Old and New Tes- 
 tament are the word of God. 
 
 3. That those Scriptures are the rule, and the 
 only rule, whereby man may attain his chief end. 
 
 1. That God hath given up his own word to be 
 this rule. And this, as before appears, was neces- 
 sary, that the direction to our chief end should come 
 from God. 
 
 T 2 
 
436 
 
 2. The Scriptures of the Old and New Testament 
 are the word of God. 
 
 Here, too, is to be observed, (1.) What those 
 Scriptures are. — They are the canonical books of 
 the Old and New Testament, excluding the books 
 commonly called Apocrypha. These were written 
 in several ages by holy men inspired by the Spirit 
 of God. Some parts thereof, as the five books of 
 Moses, above three thousand five hundred years 
 since; and that of the New Testament, above one 
 thousand six hundred years since. And Almighty 
 God, who has had a most special care of the ever- 
 lasting good of mankind, hath, by a wonderful pro- 
 vidence, hitlierto preserved them uncorrupted, and 
 hath dispersed them over all nations in their several 
 languages: that, as the common salvation concerned 
 all men, so the means of attaining it might be like- 
 wise common to all men. 
 
 (2.) Why the divine providence has ordered it to 
 be put into writing. — It is true, in the first ages of 
 the world, till the time of Moses, the will of God 
 was not put into writing, but was delivered over by 
 word of mouth from father to son. And this was the 
 direction that men had to know and to obey God. 
 1. Because, in those ancient ages of the world men 
 lived long: for Adam, the first man, lived above 
 twenty years after Methuselah, the eighth from 
 Adam, was born ; and Methuselah lived almost a 
 hundred after Shem was born ; and Shem lived above 
 fifty years after Isaac was born. So that, in these 
 three men, Adam, Methuselah, and Shem, all the 
 truths of God, for above two thousand years, were 
 preserved and delivered over. 2. Because the select 
 
437 
 
 churches of God were preserved in families, and were 
 not national ; and so the knowledge of the true God 
 kept in a famihar compass. 
 
 But when, after the ages of men were shorter, 
 and when the Church of God grew to be national, as 
 it was after the Jews came out of Egypt, then God 
 himself wrote his law in tables of stone, and Moses 
 wrote his Five Books; and then, from that time for- 
 ward, the sacred histories and prophecies under the 
 Old Testament, and the Gospel, and other parts of 
 the New Testament, were committed to writing for 
 these reasons principally : — 
 
 (1.) That they might be the better preserved from 
 being lost or forgotten. 
 
 (2.) That they might be the better preserved from 
 being corrupted : for that which is delivered only by 
 word of mouth is many times varied and changed in 
 the second or third hand. 
 
 (3.) That it might be the better dispersed and 
 communicated to all mankind. And this was done 
 in the Old Testament by the translation of it into 
 Greek, about two hundred years before Christ, and 
 dispersed into a great part of the world. And after 
 Christ's time, both the Old and New Testament, 
 translated into several languages, and since dispersed 
 over the world ; which could not have been so well 
 done, had it not been at first in writing. 
 
 Thus the wisdom and providence of God provides 
 for the exigence of all times most vvisely and excel- 
 lently. And having preserved part of this precious 
 jewel, the Old Testament, for the most part within 
 the commonwealth of the Jews, till it was broken, 
 about the time of Christ, by the Romans, hath now 
 delivered both to all mankind. 
 
438 
 
 3. It is to be inquired, what evidence we have ta 
 prove those writings to be the word of God.* And, 
 omitting many others, we insist on these princi- 
 pally : — 
 
 (1.) In the writings of men, especially when writ- 
 ten by several men at several times, their writings 
 do seldom or never agree, but differ and cross one 
 another. And the reason is, because they are writ- 
 ten by several men, who are all guided by several 
 minds and judgments. But the Scriptures, though 
 written by several men in several ages, many unac- 
 quainted with one another's writings, yet they all 
 consent and speak the same truth, which is an evi- 
 dence that it was one and the same Spirit that did 
 dictate them. 
 
 (2.) It is not possible for any man, without reve- 
 lation from God, to foretell things to come. Now, 
 these holy writings foretold things that must cer- 
 tainly come to pass in their several seasons, though 
 many generations after the prophecy was written : 
 therefore, they were written by inspiration from God. 
 As, for instance, the Babylonian captivity, and the 
 deliverance from it, by Jeremiah ; the Persian and 
 Grecian monarchy, by Daniel; the birth and death 
 of Christ, and final destruction of Jerusalem, and 
 dispersion of the Jews; the conversion of the Gen- 
 tiles, by Isaiah, and the rest of the prophets. 
 
 (3.) The matter contained in these holy writings, 
 is that of the greatest importance; the will of God 
 concerning man; the discovery of the creation of the 
 world by God; of assurance of the life to come; of 
 
 * Which the Authof hath elsewhere more largely considered. 
 
439 
 
 the means of peace between God antl man. These 
 are tilings of the highest concern in the world, yet 
 things which could never be discovered but by God 
 himself; and such as never any writings of raeu 
 only ever could discover, or durst pretend to. The 
 height, and rarity, and excellence, and weight of the 
 matter of these books, do evidence that they were 
 the revelations of God to man, and by his providence 
 committed to writing, and delivered over to mankind 
 as the rule to attain their chief end. 
 
 (4.) As the rule to attain our chief end must 
 come from God, and as the Scriptures of the Old 
 and New Testament are the word of God, so we 
 say, that these"' Scriptures are the rule, and the 
 only rule, to attain our chief end. Good books, 
 good education, good sermons, the determinations 
 of the Church, are good helps; but there is no other 
 rule but this. It is by this rule we must try all other 
 books and sermons, yea, the very Church itself. 
 Thus the Bereans tried the doctrine of the Apostles 
 themselves by the Scriptures which they then had, 
 and are commended for it. And Peter prefers the 
 evidence of the Scriptures before a voice from hea- 
 ven. And Christ himself appeals to the Scriptures 
 to justify himself and his doctrine. And if the Scrip- 
 ture be the only rule, 
 
 1. Then not a natural conscience, especially as 
 the case now stands with mankind : for that is many 
 times corrupted and false principled; puts good for 
 evil, and evil for good. It is, and may be, a great 
 help, guide, and direction ; not a perfect rule. 
 
 2. Then not the writings and traditions of men : 
 God that appoints the ends and means, must be the 
 discoverer of the means of our salvation. 
 
440, 
 
 3. Then not pretended revelations : those may be 
 men's imaginations, or the devil's delusions; to pre- 
 vent and discover which, God hath set up this great 
 and standing revelation of his Scriptures. 
 
 4. Then not the Church: for that may err; and 
 it hath no way to evidence itself but by the Scrip- 
 tures, which are its foundation. 
 
 The business of man's salvation is of that impor- 
 tance, and the wisdom of God so great, that he will 
 not commit so weighty a matter to such uncertain 
 rules as these, but hath provided one of his own 
 making, the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 THESIS III. 
 
 The ^principal subject of the Scriptures is^ ivhat man 
 is to believe concernijig God, and what duty God 
 requires of man. 
 
 It is the principal subject of the Scriptures, 1. Be- 
 cause it is of the greatest importance and concern: 
 *' Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter; 
 Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the 
 whole duty of man." — " Fear God," which cannot 
 be without the knowledge of him : " and keep his 
 commandments," which contains his duty of obe- 
 dience to him. 2. Because all the other matters of 
 the Scriptures have a kind of dependence upon, and 
 connexion with, this principal matter or subject. 
 
 But though this be the principal matter or sub- 
 ject of the Scriptures, yet they also contain very 
 many other matters, that do very much concern us 
 to know and believe; as, namely, what we are to un- 
 derstand concerning ourselves ; the state of our crea- 
 
441 
 
 tion ; the fall of man ; the state wherein that fall 
 hath put all mankind ; the means of our recovery ; 
 the immortahty of the soul; the resurrection; the 
 different estate of the good and bad after death ; the 
 history of the Church and household of God, from 
 the creation of man, till some thirty years after the 
 resurrection of Christ ; and various other necessary 
 matters to be known for our direction, instruction, 
 and comfort. 
 
 And as the Scriptures do principally teach the 
 knowledge of God, and our duty, as the principal 
 subject ; so they principally teach it above other 
 teachings or means. It is true, that the very light of 
 nature doth teach us much of what is to be known 
 concerning God, and our duty to him : as, namely, 
 that there is a God, and that there is but one God ; 
 that this God is the first cause, and also the preserver 
 of all things ; that he is eternal, without beginning 
 or end ; infinite, spiritual, without mixture, most 
 perfect; and, therefore, most free, most powerful, 
 most holy, most wise, most just, most bountiful and 
 merciful. And upon all these grounds, the light of 
 nature teacheth that he is to be honoured, feared, 
 worshipped, obeyed. This the Apostle shows us: 
 *' For the invisible things of him from the creation 
 of the world are clearly seen, being understood by 
 the things that are made, even his eternal power and 
 Godhead, so that they are without excuse." And 
 this light of nature gives this manifestation of God, 
 1. By the works of creation and providence. 2. By 
 the working of the conscience. 3. By a traditional 
 delivery of some truths from man to man, which, by 
 the study and pains of some wise men and lawgivers, 
 t3 
 
44^2 
 
 raised up by the providence of God, have been per- 
 fected and delivered over to others. 
 
 But the pre-eminence of the Scriptures, in their 
 instruction of mankind in the knowledge of God, 
 and their duty to God, appears partly in these con- 
 siderations : — 
 
 1. The knowledge the Scriptures give in these 
 things is more easy to be attained, because it sets 
 down these truths so plainly, that the most ordinary 
 capacity may understand them. Whereas the know- 
 ledge of these things, by the light of nature, is more 
 difficult; requires much observation, and industry, and 
 attention; deducing one thing from another; and so 
 arriving at their knowledge by much pains and study. 
 2. The knowledge of these things, delivered by 
 the Scripture, is much more full and perfect than that 
 knowledge which can be attained by the light of 
 nature, as appears in these two respects : 1. Those 
 things concerning God, that the light of nature doth 
 in some measure discover, are more fully, completely, 
 and clearly discovered by the light of the Scriptures. 
 2. The Scriptures discover those things concerning 
 God, and his works, and ourselves, that were never 
 discovered, nor indeed discoverable, by the light of 
 jiature; which, as they are of the greatest importance 
 to be known, so, being discovered by the Scriptures, 
 they do wonderfully clear and satisfy the defects of 
 the light of nature. As, for instance, in both kinds, 
 the light of nature discovers that there is a God, but 
 the manner of his subsistence in three persons, yet 
 in unity of essence, is only learned by the Scriptures. 
 The light of nature discovers that he is the first 
 cause and preserver of all things ; but the manner 
 
443 
 
 how all things were produced, and when, is only 
 learned hy the Scriptures. The light of nature tells 
 us, that this God is to be worshipped and obeyed ; 
 but in what manner he is to be worshipped, and the 
 particulars of his commands wherein he is to be 
 obeyed, it discovers not, or, at least, very darkly: 
 the Scriptures only show us clearly the manner of 
 his worship, and the certain rule of our obedience. 
 The light of nature shows us, that there is a great 
 defection and disorder in our natures; but whence it 
 arose, or how it is to be helped, the Scripture only 
 teacheth. The light of nature shows us, that all sin 
 is an oflPence against the purity, justice, and will of 
 God, and therefore deserves his anger and displea- 
 sure; but how the guilt of sin may be done away, 
 and the favour of God again procured, is not within 
 the reach of the light of nature to discover, but is 
 only learned from the Scriptures. The light of 
 nature teacheth, that surely there is a reward for the 
 righteous, and a punishment for the obstinate sinner; 
 but how it shall be inflicted, and when, and how, man- 
 kind shall be put into a capacity of receiving rewards 
 and punishments by the resurrection from the dead, 
 the light of nature discovers not, or at least but 
 darkly, diffidently? and confusedly: the light of thet 
 Scriptures only discovers all plainly, clearly, and evi- 
 dently. These, and various other truths, are dis- 
 covered in the Scriptures, which the light of nature 
 either not at all, or, if at all, yet but darkly point- 
 eth at. 
 
 The light of nature is very uncertain, and easily 
 corrupted, either by lusts, or weakness, or variety of 
 imaginations. And from hence grew all the false 
 
444 
 
 gods, false worships, idolatries, and superstitions 
 among the heathen, that were only led by the light 
 of nature, changing the truth of God into a lie, and 
 changing the glory of the incorruptible God into an 
 image made like to corruptible man : Rom. i. 23, 25. 
 But the light of the Scriptures is an unchangeable, 
 stable, fixed light, notadulterated, nor tobe corrupted. 
 
 Now, the things that the Scriptures thus prin- 
 cipally teach, are two, in order to the two great 
 powers, or faculties of man. 1. In order to his under- 
 standing what is to be believed, and to be believed 
 principally touching God. 2. In order to his will, 
 or practical faculty, what God requires to be done. 
 
 As, touching the former, what is to be believed. 
 Believing, and knowledge, and opinion, differ in this: 
 
 1. Knowledge is that whereby we may certainly 
 know any thing to be, or not to be, by our senses, or 
 reason, or experience. 
 
 2. Opinion is a doubtful, uncertain persuasion of 
 mind, that any thing is, or is not; yet not without 
 a mixture of doubting or distrust. 
 
 3. Belief is a certain persuasion of the truth of 
 any thing upon the credit and authority of another. 
 Now if we be assured, that whatsoever God saith is 
 most certainly true, (as needs it must be, because 
 truth is an essential attribute of God,) and if we be 
 persuaded surely, that these Scriptures are the word 
 of God, then of necessity we must believe whatso- 
 ever Almighty God in the Scripture reveals : and 
 this is belief. So that the very same truth, that 
 may be known by reason or observation, may like- 
 wise be believed, as revealed in the word of God : 
 though many things are to be believed, because re- 
 
445 
 
 vealed in the Scriptures, which cannot be fully 
 demonstrated by reason. Thus, though it be partly 
 evident to reason, that God made the world, and so 
 is the object of our knowledge, yet the same truth, 
 as revealed in the Scriptures, is to be believed, and 
 so is the object of our faith : " Through faith we un- 
 derstand that the worlds were framed by the word of 
 God ;" that thus, we do acknowledge and subscribe 
 to it as true; because God in the Scriptures, which 
 are his word, hath revealed and discovered it to us. 
 And as touching things to be done, the duty God 
 requires of us, here is the difference between the 
 performance of duties, by a man believing the Scrip- 
 tures, and another man. A believer doth a good 
 work, (for example, a work of mercy,) and a heathen, 
 or another moral man, doth the same work ; and 
 yet though the work be, for the matter, the same, 
 they very much differ in the value. The believer 
 understands by the word of God, that it is a duty 
 enjoined him of God to be merciful, as our Father 
 who is in heaven is merciful ; he believes it to be 
 the command of God, and he doth ic in obedience to 
 that command, and so it is accepted of God ; but 
 another man many times doth it, or he may do it 
 not, upon the same account, but it may be merely 
 upon the inclination of his natural temper, or for 
 vainglory ; and so it is not so much an act of obe- 
 dience to God as love to himself. And, therefore, in 
 the former, it is the obedience of faith; in the lat- 
 ter, an action of nature. 
 
ON 
 
 LIFE AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 2 Timothy i. 10. 
 
 " And hath brought life and immortalitij to light 
 through the gospel,^' 
 
 Among the many great advantages that are con- 
 veyed to mankind by the gospel of Jesus Christ, 
 there are these of principal moment : — 
 
 1. A full and clear discovery, that there is a state 
 of life and immortGlity of mankind, after the disso- 
 lution of the lives we enjoy in this inferior world. 
 
 2. A full and clear discovery of the nature and 
 kinds of this estate of life and immortality; namely, 
 that it is a state of rewards and punishments ; a 
 state of reward with everlasting life and happiness 
 to the righteous, and a state of everlasting life and 
 misery to the wicked. 
 
 3. A full discovery of an easy and effectual means 
 for avoiding that future life of misery, and of at- 
 taining that future estate of life, of happiness. 
 
 I shall not enter into a large discourse of these 
 excellent discoveries, but only briefly consider these 
 things. 
 
447 
 
 1. The great importance of the true and evident 
 discovery of these great truths. 
 
 2. The great deficiency that there was in these 
 discoveries, before the light of the gospel carae into 
 the world. 
 
 3. The great discovery made by the gospel of 
 these great and important truths. 
 
 4. The great evidences for the truths of these 
 discoveries thus made in the gospel. 
 
 1. Concerning the former of these; namely, the 
 great importance of this truth, and of the full and 
 evident discovery thereof. And this appears evi- 
 dent to every man that considers the nature of this 
 matter. 
 
 We live in this world, according to the most ordi- 
 nary account, about threescore and ten years, and then 
 we die : of what a vast momentous concernment is it 
 for us to know, that there is an everlasting estate of 
 happiness or misery, according to the nature of our 
 lives here, that doth most certainly and infallibly 
 attend us after death ? The importance of the 
 knowledge of this is more than all the rest of our 
 knowledge of all other things, in very many respects : 
 1. The bare knowledge of the thing itself is a most 
 excellent subject to be known, if there were nothing 
 else in it. But, 2. It is a knowledge of a thing 
 that doth most necessarily, nearly, and intimately 
 concern us: even much more than our very lives in 
 this world. This life passeth away as a shadow, 
 but the life of rewards and punishments is a life 
 everlasting, and unchangeable; and therefore it is 
 of more concern to us, both to know it, and to know 
 how to attain that blessed life of happiness, than to 
 
448 
 
 attain all the glory and happiness that this present 
 transitory life can afford. And, 3. The knowledge 
 of this truth is of great moment, not only for the 
 right ordering of our present life here, in order to 
 the attainment of that everlasting blessed life : but 
 even for a right, and wise, and comfortable manage- 
 ment and enjoyment of the life we have in this 
 world. For most certainly, without the prospect, 
 hope, and expectation of this future state, the life of 
 man is more unhappy and miserable than the lives 
 of the beasts that perish. The knowledge, there- 
 fore, of this great truth is of the greatest moment to 
 the children of men ; and the ignorance thereof is 
 the most unhappy and hurtful ignorance of any thing 
 in the world; because it is an ignorance of that 
 which it most concerns us to know, because that 
 knowledge is principally necessary for the avoiding 
 of the greatest evil, and the attaining of the greatest 
 good, that can possibly befal us. 
 
 2. Touching the second ; namely, the deficiency 
 that was in the world, in order to the discovery, be- 
 fore the gospel came : this principally consisted in 
 these thinofs : 1. A want of sufficient evidence that 
 there is any such state after death. 2. A want of 
 sufficient light to discover what that future state was 
 to be. 3. A want of a discovery of a sufficient 
 means how that state of everlasting happiness was to 
 be attained, and the state of everlasting misery to 
 be avoided. And this deficiency in these things 
 will appear, if we take a survey, First, Of the state 
 Gentile knowledge in relation to these things. 
 Secondly, In relation to the discoveries made to the 
 Jews under the law. 
 
449 
 
 First, As to the discoveries of these truths to the 
 Gentiles. It is very true that, partly by a univer- 
 sal tradition, derived, probably, from the common 
 parents of mankind, partly by some glimmering of 
 natural light, in the natural consciences at least of 
 some of the heathen, there seemed to be some com- 
 mon persuasion of a future state of rewards and 
 punishments. But, first, It was but weak and 
 dim, and was, even in many of the wisest of them, 
 overborne ; so that it was rather a suspicion, or at 
 most a weak and faint persuasion, rather than a 
 strong and firm conviction ; and hence it became 
 very inoperative and ineffectual to the most of them, 
 when they had greatest need of it ; namely, upon 
 imminent, or incumbent temporal evils of great pres- 
 sure. But, where the persuasion was firmest amongst 
 them, yet still they were in the dark what it was ; 
 and much more in the dark, in reference to the 
 means of attaining that future state of happiness; 
 and this darkness begat in them those various fic- 
 tions and fabulous imaginations, especially among 
 the poets, that even rendered the main hypothesis 
 more doubtful than otherwise it would have been; 
 and those various superstitions, and idolatrous wor- 
 ships and rites, and performances, which they de- 
 signed as the means of attaining that future happi- 
 ness, which they thus darkly, and under various 
 fabulous disguises, entertained. 
 
 Secondly, If we come to the discoveries made to 
 the Jews, which were certainly much greater than 
 those that the Gentiles had by the light of nature, 
 yet we have reason to think, that although many 
 excellent men among them did, through those many 
 
450 
 
 types, and shadows, as it were at a distance, see the 
 heavenly Canaan, and the Messiah, through whom 
 it was to be attained, yet the divine dispensation 
 under the law was dark and obscure, in relation to 
 the state of future rewards and punishments, in com- 
 parison of what is revealed in the gospel : their pro- 
 mises were, for the most part, of temporal benefits, 
 and their threatenings, of temporal punishments; and 
 as their worship and services were very much under 
 shadows and external administrations, so were their 
 rewards and punishments. 
 
 Yet it must be agreed, that even under that dark 
 administration, there were greater evidences of the 
 future life than were manifested generally to other 
 nations : the examples of the assumption of Enoch 
 and Ellas, the revivings of the Shunamite's son, 
 buried in the prophet's grave, and the several pas- 
 sages in Job xix. 25. Isa. xxvi. 19. Ezek. xxxvii. 
 Dan. xii. 2. and various other passages in the Old 
 Testament; together with a common received tradi- 
 tion among that nation, did give them a belief, or 
 persuasion, of a life to come, and of the resurrection ; 
 and this the Apostle witnesseth of the patriarchs and 
 holy men under the Old Testament, Heb. xi. 10, 
 13, 14, 35, &c. And so far this persuasion was 
 settled in that people, that, in the time of our Sa- 
 viour, and unto this day, the persuasion of a future 
 life, and the resurrection, was generally received 
 among them, excepting only the sect of the Sad- 
 ducees. 
 
 But although this be certainly true, yet these 
 things are evident, namely, 1. That the doctrine of 
 the resurrection, and the future life, was not so 
 
451 
 
 clearly delivered under the Old Testament, as under 
 the New. 2. That the proof and evidence thereof 
 was not so plain and convincing under the Old Tes- 
 tament, as under the New. 3. That the manner 
 and circumstances thereof was not so explicitly and 
 directly delivered under the Old Testament as un- 
 der the New; as will appear in what follows. 
 
 Thirdly, Therefore, touching the discoveries of 
 life and immortality by the gospel of Christ Jesus, 
 the same gospel hath this pre-eminence in rela- 
 tion thereto, namely, 1. It contains a full and ex- 
 plicit narrative thereof. 2. It delivers a full and 
 clear method of the attaining of the state of happi- 
 ness, and avoiding the state of misery, that it thus 
 discovers. 3. It evidenceth and asserteth the truth 
 and certainty of what it so delivers, upon most evi- 
 dent and convincing evidences. 
 
 Touching the former of these, the gospel princi- 
 pally instructs us in these two matters, in relation 
 to the business in hand; namely, 1. It doth assert, 
 that there is a life to ensue after this transitory life, 
 and it rests not there in that general assertion ; but, 
 2. It shows us, with great plainness, what that life 
 is, namely, 1 . That it is an everlasting life ; that it 
 is a life of everlasting rewards and happiness to the 
 good, of everlasting punishments and misery to the 
 bad : that there shall be, as the way to these ever- 
 lasting rewards and punishments, a resurrection of 
 the good and bad, and a re-union of their bodies 
 and souls; and a change of those that are living. 
 That this shall be effected by the voice of an arch- 
 angel, proclaiming the last judgment, with summon- 
 ing all to it. That hereupon a universal judgment 
 
452 
 
 shall pass upon every man, shows us who shall be 
 the Judge, what shall be the rule of his judgment, 
 what the evidences, what the sentence, what the 
 execution of either sentence; namely, of absolution, 
 a perfect enjoyment of everlasting happiness, in an 
 immortal soul, united with a glorious, spiritualized, 
 and immortal body: and of the sentence of con- 
 demnation, with an everlasting separation from the 
 comfortable presence of God, and an everlasting 
 conclusion of soul and body under the torments 
 of hell fire. And all these discoveries are made 
 plain, evident, and intelligible to the sense of every 
 ordinary capacity, together with the circumstances 
 of time, place, persons, company, and all other 
 things that may render the whole manifestation 
 plain, perspicuous, intelligible, and reasonable. 
 
 2. The second thing the gospel discovers, is the 
 means for attaining that life of happiness, and avoid- 
 ing that life of misery. And surely, without this, 
 the discovery of the former had not been so useful 
 to mankind : it might indeed amuse, and astonish, 
 and perplex him, to know, that there should be such 
 a future state, either of happiness or misery, to one 
 of which all mankind was consigned. But it could 
 not settle nor compose him, without the knowledge 
 of the means of obtaining so great a good, and 
 avoiding so great an evil, as this prospect discovers: 
 the gospel, therefore, hath not only discovered these 
 two great, though different states, of the future life, 
 but hath also laid open, and discovered the way, to 
 avoid the one, and attain the other; even a plain, 
 safe, and infallible way; namely, the repentance for 
 sin past, obedience for the time to come, and faith 
 
453 
 
 in the Son of God, who is the resurrection, the 
 way, the truth, and the life: and his doctrine and 
 directions are plainly set out in tlie gospel, intel- 
 ligible to every common understanding, and easy to 
 any sincere and honest endeavour. 
 
 3. The third superiority and advantage of the 
 gospel, in reference to this discovery of life and im- 
 mortality, is, that it doth not only give that clear 
 and explicit discovery thereof before-mentioned, but 
 also, it gives the most full and clear evidence, that 
 what it so discovers, is most certainly and infallibly 
 true : and annexeth to the discovery a full and con- 
 vincing manifestation of the truth of the thing so 
 discovered, suitable to the weight and importance of 
 the thing discovered. 
 
 It is very true, that Almighty God, out of his 
 care and providence over mankind, in order to their 
 everlasting end, hath been graciously pleased to 
 afford to mankind certain evidences of this great 
 truth, of the immortality of the soul, and a future 
 state of rewards and punishments; as, namely, 1. A 
 secret anticipation, as it were, in the minds and con- 
 sciences of the generality of mankind of this truth. 
 2. A universal tradition thereof, which hath, in a 
 great measure, reached unto the generality of man- 
 kind, and by them commonly received: which, al- 
 though it hath been handed over from man to man, 
 yet we have all the reason imaginable to believe it 
 real at first, by some means in its first original, deli- 
 vered out to the parents of mankind, by revelation 
 from God himself. 3. An admirable agreement of 
 this supposition, both to the justice and perfection, 
 which, even by the light of nature, we are bound to 
 
454 
 
 attribute to Almighty God; and also a suitable- 
 ness thereof to the condition and exigence of raan- 
 kind, and the providential management and ordering 
 thereof. 
 
 But, in as much as by length of time, and dis- 
 tance of this first revelation, and the want of a per- 
 spicuous evidence of the manner of giving out this 
 first revelation, and also, because by the prevalence 
 of the corruptions, and decays of the nature of men, 
 this great important truth of the future life of re- 
 wards and punishments, did, or at least might, 
 languish and decay in the minds of men ; Almighty 
 God hath been pleased, by reiterated and repeated 
 revelations of this truth, by new editions of revela- 
 tions thereof, in his written word, to reinforce the 
 same, that so it might be more eflPectual and opera- 
 tive upon mankind, in order to the right ordering of 
 his life here, and the attaining of his great and 
 everlasting end. 
 
 And this he began to do in the Old Testament, 
 under the dispensation of the Jewish economy; but 
 far more clearly and universally, under the evan- 
 gelical dispensation by Christ Jesus, and with far 
 greater advantage and conviction of the truth, and 
 certainty thereof. 
 
 The evidence and manifestation of the truth and 
 certainty of this supposition, is seen principally in 
 these things. 
 
 1. That he that made this discovery, was the 
 best able to give us the true state of mankind after 
 death : for, being the Son of God, a teacher sent 
 from him, and acquainted with all his will, none 
 could give us a more perfect account of what God 
 
455 
 
 Almighty intended, touching the children of men. 
 For it is most certain, that the whole stress of the 
 husiness, touching the future state of mankind, 
 must principally and primarily depend upon the most 
 wise, just, yet free disposal and counsel of Almighty 
 God. He, therefore, and he only, who was fully 
 acquainted with the real purpose and design of Al- 
 mighty God, touching mankind, must needs be able 
 to give us a full and complete account of this great 
 and hidden counsel, which could only lie in the 
 knowledge of God himself, or of such a one to 
 whom he was pleased to reveal it : when the rich 
 man was in hell, he desired that some person might 
 be sent from the dead, to acquaint his brethren with 
 the state of men after death ; and he thought, that 
 a relation from such a person, who had seen or ex- 
 perienced that state, should be the most credible and 
 effectual means to gain assent from the living. But 
 had he understood, that the same God, who not 
 only understood the state of mankind after death, 
 by what he had seen touching them that were al- 
 ready departed this life; but also perfectly knew the 
 mind and purpose of his Father touching mankind, 
 should have come in the flesh, and manifest himself 
 to be the Son of God ; and that he came to acquaint 
 mankind with his Father's counsel and purpose, 
 touching the future state of mankind, he would have 
 desired no other messenger to acquaint his brethren 
 therewith. 
 
 2. Christ did not only declare, and profess him- 
 self to be the Son of God, a teacher sent from 
 God ; nor did lie only publish this great declaration 
 and discovery, touching the future state of mankind, 
 
456 
 
 and that he was sent into the world on purpose to 
 acquaint the world with his message; but also he 
 did, by the plainest and greatest evidence imaginable, 
 or that could possibly be desired to acquire credi- 
 bility, manifestly declare, and prove, that his mission 
 and message was unquestionably true; namely, by 
 the great miracles he did, by the holiness of his life, 
 and by dying to attest and assert it. 
 
 2. The great and admirable work of his own re- 
 
 o 
 
 «urrection, did give an invincible evidence of the 
 truth as of all other his doctrines, so especially of 
 these, touching the immortality of the soul, the re- 
 surrection, and the future state after death : and 
 the resurrection of Christ hath a double force, evi- 
 dence, or conviction, in this respect. 1. This re- 
 surrection of Christ was indeed the greatest and 
 crowning miracle of his whole life; and as his other 
 miracles did attest the truth of his mission and doc- 
 trine, so this, being the most signal and weighty of 
 all, upon the effecting, or not effecting whereof, the 
 whole credit of his mission and doctrine depended : 
 and also, being of the higliest nature of any of the 
 rest of his miracles, did most effectually and con- 
 summately seal the truth of his mission, and the 
 very divineness and credit of all his other miracles : 
 for he was declared the Son of God with power, by 
 the resurrection from the dead. And hence it is, 
 that there is no one thing in the gospel hath more 
 evidence of fact to prove the truth and reality, nor 
 greater weight laid upon it, than that Christ was 
 really dead, and did really rise again from the dead. 
 2, But farther, the resurrection of Christ seems 
 to be in a most specifical and appropriate manner 
 
4,57 
 
 applicable, and applied to prove the resurrection of 
 the dead, and the future state of mankind after 
 death: it is the great stumbling-block in the way 
 of the faitli of men, to think, how there should 
 be a life after death : the Athenian philosophers 
 mocked, when they heard of it, as a thing incredible, " 
 Acts xvii. 32. And if men would be but conquered 
 from this difficulty, the greatest difficulty were over- 
 come. And indeed, the resurrection of Christ seems 
 to be the greatest pledge imaginable, not only of 
 the possibility of a future state after death, but of 
 the real existence of it. And, tliereforc, that ex- 
 cellent sermon of Paul to the Athenians, lays the 
 great weight of the truth of the judgment to come, 
 and the future state of rewards and punishments, 
 upon this: "Because he hath appointed a day 
 wherein he will judge the world in righteousness, by 
 that man whom he hath ordained; whereof he hath 
 given assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised 
 him from the dead." As if he should have said, Ye 
 Athenian philosophers, it is apparent that one of the 
 great obstacles of your belief of the judgment to come, 
 and the future state of good and evil after death, is, 
 that you doubt whether the soul he capable of fruition 
 or passion without the body; and you cannot believe 
 it possible, that there can be a retreat from a full and 
 complete separation of the body to life again; your 
 philosophical principles oppose it. Behold! I tell 
 you, that God hath appointed to judge the world by 
 Christ. The same Christ hath said so in that ffos- 
 pel which I come to publish to you : and, at once to 
 seal and evidence the truth he so declared, and to 
 convince you of your vain confidence in your philoso- 
 U 40 
 
458 
 
 pliical persuasions, that same Christ was dead, died 
 a violent death, his blood poured out upon the 
 ground, and lay in the grave till the third day; that 
 all the world might be assured that he was fully dead, 
 and that of such a death, that, if any were incapable 
 of reviving again, he was; his blood, the vehicle of 
 life, spilled upon the ground. Yet this (Christ lived 
 again the third day, to assure the world of the truth 
 of his word, that he would judge the world ; and of 
 the possibility and truth of your resurrection and 
 mine, by the divine power. " He is risen from the 
 dead, and become the first-fruits of them that sleep." 
 
OF 
 
 PRAYER AND THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Psalm cxvi. 12. 
 
 " What shall 1 7'ender unto the Lord for all his 
 benefits toward me P" 
 
 There are two great duties that we owe to God, 
 which are never out of season, but such. as we have 
 continual occasion and necessity to use whilst we 
 li^e ; namely, prayer and thanksgiving. 
 
 Prayer is always seasonable in this life, because 
 we ever stand in need of it : we always want some- 
 thing, and have always occasion to fear something : 
 although we could be supposed in such a state of 
 happiness in this world, that we could not say we 
 wanted any thing, yet we have cause to pray for the 
 continuance of the happiness we enjoy, which is not 
 so fixed and stable but that it may leave us : "I said, 
 in my prosperity, I shall never be moved ; thou hid- 
 dest thy face and I was troubled." We are never 
 out of the reach of thy divine providence, either to 
 relieve or afflict us; and, therefore, we are under a 
 continual necessity of prayer, either to relieve and 
 supply us, at least to preserve and uphold us. 
 u2 
 
4G0 
 
 Thanksgiving is likewise always seasonable, be- 
 cause we are never without. something that we receive 
 from the divine goodness, that deserves and requires 
 our thankfulness. It may be we want wealth, yet 
 have we not health ? if we want both, yet have we 
 not life ? if we want temporal blessings, yet have we 
 not eternal, everlasting blessings ? if we have any 
 thing that is comfortable to, or convenient for us, we 
 have it from the goodness and bounty of God. And- 
 though we have not all we would, yet we have what 
 we deserve not, and what we prize and value ; and 
 therefore, while we have any thing, we have occasion 
 of thanksgiving to our great benefactor. 
 
 But yet, it seems, though both these duties be 
 highly due and necessary, yet thanksgiving hath a 
 kind of preference even above prayer itself, for these 
 considerations especially, 
 
 1. The duty of thanksgiving seems to be a more 
 permanent duty even than prayer itself, and of a 
 greater extent and durableness. The blessed angels, 
 and the saints that are, or shall be settled, and fixed 
 in a state of full and unchangeable happiness, that 
 enjoy whatsoever they can desire, and therefore have 
 no reason to pray for more, because they cannot en- 
 joy more tlian they do ; yet have an everlasting 
 occasion of thanksgiving for that liappiness tliey 
 everlastingly enjoy : and as this is their everlasting 
 occasion, so* it is, and shall be, their everlasting 
 business, to all eternity, to praise and glorify God. 
 And as the beams of the divine goodness shall ever- 
 lastingly shine upon them, so there will be an 
 everlasting leflection, as it were, of the same good- 
 ness in the necessary and incessant returns of praise 
 and thanksgiving by them. 
 
461 
 
 2. The duty of thanksgiving seems to be a duty 
 of a more noble nature than even prayer itself, be- 
 cause it answers more appositely and closely to the 
 noblest end in the world ; namely, the glory of God ; 
 which certainly is a more ultimate and noble end than 
 even the very good of the creature. It is true, 
 Almighty God receives no accession to his happi- 
 ness and perfection, by all the honour, and praise, 
 and thanksfjivinw that all the creatures in the world 
 can pay him ; the glory of his majesty is the chief, 
 ultimate end why he made all things: "Thou art 
 worthy to receive glory, and honour, and power ; for 
 thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure 
 they are and were created." It is true, the proxi- 
 mate, immediate reason of the creation of all things 
 was, that the redundant goodness of Almighty God 
 might be communicated to beings derived from him 
 by creation : but the ultimate and more universal 
 end was, that by this communication of the divine 
 goodness to something without himself, the glory, 
 and honour, and praise thereof, might return to him- 
 self, who only can be the adequate end of himself, 
 of all he doth. Thanksgiving, therefore, and praise 
 answers the greatest and most noble end in the 
 world ; if I want, and pray for what I want, my im- 
 mediate end therein is my own good ; and yet that 
 end is too narrow, if I propound not to myself to 
 praise and glorify the bounty of that God who 
 answers my prayer. 
 
 3. Affain, whereas all the irrational and inanimate 
 creatures in the world do passively praise Almighty 
 God, in that they bear every one of them the in- 
 scription of his wisdom, goodness, power: the rea- 
 u3 
 
462 
 
 sonable and intellectual natures of men and angels 
 have that noble pre-eminence, that they can, and may, 
 actively and intentionally, glorify and praise the good- 
 ness of God ; and it is indeed the noblest harmony 
 that they can make, when they summon all their 
 understanding, will, affections, all that is within 
 them, to praise that God, to whom they owe their 
 being and benefits. And the wise and glorious God 
 doth therefore communicate the sensible, experi- 
 mental, eminent influences of his mercy and goodness, 
 to the reasonable and intellectual natures of men and 
 angels, that they might touch and strike upon those 
 noble strings of the heart, and mind, and affections ; 
 that they may thereupon return the harmony of 
 thanksgiving and praise to tlie great Lord of the 
 world. And surely the nature of man, in its true 
 state and temper, is as naturally and effectually 
 moved to the returning of thanksgiving to God for 
 mercies received, as a well- tuned lute, or other in- 
 strument, doth give a harmonious sound upon the 
 touches of a skilful artist. And most certainly that 
 nature is strangely out of tune and order, that, upon 
 mercies received, makes not a sweet return of thanks- 
 giving and praise. This, therefore, as it is the 
 noblest, so it is the most natural production of the 
 reasonable nature, the fullest of congruity to the 
 right disposition of its faculties. 
 
 Almighty God sends upon the children of men 
 benefits, blessings, deliverances, favours : and the 
 fruit that he doth (and that most justly) expect, is a 
 crop of praise, glory, honour, and thanksgiving : 
 " Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will 
 deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." And it is 
 
463 
 
 a barren, degenerate, stupid heart, that yields not 
 such fruit of such a semination. So that praise and 
 thanksgiving is co-natural to our very faculties, the 
 tribute that the rational nature naturally pays to the 
 divine Being, as his benefactor, the very fruit that 
 the great Lord of the harvest expects for all his 
 goodness and mercy. 
 
 4. The truth is, thanksgiving is the very end of 
 prayer, and as the end is more noble than the means 
 conducible to the end ; so therefore is the duty, the 
 business of thanksgiving in itself, though equally 
 necessary, yet more noble than prayer itself. 
 
 1 want something that I would desire Almighty 
 God to give me, and I therefore pray; my merciful 
 Lord grants me my desire, and gives me what I pray 
 for; and therefore gives it, and gives it upon my 
 prayer to him, that therefore his mercy and goodness 
 may be more evident unto me, and that thereupon 
 I may praise, and glorify, and give thanks unto 
 him. 
 
 And if, with the nine lepers in the gospel, I re- 
 ceive the benefit I ask, and do not, with the tenth, 
 give glory to God for the benefit I receive, I dis- 
 appoint both the Giver, for what he designed in the 
 gift, and disappoint my very prayers in that which is 
 their just and proper end. 
 
 And hence it is, that our blessed Lord, in that 
 absolute form of prayer which he hath taught us, pro- 
 miseth the first and greatest petition of the hallow- 
 ing, or glorifying of the name of God ; and the first, 
 the great, the regnant petition, that is to influence 
 all the rest that follow, especially those that are for 
 the supplies of our own wants. 
 
464 
 
 5. Whereas, in prayer, we ask that we may re- 
 ceive from God, Almighty God hath been pleased 
 to honour and dignify our duty and thanksgiving 
 with so much condescension of his majesty, that he 
 receives, or at least, interprets it as a receipt from his 
 poor creature. It is true, our praises add nothing 
 to his perfection and self-sufficiency ; nay, our very 
 thanksgiving and praise is but a gift that he gives to 
 himself: he gives us a being that may be capable to 
 praise him ; gives us hearts and affections that may be 
 willing to praise him ; gives us grace that may enable 
 us to praise him ; gives us benefits that may excite 
 us to praise him; gives us directions how to praise 
 him ; gives us laws, commands, promises, encourage- 
 ments to praise him : so that, in truth, our very 
 thanksgivings and praises to him are but his own 
 work ; and yet, such is his goodness, that he takes, 
 and accepts, and rewards, our praises and thanksgiv- 
 ings, as if they were our own actions. And whereas 
 in prayer we receive from him, in thanksgiving he 
 is pleased so far to honour this duty as if he re- 
 ceived somewhat from us, and accordingly accepts 
 and rewards it. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Printed by W. Collins & Co. 
 Glasgow.