THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 242 
 
 J542p 
 
The person charging this material is re- 
 sponsible for its return to the library from 
 which it was withdrawn on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Theft/ mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons 
 for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from 
 the University. 
 
 To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2017 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates 
 
 https://archive.org/details/pietywithoutasceOOjebb 
 

PIETY 
 
 WITHOUT ASCETICISM, 
 
 THE PROTESTANT KEMPIS. 
 
 BY JOHN JEBB, D. D., F. R. S. 
 
 Bishop of Limeric, Ardfert andAghadoe. 
 
 N E W - Y O R K ; 
 
 HENRY M. ONDERDONK & CO., 25 JOHN ST. 
 
 1846. 
 

 
 -JzS) 
 
 
 f3^2. p 
 
 
 
 J^arfsl) anti l^eUfii'ous jFamil^ Urotar^, VqV X» 
 
 PIETY WITHOUT ASCETICISM, 
 
 OK 
 
 THE PROTESTANT KEMPIS; 
 
 A 
 
 MANUAL 
 
 OF 
 
 CHRISTIAN FAITH AND PRACTICE, 
 
 .SELECTED FROM 
 
 THE WRITJPfGS 
 
 OP 
 
 SCOUGAL, CHARLES HOW, AND C U D W O R T II ; 
 
 WITH COKRECTIOiS'S, AND OCCASIONAL NOTES. 
 
 BY JOHN JEBB, D. D., F. R. S. 
 
 Bishop of liimcrick, Ardferl, and Aghadoe. 
 

 ■X 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 It has been long thought desirable by the Editor, 
 that the ‘Life of God in the Soul of Man,’ with some 
 of the ‘Discourses of the Rev. Henry Scougal the 
 ‘ Meditations of the Hon. Charles How and two 
 Sermons of the great Cudworth, usually annexed to his 
 Intellectual System, — should re-appear together, in a 
 handsome volume. Conjointly, they seemed likely to 
 do a service, for which, in their separate form, they 
 were less perfectly adapted : presenting, as they do 
 when taken together, a complete and harmonious 
 scheme of practical religion. While, by the recom- 
 mendation of an attractive appearance*, they might, 
 possibly, engage the attention of a class of readers, 
 hitherto unacquainted with their very existence. Into 
 these views, the respectable and spirited publishers 
 cordially entered ; and it is hoped that the present 
 undertaking may be so far successful, as at once to re- 
 munerate their liberality, and to afford the public a spe- 
 cimen of Christian instruction, not only unexceptiona- 
 ble in its nature, but uniformly tending to edification of 
 the best kind. 
 
 It must, indeed, be admitted, that in the present day, 
 there is no deficiency of religious publications ; several 
 excellent in their kind. But it cannot be denied, that 
 many offend against good taste ; and, what is of far 
 
 * The English Edition of which the |)resent is a mere re-print, was 
 published in a beautiful octavo volume, — a style which the design of 
 the Parish Library, forbids our imitating. 
 
4 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 graver consequence, that many give erroneous and dis- 
 torted views of the Gospel System. With either of 
 these defects, the works which form this compilation 
 do not, in any degree, seem chargeable. On the con- 
 trary, it may truly be affirmed, that they are written 
 with great purity and elegance of manner, and that they 
 present, to all capable minds, the very ‘ pith and ker- 
 nel’ of inward practical Christianity. 
 
 The writings of Scougal and How, in particular, fre- 
 quently remind one of the ‘ Imitation’ of Thomas a 
 Kempis ; but they are wholly free from that ascetic 
 gloom, which, more or less, disfigures all Roman Catho- 
 lic piety. In depth and inferiority of religion indeed, 
 they cannot readily be excelled or equalled ; but they 
 uniformly breathe the sober cheerfulness of the Divine 
 Author of Christianity ; and remind us* of his hea venly 
 injunction, that, whatever be our inward feelings, we 
 should “anoint our head, and wash our face, and ap- 
 pear not unto men to fast.” 
 
 By our relish for books of this nature, we may, per- 
 haps, best form a judgment of our spiritual state. And 
 happy shall we be, if we feel ourselves gradually formed 
 to that purity, humility, and love of God and man, which 
 they always recommend and exemplify. 
 
 It may be satisfactory, to add a few words concern- 
 ing the respective Authors. 
 
 The Rev. Henry Scougal, A. M., second son of 
 the Right Rev. Patrick Scougal, Bishop of Aber- 
 deen, was born at Saltoun, in East Lothian, in the year 
 1650. From his earliest years, he was devoted, not 
 less by his own choice, than by his father’s piety, to 
 the service of the ministry ; and it is remarkable, that, 
 almost from infancy, he took special delight in devo- 
 tional retirement, in the study of the best books, and in 
 the conversation of wise and good men ; while his very 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 5 
 
 amusements indicated the greatness and energy of his 
 mind ; for, together with the most ingenious of his 
 youthful associates, he was in the habit of composing 
 little orations, and delivering them in the personated 
 character of some distinguished Roman Senator.* * At 
 the University, he made a singular proficiency in clas- 
 sical and mathematical learning; but it was his chief 
 delight to acquire just apprehensions of God and reli- 
 gion ; and he fixed his notions deeply and permanently, 
 by the composition of pious meditations, remarkable at 
 once for exactness and eloquence. lie was educated 
 at the University of Aberdeen; where, at twenty years 
 of age, he became Professor of Philosophy, and was 
 the happy instrument of training multitudes to follow 
 in his steps. On taking orders, he accepted the coun- 
 try parish of Auchterless j and there, by unwearied di- 
 ligence in catechizing, preaching, and instructing from 
 house to house, he gave full proof that the ministry 
 was, indeed, his vocation. But he was soon called to 
 a more important sphere. In 1675, by the unanimous 
 voice of the electors, he was chosen Professor of Divin- 
 ity in King’s College, Aberdeen ; from whence, in the 
 midst of a full career of usefulness, he was mysterious- 
 ly, but, no doubt, mercifully, removed to a better world, 
 in the year 1678, at the early age of eight and twenty. 
 
 ‘ Being made perfect in a short time, he fulfilled a long 
 time : for wisdom is the grey hair unto men, and an un- 
 spotted life is old age.’* 
 
 From numerous testimonies to Scougal’s chief work, 
 it seems sufficient to extract that of Bishop Burnet, 
 
 * A similar circumstance is related of Sir William Jones. See his 
 Life, by Lord Teignmouth ; and Dr. Johnstone’s iMemoirs of Dr. 
 Parr. 
 
 * The profoundly learned and pious John Smith, of Cambridge, 
 died also at the early age of thirty-Hve. See his select discourses ia 
 the last edition, which is incomi)arably the best. It was published in 
 1821, by Messrs. Rivingtoiis and Cochran, Strand. 
 
 1 * 
 
6 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ‘ that the book was a transcript of the divine impressions 
 on his own heart; and that he had written nothing in it, 
 which he did not himself w^ell know and feel.’ 
 
 Of the Hon. Charles How, less is knowm than 
 might have been desired. He seems to have held the 
 noiseless tenor of his way, in the exercise of an unob- 
 trusive benevolence, and in the cultivation of his own 
 heart. 
 
 His ‘Meditations’ w^ere intended merely for his pri- 
 vate use ; and, during his long life, no human eye saw 
 them, but his own. After his death^ how^ever, they 
 came, into the possession of his granddaughter ; and, 
 with her permission, were made public by her husband, 
 Mr. George Mac Aulay ; but, in the first instance, 
 without the Author’s name. To the Second Edition 
 this w'as prefixed, at the earnest suggestion of several 
 good literary judges : among the rest, of Doctor Young, 
 author of the Night Thoughts ; whose testimony to the 
 work should by no means be omitted. ‘ The book of 
 Meditations,’ says this eminent man, ‘ I have read, more 
 than once ; and I shall never lay it far out of my reach: 
 for a greater demonstration of a sound head, and a 
 sincere heart, I never saw.’ 
 
 Mr. How was a gentleman of good fortune, and of a 
 family ennobled in several of its branches. He was 
 himself a native of Gloucestershire, but the stock origin- 
 ally came from the county of Nottingham. His birth 
 took place in the year 1661 ; and during the latter end 
 of the reign of Charles IL, he was much about the 
 Court.* In 1686, he went abroad in an official situation, 
 in the suite of a near relative, ambassador to a foreign 
 Court. And, his friend suddenly dying, he completed, 
 by powers specially intrusted to him, the business of 
 the embassy; with such reputation, that he had an offer 
 of the full and permanent appointment to the diplo- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 7 
 
 matic office. This, however, from a dislike of the 
 measures then pursued at court, he thought proper to 
 decline ; and immediately returned to England. Soon 
 after, he married a lady of rank and fortune ; who, 
 dying in a few years, left behind her an only daughter, 
 frequently mentioned in the Meditations. From this 
 period, he lived, for the most part, in the country ; and 
 spent many of his latter years in close retirement, con- 
 secrating his time to religious exercise and meditations. 
 His conduct was exemplary, his conversation cheerful, 
 and his death peaceful and serene. He reached the 
 extraordinary term of eighty-four years ; ’when he ex- 
 changed the hap'piness of a virtuous and a good old 
 age, for the greater, but congenial happiness, of a blessed 
 immortality, A. D. 1745. 
 
 Of the excellent Cudworth, it were superfluous to 
 speak in detail ; the reputation of such men is the glory 
 of our country. His writings, especially the Intellect- 
 ual System, are known and prized by the learned 
 throughout Europe ; and will continue to be so, ’while 
 piety and erudition are accounted valuable among men. 
 His first sermon, given in this collection, was preached 
 before the House of Commons, in the year 1647; and, 
 with singular boldness and intrepidity, was directed 
 point blank, and without compromise or qualification, 
 againt the epidemic evil of the times. In the present 
 day, it were most desirable, that the mantle of Cud- 
 worth might descend upon some true son of the Church 
 of England. He was born A. D. 1617, and died in the 
 memorable year 1688. 
 
 The Editor will only add, that he has sometimes 
 slightly modified the phraseology, where it seemed 
 likely that ordinary readers might be checked, by the 
 occurrence of an unusual, an antiquated, or an unper- 
 spicuous word. If he were republishing these tracts, 
 
8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 as works of their respective Authors, it might, indeed, 
 be proper to adhere, even to their errors, with scru- 
 pulous fidelity. But, in a practical and devotional ma- 
 nual, (and for such especially, this compilation is intend- 
 ed,) it seemed the first duty, to take care that no slight 
 obscurity, no awkwardness of expression, should be 
 allowed to mar the general effect ; whilst, at the same 
 time, the sense, spirit, and peculiar vein of thought, of 
 each writer, should be carefully preserved. He now 
 concludes with an earnest wish, that these treatises may 
 have, at least, a portion of the beneficial result, which 
 they are eminently calculated to produce. 
 
 John Limerick. 
 
 Leamington, September 27, 1830. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Scougal’s Nature and Excellency op the Christian Re- 
 ligion; OR, THE Life of God, in the Soul of Man. - page lo 
 
 Discourses on Important Subjects, by Henry Scougal, A. M. 
 
 II. 
 
 Sermon \.—^The Superior Excellency of the Religions. 
 Proverbs, xii. 26. 
 
 The righteous is more excellent than his neighbor. - - 76 
 
 III. 
 
 Sermon II. — The Indispensable Duty of Loving our Enemies. 
 St. Luke, vi. 27. 
 
 But I say unto you which hear. Love your enemies. - - 93 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sermon HI. — The Necessity and Advantage of Early Afflictions. 
 Lament, hi. 27, 28. 
 
 It is good for a man, that he bear the yoke in his youth. He 
 sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he has borne it upon 
 him. ill 
 
 V. 
 
 Sermon IV. — Thai there are hut a Small Number Saved. 
 
 St. Luke, xiii. 23. 
 
 Then said one unto him, Lord, are there a few that be saved 1 129 
 
10 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sermon V. — The Duty and Pleasure of Praise and Thanksgiving , 
 Psalm cvii. 15. 
 
 O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness ; and for 
 his wonderful works to the children of men. - - - page 146 
 
 VII. 
 
 Sermon VI. — The Importance and Dificulty of the Ministerial 
 Function, 
 
 (Preached before the Synod of Aberdeen.) 
 
 2 Cor. ii. 16. 
 
 Who is sufficient for these things 7 160 
 
 VIII. 
 
 How’s Devout Meditations. - 183 
 
 Two Sermons, by Ralph Cudworth, D. D. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Sermon I. — They Know Christy who Keep His Commandments. 
 
 1 John ii. 3, 4. 
 
 And hereby we do know, that we know him, if we keep his com- 
 mandments : he that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his com- 
 mandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. - - - 283 
 
 X. 
 
 Sermon II. — The Christianas Victory^ over Sin^ the Law, and 
 Death. 
 
 1 Cor. XV. 57. 
 
 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory, through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 
 326 
 
THE 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY OF THE 
 
 CHRISTIAN RELIGION ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE LIFE OP GOD IN THE SOUL OF MAN ; 
 
 WITH 
 
 SIX OTHER DISCOURSES 
 
 ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS, 
 
 ✓ 
 
 BY THE REVEREND HENRY SCOUGAL, A. M. 
 
 ‘ Perfectionis ac’felicitatis summum est uniri Deo.’ 
 
‘ Let not the word heaven be in our mouths only; let it be in our hearts. 
 Let us do the will of God on earth as it is done in heaven ; and then we shall 
 make it appear, that the kingdom of God is come, that it is come into us. 
 
 ‘ Christians then live as such, when their life approaches nearer to the life 
 of angels, and blessed saints ; when a life of purity and holiness, a life of entire 
 resignation and obedience to the divine will, is their natiire and element, their 
 choice and delight.’ — D r. John Worthington. 
 
THE 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY 
 
 OP 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE OCCASION OF THIS DISCOURSE. 
 
 My dear Friend, — This designation gives you a 
 title to all the endeavors whereby I can serve your 
 interests ; and your pious inclinations so happily con- 
 spire with my duty, that I need not step out of my road 
 to gratify you. I may, at once, perform an office of 
 friendship, and discharge an exercise of my function ; 
 since the advancing of virtue and holiness (which I 
 hope you make your greatest study) is the peculiar 
 business of my employment. This, therefore, is the 
 most proper instance wherein I can vent my affection, 
 and express my gratitude towards you ; and I shall not 
 any longer delay the performance of the promise I 
 made you, to this purpose. For, though I know that 
 you are provided with better helps of this nature than 
 any I can offer ; and that you are not likely to meet 
 with any thing here, which you knew not before ; yet 
 I am hopeful, that what comes from one whom you are 
 pleased to honor with your friendship, and which is 
 more particularly designed for your use, will be kindly 
 accepted by you ; and God’s providence, perhaps, may 
 so direct my thoughts, that something or other may 
 prove useful to you. Nor shall I doubt your pardon, if, 
 in order to mould my discourse into the better frame, I 
 lay a low foundation, beginning with the nature and 
 properties of religion ; and all along give such way to 
 my thoughts, in the prosecution of the subject, as may 
 bring me to say many things which were not necessary, 
 did I only consider to whom I am writing. 
 
14 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 MISTAKES ABOUT RELIGION. 
 
 I cannot speak of religion without lamenting that, 
 among so many pretenders to it, so few understand 
 what it means. Some place it in the understanding — in 
 orthodox notions and opinions : and all the account 
 they can give of their religion, is, that they are of this 
 or the other persuasion, and have joined themselves to 
 one of those many sects, into which Christendom is 
 most unhappily divided. Others place it in the outward 
 man — in a constant course of external duties : if they 
 live peaceably with their neighbors, keep a temperate 
 diet, observe the returns of worship, frequent the 
 church, or their closet, and sometimes extend their 
 hands to the relief of the poor, they think they have 
 sufficiently acquitted themselves. Others, again, place 
 all religion in the affections — in rapturous heats and 
 ecstatic devotion : and all they aim at, is, to pray with 
 passion, to think of heaven with pleasure, and to be 
 affected with those kind and melting expressions where- 
 with they court their Saviour ; till they persuade them- 
 selves that they are mightily in love with him, and, 
 from thence, assume a great confidence of their sal- 
 vation, which confidence, they esteem the chief of 
 Christian graces. Thus, are those things which have 
 any semblance of piety, and which, at the best, are but 
 means of obtaining it, or particular exercises of it, 
 frequently mistaken for the whole of religion ; nay, 
 sometimes wickedness and vice pretend to that name. 
 I speak not now of those gross impieties, wherewith 
 the Heathen were wont to worship their gods : there 
 are but too many Christians, who would consecrate 
 their vices, and hallow their corrupt affections ; whose 
 rugged humor and sullen pride, must pass for Christian 
 severity ; whose fierce wrath and bitter rage against 
 their enemies, must be called holy zeal ; whose petu- 
 lancy towards their superiors, or rebellion against their 
 governors, must have the name of Christian courage 
 and resolution. 
 
 WHAT RELIGION IS. 
 
 But, certainly, religion is quite another thing : and 
 they who are acquainted with it, will entertain far 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 15 
 
 different thoughts, and disdain all those shadows and 
 false imitations of it. They know by experience, that 
 true religion is a union of the soul with God, a real 
 participation of the divine nature, the very image of 
 God drawn upon the soul ; or in the apostle’s phrase, 
 it is Christ formed loithin us. Briefly, I know not 
 how the nature of religion can be more fully expressed, 
 than by calling it a divine life.^ And under these- terms 
 I shall discourse of it : showing, first, how it is called a 
 life ; and then, how it is termed divine. 
 
 ITS PERMANENCY AND STABILITY. 
 
 I choose to express it by the name of life : first, be- 
 cause of its permanency and stability. Religion is not 
 a sudden start, or passion of the mind ; not though it 
 should rise to the height of a rapture, and seem to 
 transport a man to extraordinary performances. There 
 are few who have not convictions of the necessity of 
 doing something for the salvation of their souls, which 
 may push them forward some steps, with a great deal 
 of seeming haste. But anon they flag and give over : 
 they were in a hot mood, but now they are cooled ; 
 they did shoot forth fresh and high, but are quickly 
 withered, — because they had no root in themselves. 
 These sudden fits may be compared to the violent and 
 convulsive motions of bodies newly beheaded, caused 
 by the agitations of the animal spirits, after the soul is 
 departed ; which, however violent and impetuous, can 
 be of no long continuance : whereas the motions of 
 holy souls are constant and regular, proceeding from a 
 permanent and lively principle. It is true, this divine 
 life continues not always in the same strength and 
 vigor ; it many times suffers sad decays ; and holy 
 men often find greater difficulty in resisting temptations, 
 and less alacrity in the performance of their duties, 
 than they could wish : yet is the religious principle 
 
 * ‘ Such a life and knowledge as this is, peculiarly belongs to the 
 true and sober Christian ; who lives in him, who is life itself ; and is 
 enlightened by him, who is the truth itself ; and is made partaker of the 
 divine unction, and “ knoweth all ^things,” as St. John speaks. This 
 life is nothing else, but God’s own breath within him, and an infant- 
 Christ, if I may use the expression, formed in his soul.’ — John Smith. 
 Select Discourses^ p. 24. — Ed, 
 
16 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 never quite extinguished, nor are they abandoned to 
 the power of those corrupt affections, which sway and 
 overrule the re0t of the world. 
 
 ITS FREEDOM AND UNCONSTRAINEDNESS. 
 
 Again, religion may be defined by the name of life^ 
 because it is an inward, free, and self-moving principle ; 
 and those who have made progress in it, are not actuated 
 only by external motives, driven merely by threatenings, 
 nor bribed by promises, nor constrained by laws ; but 
 are powerfully inclined to that which is good, and de- 
 light in the performance of it. The love which a pious 
 man bears to God and goodness, is not so much in 
 virtue of a command enjoining him so to do, as by a 
 new nature, instructing and prompting him to it ; nor 
 does he pay his devotions as an unavoidable tribute, 
 only to appease the divine justice, or to quiet his cla- 
 morous conscience ; but those religious exercises are 
 the proper emanations of the divine life, the natural 
 employments of the new-born soul. He prays, and 
 gives thanks, and repents, not only because these things 
 are commanded, but rather because he is sensible of 
 his wants, and of the Divine goodness, and of the folly 
 and misery of a sinful life. His charity is not forced, 
 nor his alms extorted from him : his love makes him 
 willing to give ; and, though there were no outward 
 obligation, his “ heart would devise liberal things.” 
 Injustice, intemperance, and all other vices, are as con- 
 trary to his temper and constitution, as the basest 
 actions are to the most generous spirit, and impudence 
 and scurrility to those who are naturally modest : so 
 that I may well say with Saint John, Whosoever is 
 born of God, doth not commit sin ; for his seed re- 
 maineth in him : and he cannot sin, because he is born 
 of God.”^ Though holy and religious persons much 
 eye the law of God, and have a great regard unto it ; 
 yet it is not so much the satiction of the law, as its 
 reasonableness, and purity, and goodness, which pre- 
 vail with them : they account it excellent and desirable 
 in itself, and feel that in keeping of it there is great 
 
 t 1 John iii. 9. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 17 
 
 reward ; and that divine love wherewith they are ac- 
 tuated, makes them become a law unto themselves : 
 
 Q.uis legem det amantibus 'I 
 
 Major est amor lex ipse sibi.® 
 
 Who shall prescribe a law to lovers 'I 
 
 Love is a greater law, itself to itself. 
 
 In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of himself, 
 is, in some measure, applicable to his followers, that 
 “ it is their meat and drink to do their Father’s will 
 and, as the natural appetite is carried out toward food, 
 though we should not reflect on the necessity of it for 
 the preservation of our lives ; so are they borne, with 
 a natural and unforced propension, toward that which 
 is good and commendable. It is true, external motives 
 are many times of great use, to excite and stir up this 
 inward principle ; especially in its infancy and weak- 
 ness, when it is often so languid that the man himself 
 can scarce discern it, hardly being able to move one 
 step forward, but when he is pushed by his hopes or 
 his fears ; by the pressure of an affliction, or the sense 
 of a mercy ; by the authority of the law, or the persua- 
 sion of others. Now, if such a person be conscientious 
 and uniform in his obedience, and earnestly groan 
 under the sense of his dulness, and be desirous to per- 
 form his duties with more spirit and vigor ; these are 
 the first motions of a divine life: which, though it be 
 faint and weak, will surely be cherished by the influ- 
 ences of heaven, and grow unto greater maturity. But 
 he who is utterly destitute of this inward principle, and 
 does not aspire unto it, but contents himself with those 
 performances wheunto he is prompted by education or 
 custom, by the fear of hell, or by carnal notions of 
 heaven, — can no more be accounted a religious person, 
 than a puppet can be called a man. This forced and 
 artificial religion is commonly heavy and languid, like 
 the motion of a weight forced upward : it is cold and 
 spiritless, like the uneasy compliance of a wife married 
 against her will, who carries it dutifully toward the 
 husband whom she does not love, out of some sense of 
 virtue and honor. Hence, also, this religion is scant 
 and niggardly, especially in those duties which do 
 
 « Boethius, 
 
 3 # 
 
 d John iv. 34. 
 
18 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 greatest violence to men’s carnal inclinations ; and 
 those slavish spirits will be sure to do no more, than is 
 absolutely required. It is a law which compels them, 
 and they will be loth to go beyond its strict demands ; 
 nay, they will ever be putting such glosses on it, as 
 may leave themselves the greatest liberty. Whereas, 
 the spirit of true religion is frank and liberal, far from 
 such peevish and narrow reckoning ; and he who has 
 given himself entirely to God, will never think he does 
 too much for him. 
 
 RELIGION A DIVINE PRINCIPLE. 
 
 By this time, I hope, it appears that religion is with 
 a great deal of reason termed a life^ or vital principle ; 
 and that it is very necessary to distinguish between it, 
 and that obedience which is constrained, and depends 
 on external causes. 
 
 I come next to give an account, why I defined it by 
 the name of divine life. And so it may be called, not 
 only with respect to its fountain and original, having 
 God for its author, and being wrought in the souls of 
 men by the power of his Holy Spirit, but with respect 
 to its nature also ; religion being a resemblance of the 
 Divine perfections, the image of the Almighty shining 
 in the soul of man : nay, it is a real participation of his 
 nature ; it is a beam of the eternal light — a drop of that 
 infinite ocean of goodness ; and they who are endued 
 with it, may be said to have God dwelling within their 
 souls, and Christ formed within them. 
 
 WHAT THE natural LIFE IS. 
 
 Before I descend to a more particular consideration 
 of that divine life wherein true religion consists, it will, 
 perhaps, be fit to speak a little of that natural, or animal 
 life, which prevails in those who are strangers to the 
 divine. And by this I understand nothing else, but our 
 inclination and propension toward those things which 
 are pleasing and acceptable to nature : or self-love, is- 
 suing forth, and spreading itself into as many branches, 
 as men have several appetites and inclinations. The 
 root and foundation of the animal life I reckon to be 
 sense; taking it largely as it is opposed to faith, and 
 as it imports our perception and sensation of things 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 19 
 
 that are either grateful or troublesome. Now, these 
 animal affections considered in themselves, and as they 
 are implanted in us by nature, are not vicious or blame- 
 able ; nay, they are instances of the wisdom of the 
 Creator, furnishing his creatures with such appetites as 
 tend to the preservation and welfare of their lives. 
 These are instead of a law unto the brute beasts ; 
 whereby they are directed towards the ends for which 
 they were made. But man being made for higher 
 purposes, and to be guided by more excellent laws, 
 becomes guilty and criminal, when he is so far trans- 
 ported by the inclinations of this lower life, as to vio- 
 late his duty, or neglect the higher and more noble 
 designs of his creation. Our natural affections are not 
 wholly to be extirpated and destroyed ; but only to be 
 moderated and overruled by a superior and more ex- 
 cellent principle. In a word, the difference between a 
 religious and wicked man, is, that in the one, divine 
 life bears sway, in the other, animal life prevails. 
 
 THE DIFFERENT TENDENCIES OF THE NATURAL LIFE. 
 
 But it is strange to observe, unto what different 
 courses this natural principle will sometimes carry those 
 who are wholly guided by it, according to the diverse 
 circumstances that concur with it to determine them. 
 And the not considering this frequently occasions very 
 dangerous mistakes, making men think well of them- 
 selves on account of that seeming difference which is 
 between them and others ; whereas, perhaps, their 
 actions all the while flow from one and the same ori- 
 ginal. If we consider the natural temper and constitu- 
 tion of men’s souls, we shall find some to be airy, 
 frolicksome and light, which makes their behavior ex- 
 travagant and ridiculous : others are naturally serious 
 and severe, and their whole carriage is composed into 
 such gravity, as gains them a great deal of reverence 
 and esteem. Some are of a humorsome, rugged, and 
 m.orose temper, and can neither be pleased themselves 
 nor endure that others should be so. But all are not 
 born with such sour and unhappy dispositions ; some 
 persons have a certain sweetness and benignity rooted 
 in their natures, and they find the greatest pleasure in 
 the endearments of society, and the mutual compla- 
 
20 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 cency of friends, and covet nothing more than to have 
 every body obliged to them. And it is well that nature 
 has provided this complexional tenderness, to supply 
 the defect of true charity in the world, and to incline 
 men to do something for one another’s welfare. Again, 
 with respect to education, some have never been taught 
 to follow any other rules than those of pleasure or ad- 
 vantage ; but others are so inured to observe the strictest 
 rules of decency and honor, and, in some instances, of 
 virtue, that they are hardly capable of doing any thing 
 which they have been accustomed to. look upon as base 
 and unworthy. 
 
 In fine, it is no small difference in the deportment of 
 mere natural men, that arises from the strength or 
 weakness of their wit or judgment, and from their care 
 or negligence in using them. Intemperance and im- 
 purity, injustice and oppression, and all those other 
 impieties which abound in the Avorld, and render it so 
 miserable, are the issues of self-love ; the effect of the 
 animal life, when it is neither overpowered by religion, 
 nor governed by natural reason. But, if it once take 
 hold of reason, and get judgment and wit to be of its 
 party, it will, many times, disdain the grosser sort of 
 vices, and spring up unto fair imitations of virtue and 
 goodness. If a man have but so much reason, as to 
 consider the prejudice which intemperance and inordi- 
 nate desires bring upon his health, his fortune, and his 
 reputation, self-love may suffice to restrain him : and 
 one may observe the rules of moral justice in dealing 
 with others, as the best way to secure his own interest, 
 and maintain his credit in the world. But this is not 
 all. This natural principle, by the help of reason, may 
 take a higher flight, and come nearer the excellence of 
 piety and religion. It may incline a man to the diligent 
 study of divine truths ; for why should not these, as 
 well as other speculations, be pleasant and grateful to 
 curious and inquisitive minds ? It may make men zealous 
 in maintaining and propagating such opinions as they 
 have espoused, and desirous that others should submit to 
 their judgment, and approve the choice of religion which 
 themselves have made. It may make them delight to 
 hear and compose excellent discourses, about the mat- 
 ters of religion ; for eloquence is very pleasant, whaU 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 21 
 
 ever be the subject. Nay, some it may dispose to no 
 small height of sensible devotion. The glorious things 
 that are spoken of heaven, may make even a carnal 
 heart in love with it : the metaphors and similitudes 
 made use of in Scripture, of crowns and sceptres, and 
 rivers of pleasure, will easily affect a man’s fancy, and 
 make him wish to be there, though he neither under- 
 stand nor desire those spiritual pleasures, which are 
 described and shadowed forth by those similitudes. 
 And, when such a person comes to believe that Christ 
 has purchased those glorious things for him, he may 
 feel a kind of tenderness and affection towards so great 
 a benefactor, and imagine that he is mightily enamored 
 with him ; and yet, all the while, he may continue a 
 stranger to the holy temper and spirit of the blessed 
 Jesus. And w^hat share the natural constitution may 
 have in the rapturous devotions of some melancholy 
 persons, has been excellently discovered of late, by 
 several learned and judicious pens. 
 
 To conclude, there is nothing proper to make a man’s 
 life pleasant, or himself eminent and conspicuous in the 
 world, to which this natural principle, assisted by wit 
 and reason, may not prompt him. And, though I do 
 not condemn these things in themselves, yet it concerns 
 us nearly to know and consider their nature ; both that 
 we may keep within due bounds, and also that tUc may 
 learn never to value ourselves on account of such attain- 
 ments, nor give the name gf religion to our natural 
 appetites or performances. 
 
 WHEREIN the DIVINE LIFE CONSISTS. 
 
 It is now time to return to the consideration of that 
 divine life, whereof I was discoursing before ; that 
 “life w^hich is hid with Christ in God,” and therefore 
 has no glorious show or appearance in the world, and to 
 the natural man will seem a mean and insipid notion. 
 As the animal life consists in that narrow and confined 
 love which terminates in a man’s self, and in his pro- 
 pension towards those things which are pleasing to 
 nature ; so the divine life stands in an universal and 
 unbounded affection, and in the mastery over our natu- 
 ral inclinations, that they tnay never be able to betray 
 us to those things which we know to be blameable. 
 
22 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUCAL, 
 
 The root of the divine life is faith ; the chief branches 
 are, love to God, charity to man, purity and humility : 
 for, as an excellent person has well observed, however 
 these names be common and vulgar, and make no extra- 
 ordinary sound, yet they carry such a mighty sense, 
 that the tongue of man or angel, can pronounce nothing 
 more weighty or excellent. 
 
 Faith has the same place in the divine life, which 
 sense has in the natural ; being, indeed, nothing else 
 but a kind of sense, or feeling persuasion of spiritual 
 things. It extends itself unto all divine truths : but, in 
 our lapsed estate, it has a peculiar relation to the de- 
 claration of God’s mercy and reconcileableness to sin- 
 ners through a Mediator ; and therefore, receiving its 
 denomination from that principal object, is ordinarily 
 termed in Jesus Christ. 
 
 The love of God is a delightful and affectionate sense 
 of the Divine perfections ; which makes the soul resign 
 and sacrifice itself wholly unto him, desiring above all 
 things to please him, and delighting in nothing so much, 
 as in fellowship and communion with him, and in being 
 ready to do or suffer any thing, for his sake, or at his 
 pleasure. Though this affection may have its first rise 
 from the favors and mercies of God towards ourselves, 
 yet, in its growth and progress, it transcends such par- 
 ticula^considerations, and grounds itself on his infinite 
 goodness, manifested in all the works of creation and 
 providence. A soul thus possessed with divine love, 
 must needs be enlarged towards all mankind in a sin- 
 cere and unbounded affection, because of the relation 
 they have to God, being his creatures and having some- 
 thing of his image stamped upon them. And this is 
 that charity ^ which I named as the second branch of 
 religion, and under which, all the parts of justice, all 
 the duties which we owe to our neighbor, are eminently 
 comprehended : for he who truly loves all the world, 
 will be nearly concerned in the interest of every one ; 
 and, far from wronging or injuring any person, will resent 
 any evil that befals others, as if it happened to himself. 
 
 By purity^ I understand a due abstractedness from 
 the body, and mastery over the inferior appetites ; or 
 such a temper and disposition of mind as makes a man 
 despise, and abstain from, all pleasures and delights of 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 23 
 
 sense or fancy, which are sinful in themselves, or which 
 tend to extinguish or lessen our relish for more divine 
 and intellectual pleasures ; which also infers a resolute- 
 ness to undergo all those hardships he may meet with 
 in the performance of his duty : so that, not only chas- 
 tity and temperance, but also Christian courage and 
 magnanimity, may come under this head. 
 
 Humility, imports a deep sense of our own meanness, 
 with a hearty and affectionate acknowledgment of our 
 owing all that we are to the Divine bounty : which is 
 always accompanied by a profound Submission to the 
 will of God, and by great deadness towards the glory 
 of the world, and applause of men. 
 
 These are the highest perfections of which either 
 men or angels are capable ; the very foundation of 
 heaven laid in the soul. And he who has attained them, 
 needs not pry into the hidden rolls of God’s decrees, 
 or search the volumes of heaven, to know what is de- 
 termined about his everlasting condition ; he may find 
 a copy of God’s thoughts concerning him, written in 
 his own breast. His love to God, may give him as- 
 surance of God’s favor to him ; and those beginnings 
 of happiness, which he feels, in the conformity of the 
 powers of his soul to the nature of God, and in com- 
 pliance with his will, are a sure pledge that his felicity 
 shall be perfect and continued to all eternity. And it 
 is not without reason that one said, “ I had rather see 
 the real impressions of a God-like nature upon my own 
 soul, than have a vision from heaven, or an angel sent 
 to tell me that my name were enrolled in the book of 
 life.”^ 
 
 • “ Though I think it worthy of a Christian, to endeavor the assur- 
 ance of his own salvation ; yet, perhaps it might be the safest way to 
 moderate his curiosity of prying into God’s book of life, and to stay 
 awhile, until he sees himself within the confines of salvation itself. 
 Should a man hear a voice from heaven, or see a vision from the Al- 
 mighty, to testify unto him the love of God towards him, yet, me- 
 thinks, it were more desirable, to find a revelation of all from within, 
 arising up from the bottom and centre of a man’s own soul, in the 
 real and internal impressions of a god-like nature upon his own spirit ; 
 and thus to find the foundation and beginning of heaven and happi- 
 ness within himself : it were more desirable, to see the crucifying of 
 our own will, the mortifying of the mere animal life, and to see a divine 
 life rising up in the room of it, as a sure pledge and inchoation of 
 immortality and happiness, the very essence of which consists in a per- 
 
24 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 RELIGION BETTER UNDERSTOOD BY ACTIONS THAN BY 
 WORDS. 
 
 When we have said all that we can, the secret mys- 
 teries of a new nature and divine life can never be 
 sufficiently expressed ; language and words cannot 
 reach them ; nor can they be truly understood, but by 
 those souls that are enkindled within, and awakened to 
 the sense and relish of spiritual things: “There is a 
 spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth 
 this understanding.” The power and life of religion 
 may be better expressed in actions than in words ; be- 
 cause actions are more lively things, and better repre- 
 sent the inward principle whence they proceed. And, 
 therefore, we may take the best measure of those gra- 
 cious endowments, from the deportment of those in 
 whom they reside ; especially, as they are perfectly 
 exemplified in the holy life of our blessed Saviour ; a 
 main part of whose business in this world was, to teach 
 by his practice what he required of others, and to make 
 his own conversation an exact resemblance of those 
 unparalleled rules which he prescribed : so that, if ever 
 true goodness was visible to mortal eyes, it was then, 
 when his presence did beautify and illustrate this lower 
 world. 
 
 feet conformity, and cheerful compliance of all the powers of our souls 
 with the will of God. 
 
 “ The best way of gaining a well-grounded assurance of the divine 
 love is this, for a man to overcome himself, and his own will : ‘ To 
 him that overcometh shall be given that white stone, and in it the new 
 name written which no man knoweth, but he that receiveth it.’ He 
 that beholds the Sun of righteousness arising out of the horizon of his 
 soul, with healing in its wings, and chasing away all that misty dark- 
 ness of his own self-will and passions, — such a one desires not now 
 the star-light, to know whether it be day or not ; nor cares he to 
 pry into heaven’s secrets, and to search into the hidden rolls of eternity, 
 there to see the whole plot of his salvation ; for he views it transacted 
 upon the inward stage of his own soul, and, reflecting upon himself, 
 he may behold a heaven opened from within, and a throne set up in his 
 soul, and an Almighty Saviour sitting upon it;, and reigning within 
 him : he now finds the kingdom of heaven within him, and sees that 
 it is not a thing merely reserved for him without him, being alrcad}^ 
 made partaker of the sweetness and efficacy of it.’ — John Smith. 
 Select Discourses^ p. 460. ed, 8vo. — E d. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 DIVINE LOVE EXEMPLIFIED IN OUR SAVIOUR ; HIS DILI- 
 GENCE IN DOING god’s WILL, AND HIS PATIENCE IN 
 
 BEARING IT. 
 
 That sincere and devoted affection with which his 
 blessed soul constantly regarded his heavenly Father, 
 expressed itself in an entire resignation to his will. 
 This was his “ very meat, to do the will, and finish the 
 work, of him that sent him.” This was the exercise 
 of his childhood, this the constant employment of his 
 riper age. He spared no travail or pains while he was 
 about his Father’s business, but took such infinite con- 
 tent and satisfaction in the performance of it, that, 
 when, faint and weary with his journey, he rested him- 
 self on Jacob’s well, and entreated water of the Sama- 
 ritan woman, the success of his conference with her, 
 and the accession which was made to the kingdom of 
 God, filled his mind with such delight as seemed to 
 have redounded to his very body ; refreshing his spirits 
 and making him forget the thirst of which he had com- 
 plained before, and refuse the meat which he had sent 
 his disciples to buy. 
 
 Nor was he less patient and submissive in suffering,^ 
 than diligent in performing, the will of God. He en- 
 dured the sharpest afflictions, and extremest miseries, 
 that ever were inflicted on any mortal, without a re- 
 pining thought, or discontented word. For, though he 
 was far from a stupid insensibility, or a fantastic or 
 Stoical obstinacy, and had as quick a sense of pain as 
 other men, and the deepest apprehension of what he 
 was to suffer in his soul, (as his bloody sweat, and the 
 sore amazement and sorrow which he professed, abun- 
 dantly declare ;) yet he entirely submitted, and willingly 
 acquiesced in that severe dispensation of Providence. 
 
 And he prayed to God, that “ if it were possible,” (or, 
 as one of the evangelists has it, “ if he were willing,”) 
 “ that cup might be removed ;” yet he gently added, 
 “Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done.” Of 
 what strange import are the expressions, where he 
 first acknowledges the anguish of his spirit, “Now is 
 my soul troubled which would seem to produce a 
 kind of demur, “ And what shall I say ?” And then 
 he proceeds to deprecate his sufferings, “ Father, save 
 
26 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 me from this hour words, which he had no sooner 
 uttered, than, as it were on second thoughts, he recalls 
 them, in these expressions : But for this cause came 
 I into the world;” and concludes, “Father, glorify thy 
 name.” Now, we must not look on this as any levity, 
 or blameable weakness in the blessed Jesus. He knew, 
 all along, what he was to suffer, and did most resolutely 
 undergo it. But it shows us the inconceivable weight 
 and pressure that he was to bear ; which, being so 
 afflicting, and so contrary to nature, he could not think 
 of it without terror ; yet, considering the will of God, 
 and the glory which from thence was to redound to 
 him, he was not only content, but desirous, to suffer to 
 the uttermost. 
 
 HIS CONSTANT DEVOTION. 
 
 Another instance of his love to God, was his delight 
 in conversing with him by prayer. This made him fre- 
 quently retire from the world, and, with the greatest 
 devotion and pleasure, spend whole nights in that hea- 
 venly exercise, though he had no sins to confess, and 
 but few secular interests to pray for : which, alas ! 
 are almost the only things that are wont to drive us to 
 our devotions. Nay, we may say his whole life was a 
 kind of prayer, a constant course of communion with 
 God. If the sacrifice was not always offering, yet was 
 the fire still kept alive. Nor was ever the blessed Jesus 
 surprised with that dulness or tepidity of spirit, which 
 we must, many times, wrestle with, before we can be fit 
 for the exercise of devotion. 
 
 HIS CHARITY TO MEN. 
 
 In the second place, I should speak of his love and 
 charity towards all men. But he who would express it 
 must transcribe the history of the Gospel, and comment 
 upon it : for scarce any thing is recorded to have been 
 done or spoken by him, which was not designed for the 
 good and advantage of some one or other. All his mi- 
 raculous works were instances of his goodness, as well 
 as his power ; and they benefited those on whom they 
 were wrought, as well as amazed the beholders. His 
 charity was not confined to his kindred or relations ; 
 nor was all his kindness swallowed up in the endear- 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 27 
 
 ments of that peculiar friendship, which he felt towards 
 his beloved disciple : every one was his friend who 
 obeyed his holy commands; and “whosoever did the 
 will of his Father,” the same was as “his brother, and 
 sister, and mother.” 
 
 Never was any person unwelcome to him, who came 
 with an honest intention ; nor did he deny any request 
 which tended to the good of those that asked it. So that, 
 what was-epoken of that Roman emperor, whom, for his 
 goodness, they called the darling of mankind, f was really 
 performed by him. Never did any depart from him with 
 a heavy countenance, except that rich youth ^ who was 
 sorry to hear that the kingdom of heaven was valued 
 at a rate so costly, and that he could not save his soul 
 and his money too. And certainly it troubled our Sa- 
 viour to see, that when a price was in his hand to get 
 wisdom, yet he had no heart to it. The ingenuousness 
 that appeared in his first address, had already procured 
 some kindness for him; for it is said, “And Jesus be- 
 holding him, loved him.” But must he, for his sake, cut 
 out a new way to heaven, and alter the nature of things, 
 which make it impossible that a covetous man can be 
 happy? 
 
 And what shall I speak of his meekness, who could 
 encounter the monstrous ingratitude and dissimulation 
 of his betrayer, in no harsher terms than “ Judas, be- 
 trayest thou the Son of man with a kiss ?” What fur- 
 ther evidence could we desire, of his fervent and un- 
 bounded charity, than that he willingly laid down his 
 life even for his most bitter enemies ; and, mingling his 
 prayers with his blood, besought the Father that his 
 death might not be laid to their charge, but might be- 
 come the means of eternal life to those very persons 
 who procured it? 
 
 HIS PURITY. 
 
 The third branch of the divine life is purity^ which, 
 as I said, consists in a neglect of worldly enjoyments 
 and accommodations, and in a resolute endurance of all 
 such troubles as we meet with in doing our duty. Now, 
 surely, if ever any person was wholly dead to all the plea- 
 
 f Deliciffi human! generis. 
 
 Mark x. 
 
28 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 sures of the natural life, it was the blessed Jesus, who sel- 
 dom tasted them when they came in his way, but never 
 stepped out of his road to seek them. Though he supplied 
 the want of wine with a miracle, yet he would not work one 
 for the relief of his own hunger in the wilderness ; so gra- 
 cious and divine was the temper of his soul, in allowing 
 to others such lawful gratifications as himself thought 
 good to abstain from ; and supplying, not only their 
 more extreme and pressing necessities, but even their 
 smaller and less considerable wants. We many times 
 hear of our Saviour’s sighs, and groans, and tears ; but 
 never that he laughed, and but once that he rejoiced in 
 spirit : so that, through his whole life, he exactly an- 
 swered that character given of him by the prophet of 
 old : he was “ a man of sorrows, and acquainted with 
 grief.” Nor were the troubles and disaccommodations of 
 his life other than matter of choice. For never did any one 
 appear on the stage of the world with greater advantage 
 to have raised himself to the highest secular felicity. 
 He who could bring together such a prodigious number 
 of fishes into his disciples’ net, and, at another time, 
 receive that tribute from a fish, which he was to pay to 
 the temple, might easily have made himself the richest 
 person in the world. Nay, without any money, he could 
 have maintained an army powerful enough to have jos- 
 tled Caesar out of his throne ; having, oftener than once, 
 fed several thousands with a few loaves and small fishes. 
 But, to show how small esteem he had for all the enjoy- 
 ments in the world, he chose to live in so poor and 
 mean a condition, that, “ though the foxes had holes, 
 and the birds of the air had nests, yet he who was lord 
 and heir of all things, had not whereon to lay his head.” 
 He did not frequent the courts of princes, nor affect the 
 acquaintance and converse of great ones ; but, being 
 reputed the son of a carpenter, he had fishermen, and 
 such other poor people, for his companions, and lived 
 in such a manner, as suited the meanness of that con- 
 dition. 
 
 HIS HUMILITY. 
 
 And thus I am brought unawares to speak of his 
 humility^ the last branch of the divine life, wherein he 
 was a most eminent pattern to us, that we might “learn 
 
29 
 
 SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 of him to be meek and lowly in heart.” I shall not now 
 speak of that infinite condescension of the eternal Son 
 of God, in taking our nature upon him ; but only reflect 
 on our Saviour’s lowly and humble deportment, while 
 he was in the world. He had none of those sins and 
 imperfections, which may justly humble the best of 
 men ; but he was so entirely swallowed up with a deep 
 sense of the infinite perfections of God, that he appeared 
 as nothing in his own eyes, I mean, so far as he was a 
 creature. He considered those eminent perfections 
 which shone in his blessed soul, as not his own, but the 
 gifts of God ; and, therefore, assumed nothing to him- 
 self for them, but, with the profoundest humility, re- 
 nounced all pretences to them. Hence, he refused that 
 ordinary compellation of good master^ when addressed 
 to his human nature, by one who, it seems, was ignorant 
 of his divinity: “Why callest thou me good? There 
 is none good, but God only:” as if he had said, ‘The 
 goodness of any creature (and such only tliou takest 
 me to be) is not worthy to be named or taken notice of; 
 it is God alone who is originally and essentially gdod.’ 
 He never made use of his miraculous power for vanity 
 or ostentation. He would not gratify the curiosity of 
 the Jews with a sign from heaven — with some prodigious 
 appearance in the air : nor would he follow the advice 
 of his countrymen and kindred, who would haVe had 
 all his great works performed in the eyes of the world, 
 for the purpose of gaining him the greater fame. But, 
 when his charity had prompted him to the relief of the 
 miserable, his humility made him, many times, enjoin 
 the concealment of the miracle ; and when the glory of 
 God and the design for which he came into the world, 
 required the publication of his mighty works, he ascribed 
 the honor of all to his Father, telling them, “that of 
 himself he was able to do nothing.” 
 
 I cannot insist on all the instances of humility, in his 
 deportment towards men : his withdrawing himself, 
 when they would have made him a king ; his subjection, 
 not only to his blessed mother, but to her husband, 
 during his younger years ; and his submission to all the 
 indignities which his rude and malicious enemies afSxed 
 upon him. The history of his holy life, recorded by 
 those who conversed with him, is full of such passages 
 
30 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL^ 
 
 as these. And, indeed, the serious and attentive study 
 of it, is the best way to get right measures of humility, 
 and all the other parts of religion which I have been 
 attempting to describe. 
 
 But now, that I may lessen your trouble in reading a 
 long letter, by making some pauses in it, let me here 
 subjoin a prayer, which might be proper when one who 
 had formerly entertained some false notions of religion, 
 begins to discover what it is. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 ‘Infinite and eternal Majesty, author and fountain 
 of being and blessedness, how little do we, poor sinful 
 creatures, know of Thee, or the way to serve and please 
 Thee ! We talk of religion, and pretend to it ; but, 
 alas ! how few are there that know and consider what 
 it means ? How easily do we mistake the affections of 
 our nature, and the issues of self-love, for those divine 
 graces which alone can render us acceptable in thy sight ! 
 It may justly grieve me, to consider, that I should have 
 wandered so long, and contented myself so often, with 
 vain shadows and false images of piety and religion. 
 Yet I cannot but acknowledge and adore thy goodness, 
 who ,hast been pleased, in some measure, to open mine 
 eyes, and to let me see what it is at which I ought to 
 aim. I rejoice to consider of what mighty improve- 
 ments my nature is capable, and what a divine temper 
 of spirit shines in those, whom Thou art pleased to 
 choose, and causest to approach unto thee. Blessed be 
 thine infinite mercy, who sentest thine own Son to dwell 
 among men, and to instruct them by his example as well 
 as by his laws ; giving them a perfect pattern of what 
 they ought to be. O, that the holy life of the blessed 
 Jesus may be always in my thoughts, and before mine 
 eyes, till I receive a deep sense and impression of those 
 excellent graces which shone so eminently in him. And, 
 let me never cease my endeavors, till that new and di- 
 vine nature prevail in my soul, and Christ be formed 
 within me,’ 
 
SCOUGAL.] or THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 31 
 
 PART 11. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY AND ADVANTAGE OF RELIGION. 
 
 And now, my dear friend, having discovered the 
 nature of true religion, before I proceed any further it 
 will not, perhaps, be unfit to employ our meditations a 
 little on its excellency and advantages, that we may be 
 excited to the more vigorous and diligent prosecution 
 of those methods whereby we may obtain so great a 
 felicity. But what words shall we find to express that 
 inward satisfaction, those hidden pleasures, which can 
 never be rightly understood, but by those holy souls 
 who feel them? “A stranger intermeddieth not with 
 their joy.”^ Holiness is the right temper, the vigorous 
 and healthful constitution of the soul. Its faculties had 
 formerly been so enfeebled and disordered that they 
 could not exercise their natural functions ; it had wea- 
 ried itself with endless tossings and rollings, and was 
 never able to find any rest; now, that distemper being 
 removed, it feels itself well ; there is a due harmony in 
 its faculties, and a sprightly vigor possesses every part. 
 The understanding can discern what is good, and the 
 will can cleave unto it ; the affections are not tied to 
 the motions of sense, and the influence of external ob- 
 jects : they are stirred by more divine impressions, they 
 are touched a sense of invisible things. 
 
 THE excellency OF DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 Let US now descend, if you please, to a nearer and 
 more particular view of religion, in those several 
 branches of it which were named before. Let us con- 
 sider the love and affection by which holy souls are 
 united to God, that we may see what excellency and 
 felicity it involves. Love is that powerful aiid preva- 
 lent passion, by which all the faculties and inclinations 
 of the soul are determined, and on which both its per- 
 fection and happiness depend. Th.e worth and excel- 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 10^ 
 
32 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 lency of a soul is to be measured by the object of its 
 love : he who loves mean and sordid things, thereby 
 becomes base and vile ; but a noble and well-placed 
 affection advances and improves the spirit into a con- 
 formity with the perfections which it loves. The images 
 of these frequently present themselves to the mind, and, 
 by a secret force and energy, insinuate themselves into 
 the very constitution of the soul, and mould and fashion 
 it unto their own likeness. Hence we may see, how 
 easily lovers or friends slide into the imitation of the 
 persons whom they regard ; and how, even before they 
 are aware, they begin to resemble them, not only in 
 the more considerable instances of their deportment, 
 but in their very voice and gesture, and in that which we 
 call their mien and air. And certainly we should as well 
 transcribe the virtues and inward beauties of the soul, 
 if they were the object and motive of our love. But 
 now, as all the creatures with whom we converse have 
 their mixture and alloy, we are always in danger of 
 being sullied and corrupted, by placing our affections 
 on them. Passion easily blinds our eyes, so that we 
 first approve, and then imitate, the things that are 
 blameable in their conduct. The true way to improve 
 and ennoble our souls is by fixing our love on the divine 
 perfections, that we may have them always before us, 
 and may derive an impression of them on ourselves ; 
 and, “ beholding, with open face, as in a glass, the glory 
 of the Lord, we may be changed into the same image, 
 from glory to glory.” He who, with a generous and 
 holy ambition, has raised his eyes towards that un- 
 created beauty and goodness, and fixed his affection 
 there, is quite of another spirit, of a more excellent and 
 heroic temper, than the rest of the world : he cannot 
 but infinitely disdain all mean and unworthy things, and 
 will not entertain any low or base thoughts, which 
 might disparage his high and noble pretensions. Love 
 is the greatest and most excellent thing we are masters 
 of ; and therefore it is folly and baseness to bestow it 
 unworthily: it is, indeed, the only thing we can call 
 our own : other things may be taken from us by vio- 
 lence, but none can ravish our love. If any thing else 
 be counted ours, by giving our love we give all ; we 
 make over our hearts and wills, by which we possess all 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 33 
 
 other enjoyments. It is not possible to refuse him any 
 thing, to whom, by love, we have given ourselves. Nay, 
 since it is the privilege of gifts, to receive their value 
 from the mind of the giver, and not to be measured by 
 the event, but by the desire, — he who loveth may, in 
 some sern^e, be said, not only to bestow all that he has, 
 but all things else which may make the beloved person 
 happy, since he heartily wishes them, and would readily 
 give them, if they were in his power ; in which sense it 
 is, that one makes bold to say, ‘ That divine love doth, 
 in a manner, giye God unto himself, by the complacency 
 it takes in the happiness and perfection of his nature.’ 
 But, though this may seem too strained an expression, 
 certainly love is the worthiest present we can offer unto 
 God ; and it is extremely debased when we bestow it in 
 any other way. 
 
 When this affection is misplaced, it often vents itself 
 in such expressions as point at its genuine and proper 
 object, and insinuate where it ought to be placed. The 
 flattering and blasphemous terms of adoration, in which 
 men sometimes express their passion, are the lan- 
 guage of that affection which waa made and designed 
 for GoDb ; as he who is accustomed to speak to some 
 great person, will, perhaps unawares, accost another 
 with those titles which he was wont to give him. But 
 certainly that passion which accounts its object a deity, 
 ought to be bestowed on him alone who really is so. 
 Those unlimited submissions, which would debase the 
 soul if directed to any other, will exalt and ennoble it 
 when placed here. Those chains and cords of love 
 are infinitely more glorious than liberty itself; this 
 slavery is more noble than all the empires in the world. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 Again, as divine love advances and elevates the soul, 
 SO it is that alone which can make it happy. The high- 
 
 b An example may be cited, from an author who rarely thus 
 offends : — 
 
 Come, Stella, queen of all my heart ! 
 
 Come, born to fill its vast desires 
 Thy looks perpetual joys impart. 
 
 Thy voice perpetual love inspires.” 
 
 Johnson. — Ed^ 
 
34 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SC0UGAL» 
 
 est and most enchanting pleasures, the most solid and 
 substantial delights, of which human nature is capable, 
 are those which arise from the endearments of a well- 
 placed and successful affection. That which imbitters 
 love, and makes it ordinarily a very troublesome and 
 hurtful passion, is the fixing it on those who have not 
 worth enough to deserve it, or affection and gratitude 
 to requite it, or whose absence may deprive us of the 
 pleasure of their converse, or their miseries occasion 
 our trouble. To all these evils they are exposed, whose 
 chief and supreme affection is fixed on creatures like 
 themselves : but the love of God delivers us from them 
 all. 
 
 THE WORTH OF THE OBJECT. 
 
 First, love must needs be miserable, and full of trouble 
 and disquietude, when there is not worth and excel- 
 lency enough in the object, to answer the vastness of its 
 capacity. So eager and violent a passion, cannot but 
 fret and torment the spirit when it finds not materials 
 to satisfy its cravings. And, indeed, so large and un- 
 bounded is its nature, that It must be extremely pinched 
 and straitened, when confined to any creature ; nothing 
 below an infinite good can afford it room to stretch 
 itself, and exert its vigor and activity. What is a little 
 skin-deep beauty, or some small degrees of goodness, 
 to match or satisfy a passion which was made for God ; 
 designed to embrace an infinite good 1 No wonder 
 lovers so hardly suffer any rival, and do not desire that 
 others should approve their passion by imitating it. 
 They know the scantiness and narrowness of the good 
 which they love ; that it cannot suffice two, being, in 
 effect, too little for one. Hence love, “ which is strong 
 as death,” occasions “jealousy which is cruel as the 
 grave the coals whereof are coals of fire, which has 
 a most violent flame. 
 
 But divine love has no mixture of this gall ; when 
 once the soul is fixed on that supreme and all-sufficient 
 good, it finds so much perfection and goodness as not 
 only answers and satisfies its affection, but masters and 
 overpowers it too : it finds all its love to be too faint 
 and languid for such a noble object, and is only sorry 
 that it can command no more. It wishes for the flames 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 35 
 
 of a seraph, and longs for the time when it shall be 
 wholly melted and dissolved into love : and because it 
 can do so little itself, it desires the assistance of the 
 whole creation, that angels and men would concur with 
 it, in the admiration and love of these infinite perfections. 
 
 THE CERTAINTY TO BE BELOVED AGAIN. 
 
 Again, love is accompanied with trouble, when it 
 misses a suitable return of affection : love is the most 
 valuable thing we can bestow, and by giving it, we give 
 in effect all that we have ; and therefore, it must needs 
 be afflicting to find so great a gift despised — that the 
 present which one has made of his whole heart, cannot 
 prevail to obtain any return. Perfect love is a kind of 
 self-dereliction, a wandering out of ourselves ; it is a 
 kind of voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to him- 
 self, and to his own interests, not thinking of them, nor 
 caring for them any more, and minding nothing but 
 how he may please and gratify the party whom he loves. 
 Thus, he is quite undone unless he meets with recipro- 
 cal affection : he neglects himself, and the other has 
 no regard to him ; but if he be beloved, he is revived, 
 as it were, and lives in the soul and care of the person 
 whom he loves ; and now he begins to mind his own 
 concernments, not so much because they are his, as 
 because the beloved is pleased to own an interest in 
 them. He becomes dear unto himself, because he is so 
 unto the other. 
 
 But why should I enlarge on so known a matter? 
 Nothing can be more clear, than that the happiness of 
 love depends on the return it meets with. And here 
 the divine lover has unspeakably the advantage, having 
 placed his affection on him whose nature is love ; whose 
 goodness is as infinite as his being ; whose mercy pre- 
 vented us when we were his enemie§, and therefore 
 cannot help embracing us when we are become his 
 friends. It is utterly impossible that God should deny 
 his love to a soul wholly devoted to him, and which 
 desires nothing so much as to serve and please him. 
 He cannot disdain his own image, nor the heart in 
 which it is engraven. Love is all the tribute which 
 we can pay; and it is a sacrifice which he will not 
 despise. 
 
36 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 THE PRESENCE OF THE BELOVED PERSON. 
 
 Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of love, and 
 renders it a miserable and unquiet passion, is absence 
 and separation from those we love. It is not without a 
 sensible affliction that friends part, though for a little 
 time. It is sad to be deprived of that society which is 
 so delightful ; our life becomes tedious, being spent in 
 an impatient expectation of the happy hour wherein 
 we may meet again. But if death have made the sepa- 
 ration, as at some time or other it must, this occasions 
 a grief scarce to be paralleled by all the misfortunes of 
 human life, and wherein we pay dear enough for the 
 comforts of friendship. But oh how happy are those 
 who have placed their love on Him, who can never be 
 absent from them ! They need but open their eyes, 
 and they shall every where behold the traces of his 
 presence and glory, and converse with him whom their 
 soul loveth. And this makes the darkest prison, or 
 wildest desert, not only supportable, but delightful to 
 them. 
 
 THE DIVINE LOVE MAKES US PARTAKE OF AN INFINITE 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 In fine, a lover is miserable, if the person whom he 
 loves be so. They who have made an exchange of 
 hearts by love, get thereby an interest in one another’s 
 happiness and misery; and this makes love a trouble- 
 some passion, when placed on earth. The most for- 
 tunate person has grief enough to mar the tranquillity 
 of his friend ; and it is hard to hold out, when we are 
 attacked on all hands, and suffer, not only in our own 
 person, but in that of another. But if God were the 
 object of our lo^e, we should share in an infinite happi- 
 ness, without any mixture or possibility of diminution : 
 we should rejoice to behold the glory of God, and receive 
 comfort and pleasure from all the praises with which 
 he is extolled, by men and angels. It should delight 
 us beyond all expression, to consider, that the beloved 
 of our souls is infinitely happy in himself, and that all 
 his enemies cannot shake or unsettle his throne ; “ that 
 our God is in the heavens, and doeth whatever he 
 pleaseth.” 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 37 
 
 Behold ! on what sure foundations his happiness is 
 built, whose soul is possessed with divine love, whose 
 will is transformed into the will of God, and whose 
 greatest desire is, that his Maker should be pleased : Oh 
 the peace, the rest, the satisfaction, which attends on 
 such a temper of mind ! 
 
 HE THAT LOVES GOD FINDS SWEETNESS IN EVERY 
 DISPENSATION. 
 
 What an infinite pleasure must it needs be, thu s, as 
 it were, to lose ourselves in Him, and, swallowed up in 
 the overcoming sense of his goodness, to offer ourselves 
 a living sacrifice, always ascending to him in flames of 
 love. Never does a soul know what solid joy and sub- 
 stantial pleasure is, till, being weary of itself, it re- 
 nounces all self-property, gives itself up to the author 
 of its being, and feels itself become a hallowed and 
 devoted thing. Till it can say, from an inward sense 
 and feeling, ‘ My beloved is mine^ I account all his in- 
 terest mine own. And I am His ; I am content to be 
 any thing for him ; I care not for myself, but that I may 
 serve him.’ A person moulded into this temper would 
 find pleasure in all the dispensations of Providence: 
 Temporal enjoyments would have another relish, when 
 he could taste the divine goodness in them, and consider 
 them as tokens of love sent by his dearest Lord and 
 Maker. And chastisements, though they be not joyous, 
 but grievous, would lose their sting ; the rod as well as 
 the staff would comfort him ; he would snatch a kiss 
 from the hand that was smiting him, and gather sweet- 
 ness from that severity; nay, he would rejoice, that, 
 though God did not the will of such a worthless and 
 foolish creature as himself, yet he did his own will, and 
 accomplished his own designs, which are infinitely more 
 holy and wise. 
 
 THE DUTIES OF RELIGION ARE DELIGHTFUL TO HIM. 
 
 The exercises of religion, which to others are insipid 
 and tedious, yield the highest pleasure and delight to 
 souls possessed with divine love : they rejoice when 
 they are called to ‘‘ go up to the house of the Lord, 
 that they may see his power and his glory, as they have 
 4 
 
38 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 formerly seen it, in his sanctuary. They never think 
 themselves so happy, as when, having retired from the 
 world, and escaped from the noise and hurry of affairs, 
 and silenced all their clamorous passions, those trouble- 
 some guests within, they have placed themselves in the 
 presence of God, and entertain fellowship and com- 
 munion with him ; they delight to adore his perfections 
 and recount his favors; to protest their affection to 
 him, and tell him a thousand times that they love 
 him; to lay their troubles or wants before him, and 
 disburthen their hearts in his bosom. Repentance itself 
 is a delightful exercise when it flows from the principle 
 of love ; there is a secret sweetness, which accompanies 
 those tears of remorse, those meltings and relentings of 
 a soul returning unto God, and lamenting its former 
 unkindness. 
 
 The severities of a holy life, and that constant watch 
 which we are obliged to keep over our hearts and 
 ways, are very troublesome to those who are only ruled 
 and actuated by an external law, and have no law in 
 their minds, inclining them to the performance of their 
 duty ; but where divine love possesses the soul, it stands 
 as sentinel, to keep out every thing that may offend the 
 beloved, and disdainfully repulses those temptations 
 which assault it ; it complies cheerfully, not only with 
 explicit commands, but with the most secret notices of 
 the beloved’s pleasure ; and is ingenious in discovering 
 what will be most grateful and acceptable unto him : it 
 makes mortification and self-denial change their harsh 
 and dreadful names, and become easy, sweet, and de- 
 lightful things. 
 
 But I find this part of my letter swell more than I 
 designed ; indeed, who would not be tempted to dwell 
 on so pleasant a theme ? I shall, however, endeavor 
 to make compensation, by brevity in the other points. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY OF CHARITY. 
 
 The next branch of the divine life is a universal 
 charity and love. The excellency of this grace will be 
 easily acknowledged, for what can be more noble and 
 generous, than a heart enlarged to embrace the whole 
 
 k Psalm Ixiii. 2 , 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN REClt^N. 39 
 
 world ; whose wishes and designs are levelled at the 
 good and welfare of the universe ; which considers every 
 man’s interest as its own ? He who loves his neighbor 
 as himself, can never entertain any base or injurious 
 thought, or be wanting in expressions of bounty. He had 
 rather suffer a thousand wrongs, than be guilty of one ; 
 and never accounts himself happy but when some one 
 or other has been benefited by him. The malice or 
 ingratitude of men is not able to resist his love; he 
 overlooks their injuries, and pities their folly, and over- 
 comes their evil with good ; and never designs ^any 
 other revenge against his most bitter and malicious ene- 
 mies, than to confer all the obligations he can upon 
 them, whether they will or not. Is it any wonder that 
 such a person is reverenced and admired, and accounted 
 the darling of mankind ? This inward goodness and 
 benignity of spirit, reflects a certain sweetness and 
 serenity upon the very countenance, and makes it amia- 
 ble and lovely. It inspires the soul with a noble reso- 
 lution and courage, and makes it capable of enterprising 
 and effecting the highest things. Those heroic actions 
 which we are wont to read with admiration, have, for 
 the most part, been the effect of the love of one’s coun- 
 try, or of particular friendships ; and certainly a more 
 extensive and universal affection must be much more 
 powerful and efficacious. 
 
 THE PLEASURE THAT ATTENDS IT. 
 
 Again, as charity flows from a noble and excellent 
 temper, so it is accompanied with the greatest satisfac- 
 tion and pleasure. It delights the soul to feel itself 
 thus enlarged ; to be delivered from those disquieting 
 as well as deformed passions, malice, hatred, and envy ; 
 and to become gentle, sweet, and benign. Had I my 
 choice of all things that might tend to my present feli- 
 city, I would pitch upon this — to have my heart pos- 
 sessed with the greatest kindness and affection towards 
 all men in the world. I am sure this would make me 
 partake in all the happiness of others ; their inward 
 endowments and outward prosperity ; every thing that 
 did benefit and advantage them, would afford me com- 
 fort and pleasure. And, though I should frequently 
 meet with occasions of grief and compassion, yet there / 
 
40 • NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 is a sweeetness in commiseration, which makes it infi- 
 nitely more desirable than a stupid insensibility ; and 
 the consideration of that infinite goodness and wisdom 
 which governs the world, might repress any excessive 
 trouble for particular calamities that happen in it ; and 
 the hopes or possibility of men’s after-happiness, might 
 moderate their sorrow for their present misfortunes. 
 Certainly, next to the love and enjoyment of God, that 
 ardent charity and affection with which blessed souls 
 embrace one another, is justly to be reckoned as the 
 greatest felicity of those regions above ; and, did it uni- 
 versally prevail in the world, it would anticipate that 
 blessedness, and make us taste of the joys of heaven 
 upon earth. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY OF PURITY. 
 
 That which I named as a third branch of religion, 
 was purity ; and you may remember I described it to 
 consist in a contempt of sensual pleasures, and a reso- 
 luteness to undergo those troubles and pains with which 
 we may meet, in the performance of our duty. Now, 
 the naming of this may suffice to recommend it as a 
 most noble and excellent quality. There is no slavery 
 so base as that whereby a man becomes a drudge to his 
 own passions, »nor any victory so glorious as that which 
 is obtained over them. Never can that person be capa- 
 ble of any thing that is noble and worthy, who is sunk 
 in the gross and feculent pleasures of sense, or bewitched 
 with the light and airy gratifications of fancy; but the 
 religious soul is of a more sublime and divine temper ; 
 it knows it was made for higher things, and scorns to 
 step aside one foot out of the way of holiness, for the 
 obtaining any of these. 
 
 THE DELIGHT IT AFFORDS. 
 
 And this purity is accompanied with a great deal of 
 pleasure : whatsoever defiles the soul, disturbs it too ; 
 all impure delights have a sting in them, and leave smart 
 and trouble behind them. Excess and intemperance, 
 and all inordinate desires, are so much enemies to the 
 health of the body, and the interests of this present life, 
 that a little consideration might oblige any rational man 
 to forbear them on that very score ; and if religious per- 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 41 
 
 sons go higher, and not only abstain from noxious plea- 
 sures, but neglect those that are innocent, this is not to 
 be looked upon as any violent and uneasy restraint, but 
 as the effect of better choice ; their minds are taken up 
 in the pursuit of more sublime and refined delights, and 
 they cannot, therefore, be concerned in these. Any 
 person that is engaged in a violent and passionate affec- 
 tion, will easily forget his ordinary gratifications ; will 
 be little curious about his diet, or his bodily ease, or 
 the divertisements he was wont to delight in. No won- 
 der, then, if souls overpowered with divine love despise 
 inferior pleasures, and are almost ready to grudge the 
 body its necessary attendance, for the common accom- 
 modations of life ; judging all these impertinent to their 
 main happiness, and to those higher enjoyments which 
 they are pursuing. As for the hardships with which 
 they may meet, they rejoice in them, as opportunities 
 to exercise and testify their affection ; and since they 
 are able to do so little for God, they are glad of the 
 honor to suffer for him. 
 
 THE EXCELLENCY OF Hui^ILITY. 
 
 The last branch of religion is humility. And how- 
 ever, to vulgar and carnal eyes, this may appear an ab- 
 ject, base, and despicable quality, yet really, the soul 
 of man is not capable of a higher and more noble en- 
 dowment. It is a silly ignorance that begets pride : but 
 humility arises from a near acquaintance with excellent 
 things ; which keeps men from doting on trifles, or ad- 
 miring themselves because of some petty attainments. 
 Noble and well-educated souls have no such high opinion 
 of riches, beauty, strength, and other like advantages, 
 as to value themselves for them, or despise those that 
 want them : and as for inward worth and real goodness, 
 their sense of the divine perfections makes them think 
 very meanly of any thing they have hitherto attained ; 
 still endeavoring to surmount themselves, and make 
 nearer approaches to those infinite excellences which 
 they admire. 
 
 I know not what thoughts people may have of hu- 
 mility : but I see almost every person pretending to it, 
 and shunning such expressions and actions as may make 
 them be accounted arrogant and presumptuous j so 
 4 * 
 
42 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 that those who are most desirous of praise, will be loth 
 to commend themselves. What are all those compli- 
 ments and modes of civility, so frequent in our ordinary 
 converse, but so many protestations of the esteem of 
 others, and the low thoughts we have of ourselves ; and 
 must not that humility be a noble and excellent endow- 
 ment, when the very shadows of it are accounted so 
 necessary a part of good breeding?* 
 
 THE PLEASURE AND SWEETNESS OF AN HUMBLE 
 TEMPER. 
 
 Again, this grace is accompanied with a great deal of 
 happiness and tranquillity. The proud and arrogant 
 person is a trouble to all that converse with him, but 
 most of all to himself; every thing is enough to vex 
 him; but scarce any thing sufficient to content and 
 please him. He is ready to quarrel with every thing 
 that falls out ; as if he himself were such a considerable 
 person, that God Almighty should do every thing to 
 gratify him; and as if all the creatures of heaven and 
 earth should wait upon him and obey his will. The 
 leaves of high trees shake with every blast of wind ; 
 and every breath, every evil word, will disquiet and tor- 
 ment an arrogant man : but the humble person has this 
 advantage when he is despised, that none can think 
 
 * ‘ It is ROW some years since 1 was engaged, unawares, in a conver- 
 sation with a strong reasoner, who, at first, urged the wickedness of 
 the American Indians, as a bar to our hope of converting them to 
 Christianity. But when I mentioned their temperance, justice, and 
 veracity, (according to the accounts I had then received,) it was asked, 
 Why, if those Heathens are such men as these, what will they gain by 
 being made Christians^ V^hat will they gain by being such Christians, 
 as we see every where around us ? I could not deny, they wmuld lose, 
 not gain, by such a Christianity as this. Upon which she asked, Why, 
 what else do you mean by Christianity 1 My plain answer w^as. What 
 do you apprehend to be more valuable than good sense, good nature, 
 and good manners! All these are contained, and that in the highest 
 degree, in what I mean by Christianity. Good sense, so called, is but 
 a poor dim shadow of what Christians call faith. Good nature is only 
 a faint distant resemblance of Christian charity. And good manners, 
 if of the most finished kind that nature, assisted by art, can attain to, 
 is but a dead picture of that holiness of conversation, which is the 
 image of God visibly expressed. All these, put together by the art of 
 God, I call Christianity. Sir, if this be Christianity, said my opponent 
 in amaze, I never saw a Christian in my life.’ — John Wesley. iVorks ^ 
 vol. xiv. p. 118. — Ed. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 43 
 
 more meanly of him than he thinks of himself; and 
 therefore, he is not troubled at the matter, but can 
 easily bear those reproaches which wound others to the 
 soul. And as he is less affected with injuries, so indeed 
 he is less obnoxious unto them: ‘‘contention which 
 cometh of pride,” betrays a man into a thousand incon- 
 veniences, which those of a meek and lowly temper 
 seldom meet with. True and genuine humility begets 
 both a veneration and love, among all wise and discern- 
 ing persons ; while pride defeats its own design, and 
 deprives a man of that honor, to which it makes him 
 pretend. 
 
 But, as the chief exercises of humility are those 
 which relate unto Almighty God ; so these are accompa- 
 nied with the greatest satisfaction and sweetness. It is 
 impossible to express the great pleasure and delight, 
 which religious persons feel in the lowest prostrations 
 of their soul before God, when, having a deep sense of 
 the divine majesty and glory, they sink, if I may so 
 speak, to the bottom of their beings, and vanish and 
 disappear in the presence of God, by a serious and 
 affectionate acknowledgment of their own nothingness, 
 and the shortness and imperfections of their attain- 
 ments; when they understand the full sense and em- 
 phasis of the Psalmist’s exclamation, “Lord, what is 
 man?” and can utter it with the same affection. Never 
 did any haughty and ambitious person receive the 
 praises and applauses of men with so much pleasure, as 
 the humble and religious renounce them : “ Not unto 
 us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name, give the 
 glory.” 
 
 Thus, I have spoken something of the excellences 
 and advantage of religion in its several branches ; but 
 I should be very injurious to the subject, did I pretend 
 to have given any perfect account of it. Let us acquaint 
 ourselves with it, my dear friend, let us acquaint our- 
 selves with it, and experience will teach us more than 
 all that ever has been spoken or written concerning it. 
 But, if we may suppose the soul to be already awakened 
 unto some longing desires after so great a blessedness, 
 it will be good to give them vent, and suffer them to 
 issue forth in some such aspirations as these: 
 
44 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 ^ Good God ! what a mighty felicity is this, to which 
 we are called ! How graciously hast thou joined our 
 duty and happiness together ; and prescribed that for 
 our work, the performance whereof is a great reward ! 
 And shall such silly worms be advanced to so great a 
 height? Wilt thou allow us to raise our eyes to thee ? 
 Wilt thou admit and accept our affection ? Shall we 
 receive the impression of thy divine excellences, by 
 beholding and admiring them, and partake of thy infi- 
 nite blessedness and glory, by loving thee, and rejoic- 
 ing in them ? Oh the happiness of those souls, that 
 have broken the fetters of self-love, and disentangled 
 their affection from every narrow and particular good ; 
 whose understandings are enlightened by thy Holy 
 Spirit, and their wills enlarged to the extent of thine ; 
 who love thee above all things, and all mankind for thy 
 sake ! I am persuaded, O God, 1 am persuaded, that I 
 can never be happy, till my carnal and corrupt affections 
 be mortified; till the pride and vanity of my spirit be 
 subdued; and till I come seriously to despise the world, 
 and think nothing of myself. But oh, when shall these 
 things be ? Oh when wilt thoii come unto me, and satisfy 
 my soul with thy likeness, making me holy as thou art 
 holy, even in all manner of conversation ? Hast thou 
 given me a prospect of so great felicity, and wilt thou 
 not bring me unto it ? Hast thou excited these desires 
 in my soul, and wilt thou not also satisfy them? O teach 
 me to do thy will, for thou art my God : thy spirit is 
 good, lead me unto the land of uprightness. Quicken 
 me, O Lord, for thy name’s sake, and perfect that 
 which concerneth me. Thy mercy, O Lord, endureth 
 for ever : forsake not the works of thine own hands.’ 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 45 
 
 PART IIL 
 
 THE DESPONDENT THOUGHTS OF SOME NEWLY AWAKENED 
 TO A RIGHT SENSE OF THINGS. 
 
 I HAVE hitherto corisidered wherein true religion con" 
 sists, and how desirable a thing it is. But when one 
 sees how extremely distant the common temper and 
 frame of men is from it, he may, perhaps, be ready to 
 despond, and think it utterly impossible to be attained- 
 He may sit down in sadness, and bemoan himself, and 
 say, in the anguish and bitterness of his spirit, ‘ They 
 are happy indeed, whose souls are av/akened unto the 
 divine life, who are thus renewed in the spirit of their 
 minds. But, alas ! I am quite of another constitution, 
 and am not able to efiect so mighty a change : if outward 
 observances could have done the business, I might have* 
 hoped to acquit myself by diligence and care ; but since 
 nothing but a new nature can serve the turn, what am 
 I able to do ? I could bestow all my goods in oblations 
 to God, or alms to the poor; but T cannot command 
 that love and charity, without which this expense could 
 profit me nothing. This gift of God cannot be purchased 
 with money if a man should give all the substance of 
 his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.^ I 
 could pincT, and macerate my body, and undergo many 
 hardships and troubles, but I cannot get all my corrup- 
 tions starved, nor my affections wholly weaned from 
 earthly things. There are still some worldly desires 
 lurking in my heart ; and those vanities which I have 
 shut out of the doors, are always getting in by the win- 
 dows. I am frequently convinced of my own mean- 
 ness, of the weakness of my body, and the far greater 
 weakness of my soul ; but tfiis rather begets indignation 
 and discontent, than true humility in my spirit; and 
 though I should come to think meanly of myself, yet I 
 cannot endure that others should think so too. In a 
 word, when I reflect on my highest and most specious 
 attainments, I have reason to suspect that they are all 
 but the effects of nature, the issues of self-love acting 
 
 * Acts viii, 20. 
 
 b Cant. viii. 7. 
 
46 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 under several disguises : and this principle is so power- 
 ful, and so deeply rooted in me, that I can never hope 
 to be delivered from the dominion of it. I may toss 
 and turn as a door on the hinges, but can never be clear 
 off, or be quite unhinged of self, which is still the cen- 
 tre of all my motions. So that, all the advantage which 
 I can draw from the discovery of religion, is but to see, 
 at a vast distance, that felicity which I am not able to 
 reach ; like a man in a shipwreck, who discerns the 
 land, and envies the happiness of those who are there, 
 but thinks it impossible for himself to get ashore.’ 
 
 THE UNREASONABLENESS OF THESE, FEARS. 
 
 These, or such desponding thoughts, may arise in the 
 minds of those persons who begin to conceive some- 
 what more of the nature and excellency of religion than 
 before. They have sjDied the land, and seen that it is 
 Exceedingly good, that it floweth with milk and honey ; 
 but they find they have the children of Anak to grapple 
 with ; many powerful appetites and corruptions to over- 
 come, and they fear they shall never prevail against 
 them. But why should we give way to such discou- 
 raging suggestions ? Why should we entertain such 
 unreasonable fears, which damp our spirits and weaken 
 our hands, and augment the difficulties of our way? 
 Let us encourage ourselves, my dear friend, let us en- 
 courage ourselves .with those mighty aids which we are 
 to expect in this spiritual warfare ; for greater is he that 
 is for us, than all that can rise against us ; “ The eter- 
 nal God is our refuge^ and underneath are the everlast- 
 ing arms.”<^ — “ Let us be strong in the Lord, and in 
 the power of his might ; for he it is, that shall tread 
 down our enemies.” God has a tender regard for the 
 souls of men, and is infinitely willing to promote their 
 welfare. He has condescended to our weakness, and 
 declared with an oath, that he has no pleasure in our 
 destruction. There is no such thing as despite or envy 
 lodged in the bosom of that ever blessed being, whose 
 name and nature is love. He created us, at first, in a 
 happy condition ; and now, when we are fallen from it, 
 “ he hath laid help upon one that is mighty to save,”^ 
 
 ® Deut. xxxiii. 27. ^ Psalm Ixxxix. 19. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 47 
 
 hath committed the care of our souls to no meaner per- 
 son than the eternal Son of his love. It is he that is 
 the Captain of our salvation ; and what enemies can be 
 too strong for us, when we are fighting under his ban- 
 ners ? Did not the Son of God come down from the 
 bosom of his Father, and pitch his tabernacle among the 
 sons of men, that he might recover and propagate the 
 divine life, and restore the image of God in their souls? 
 All the mighty works which he performed, all the afflic- 
 tions which he sustained, had this for their scope and 
 design ; for this did he labor and toil ; for this did he 
 bleed and die : “ He was with child ; he Avas in pain, 
 and hath he brought forth nothing but wind ? Hath he 
 wrought no deliverance in the earth ?® Shall he not see 
 of the travail of his soul ?”^ Certainly it is impossible 
 that this great contrivance of heaven should prove 
 abortive ; that such a mighty undertaking should fail 
 and miscarry. It has already been effectual for the sal- 
 vation of many thousands, who were once as far from 
 the kingdom of heaven as Ave can suppose ourselves to 
 be ; and our “ High Priest continueth for ever, and is 
 able to save them to the uttermost, that come unto God 
 by him.”® He is tender and compassionate ; he knoAvs 
 our infirmities, and had experience of our temptations : 
 “ A bruised reed Avill he not break, and smoking flax 
 Avill he not quench, till he send forth judgment unto 
 victory.”!' He has sent out his Holy Spirit, Avhose 
 sAveet, but powerful breathings, are still moving up and 
 doAvn in the Avorld, to quicken and revive the souls of 
 men, and awaken them unto the sense and feeling of 
 those divine things for Avhich they were made ; Avhich 
 is ready to assist such Aveak and languishing creatures 
 as Ave are, in our essays toAvards holiness and felicity ; 
 and Avhich, when once it hath taken hold of a soul, and 
 kindled in it the smallest spark of divine love, Avill be 
 sure to preserve and cherish, and bring it forth into a 
 flame, which many Avaters shall not quench, neither 
 shall the floods be able to drown it.' Whenever this 
 day begins to daAvn, and this “ day-star to arise in the 
 heart, it Avill easily dispel the poAvers of darkness, 
 
 e Isaiah xxvi. 9. ( Isaiah liii. IL s Heb. vii. 24 , 25 , 
 
 ^ Matt. xii. 20. i Cant. viii. 7. ^2 Pet. i. 19. 
 
48 
 
 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 and make ignorance and folly, and all the corrupt and 
 selfish affections of men, flee away before it, as fast as 
 the shades of night when the sun cometh out of his 
 chambers ; for “ the path of the just is as the shining light, 
 which shineth more and more, unto the perfect day.”* 
 “They shall go on from strength to strength, till every 
 one of them appear before God in Zion.”"" 
 
 Why should we think it impossible, that true good- 
 ness and universal love should ever come to sway and 
 prevail in our souls ? Is not this their primitive state 
 and condition, their native and genuine constitution, as. 
 they came first from the hands of their Maker 1 Sin and 
 corruption are but usurpers ; and, though they have 
 long kept the possession, yet “ from the beginning it 
 was not so.” That inordinate self-love, which one 
 would think were rooted in our very being, and inter- 
 woven with the constitution of our nature, is, neverthe- 
 less, of foreign extraction, and had no place at all in 
 the state of integrity. We have still so much reason 
 left as to condemn it. Our understandings are easily 
 convinced, that we ought to be wholly devoted to Him, 
 from whom we have our being, and to love him infinitely 
 more than ourselves, who is infinitely better than we ; 
 and our wills would readily comply with this, if they 
 were not disordered and put out of tune. And is not 
 he who made our souls able to rectify and mend them 
 again? Shall we not be able, by his assistance, to 
 vanquish and expel those violent intruders, “ and turn 
 unto flight the armies of the aliens 
 
 No sooner shall we take up arms in this holy war, but 
 we shall have all the saints on earth, and all the angeU 
 in heaven, engaged on our party. The holy Church 
 throughout the world, is daily interceding with God, 
 for the success of all such endeavors ; and, doubtless, 
 those heavenly hosts above are nearly concerned in the 
 interests of religion, and infinitely desirous to see the 
 divine life thriving and prevailing in this inferior world, 
 and the will of God done by us on earth, as it is done by 
 themselves in heaven : may we not, then, encourage our- 
 selves, as the prophet did his servant, when he showed 
 him the horses and chariots of fire; “Fear not, for 
 
 » Prov. iv. 18. 
 
 ^ Psalm Ixixvi. 7. 
 
 Heb. xi. 34. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 49 
 
 they that be with us are more than they that be 
 against us.”° 
 
 WE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN, AND DEPEND ON THE 
 DIVINE ASSISTANCE. 
 
 Away, then, with all perplexing fears and desponding 
 thoughts. To undertake vigorously, and rely confi- 
 dently on the Divine assistance, is more than half the 
 conquest : Let us arise and be doing, and the Lord 
 
 will be with us.”p It is true, religion in the souls of 
 men, is the immediate work of God ; and all our natu- 
 ral endeavors can neithe^ produce it alone, nor merit 
 those supernatural aids by which it must be wrought : 
 the Holy Ghost must cqme upon us, and the power of 
 the Highest must overshadow us, before that holy thing 
 can be begotten, and Christ formed within us. But 
 yet, we must not expect that this whole work shall be 
 done without any concurring endeavors of our own : 
 we must not lie loitering in the ditch, and wait till om- 
 nipotence pulls us from thence. No, no ; we must 
 bestir ourselves, and actuate those powers which we 
 halve already received : we must put forth ourselves to 
 our utmost capacities, and then we may hope that 
 “ our labor shall not be in vain in the Lord.^’'^ All the 
 art and industry of man cannot form the smallest herb, 
 or make a stalk of corn to grow in the field : it is the 
 energy of nature, and the influences of heaven, which 
 produce this effect; it is God “who causeth the grass 
 to grow, and herb for the service of man and yet 
 nobody will say, that the labors of the husbandman are 
 useless or unnecessary. So, likewise, the human soul 
 is immediately created by God; it is he who both forms 
 and enlivens the child: and yet he has appointed the 
 marriage-bed, as the ordinary means for the propaga- 
 tion of mankind. Though there must intervene a stroke 
 of omnipotence to effect this mighty change in our 
 souls, yet ought we to do what we can to fit and prepare 
 ourselves. For we must break up our fallow ground, 
 and root out the weeds, and pull up the thorns,® that so 
 we may be more ready to receive the seeds of grace, 
 
 ® 2 Kings vi. 16, 17. p 1 Chron. xxiL 16. i 1 Cor. xv. 58. 
 
 ' Psalm civ. 14. * Jeremiah iv. 3. 
 
 5 
 
50 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 and the dew of heaven. It is true, God has been found 
 of some, who sought him not ; he has cast himself in 
 their way, who were quite out of his ; he has laid hold 
 upon them, and stopped their course on a sudden ; thus 
 was Saint Paul converted, in his journey to Damascus. 
 But, certainly, this is not God’s ordinary method of 
 dealing with men. Though he has not tied himself ta 
 means, yet he has tied us to the use of them ; and we 
 have never more reason to expect the Divine assistance, 
 than when we are doing our utmost endeavors. It 
 shall, therefore, be my next w^ork, to show what course 
 we ought to take, for attaining that blessed temper 
 which I have been hitherto describing. But here, if, in 
 delivering my own thoughts, I shall chance to differ 
 from what is, or may be, said by others in this matter, 
 I would not be thought to contradict and oppose them, 
 more than physicians do, when they prescribe several 
 remedies for the same disease, which, perhaps, are all 
 useful and good. Every one may propose the method 
 he judges most proper and convenient ; but he does not 
 thereby pretend that the cure can never be effected, un- 
 less that method be exactly observed. I doubt, it has 
 occasioned much unnecessary disquietude to some holy 
 persons, that they have not found such a regular and 
 orderly transaction in their souls, as they have seen de- 
 scribed in books; that they have not passed through all 
 those steps and stages of conversion, which some (who 
 perhaps have felt them in themselves) have too pe- 
 remptorily prescribed to others. God has several ways 
 of dealing with the souls of men ; and it suffices if the 
 work be accomplished, whatever the methods have 
 been. 
 
 Again ; though, in proposing directions, I must follow 
 that order which the nature of things shall suggest; 
 yet I do not mean, that the same method should be so 
 punctually observed in the practice, as if the latter rules 
 were never to be heeded, till some considerable time 
 have been spent in practising the former. The direc- 
 tions which I intend, are mutually conducive one to 
 another ; and are all to be performed, as occasion shall 
 serve, and as we find ourselves enabled to perform 
 them. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 51 
 
 WE MUST SHUN ALL MANNER OF SIN. 
 
 But, if we desire to have our souls moulded to this 
 holy frame, to become partakers of the Divine nature, 
 and to have Christ formed in our hearts, we must seri- 
 ously resolve, and carefully* endeavor, to avoid and 
 abandon all vicious and sinful practices. There can be 
 no treaty of peace, till we lay down those weapons of 
 rebellion with which we fight against heaven; nor can 
 we expect to have our distempers cured, if our daily 
 food be poison. Every wilful sin gives a mortal wound 
 to the soul, and removes it to a greater distance from 
 God and goodness ; and we can never hope to have 
 our hearts purified from corrupt affections, unless we 
 cleanse our hands from vicious actions. Now, in this 
 case, we cannot excuse ourselves by the pretence of 
 impossibility ; for surely our outward man is some way 
 in our power ; we have some command of our feet, and 
 hands, and tongue, nay, and of our thoughts and fancies 
 too ; at least, so far, as to divert them from impure and 
 sinful objects, and to turn our mind another way : and 
 we should find this power and authority much strength- 
 ened and advanced, if we were careful to manage and 
 exercise it. In the mean while, I acknowledge our 
 corruptions are so strong, and our temptations so many, 
 that it will require a great deal of steadfastness and reso- 
 lution, of watchfulness and care, to. preserve ourselves, 
 even in this degree of innocence and purity. 
 
 WE MUST KNOW WHAT THINGS ARE SINFUL. 
 
 And first, let us inform ourselves well what those 
 sins are, from which we ought to abstain. And here 
 we must not take our measures from the maxims of the 
 world, or from the practices of those, whom, in charity, 
 we account good men. Most people have very light 
 apprehensions of these things, and are not sensible of 
 any fault, unless it be gross and flagitious : and scarcely 
 reckon any crime so great, as that which they call pre- 
 ciseness : and those who are more serious, allow them- 
 selves, many times, too great latitude and freedom. 
 Alas ! how much pride and vanity, and passion and 
 humor, how much weakness, and folly, and sin, every 
 day shows itself in our converse and behavior. It may 
 
62 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUOAL, 
 
 be they are humbled for it, and striving against it, and 
 are daily gaining some ground ; but then, the progress 
 is so small, and their failings so many, that we had need 
 to choose an exacter pattern. Every one of us must 
 answer for himself ; and the practices of others will 
 never warrant and secure \is. It is the highest folly, to 
 regulate our actions by any other standard, than that 
 by which they must be judged. If ever we would 
 “ cleanse our way,” it must be “ by taking heed there- 
 unto, according to the word of God.”^ And that 
 “ word, which is quick and powerful, and sharper than 
 any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing 
 asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, 
 and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the 
 heart,”" will certainly discover many things to be sin- 
 ful and heinous, which pass for very innocent in the 
 eyes of the world. Let us, therefore, imitate the Psalm- 
 ist, who says concerning the works of men, “ by the 
 words of thy lips, I have kept myself from the paths of 
 the destroyer.”"" Let us acquaint ourselves well with 
 the strict and holy laws of our religion ; let us consider 
 the discourses of our blessed Saviour (especially that 
 divine sermon on the mount,) and the writings of his 
 holy apostles, where an ingenuous and unbiassed mind 
 may clearly discern those limits and bounds, by which 
 our actions ought to be confined. And then, let us 
 never look upon any sin as light and inconsiderable ; 
 but be fully persuaded, that the smallest, is infinitely 
 heinous in the sight of God, and prejudicial to the souls 
 of men ; and that, if we had a right sense of things, we 
 should be as deeply atfected with the least irregularities, 
 as now we are with the highest crimes. 
 
 WE MUST RESIST THE TEMPTATIONS TO SIN, BY CON- 
 SIDERING THE EVILS THEY WILL DRAW ON US. 
 
 But, amongst those things which we discover to be 
 sinful, there will be some unto which, through the dis- 
 position of our nature, or long custom, or the endear- 
 ments of pleasure, we are so much wedded, that it will 
 be like cutting off the right hand, or pulling out the 
 
 ‘ Psalm cxix. 9. 
 
 Hebrews iv. 12. 
 
 ▼ Psalm xvii. 4. 
 
53 
 
 SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 right eye, to abandon them. But must we therefore sit 
 down, and wait till all difficulties be over, and every 
 temptation be gone ? This were to imitate the fool in 
 the poet, who stood the whole day at the river side, till 
 all the waters should run by.^ We must not indulge 
 our inclinations, as we do little children, till they grow 
 weary of the thing which they are unwilling to let go ; we 
 must not continue our sinful practices, in hopes that the 
 Divine grace will one day overpower our spirits, and 
 make us hate them for their own deformity. 
 
 Let us suppose the worst ; that we are utterly desti- 
 tute of any supernatural principle, and want that taste 
 by which we should discern and abhor perverse things : 
 yet surely we are capable of some considerations, which 
 may be of force to persuade us to this reformation of 
 our lives. If the inward deformity and heinous nature 
 of sin cannot affect us, at least we may be frighted by 
 those dreadful consequences which attend it : that same 
 selfish principle which urges us forward unto the pur- 
 suit of sinful pleasures, will make us loth to buy them 
 at the rate of everlasting misery. Thus we may en- 
 counter self-love with its own weapons ; and employ 
 one natural inclination for repressing' the exorbitances 
 of another. Let us, therefore, accustom ourselves to 
 consider seriously, wffiat a fearful thing it must needs be 
 to irritate and offend that infinite Being, on whom we 
 depend every moment ; who needs but withdraw his 
 mercies to make ns miserable, or his assistance to make 
 us nothing. Let us frequently remember the shortness 
 and uncertainty of our lives ; and how, after we have 
 taken a few turns more in the world, and conversed a 
 little longer among men, we must all go down unto the 
 dark and silent grave, and carry nothing along with us, 
 but anguish and regret for all our sinful enjoyments; 
 and then, think what horror must needs seize the guilty 
 soul, to find itself naked and alone, before the severe and 
 impartial Judge of the world, to render an exact ac- 
 count, not only of its more important and considerable 
 transactions, but of every word that the tongue has 
 
 ^ ‘ dui recte vivendi prorogat horam, 
 
 Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis ; at ille 
 Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis SBvum.* 
 
 Horat. Epist. 1 . ii, 41 . — Ed. 
 
 5 * 
 
54 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 uttered, and of the swiftest and most secret thoughts 
 that have ever passed through the mind. Let us some- 
 times represent unto ourselves the terrors of that dread- 
 ful day,^ when the foundations of the earth shall be 
 shaken, and the heavens shall pass away with a great 
 noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, and 
 the present frame of nature shall be dissolved, and our 
 eyes shall see the blessed Jesus, (who came once into 
 the world, in all humility, to visit us, to purchase pardon 
 for us, and beseech us to accept of it,) now appearing 
 in the majesty of his glory, and descending from heaven 
 in a flaming fire, to take vengeance on those who have 
 despised his mercy, and persisted in rebellion against 
 him ; when all the hidden things of darkness shall be 
 brought to light, and the counsels of all hearts shall be 
 made manifest when those secret impurities and subtile 
 frauds, whereof the world never suspected us, shall be 
 exposed and laid open to public view, and many thou- 
 sand actions, which we never dreamed to be sinful, or 
 else had altogether forgotten, shall be charged home 
 upon our conscience, with such evident conviction of 
 guilt, that we shall be able neither to deny nor excuse 
 them. Then shall all the angels in heaven, and all the 
 saints that ever lived on earth, approve that dreadful 
 sentence which shall be passed on wicked men : and 
 those who perhaps loved and esteemed them when they 
 lived in the world, shall look upon them with indigna- 
 tion and abhorrence, and never make one request for 
 their deliverance. Let us consider the eternal punish- 
 ment of damned souls, which are shadowed forth in 
 Scripture, by metaphors taken from those things that 
 are most terrible and grievous in the world, and yet all 
 insufficient to convey any full apprehension of them to 
 our mind. When we have joined together the import 
 of all these expressions, and added to them whatever 
 our fancy can conceive of misery and torment, we must 
 still remember, that all this comes infinitely short of the 
 truth and reality of the thing. 
 
 It is true, this is a sad and melancholy subject, there 
 is anguish and horror in the consideration of it ; but 
 surely it must be infinitely more dreadful to endure it. 
 
 * 2 Pet. iii. 10. 
 
 y 1 Cor. iv. 5. 
 
55 
 
 SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 And such thoughts as these, may be very useful to 
 fright us from the courses, which would lead us thither : 
 how fond soever we may be of sinful pleasures, the fear 
 of hell would make us abstain ; our most forward incli- 
 nations will startle and give back, when pressed with 
 that question in the prophet : “ Who amongst us can 
 dwell with everlasting burnings ?”z 
 
 To this very purpose it is, that the terrors of another 
 world are so frequently represented in holy writ ; and 
 that, in such terras as are most proper to affect and 
 influence a carnal mind. These fears can never suffice 
 to make any person truly good ; but, certainly, they 
 may restrain us from much evil, and have often made 
 way for more ingenuous and kindly impressions. 
 
 WE MUST KEEP A CONSTANT WATCH OVER OURSELVES. 
 
 But it will not suffice to consider these things once 
 and again ; nor to form some resolutions of abandoning 
 our sins, unless we maintain a constant guard, and con- 
 tinual watch over them. Sometimes the mind is awa- 
 kened to see the dismal consequences of a vicious life, 
 and straight we are resolved to reform : but alas ! it 
 presently falls asleep, and we lose that prospect which 
 we had of things, and then temptations take the advan- 
 tage ; they solicit and importune us continually, and fre- 
 quently engage our consent, before we are aware. It is 
 the folly and ruin of most people, to live at peradven- 
 ture, and to take part in every thing that comes in their 
 way ; seldom considering what they are about to say or 
 do. If we would have our resolutions take effect, we 
 must take heed unto our ways, and set a watch before 
 the door of our lips, and examine the motions that arise 
 in our hearts, and cause them to tell us whence they 
 come, and whither they go ; whether it be pride or pas- 
 sion, or any corrupt and vicious humor, that prompts 
 us to any design ; and whether God will be offended, 
 or any body harmed by it. And,4f we have no time for 
 long reasonings, let us, at least, turn our eyes toward 
 God, and place ourselves in his presence, to ask his 
 leave and approbation for what we do : let us consider 
 ourselves under the all-seeing eye of that divine Ma-^ 
 
 * Isaiah xxxiii. 14. 
 
56 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 jesty ; as in the midst of an infinite globe of light, which 
 compasseth us about both behind and before, and pierc- 
 eth to the innermost corners of our souls. The sense 
 and remembrance of the Divine presence, is the most 
 ready and effectual means, both to discover what is un- 
 lawful, and to restrain us from it. There are some 
 things which a person could make shift to palliate or 
 defend, and yet he dares not look Almighty God in the 
 face, and adventure upon them. If we look unto him, 
 we shall be enlightened; if we “set him always before 
 us, he will guide us by his eye, and instruct us in the 
 way wherein we ought to walk.” 
 
 WE MUST OFTEN EXAMINE OUR ACTIONS. 
 
 This care and watchfulness over our actions, must be 
 seconded by frequent and serious reflections upon them ; 
 not only, that we may obtain the divine mercy and par- 
 don for our sins, by an humble and sorrowful acknow- 
 ledgment of them, but also, that we may reinforce and 
 strengthen our resolutions, and learn to decline or resist 
 the temptations by which we have been formerly foiled. 
 It is an advice worthy of a Christian, though it first 
 dropped from a Heathen pen ; ‘ That, before we betake 
 ourselves to rest, we review and examine all the pas- 
 sages of the day ; that we may have the comfort of 
 what we have done aright, and may redress what we find 
 to have been amiss, and make the shipwrecks of one 
 day, be as marks to direct our course in another.’^ This 
 may be called the very art of virtuous living, and would 
 contribute wonderfully to advance our reformation, and 
 preserve our innocency. But, withal, we must not for- 
 get to implore the Divine assistance ; especially against 
 those sins that most easily beset us : and, though it be 
 supposed that our hearts are not yet moulded into that 
 spiritual frame which should render our devotions ac- 
 ceptable, — yet, methinks, such considerations as have 
 
 ‘ “ Each night, ere needful slumber seal thine eyes, 
 
 Home to thy soul let these reflections rise : 
 
 How has this day my duty seen express’d ? 
 
 What have I done, omitted, or transgress’d 'I 
 Then grieve the moments thou hast idly spent : 
 
 The rest will yield thee comfort and content.’* 
 
 Golden Verses of Pythagoras, — Ed. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 57 
 
 been proposed to deter us from sin may also stir us up 
 to some natural seriousness, and make our prayers 
 against it as earnest, at least, as they are wont to be 
 against other calamities ; and I doubt not but God, who 
 heareth the cry of the ravens, will have some regard 
 even to such petitions as proceed from those natural 
 passions which himself hath implanted in us. Besides, 
 those prayers against sin will be powerful engagements 
 on ourselves, to excite us to watchfulness and care ; and 
 common ingenuousness will make us ashamed to relapse 
 into those faults which we have lately bewailed before 
 God, and against which we have begged his assistance. 
 
 IT IS FIT TO RESTRAIN OURSELVES IN MANY LAWFUL 
 THINGS. 
 
 Thus are we to make the first essay for recovering 
 the divine life, by restraining the natural inclinations, 
 that they break not out into sinful practices. But I 
 must add, that Christian prudence will teach us to ab- 
 stain from gratifications that are not simply unlawful : 
 and that, not only that we may secure our innocence, 
 which would be in continual hazard if we should restrain 
 our liberty to the utmost point, — but also, that hereby 
 we may weaken the forces of nature, and teach our 
 appetites to obey. We must do with ourselves as pru- 
 dent parents with their children ; who cross their wills 
 in many little indifferent things, to make them manage- 
 able and submissive In more considerable instances. He 
 who would mortify the pride and vanity of his spirit, 
 should stop his ears to the most deserved praises ; and 
 sometimes forbear his just vindication from the censures 
 and aspersions of others, especially if they reflect only 
 upon his prudence and conduct, and not on his virtue 
 and innocence. He who would check a revengeful hu- 
 mor, will do well to deny himself the satisfaction of 
 representing unto others the injuries which he has sus- 
 tained ; and if we would so take heed to our ways that 
 we sin not with our tongue, we must accustom our- 
 selves much to solitude and silence, and sometimes, with 
 the Psalmist, “ hold our peace even from good,” till we 
 have obtained some command over that unruly member. 
 Thus, I say, we may bind up our natural inclinations, 
 and make our appetites more moderate in their cravings. 
 
58 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 by accustoming them to frequent refusals. But it is not 
 enough to have them under violence and restraint : 
 
 WE MUST STRIVE TO PUT OURSELVES OUT OF LOVE WITH 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 Our next essay must be to wean our affections from 
 created things, and from all the delights and entertain- 
 ments of the lower life, which sink and depress the 
 souls of men, and retard their motions towards God and 
 heaven. And this we must do by possessing our minds 
 with a deep persuasion of the vanity and emptiness of 
 worldly enjoyments. This is an ordinary theme, and 
 every body can make declamations upon it. But, alas ! 
 how few understand and believe what they say. These 
 notions float in our brains, and come sliding off our 
 tongues, but we have no deep impression of them on 
 our spirits. We feel not the truth which we pretend to 
 believe. We can tell, that all the glory and splencTor, 
 all the pleasures and enjoyments of the world, are vanity 
 and nothing; and yet these nothings take up all our 
 thoughts, and engross all our affections ; they stifle the 
 better inclinations of our soul, and inveigle us into many 
 a sin. It may be, in a sober mood, we give them the 
 slight, and resolve to be no longer deluded with them ; 
 but these thoughts seldom outlive the next temptation ; 
 the vanities which we have shut out at the door, get in 
 at a postern ; there are still some pretensions, some 
 hopes that flatter us ; and, after we have been frustrated 
 a thousand times, we must continually be repeating the 
 experiment : the least difference of circumstance is 
 enough to delude us, and make us expect that satisfac- 
 tion in one thing, which we have missed in another ; 
 but could we once come to a real and serious contempt of 
 worldly things, this were a very considerable advance- 
 ment in our way. The soul of man is of a vigorous 
 and active nature, and has in it a raging and inextin- 
 guishable thirst, an immaterial kind of fire, always 
 catching at some object or other, in conjunction with 
 which it expects to be happy ; and, were it once rent 
 from the world, and from all the bewitching enjoyments 
 under the sun, it would quickly search after some higher 
 and more excellent object to satisfy its ardent and im- 
 portunate cravings ; and, being no longer dazzled with 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 59 
 
 glittering vanities, it would fix on that supreme and 
 all-sufficient good, where it would discover such beauty 
 and sweetness, as would charm and overpower all its 
 affections. The love of the world, and the love of God, 
 are like the scales of a balance ; as the one falls, the 
 other rises : when our natural inclinations prosper, and 
 the creature is exalted in our soul, religion is faint, and 
 languishes ; but when earthly objects wither away, and 
 lose their beauty, and when the soul begins to flag in 
 its prosecution of them, then the seeds of grace take 
 root, and the divine life begins to flourish and prevail. 
 It, therefore, nearly concerns us, to convince ourselves 
 of the emptiness and vanity of creature-enjoyments, 
 and to reason our hearts out of love with them : let us 
 seriously consider all that our reason, or our faith, our 
 own experience, or the observations of others, can 
 suggest to this effect ; let us ponder the matter over 
 and over, and fix our thoughts on this truth, till we be- 
 come really persuaded of it. Amidst all our pursuits 
 and designs, let us stop and ask ourselves. For what end 
 is all this? At what do I aim? Can the gross and 
 muddy pleasures of sense, or a heap of white and yel- 
 low earth, or the esteem and affection of silly creatures 
 like myself, satisfy a rational and immortal soul? Have 
 I not tried these things already? Will they have a 
 higher relish, and yield me more contentment to-mor- 
 row than yesterday ; or the next year, than they did 
 the last ? There may be some little difference between 
 that which I am now pursuing and that which I enjoyed 
 before ; but sure my former enjoyments appeared as 
 pleasant, and promised as fair, before I attained them ; 
 like the rainbow, they look very glorious at a distance, 
 but when I approached I found nothing but emptiness 
 and vapor.^ Oh what a poor thing would the life of man 
 be, if it were capable of no higher enjoyments! 
 
 I cannot insist on this subject, and there is the less 
 need when I remember to whom I am writing. Yes, 
 
 b “As yon summits soft and fair, 
 
 Clad in colors of the air, 
 
 Which, to those who journey near, 
 
 Barren, brown, and rough appear ; 
 
 Still we tread the same coarse wa}^. 
 
 The present ’s still a cloudy day.” — ’Dyer. — Ed. 
 
60 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 my dear friend, you have had as great experience of the 
 emptiness and vanity of human things, and have at pre- 
 sent as few worldly engagements, as any that I know. 
 I have sometimes reflected on those passages of your 
 life with which you have been pleased to acquaint me ; 
 and methinks, through all I can discern a design of the 
 divine Providence to wean your affections from every 
 thing here below. The trials which you have had of 
 those things which the world doats upon, have taught 
 you to despise them ; and you have found by experience, 
 that neither the endowments of nature, nor the ad- 
 vantages of fortune, are sufficient for happiness ; that 
 every rose has its thorn, and there may be a worm at 
 the root of the fairest gourd; some secret and undis- 
 cerned grief, which may make a person deserve the pity 
 of those who, perhaps, admire or envy their supposed 
 felicity. If any earthly comforts have got too much 
 of your heart, I think they have been your relations 
 and friends ; and the dearest of t^iese are removed out 
 of the world, so that, when you would think upon them, 
 you must raise your mind toward heaven. Thus God 
 has provided, that your heart may be loosed from the 
 world, and that he may not have any rival in your affec- 
 . tion ; which I have always observed to be so large and 
 unbounded, so noble and disinterested, that no inferior 
 object can answer or deserve it. 
 
 WE MUST DO THOSE OUTWARD ACTIONS THAT ARE 
 COMMANDED. 
 
 When we have got our corruptions restrained, and 
 our natural appetites and inclinations towards worldly 
 things in some measure subdued, we must proceed to 
 such exercises as have a more immediate tendency to 
 excite and awaken the divine life. And first, let us en- 
 deavor conscientiously to perform those duties, which 
 religion requires, and to which it would incline us if it 
 prevailed in our souls. If we cannot get our inward 
 disposition presently changed, let us study at least, to 
 regulate our outward deportment. If our hearts be not 
 yet inflamed with divine love, let us, however, own our 
 allegiance to that infinite Majesty, by attending his ser- 
 vice and listening to his word ; by speaking reverently 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 61 
 
 of his name, and praising his goodness, and exhorting 
 others to serve and obey him. If we want that charity 
 and those bowels of compassion, which we ought to 
 have towards our neighbors, yet must we not omit any 
 occasion of doing them good. If our hearts be haughty 
 and proud, we must, nevertheless, study a modest and 
 humble deportment. These external performances are 
 of little value in themselves, but they may help us for- 
 ward to better things. The apostle, indeed, tells us, 
 that bodily exercise profiteth little; but he seems not to 
 affirm that it is altogether useless. It is always good 
 to be doing what we can, for then God is wont to pity 
 our weakness, and assist our feeble endeavors. And 
 when true charity and humility, and other graces of the 
 Divine Spirit, come to take, root in our souls, they 
 will exert themselves more freely, and with less difficulty 
 if we have before been accustomed to express them in our 
 outward conversation. Nor need we fear the imputation 
 of hypocrisy, though our actions do thus*somewhat out- 
 run our affections ; since they still proceed from a sense 
 of our duty ; and since our design is, not to appear bet- 
 ter than we are, but that we may really become so. 
 
 WE MUST ENDEAVOR TO FORM INTERNAL ACTS OF 
 DEVOTION, CHARITY, ETC. 
 
 But as inward acts have a more immediate influence 
 on the soul to mould it to a right temper and frame, so 
 ought we to be most frequent and sedulous in the exer- 
 cise of them. Let us be often lifting up our hearts to- 
 wards God ; and if we do not say that we love him 
 above all things, let us at least acknowledge that it is 
 our duty, and would be our happiness, to do so ; let us 
 lament the dishonor done to him by foolish and sinful 
 men, and applaud the praises and adorations that are 
 given him by that blessed and glorious company above : 
 let us resign and yield ourselves up unto him a thousand 
 times, to be governed by his laws, and disposed of at 
 his pleasure. And, though our stubborn hearts should 
 start back and refuse, yet let us tell him we are con- 
 vinced that his will is always just and good ; and let us, 
 therefore, desire him to do with us whatsoever he 
 pleaseth, whether we will or not. And so, in order to 
 6 
 
62 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 beget in us a universal charity towards men, we must 
 be frequently putting up wishes for their happiness, and 
 blessing every person that we see. And when we have 
 done any thing for the relief of the miserable, we may 
 second it with earnest desires, that God would take 
 care of them and deliver them out of all their distresses. 
 
 Thus should we exercise ourselves unto godliness. 
 And when we are employing the powers that we have, 
 the Spirit of God is wont to interfere, and elevate these 
 acts of our soul beyond the pitch of nature, and give 
 them a divine impression: and after the frequent reite- 
 ration of these, we shall find ourselves more inclined 
 unto them ; they flowing with greater freedom and ease- 
 
 CONSIDERATION A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF RELIGION. 
 
 I shall mention but two other means for begetting 
 that holy and divine temper of spirit, which is the sub- 
 ject of the present discourse. And the first is, a deep 
 and serious consideration of the truths of our religion ; 
 and that, both as to their certainty and importance. 
 The assent which is ordinarily given to divine truths, 
 is very faint and languid ; very weak and ineffectual ; 
 flowing only from a blind inclination to follow that re- 
 ligion which is in fashion, or from a lazy indifierence 
 and unconcernedness whether things be so or not. 
 Men are unwilling to quarrel with the religion of their 
 country ; and since all their neighbors are Christians, 
 they are content to be so too. But they are seldom at 
 the pains to consider the evidences of those truths, or 
 to ponder the importance and tendency of them ; and 
 hence it is that they have so little influence on their 
 affections and practice. Those spiritless and paralytic 
 thoughts (as one rightly terms them), are not able to 
 move the will and direct the hand. We must, therefore, 
 endeavor to work up our minds to a serious belief and 
 full persuasion of divine truths ; to a sense and feeling 
 of spiritual things. Our thoughts must dwell upon 
 them, till we are both convinced of them and deeply 
 affected by them. Let us urge forward our spirits, and 
 make them approach the invisible world. Let us fix 
 our minds upon immaterial things, till we clearly per- 
 ceive that they are no dreams; nay, that all things 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 63 
 
 besides them are but dreams and shadows. When we 
 look about us, and behold the beauty and magnificence 
 of this goodly frame, the order and harmony of the 
 whole creation, — let our thoughts from thence take their 
 flight towards that omnipotent wisdom and goodness, 
 which first produced, and which still establishes and 
 upholds them. When we reflect upon ourselves, let us 
 consider that we are not a mere piece of organized 
 matter ; a curious and well-contrived engine : that there 
 is more in us than flesh, blood, and bones ; even a di- 
 vine spark, capable of knoAving, and loving, and enjoy- 
 ing our Maker : and, though it be now exceedingly 
 clogged with its dull and lumpish companion, yet ere 
 long it shall be delivered ; and shall subsist without the 
 body, as well as the body can do without the clothes 
 which we throw off at our pleasure. Let us often with- 
 draw our thoughts from this earth ; this scene of misery, 
 folly, and sin : and let us raise them towards that more 
 vast and glorious world, whose innocent and blessed 
 inhabitants solace themselves eternally in the Divine 
 presence, and know no other passion, but an unmixed 
 joy, and an unbounded love. Let us consider how the 
 blessed Son of God came down to this lower world, to 
 live among us and to die for us, that he might bring us 
 to a portion of the same felicity ; and let us think how 
 he hath overcome the sharpness of death, and opened 
 the kingdom of heaven to all believers, and is now set 
 down on the “ right hand of the Majesty on high,”*" — 
 and yet, is not the less mindful of us, but receives our 
 prayers, and presents them to his Father ; and is daily 
 visiting his Church with the influences of his Spirit, as 
 the sun reacheth us with his beams. 
 
 TO BEGET DIVINE LOVE, WE MUST CONSIDER THE 
 EXCELLENCY OF THE DIVINE NATURE. 
 
 The serious and frequent consideration of these and 
 such divine truths, is the most proper method to beget 
 that lively faith which is the foundation of religion, the 
 spring and root of the divine life. Let me further sug- 
 gest some particular subjects of meditation, for pro- 
 ducing the several branches of it, And, first, to inflame 
 
 Hebrews i. 3. 
 
64 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 our souls with the love of God, let us consider the 
 excellency of his nature and his love and kindness to- 
 wards us. It is little we know of the Divine perfection, 
 and yet that little may suffice to fill our souls with 
 admiration and love; to ravish our affections as well as 
 to raise our wonder. For we are not merely creatures 
 of sense, that we should be incapable of any other 
 affection except that which enters by the eyes. The 
 character of an excellent person whom we have never 
 seen, will many times engage our hearts and make us 
 greatly concerned in all his interests. And what is it, 
 I pray you, that engages us so much to those with 
 whom we converse ? I cannot think that it is merely 
 the color of their face, or their comely proportions ; 
 for then we should fall in love with statues, and pic- 
 tures, and flowers. These outward accomplishments 
 may a little delight the eye, but would never be able to 
 prevail so much on the heart, if they did not represent 
 some vital perfection. We either see or apprehend 
 some greatness of mind, or vigor of spirit, or sweetness 
 of disposition ; some sprightliness, or wisdom, or good- 
 ness, which charms our spirit, and commands our love* 
 Now, these perfections are not obvious to the sight ; 
 the eyes can only discern their signs and ‘effects ; and, 
 if it be the understanding that directs the affection, and 
 vital perfections prevail with it, certainly the excellen- 
 ces of the Divine nature (the traces of which we cannot 
 but discover in every thing we behold), would not fail 
 to engage our hearts, if we seriously viewed and re- 
 garded them. Shall we not be infinitely more trans- 
 ported with that Almighty wisdom and goodness which 
 fills the universe, and displays itself in all the parts of 
 creation ; which establishes the frame of nature, and 
 turns the mighty wheels of providence, and keeps the 
 world from disorder and ruin, — than with the faint rays 
 of the same perfections which we meet with in our 
 fellow-creatures? Shall we doat on the scattered pieces 
 of a rude and imperfect picture, and never be affected 
 with the original beauty? This were an unaccountable 
 stupidity and blindness. Whatever we find, lovely in a 
 friend, or in a saint, ought not to engross, but elevate 
 our affection. We should conclude with ourselves, 
 that if there be so much sweetness in a drop, there 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 65 
 
 must be infinitely more in the fountain ; if there be so 
 much splendor in a ray, what must the sun be in its 
 glory ? 
 
 Nor can we pretend the remoteness of the object, as 
 if God were at too great a distance for our converse or 
 our love : “ He is not far from every one of uS : for in 
 him we live, and move, and have our being.”^^ We 
 cannot open our eyes, but we must behold some foot- 
 steps of his glory ; and cannot turn them towards him, 
 but we shall be sure to find his intent upon us ; waiting, 
 as it were, to catch a look, ready to entertain with us 
 the most intimate fellowship and communion. Let us, 
 therefore, endeavor to raise our minds to the clearest 
 conceptions of the divine nature. Let us consider all 
 that his works declare, or his word discovers, of him 
 unto us; and let us, especially, contemplate that visible 
 representation of him which was made in our own na- 
 ture by his Son ; who was the “ brightness of his glory, 
 and the express image of his person,”® and who ap- 
 peared in the world to discover at once what God is, 
 and what we ought to be. Let us represent him to our 
 minds as we find him described in the Gospel : and 
 there we shall behold the perfections of the Divine na- 
 ture, though covered with the veil of human infirmities ; 
 and, when we have framed unto ourselves the clearest 
 notion that we can, of a being infinite in power, in wis- 
 dom, and goodness, the author and fountain of all per- 
 fections, — let us fix the eyes of our soul upon it, that 
 our eyes may affect our heart,^ and while we are musing 
 the fire will burn.^ 
 
 WE SHOULD MEDITATE ON GOD’s GOODNESS AND LOVE. 
 
 Especially, if hereunto we add the consideration of 
 God’s favor and good-will towards us : nothing is more 
 powerful to engage our affection, than to find that we 
 are beloved. Expressions of kindness are always pleas- 
 ing and acceptable, though the person should be other- 
 wise mean and contemptible: but, to have the love of 
 one who is altogether lovely, to know that the glorious 
 Majesty of heaven hath any regard unto us, how must 
 it astonish and delight us ! how must it overcome our 
 
 d Acts xvii. 27. ® Heb. i, 3, f Lam. iii, 51. e Psalm xxxix. 31, 
 
66 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOTJGAL, 
 
 spirits and melt our hearts, and put our whole soul 
 into a flame ! Now, as the word of God is full of the 
 expressions of his love towards man, so all his works 
 most loudly proclaim it ; he gave us our being, and, by 
 preserving us in being, renews the donation every mo- 
 ment. He has placed us in a rich and well-furnished 
 world, and liberally provided for all our necessities ; he 
 rains down blessings from heaven upon us, and causes 
 the earth to bring forth our provision ; he gives us our 
 food and raiment, and, while we are spending the pro- 
 ductions of one year, he is preparing for us against 
 another. He sweetens our lives with innumerable com- 
 forts, and gratifies every faculty with suitable objects ^the 
 eye of his providence is always upon us, and he watches 
 for our safety when we are fast asleep, neither minding 
 him nor ourselves. But, lest we should think these 
 testimonies of his kindness less considerable because 
 they are the easy issues of his omnipotent power, and 
 do not put him to any trouble or pain, — he has taken a 
 more wonderful method to endear himself to us; he has 
 testified his affection to us by suffering as well as by 
 doing ; and, because he could not suffer in his own na- 
 ture, he assumed ours. The eternal Son of God clothed 
 himself with the infirmities of our flesh, and left the 
 company of those innocent and blessed spirits, who 
 knew^ well how to love and adore him, that he might 
 dwell among men, and wrestle with the obstinacy of that 
 rebellious race, to reduce them to their allegiance and 
 felicity, and then to offer himself up as a sacrifice and 
 propitiation for them. I remember one of the poets 
 has an ingenious fancy to express the passion, by which, 
 after a long resistance, he found himself overcome : 
 ‘That the god of love had shot all his golden arrows at 
 him, but could never pierce his heart ; till, at length, he 
 put himself into the bow and darted himself straight 
 into his breast.’^ Methinks, this, in some measure, 
 adumbrates God’s method of dealing with men. He 
 had long contended with a stubborn world, and thrown 
 
 h 'iis 6' OVK ET' El'X^ oi'crrou?, 
 
 Tjd^aWeVj £( 6 ’ iavTov 
 j a(pr}K£v CIS (ieXefjivovj 
 
 fxtcog 6c Kapdirjg pov 
 tdvvCj Kai p’ eXvae. 
 
 Anacreon. Ode xiv. — E d. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 67 
 
 down many a blessing upon them ; and when all his 
 other gifts could not prevail, he at last made a gift of 
 himself, to testify his affection, and engage theirs. The 
 account which we have of our Saviour’s life in the 
 Gospel, all along presents us with the story of his love; 
 all the pains that he took, and the troubles that he en- 
 dured, w^ere the wonderful effects, and uncontrollable 
 evidences of it. But oh that last, that dismal scene ! Is 
 it possible to remember it, and question his kindness, 
 or deny him ours ? Here, here it is, my dear friend, that 
 we should fix our most serious and solemn thoughts : 
 “that Christ may dwell in our hearts by faith ; that 
 we, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to 
 comprehend with all saints, what is the breadth, and 
 length, and depth, and height ; and to know the love of 
 Christ which passeth knowledge, that we may be filled 
 with all the fulness of God.”' 
 
 We ought, also, frequently to reflect on those particu- 
 lar tokens of favor and love, which God has bestowed 
 on ourselves ; how long he has borne with our follies 
 and sins, and waited to be gracious unto us ; wrestling, 
 as it were, with the stubbornness of our hearts, and 
 essaying every method to reclaim us. We should keep 
 a register in our minds, of all the eminent blessings and 
 deliverances which we have experienced ; some of which 
 have been so conveyed, that we might clearly perceive 
 them not to be the mere issues of chance, but gracious 
 effects of the divine favor, and signal returns of our 
 prayers. Nor ought we to imbitter the thoughts of 
 these things, with any harsh or unworthy suspicion, as 
 if they were designed on purpose to enhance our guilt, 
 and heighten our eternal damnation. No, no, my friend, 
 God is love, and he hath no pleasure in the ruin of his 
 creatures : if they abuse his goodness, and turn his 
 grace into wantonness, and hereby plunge themselves 
 into the greater depths of guilt and misery, this is the 
 effect of their obstinate v/ickedness, and not the design 
 of those benefits which he bestows. 
 
 If these considerations had once begotten in our 
 hearts a real love and affection towards Almighty God, 
 that would easily lead us unto the other branches of 
 
 i Eph. iii. 17-19. 
 
68 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 religion, and therefore I shall need to say the less of 
 them. 
 
 TO BEGET CHARITY, WE MUST REMEMBER THAT ALL 
 MEN ARE NEARLY RELATED UNTO GOD. 
 
 We shall find our hearts enlarged in charity towards 
 men, by considering the relation which they bear to 
 God, and the impresses of his image, which are stamped 
 upon them. They are not only his creatures, the work- 
 manship of his hands, but his resemblances, of whom 
 he takes special care, and for whom he has a very dear 
 and tender regard ; having laid the design *of their hap- 
 piness before the foundations of the world, and being 
 willing to live and converse with them to all the ages 
 of eternity. The meanest and most contemptible per- 
 son whom we behold, is the offspring of heaven, one of 
 the children of the Most High ; and, however unwor- 
 thily of that relation he may behave himself, so long as 
 God hath not disowned him by a final sentence he will 
 have us to acknowledge him as one of His, and, as such, 
 to embrace him with a sincere and cordial affection. 
 You know what a great interest we are wont to have 
 for those who, in any way, belong to the person whom 
 we love ; how gladly we lay hold on every opportunity 
 to gratify the child or servant of a friend ; and surely 
 our love toward God would as naturally spring forth in 
 charity toward men, were we mindful of the interest 
 that he is pleased to take in them ; and did we consider, 
 that every soul is dearer unto him than all the material 
 world ; and that he did not account the blood of his 
 Son too great a price for their redemption. 
 
 THAT THEY CARRY GOD’s IMAGE UPON THEM. 
 
 Again ; as all men stand in a near relation to God, 
 so they have still so much of his image stamped 
 upon them, as may oblige and excite us to love them ; 
 in some this image is more eminent and conspicuous, 
 and we can discern the lovely traces of wisdom and 
 goodness; and though, in others, it is miserably sullied 
 and defaced, yet it is not altogether erased ; some 
 lineaments, at least, still remain. ”j All men are en- 
 
 j ‘ Yet the human mind, however stunned and weakened by its 
 dreadful fall, still retains some faint idea, some confused and obscure 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 69 
 
 dued with rational and immortal souls, with under- 
 standings and wills capable of the highest and most ex- 
 cellent things ; and if they be, at present, disordered 
 and put out of tune by wickedness and folly, this may, 
 indeed, move our compassion, but ought not, in reason, 
 to extinguish our love. When we see a person in a 
 rugged humor and perverse disposition ; full of malice 
 and dissimulation ; very foolish and very proud, — it is 
 hard to fall in love with an object that presents itself 
 unto us under an idea so little grateful and lovely. 
 But, when we shall consider these evil qualities as the 
 diseases and distempers of a soul, which, in itself, is 
 capable of all that wisdom and goodness with which 
 the best of saints have ever been adorned ; and which 
 may, one day, be raised unto such heights of perfec- 
 tion, as shall render it a fit companion for the holy 
 angels, — this will turn our aversion into pity, and make 
 us behold him with such feelings as we should have 
 when we look upon a beautiful body that was mangled 
 with wounds, or disfigured by some loathsome disease ; 
 and, however we hate the vices, we shall not cease to 
 love the man. 
 
 TO BEGET PURITY, WE SHOULD CONSIDER THE DIGNITY 
 OF OUR NATURE. 
 
 In the next place, for purifying our souls, and disen- 
 tangling our affections from the pleasures and enjoy- 
 ments of this lower life, let us frequently ponder the 
 excellency and dignity of our nature ; and think, what 
 a shameful and. unworthy thing it is, for so noble and 
 divine a creature as the soul of man to be sunk and im- 
 mersed in brutish and sensual desires, or amused with airy 
 and fantastical delights, and so to lose the relish of solid 
 and spiritual pleasures ; that the beast should be fed and 
 pampered in us, and the man and the Christian be 
 starved. Did we but consider who we are, and for 
 what we were made, this would teach us, in a right 
 
 notions, of the good it has lost, and some remaining seeds of its heavenly 
 original, — cognati semina coeli.’ — A bp. Leighton, Prelect, ii. 
 
 ‘ The image of God in the soul of man, is not so thoroughly defaced 
 by the stain of earthly affections, that some extreme lineaments, as it 
 were, do not remain upon it.’ — S. August. Tom. x. p. 3. — Ed. 
 
70 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 sense, to reverence and stand in awe of ourselves it 
 would beget a modesty and shamefacedness, and make 
 us very shy and reserved, in the use of the most inno- 
 cent and allowable pleasures. 
 
 WE SHOULD MEDITATE OFTEN ON THE JOYS OF HEAVEN. 
 
 It will be very effectual to the same purpose, that we 
 frequently raise our minds toward heaven, and repre- 
 sent to our thoughts, the joys that are at God’s right 
 hand, “ those pleasures that endure for evermore ; — for 
 every man that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself, 
 even as he is pure.”^ If our heavenly country be much 
 in our thoughts, it will make us, “ as strangers and pil- 
 grims, abstain from fleshly lusts which war against the 
 soul, and keep ourselves unspotted from this world,”™ 
 that we may be fit for the enjoyments and felicities of 
 the other. But then we must see to it, that our notions 
 of heaven be not gross and carnal, that we dream not 
 ' of a Mahometan paradise, nor rest on those metaphors 
 and similitudes, by which these joys are sometimes 
 represented ; for this might, perhaps, have quite a con- 
 trary effect : it might entangle us further in carnal af- 
 fections, and we should be ready to indulge ourselves in 
 a very liberal foretaste of those pleasures, wherein we 
 had placed our everlasting felicity. But, when we come 
 once to conceive aright of those pure and spiritual 
 pleasures ; when the happiness we propose to ourselves, 
 is from the sight, and love, and enjoyment of God ; and 
 when our minds are filled with the hopes and fore- 
 thoughts of that blessed estate ; oh how mean and 
 contemptible will all things here below appear in our 
 eyes ! With what disdain shall we reject the gross and 
 muddy pleasures that would deprive us of those celes- 
 tial enjoyments, or, in any way, unfit and indispose us 
 for them ! 
 
 HUMILITY ARISES FROM THE CONSIDERATION OF OUR 
 FAILINGS. 
 
 The last branch of religion is humility, and surely we 
 can never want matter of consideration for begetting 
 
 k MaXicra 5’ aic)(yveo aavrov. 
 
 Especially reverence thyself. — Pythag. — Ed. 
 I 1 John iii. 3. ™ 1 Pet. ii. 11. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 71 
 
 it. All our wickednesses and imperfections, all our 
 follies and our sins, may help to pull down that fond 
 and overweening conceit, which we are apt to entertain 
 of ourselves. That which makes any body esteem us, 
 is their knowledge or apprehension of some little good, 
 and their ignorance of a great deal of evil, that may be 
 in pur character ; were they thoroughly acquainted with 
 us, they would quickly change their opinion. The 
 thoughts which, in the best and most serious day of our 
 life, pass in our heart, if exposed to public view would 
 render us either hateful or ridiculous : and now, how- 
 ever we conceal our failings from one another, yet surely 
 we are conscious of them ourselves ; and some serious 
 reflections upon them, would much qualify and allay the 
 vanity of our spirits. Thus holy men have come really 
 to think worse of themselves than of any other person 
 in the world : not but that they knew that gross and 
 scandalous vices are, in their nature, more heinous than 
 the surprisals of temptations and infirmity; but, because 
 they were much more intent on their own miscarriages 
 than on those of their neighbors, and considered all the 
 aggravations of the one, and every thing that might be 
 supposed to diminish and alleviate the other. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF GOD GIVE US THE LOWEST THOUGHTS OF 
 OURSELVES. 
 
 But it is well observed by a pious writer, that the 
 deepest and most pure humility does not so much arise 
 from the consideration of our own faults and defects, 
 as from a calm and quiet contemplation of the Divine 
 purity and goodness. Our spots never appear so 
 clearly, as when we place them before this infinite light; 
 and we never seem less in our own eyes, than when we 
 look down upon ourselves from on high. Oh how little, 
 how nothing, do all those shadows of perfection then 
 appear, for which we are wont to value ourselves. That 
 humility which comes from a view of our own sinfulness 
 and misery, is more turbulent and boisterous ; but the 
 other lays us full as low, and wants nothing but that 
 anguish and vexation wherewith our souls are apt to 
 boil, when they are the nearest objects of our thoughts. 
 
72 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 PRAYER ANOTHER INSTRUMENT OF RELIGION; AND THE 
 ADVANTAGES OF MENTAL PRAYER. 
 
 There remains yet another means for begetting a 
 holy and religious disposition in the soul ; and that is, 
 fervent and hearty prayer. Holiness is the gift of God ; 
 indeed the greatest gift he can bestow, or we are capa- 
 ble to receive ; and he has promised his Holy Spirit to 
 those that ask it of him. In prayer we make the nearest 
 approaches to God, and lie open to the influences of 
 heaven : then it is, that the sun of righteousness visits 
 us with his directest rays, and dissipates our darkness, 
 and imprints his image on our souls. I cannot now 
 insist on the advantage of this exercise, or the dispo- 
 sitions wherewith it ought to be performed ; and there 
 is no need that I should, there being so many books 
 which treat on this subject. I shall only tell you, that 
 there is one sort of prayer wherein we make use of the 
 voice, which is necessary in public, and may sometimes 
 have its own advantage in private ; and another, wherein, 
 though we utter no sound, yet we conceive the expres- 
 sions and form the words, as it were, in our minds ; but 
 there is a third, and more sublime kind of prayer, where- 
 in the soul takes a higher flight ; and, having collected 
 all its forces by long and serious meditation, darts itself, 
 if I may so speak, towards God, in sighs, and groans, 
 and thoughts too big for expression. As when, after a 
 deep contemplation of the Divine perfections, appear- 
 ing in all his works of wonder, it addresses itself 
 to Him, in the profoundest adoration of his majesty 
 and glory ; or when, after sad reflections on its vile- 
 ness and miscarriages, it prostrates itself before him, 
 with the greatest confusion and sorrow, not daring to 
 lift up its eyes, or utter one word in his presence ; or 
 when, having well considered the beauty of holiness, 
 and the unspeakable felicity of those that are truly good, 
 it pants after God, and sends up such vigorous and 
 ardent desires, as no words can sufficiently express ; 
 continuing and repeating each of these acts, as long as 
 it finds itself upheld by the force and impulse of the 
 previous meditation. 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 73 
 
 This mental prayer is, of all other, the most effectual 
 to purify the soul, and. dispose it unto a holy and reli- 
 gious temper it may be termed the great secret of de- 
 votion, and one of the most powerful instruments of the 
 divine life ; and it may be, the apostle hath a peculiar 
 respect unto it, when he says, that “ the Spirit helpeth 
 our infirmities, making intercession for us with groan- 
 ings that cannot be uttered or, as the original may 
 bear, that cannot he worded. Yet I do not so recom- 
 mend this sort of prayer as to supersede the use of the 
 other; for we have so many several things to pray for, 
 and every petition of this nature requires so much time, 
 and so great an intention of spirit, that it were not 
 easy therein to overtake them all. To say nothing of 
 the fact, that the deep sighs and heavings of the heart 
 which are wont to accompany it, are something oppres- 
 sive 10 nature, and make it hard to continue long in 
 
 them. But certainly a few of these inward aspirations 
 will do more than a great many fluent and melting 
 expressions. 
 
 RELIGION IS TO BE ADVANCED BY THE SAME MEANS BY 
 
 WHICH IT IS BEGUN, AND THE USE OF THE HOLY 
 
 SACRAMENT TOWARDS IT. 
 
 Thus, my dear friend, I have briefly proposed the 
 method which I judge proper for moulding the soul 
 into a holy frame. And the same means which serve 
 to get this divine temper, must still be practised for 
 strengthening and advancing it. Therefore, I shall 
 recommend but one more for that purpose; and 
 that is the frequent and conscientious use of that 
 holy Sacrament, which is peculiarly appointed to 
 nourish and increase the spiritual life, when once it is 
 begotten in the soul. All the instruments of religion 
 meet together in this ordinance : and while we address 
 ourselves to it, we are induced to practise all the rules 
 which have been mentioned before. Then it is that 
 make the severest survey of our actions, and lay the 
 strictest obligations on ourselves ; then are our minds 
 raised to the highest contempt of the world, and every 
 grace exercises itself with the greatest advantage ; and 
 
 then, if ever, the soul makes its most powerful sallies 
 towards heaven, and assaults it vvith a holy and accept- 
 
74 NATURE AND EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 able force. And certainly the neglect or careless per- 
 formance of this duty, is one of the chief causes that 
 bedwarfs our religion, and makes us continue of so low 
 a size. 
 
 But it is time I should put a close to this letter, 
 which is grown to a far greater bulk than at first I 
 intended. If these poor papers can do you the small- 
 est service, I should think myself very happy in this 
 undertaking: at least, I am hopeful you will kindly 
 accept the sincere endeavors of a person who would fain 
 acquit himself of some part of that which he owes you. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 ‘And now, O most gracious God, father and fountain 
 of mercy and goodness, who hast blessed us with the 
 knowledge of our happiness, and the way that leads to 
 it, excite in our souls such ardent desires after the one, 
 as may put us forth to the diligent prosecution of the 
 other. Let us neither presume on our own strength, 
 nor distrust thy divine assistance ; but while we dre 
 doing our utmost endeavors, teach us still to depend on 
 thee for success. Open our eyes, O God, and teach us 
 out of thy law. Bless us with an exact and tender sense 
 of our duty, and a knowledge to discern perverse things. 
 O that our ways were directed to keep thy statutes ; 
 then shall we not be ashamed, when we have respect 
 unto all thy commandments. Possess our hearts with 
 a generous and holy disdain of all those poor enjoy- 
 ments, which this world holds out to allure us, that they 
 may never be able to inveigle our affections, or betray 
 us to any sin. Turn away our eyes from beholding 
 vanity, and quicken thou us in thy law. Fill our souls 
 with such a deep sense, and full persuasion of those 
 great truths which thou hast revealed in the Gospel, as 
 may influence and regulate our whole conversation ; 
 and that the life which we henceforth live in the flesh, 
 we may live through faith in the Son of God. O that 
 the infinite perfections of thy blessed nature, and the 
 astonishing expressions of thy goodness and love, may 
 conquer and overpower our hearts ; that they may be 
 constantly rising towards thee in flames of the devoutest 
 affection, and, for thy sake, enlarging themselves in 
 sincere and cordial love towards all the world ; and 
 
SCOUGAL.] OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 75 
 
 that we may cleanse ourselves from all filthiness Of flesh 
 and spirit, perfecting holiness in thy fear, without which 
 we can never hope to behold and enjoy thee. Finally, 
 O God, grant that the consideration of what thou art, 
 and what we ourselves are, may both humble and lay us 
 low before thee, and also stir up in us the strongest and 
 most ardent aspirations towards thee. We desire to 
 resign, and give ourselves up to the conduct of thy Holy 
 Spirit : lead us in thy truth, and teach us, for thou art 
 the God of our salvation ; guide us with thy counsel, 
 and afterward^ receive us into glory, for the merits 
 and intercession of thy blessed Son our Saviour.’ — 
 Amen, 
 
76 
 
 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 DISCOURSES 
 
 ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY THE REV. H. SCOUGAL. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY OF THE RELIGIOUS. 
 
 Prov. xii. 2G. 
 
 Tht>. 'righteous is more excellent than his neighbor. 
 
 He who considers the excellency and advantage of 
 piety and religion, how conformable it is to the best 
 principle of our nature, and how profitable to our in- 
 terests, may justly be surprised at the bad entertainment 
 it receives in the world; and will easily conclude, that 
 this must needs flow from some gross mistakes about 
 it, and prejudices against it ; since, when things are not 
 misrepresented, it is so natural to us to love that which 
 is good, and delight in that which is amiable. 
 
 Certainly all who are enemies to holiness, have taken 
 up false measures, and disadvantageous notions of it. 
 The sensual person hates it, as harsh and unpleasant, 
 doing violence to his carnal appetites, and looks on 
 religion as a contrivance to deprive and rob him of the 
 pleasures of this world, by proposing those of another. 
 The politic wit slights it as foolish and imprudent ; and 
 though he acknowledges it as a necessary instrument 
 of government, as a good device to overawe a multi- 
 tude, yet he counts it a great weakness to be further 
 concerned in it, than may be consistent with, and sub- 
 servient to, secular designs. Again, the gallants of our 
 age despise it as a base ignoble temper, unworthy of a 
 high birth and genteel education, incident to meaner 
 souls, proceeding £i*om cowardly and superstitious fear. 
 
DISC. I.J OF THE RELIGIOUS. 77 
 
 depressing the mind, and rendering it incapable of high 
 and aspiring thoughts. Hence, they make it their busi- 
 ness to pour contempt upon piety, and to advance the 
 reputation of those vicious courses which themselves 
 have embraced. And because there are yet some left, 
 who, by practising and recommending virtue, oppose 
 and condemn their lewd practices, they study to avenge 
 themselves on them by the persecution of their tongues, 
 and by all the scoffs and reproaches they can invent 
 and utter — a means which has proved most unhappily 
 successful, in deterring many weak minds from good- 
 ness ; making them choose to be wicked, that they may 
 not be laughed at. 
 
 It is to discover the grossness of this mistake, and to 
 expose the absurdities and unreasonableness of these 
 principles and practices ; — to vindicate the excellency 
 of piety, and to recommend it to all truly generous 
 souls, — that we have made choice of this text ; which 
 tells us, in short and plain terms, that “ the righteous is 
 more excellent than his neighbor.” 
 
 None can be so little acquainted with the Scripture 
 dialect, as not to know, that, though righteousness, in 
 its truest acceptation, imports only the observation of 
 those duties which we owe our neighbor, yet it is 
 usually taken, more largely, for piety and virtue in 
 general. And good reason too ; since there is no part 
 of our duty, which we do not owe as a debt unto God ; 
 no exercise of religion, which is not an act of justice : 
 whence the clear import of the text is, that, whatever 
 excellency other persons may pretend to, pious and 
 religious men alone, are the truly noble and generous 
 persons in the world ; as the Psalmist expresses it, “ The 
 saints are excellent ones in the earth.” 
 
 Now, we shall not trouble you with any further expli- 
 cation of the words which are so clear, or with any 
 division of a proposition so simple : but shall rather 
 illustrate and confirm the assertion, by producing such 
 undoubted evidences of nobleness and excellency, as 
 are proper to godliness, and to those who practise it. 
 Where we may have occasion to hint at such characters 
 of a pious man, as, besides the general design, may, 
 perhaps, serve to put us in mind of some parts of our 
 duty, which we are not so careful to observe ; and 
 
 7 # 
 
78 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 which, therefore, may be useful, even to those who have 
 already embraced the practice of religion. 
 
 Being to speak of the nobleness and excellency of 
 religion, it may be expected that we should say some- 
 thing of its origin and extract ; the whole of nobility 
 which some understand, and others pretend to. We 
 might take occasion to discover the folly of glorying 
 in the antiquity of an illustrious house, or the famed 
 virtue of worthy ancestors, who, perhaps, were they 
 alive, would disown their degenerate progeny. But I 
 shall not insist upon this ; it is a vanity which has been 
 chastised sufficiently even by Heatlien pens.^ Nay, we 
 shall so far comply with the common sentiments of the 
 world, as to acknowledge that high birth and liberal 
 education may contribute much to elevate the minds of 
 men, and accustom them to great thoughts. But surely, 
 whatever advantages any may pretend to by their birth, 
 there are none to be preferred to the children of God, 
 the blood-royal of heaven, the brethren of Christ ; of 
 whom we may say, that “as he is, so are they; each 
 one resembling the son of a king.” 
 
 If we trace the lines of earthly extraction, we shall 
 find them all meet in one point ; all terminate in dust 
 and earth. But in the heraldry of heaven, we shall find 
 a two-fold pedigree. Sin is the offspring of hell ; and 
 “ wicked men are of their father the devil,” whose work 
 they perform. On the other hand, holiness is the seed 
 of God : and the saints have obtained to be called “ the 
 sons of the Most High.” And think not, that these are 
 empty titles, and big words, to amuse the world ; no, 
 they are equally just and important. Pious men are 
 really “partakers of the Divine nature,” and shall obtain 
 an interest in the inheritance which is entailed on that 
 relation. Never were the qualities of a parent more 
 really derived unto their children, than the image and 
 similitude of the Divine excellences are stamped upon 
 these heaven-born souls. Some beams of that eternal 
 light are darted in upon them, and make them shine with 
 an eminent splendor : and they are always aspiring to a 
 nearer conformity with him, still breathing after a fur- 
 ther communication of his Holy Spirit, and daily 
 
 ^ Sec particularly Juvenal, Sat. viii. — E d. 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 79 
 
 finding the power of that Spirit correcting the ruder 
 deformities of their natures, and superinducing the 
 beautiful delineations of God’s image upon them ; so 
 that any who observe them, may perceive their rela^ 
 tion to God, by. the excellency of their deportment in 
 the world. 
 
 Having spoken of the righteous or godly man’s ex- 
 cellency, in respect of his birth and extraction, we pro- 
 ceed to consider his qualities and endowments ; and 
 shall begin with those of his understanding, his know- 
 ledge, and wisdom. The wise man tells us, that “ a 
 man of understanding is of an excellent spirit.” And 
 surely, if any man in the world is to be esteemed for 
 knowledge, it is the pious man. His knowledge is con- 
 versant about the noblest objects ; he contemplates that 
 infinite being, whose perfections can never enough be 
 admired, but still afford new matter to astonish and de- 
 light him ; to ravish his affections ; to raise his wonder. 
 He studies the law of God, “ which maketh him wiser 
 than all his teachers.” As Dr. Tillotson has it, ‘ It is 
 deservedly accounted an excellent piece of knowledge, 
 to understand the laws of the land, the customs of the 
 country we live in ; how much more to know the sta- 
 tutes of heaven, the eternal Jaw^s of righteousness, the 
 will of the universal monarch, and the customs of that 
 country where w^e hope to live forever?’ And, if we 
 have a mind to the studies of nature and human science, 
 he is best disposed for it, having his faculties cleared^ 
 and his understanding heightened, by divine contem- 
 plations. 
 
 But his knowledge does not rest in speculation ; it 
 directs his practice, and determines his choice. And he 
 is the most prudent, as well as the most knowing per- 
 son. He knows how to secure his greatest interest; 
 to provide for the longest life ; to prefer solid pleasures 
 to gilded trifles : the soul to the body ; eternity to a 
 moment. He knows the temper of his own spirit; he 
 can moderate his passions, and overrule his carnal 
 appetites : whiclq certainly, is a far more important 
 piece of wisdom, than to understand the intrigues of a 
 state, to fathom the councils of princes, to know the 
 pulse of a people, or to balance the interests of king- 
 doms. Yea, piety heightens and advances even moral 
 
80 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 prudence itself : for while both direct and oblige a man 
 to “order his affairs with discretion,” piety “ maketh 
 the simple wise.” And what was said by holy David, 
 and twice repeated by his wise son, will hold good in 
 every man’s experience, that “ the fear of the Lord is 
 the beginning of wisdom.” And thus much of the 
 knowledge and wisdom, in which the righteous man 
 excelleth his neighbor. 
 
 We proceed to another of his endowments; the 
 greatness of his mind, and his contempt of the world. 
 We can never take better measures of a man’s spirit, 
 than from the things in which he delights, and on which 
 he sets his heart.^ To be taken up with trifles, and 
 concerned in little things, is an evidence of a weak and 
 naughty mind. And such are all wicked and irreli- 
 gious persons : their thoughts are confined to low and 
 mean things ; to designs of scraping together money, 
 or spending it in luxury ; of satisfying an appetite, or 
 pleasing a passion ; of obtaining the favor of great ones, 
 or the applause of the vulgar. The greatest happiness 
 at which they aim, is to be masters of the country 
 where they live ; to dwell in stately houses, and to be 
 backed with a train of attendants ; to lie softly, and 
 fare deliciously, and such miserable attainments ; which 
 a wise man would think himself unhappy if he could 
 not despise. 
 
 But the pious person has his thoughts far above these 
 jiainted vanities. His felicity is not patched up of so 
 mean shreds ; it is simple, and comprised in one chief 
 good : his soul advances itself, by rational movements, 
 towards the Author of its being, the fountain of good- 
 ness and pleasure ; “ I have none in heaven but Thee ; 
 and there is none upon earth whom I desire beside 
 Thee.” 
 
 The knowledge of nature has been reputed a good 
 means to enlarge the soul, and to breed in it a contempt 
 of earthly enjoyments. He that has accustomed him- 
 self to consider the vastness of the universe, and the 
 small proportion which the point we live in bears to the 
 rest of the world, may, perhaps, come to think less of 
 the possession of some acres, or of that fame which 
 
 b ‘ Q^ualis amor, talis animus.’ 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 81 
 
 can, at most, spread itself through a small corner of this 
 earth. Whatever be in this, sure I am, that the know- 
 ledge of God, and the frequent thoughts of heaven, 
 must needs prove far more effectual to elevate and^ag- 
 grandize the mind. When once the soul, by contem- 
 plation, is raised to any right apprehension of the Divine 
 perfections, and to foretastes of celestial bliss, how will 
 this world and all that is in it, vanish and disappear be- 
 fore his eyes ? With what holy disdain, will he look 
 down upon things, which are the highest objects of 
 other men’s ambitious desires ? All the splendor of 
 courts, all the pageantry of greatness, will no more 
 dazzle his eyes, than the faint lustre of a glow-worm 
 will trouble the eagle, after it has been beholding the 
 sun. He is little concerned, who obtained this dignity, 
 or that fortune ; who sits highest at table, or goes first 
 out of the door. His thoughts are taken up with greater 
 matters ; how he shall please his Maker, and obtain an 
 interest in that land of promise, some of v/hose fruits' 
 he has already tasted. And from hence arises that con- 
 stant and equal frame of spirit, which the pious man’s 
 mind maintains, in all the changes and vicissitudes of 
 things. While he who has not his spirit balanced by 
 religious principles, is lifted up and cast down like a 
 ship on the sea, with every variation of fortune ; and 
 partakes, perhaps, of all the motions of this inferior 
 world, to which his heart and affections are riveted. 
 And, certainly, he must be far more happy and generous 
 too, who sits loose to the world, and who can, with the 
 greatest calmness and tranquillity, possess his own soul,, 
 while all things without are hurry and confusion. Pri- 
 vate disasters cannot discompose, nor public calamities 
 reach him ; he looks upon the troubles and combustions 
 of the world, as men do on the ruin and desolation of 
 cities in which themselves have little interest ; with no 
 other concernment than that of pity, to see men trouble 
 themselves and others to so little purpose. If the world 
 should shake, and the foundations of the earth be re- 
 moved,'^ yet would he rest secure, in a full acquiescence 
 to the will of God, and a confident dependence on his 
 
 « ‘ Sifractus illabatur-orbis,’ &c. 
 
82 
 
 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 providence : “ He shall not be afraid of evil tidings : 
 his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord.” 
 
 And this, by the affinity, will lead us to another en- 
 dowment, in which the excellency of the righteous man 
 appears ; that heroic magnanimity and courage, with 
 which he is inspired ; which makes him confidently 
 achieve the most difficult actions, and resolutely under- 
 go the hardest sufferings, that he is called to. For this 
 see the Epistle to the Hebrews: “Through faith some 
 have subdued kingdoms this was their active courage. 
 “Others again were tortured, &c. this was their pas- 
 sive courage, which, in Christians, is most eminent and 
 useful. True valor more appears by suffering than by 
 doing ; and, doubtless, this is the harder trial of the 
 two. Were it not for suffering hardships, the greatest 
 coward in the world would be man enough for the high- 
 est enterprises. It is not so much the difficulty of great 
 actions, as the danger that attends them, which makes 
 men fear to undertake them : so that, to suffer choorfullyy 
 must be the greatest proof of courage. And surely, we 
 may appeal to the world, to produce such eminent in- 
 stances of fortitude and resolution as Christian martyrs 
 have shown, under those torments which cannot be 
 mentioned without horror. How often has their con- 
 stancy amazed their bloody persecutors, and outwearied 
 the cruelties of their tormentors! Nor was this pa- 
 tience per-force : they might have saved themselves that 
 trouble, by throwing a little incense into the fire, or 
 speaking a few blasphemous words ; but well had they 
 learned “ not to fear those who can kill the body,” &c. 
 Nor were they borne out by an obstinate humor, and 
 perverse stoical wilfulness : they were neither stupid 
 and insensible, nor proud and self-conceited ; their suf- 
 ferings were undertaken with calmness, and sustained 
 with moderation. 
 
 Let Heathen Rome boast of a Regulus, a Decius, or 
 some two or three more-, stimulated by a desire of glory, 
 and perhaps animated by some secret hopes of future re- 
 ward, who have devoted their life to the service of their 
 country. But wffiat is this to an infinite number, not only 
 of men, but even of women and children, who have died 
 for the profession of their faith ; neither seeking nor ex* 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 83 
 
 pecting any praise from men? And tell me, who among 
 the Heathen willingly endured the loss of reputation? 
 Nay, that was their idol, and tl^ey could not part with it. 
 And, certainly, it is great meanness of spirit tobe overawed 
 with fear of disgrace, and to depend upon the thoughts 
 of the people. True courage equally fortifies the mind 
 against all those evils, and will make a man hazard his 
 honor, as well as other things, when occasion calls 
 for it. 
 
 Now, if the celebrated actions of the Heathen come 
 short of true courage, what shall we say of the furious 
 boldness of the Hectors of our age, who pretend to 
 prowess and gallantry, by far less reasonable methods ? 
 When, blinded with passion, and animated with wine, 
 they are ready enough, on half a quarrel, to hazard their 
 own and their neighbor’s life, and soul too, in a duel ! 
 Yea, they will not scruple to brave heaven itself, and to 
 provoke the Almighty, by their horrid oaths and blas- 
 phemies. One would think, that these must needs be 
 the hardiest and most valiant people in the world ; if 
 they are not afraid of the Almighty, surely nothing else 
 should fright them. And yet, you shall find these very 
 persons, when cast on a bed by sickness, or brought to 
 the scaffold by justice, betraying a miserable faintness 
 and pusillanimity. They are forced now to think on 
 the terrors of death, and the more terrible consequences 
 of it; and their counterfeit courage, destitute of those 
 props which formerly sustained it, now discovers its 
 weakness. Nor is it any wonder : for what should make 
 a man willingly leave this world, unless he expected a 
 more happy condition in another ? Certainly, nothing 
 can fortify the soul with a true and manly courage, but 
 a confidence in God, and the hope of future blessedness. 
 “ The wicked flee when no man pursueth ; but the 
 righteous is bold as a lion and, from that, he is justly 
 accounted “more excellent than his neighbor.” 
 
 From courage and magnanimity, we pass to that 
 which is its genuine issue and ordinary consequence, 
 the liberty and freedom of the righteous person. Liberty 
 is a privilege so highly rated by all men, that many run 
 the greatest hazards for its very name : but there are 
 few who enjoy it in reality. I shall not speak of those 
 fetters of ceremony, and chains of state, wherewith 
 
84 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 great men are tied; which make their actions con- 
 strained, and their converse uneasy: this is more to 
 be pitied than blamed. But wicked and irreligious per- 
 sons are under a far more shameful bondage : they are 
 slaves to their own passions, and suffer the violence 
 and tyranny of their irregular appetites. This is fre- 
 quently talked of, but seldom considered or believed ; 
 and therefore it will not be amiss to bring an instance 
 or two, for the illustration of it. Observe a passion- 
 ate man, and you shall find him frequently transported 
 and overpowered by his anger, and carried to those 
 extremities of which a little time makes him ashamed ; 
 and he becomes as much displeased with himself, as 
 formerly he was with his adversary : and yet, on the 
 next occasion, he will obey that same passion which he 
 has condemned. What a drudge is a covetous man to 
 his riches ; which take up his thoughts all the day long, 
 and break his sleep in the night ! How must the am- 
 bitious man fawn and flatter, and cross his very humor, 
 with hopes to satisfy it ; stoop to the ground, that he 
 may aspire; courting and caressing those whom he 
 hates : which, doubtless, is done with a great violence 
 and constraint. The drunkard, when he awakes, and 
 has slept out his cups and his frolic humor, and finds his 
 head aching, his stomach qualmish, perhaps his purse 
 empty, and reflects on his folly, and unhandsome expres- 
 sions or actions into which he may have fallen in his 
 drink, how will he condemn himself for that excess ! 
 What harangues shall we have from him, in the praise 
 of temperance ! W’^hat promises and resolutions of fu- 
 ture sobriety ! And yet, on the next occasion, the poor 
 slave shall be dragged away to the tavern, by those 
 whom he must call his friends ; and must thank them, 
 who put upon him that abuse which a wise and sober 
 person would rather die than suffer. Further, the luxu- 
 rious would fain preserve, or recover, his health ; and, 
 to this end, he finds it requisite to keep a temperate and 
 sober diet. No ; but he must not. He is present at a 
 feast, and his superior appetite calls for a large measure 
 of delicious fare ; and his palate must be pleased, though 
 the whole body shall suffer for it: or he has met with 
 a profligate woman ; and though his whole bones should 
 rot, “ and a dart strike through his liver,” yet must he 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 85 
 
 obey the command of his passions : “ He goeth after 
 her straightway, as the ox goeth to the slaughter, or as 
 a fool to the correction of the stocks.” Now, there can 
 be no greater evidence of slavery and bondage, than 
 thus to do what themselves know to be prejudicial. It 
 were easy to illustrate this bondage and thraldom of the 
 soul, in all the other instances of vice and impiety. And 
 certainly, what St. Peter says of some false teachers, 
 may be well applied to all wicked persons : “While they 
 promise freedom, they themselves are the servants of 
 corruption : for, of whom a man is overcome, of the 
 same is he brought in bondage.” 
 
 But the holy and religious person has broken these 
 fetters; has cast off the yoke of sin, and become the 
 freeman of the Lord. It is religion that restores free- 
 dom to the soul, which philosophy did but pretend to ; 
 it is that which sways and moderates all those blind 
 passions and impetuous affections, which else would 
 hinder a man from the possession and enjoyment of 
 himself, and which makes him master of his own 
 thoughts, motions, and desires, that he may do with 
 freedom what he judges most honest and convenient. 
 And thus “ the righteous man excelleth his neighbor,” 
 as much as a freeman excels the basest slave. 
 
 Another particular wherein the nobleness and excel- 
 lency of religion appears, is in a charitable and benign 
 temper. There is no greater evidence of a base and 
 narrow soul, than for a man to have all his thoughts 
 taken up with private and selfish interests ; and if those 
 interests be prosperous, not to care what becomes of 
 the rest of the world. On the other hand, an extensive 
 charity and kindness, as it is the one-half of our religion, 
 so it is an eminent point of generosity. “ The righteous 
 man is gracious, and full of compassion; he shovveth 
 favor and lendeth ;” and makes it his work to serve 
 mankind as much as he is able. His bounty is not 
 confined to his kindred and relations, to those of his 
 own party and mode of religion : this were but a dis- 
 guised kind of self-love. It is enough to him that they 
 are Christians ; or, if they were not, yet are they men, 
 and therefore deserve our pity, not our hatred or neg- 
 lect, because of their errors. It is true, he has a spe- 
 cial kindness for those in whom he discovers a principle 
 
86 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUOAL. 
 
 of goodness and virtue ; in those excellent ones is all 
 his delight. But, then, he takes his measure, not so 
 much from their judgment and opinions, as from the 
 integrity of their life, and the exactness of their prac- 
 tices. 
 
 His charity does not express itself in one particular 
 instance, for example, that of giving alms; but is vented 
 in as many ways as the variety of occasions require and 
 his power can attain. He assists the poor with his 
 money; the ignorant with his counsel; the afflicted 
 wdth his comfort ; the sick with the best of his skill ; 
 all with his blessings and prayers. If he cannot build 
 hospitals, yet he will study to persuade those who can. 
 If he has no money to redeem captives, yet will he 
 employ his interest in the court of heaven for their 
 deliverance. Though he cannot recover a dying child 
 to the afflicted parents, yet he will endeavor to persuade 
 them to submission and resignation, which will render 
 them more happy. And thus, in every emergency, it 
 will go hard with him if he does not find some way, 
 either to benefit or oblige every man with whom he 
 converses. Nor let any man upbraid us with the con- 
 trary practices of many high pretenders to religion, 
 who are notedly selfish and churlish persons. We are 
 not to defend the actions of all who would be thought 
 godly ; nor must you take your measures of piety from 
 what you observe in them. But look through the Gos- 
 pel, and you shall find charity and bounty so passionately 
 recommended, so frequently inculcated, and so indis- 
 pensably required, that you may easily conclude there 
 are no Christians in earnest, but those who practise it. 
 Yea, so peculiar is this liberal and benign temper to 
 holy and religious persons, that nothing but a faint re- 
 semblance and false imitation, is to be found elsewhere 
 in the world. Other men’s seeming bounty is always 
 marred, by the base principle from which it proceeds, 
 and the selfish purpose to which it tends. The apostle 
 has told us, that “a man may give all his goods to feed 
 the poor, and yet w^ant charity ;” and all these expenses 
 shall profit him nothing. Importunity, or a willingness 
 to be delivered from the trouble of a miserable specta- 
 cle, may, perhaps, wring something out of his pocket; but 
 vanity and a desire of applause have usually the greatest 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 87 
 
 interest in his distributions. This made the hypocrites 
 of old proclaim their alms with trumpets ; and this 
 makes their successors in our times delight to have 
 their good works of this kind recorded to the greatest 
 advantage, that posterity may read them on walls and 
 in public registers. 
 
 To the same principle must we refer, what, in the 
 world, passes for a very considerable instance of gene- 
 rosity, the keeping of a great house and well-furnished 
 table ; which, nevertheless, is more ordinarily the effect 
 of pride and vain glory, than of humility or hospitality. 
 It is a part of men’s splendor and state ; and they deck 
 their tables for the same end that they put on fine 
 clothes — to be talked of and admired in the world. You 
 may guess it, by the persons whom they entertain ; 
 who are usually such as need least of their charity, and 
 fpr whom they have, very often, as little kindness or 
 concernment as an innkeeper for his guests ; nor are 
 they less mercenary than he : the one sells his meat for 
 money, the other for praise. Far more generous is the 
 practice of the pious man, who, as he chooses most to 
 benefit those who can make him no recompense, so he 
 does not trouble the world with the noise of his charity: 
 yea, “ his left hand knoweth not what his right hand 
 bestoweth;” and that which most endears his bounty is 
 the love and affection whence it proceeds. 
 
 We shall name but one instance itiore, in which the 
 righteous man excels his neighbor ; and that is, his 
 venerable temperance and purity. He has risen above 
 the vaporous sphere of sensual pleasure, which darkens 
 and debases the mind : which sullies its lustre and 
 abates its native vigor : while profane persons, wal- 
 lowing in impure desires, sink themselves below the 
 condition of men. Can there be any spark of generosi- 
 ty, any degree of excellency, in him, who makes his 
 belly his god, or who places his felicity in the madness 
 of sensual enjoyment? We spoke before of the slavery, 
 we speak now of the deformity, of these sins : and shall 
 add, that one of the most shameful and miserable spec- 
 tacles in the world is, to see a man born to the use of 
 reason, and perhaps to an eminent fortune, drink away 
 his religion, his reason, his sense ; and so expose him- 
 self to the pity of wise men ; the contempt of his own 
 
88 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 servants ; the derision of his children, and fools ; to 
 every danger, and to every snare; and that this must 
 pass, in the eyes of many, for a piece of gallantry, the 
 necessary accomplishment of a gentleman. How are 
 the minds of men poisoned with perverse notions ! 
 What unreasonable measures do they take of things ! 
 We may expect next, that they shall commend theft, 
 and make harangues in praise of parricide ; for they are 
 daily advancing the boldness of their impieties, and 
 with confidence avowing them. Other ages have prac- 
 tised wickedness ; but to ours, is reserved the impudence 
 to glory in it. But, would men but open their eyes, and 
 give way to the sentiments of their own minds, they 
 would soon alter their maxims, and discover the mise- 
 rable deformity of vice, and the beauty and majesty of 
 religion ; that it at once adorns and advances human 
 nature ; and has in it every thing generous and noble, 
 cheerful and spiritual, free and ingenuous ; in a word, 
 that the righteous is more excellent than his neighbor. 
 
 Before we proceed further, it will be necessary to 
 remove some prejudices and objections, which arise 
 against the nobleness and excellency of religion. And 
 the first is, that it enjoins lowliness and humility; which 
 men ordinarily look upon as an abject and base dispo- 
 sition. What, will they say, can that man ever aspire 
 to any thing excellent, whose principles oblige him to 
 lie low and grovel on the ground ; who thinks nothing 
 of himself, and is content that all the world think no- 
 thing of him ? Is this a disposition fit for any, but those 
 whose cross fortune obliges them to suffer miseries and 
 affronts ? Such are men’s thoughts of humility ; which 
 God loves so much, that, we may say, he sent his own 
 Son from heaven, to teach and recommend it. But, if 
 we ponder the matter, we shall find that arrogance and 
 pride are the issues of base and silly minds, a giddiness 
 incident to those who are raised suddenly to an unac- 
 customed height. Nor is there any vice which more 
 palpably defeats its own design; depriving a man of that 
 honor and reputation, which it makes him aim at. 
 
 On the other hand, we shall find humility no silly and 
 sneaking quality ; but the greatest height and subli- 
 mity of the mind, and the only way to true honor : 
 “ Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, and 
 
OF THE RELIGIOUS. 
 
 89 
 
 Disc. I.] 
 
 before honor is humility.” Lowliness is the endow- 
 ment of high-born and well-educated souls, who are 
 acquainted with the knowledge of excellent things, and 
 therefore do not doat upon trifles, or admire little 
 things, merely because they are their own. They have 
 no such high opinion of riches, beauty, strength, or 
 any similar advantages, as to value themselves for them, 
 or to despise those who want them : but they study to 
 surmount themselves, and all the little attainments they 
 have hitherto reached, and are still aspiring to higher 
 and more noble things. And it is worth our notice, 
 that the most deep and pure humility does not so much 
 arise from the consideration of our own faults and de- 
 fects (though that also may have its proper place), as 
 from a calm contemplation of the Divine perfections. 
 By reflecting on ourselves, we may discover something 
 of our own sinfulness and misery ; and, consequently, 
 may be filled with a kind of boisterous and turbulent 
 grief and indignation : but, by fixing our eyes on the 
 infinite greatness and holiness of God, we are most 
 fully convinced of our own meanness. This will sink 
 us to the very bottom of our beings, and make us ap- 
 pear as nothing in our own sight, when beheld from so 
 great a height. And this is, really, the greatest eleva- 
 tion of the soul ; and there is nothing in the world so 
 noble and excellent, as the sublimity of humble minds. 
 
 Another objection against the excellency of a reli- 
 gious temper, is, that the love of enemies, dnd the par- 
 don of injuries, which it includes, are utterly inconsist- 
 ent with the principles of honor. Now, though it be 
 highly unreasonable to examine the laws of our Saviour 
 by such rules as this, yet we shall consider the matter 
 a little. Nor shall we seek to elude or qualify *this pre- 
 cept, as some do, by such glosses and evasions as may 
 suit with their own practices : nay, we shall freely pro- 
 fess that there is no salvation without the observation 
 of it. A man had even as well abandon Christianity, 
 and renounce his baptism, as obstinately refuse to obey 
 it. But, if we have any value for the judgment of him 
 who was, at once, both the wisest man, and a great king, 
 he will tell us, that “ it is the honor of man to cease 
 from strife ; and he that is slow to wrath is of great 
 understanding.” The meek and lowly person lives 
 
90 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 above the reach of petty injuries, and blunts the edge of 
 the greatest by his patience and constancy ; he has 
 compassion towards those who offend him : being more 
 sorry for the prejudice they do themselves, than for that 
 which they intended him. And let all the world judge, 
 whether it be more generous to pity and love even 
 those who hate us, and to pardon the greatest offences, 
 than peevishly to quarrel on every petty occasion, and 
 make men fear our passion, hate our humor, and aban- 
 don our society? So that, what is here brought as an 
 objection against religion, might, with reason enough, 
 have been brought as an instance of its nobleness. 
 
 Having thus illustrated and confirmed what is assert- 
 ed in the text, that the righteous is more excellent than 
 his neighbor ; let us improve it, as a check to that pro- 
 fane and atheistical spirit of drollery and scoffing at 
 religion, which has got abroad in the world. Alas ! do 
 men consider what it is which they make the butt of 
 their scoffs and reproaches? Have they nothing else to 
 exercise their wit, and vent their jests upon, but that 
 wffiich is the most noble and excellent thing in the 
 world? What design can they propose to themselves 
 by this kind of impiety ? Would they have religion ba- 
 nished from the face of the earth, and forced to retire 
 for shame ? What a goodly world should we then have 
 of it ! What a fine harmony and order of things ! Cer- 
 tainly the earth would then become a kind of hell, with 
 tumults and seditions, rapines and murders, secret ma- 
 lice, and open frauds, by every vice, and every cala- 
 mity. Some little remainders of piety and virtue in 
 the world, alone keep it in any tolerable condition, or 
 make it possible to be inhabited. And must not those 
 be wretched persons, and woful enemies to mankind, 
 who do what they can to reduce the world to such a 
 miserable condition ? But let them do what they will ; 
 they but kick against the pricks. Religion has so 
 much native lustre and beauty, that, notwithstanding 
 all the dirt which they study to cast upon it, all the 
 melancholy and deformed shapes in which they dress 
 it, it will attract the eyes and admiration of all sober 
 and ingenuous persons : and while these men study 
 to make it ridiculous, they shall but make themselves 
 so. And O! that they would consider how dear they 
 
DISC. I.] OF THE RELIGIOUS. 91 
 
 are to pay for those dull and insipid jests, wherewith 
 they persecute religion, and those who practise it 
 or recommend it ! What thoughts they are likely to 
 have of them, when sickness shall arrest, and death 
 threaten them; when the physicians shall have for- 
 saken them, and the poor despised minister is called in, 
 and they are expecting comfort from him that they 
 were wont to mock, and perhaps it is little he can afford 
 them ! “ O that men were wise, that they understood 
 this, that they would consider their latter end!” 
 
 There are others, who have not yet arrived to this 
 height of profaneness, who do not absolutely laugh at 
 all religion ; but who vent their malice at those who 
 are more conscientious and severe than themselves, 
 under presumption that they are hypocrites and dis- 
 semblers. But, besides that in this they may be guilty 
 of a great deal of uncharitableness, it is to be suspected 
 that they bear some secret dislike to piety itself ; and 
 hate hypocrisy more for its resemblance of that, than 
 for its own viciousness : otherwise, whence comes it 
 that they do not express the same animosity against 
 other vices ? 
 
 To this, also, we may refer those expressions which 
 sometimes drop from persons not so utterly debauched, 
 but which yet are blasphemous and profane : ‘ that this 
 man is too holy, and that man too religious as if it 
 were possible to exceed in these things. What ! can a 
 man approach too near to God ? Can he be too like 
 his Maker? Is it possible to be over-perfect, or over- 
 happy ? I confessv*^ man may over-act some parts of 
 religion, and dwell too much on some particular exer- 
 cises of it, neglecting other as necessary duties. But 
 this is not an excess of piety, it is a defect of discretion. 
 And reason would teach us rather to pardon men’s in- 
 firmities for their pious inclinations, than to blame piety 
 for their infirmities. 
 
 Let me, therefore, entreat you all, especially those 
 whose birth and fortunes render them more conspicuous 
 in the world, to countenance holiness, which you see is 
 so excellent; and to beware that you do not, by scoff- 
 ing at the most serious things in the world, contribute 
 to that deluge of wickedness which overflows the earth. 
 And, if I obtain this, I shall make bold to beg one thing 
 
92 EXCELLENCY OF THE RELIGIOUS. [SCOUGAL. 
 
 more, but it is in your own favors ; that you would also 
 abandon every kind of impiety in your own practice, 
 since, in it, every vile ruffian may vie and contend with 
 you. In other cases, you forsake modes and customs 
 when they become common. Wickedness is now" the 
 most vulgar and ordinary thing in the world. Shift, I 
 beseech you, the fashion, and embrace piety and vir- 
 tue; in which none but excellent persons shall rival 
 you. Learn to adore your Maker : and think it not 
 beneath you, to stand in awe of him who can rend the 
 heavens, and make the foundations pf the earth shake ; 
 who needs but withdraw his mercies, to make you mise- 
 rable ; or his assistance, to reduce you to nothing. 
 Study to ennoble your souls with solid knowledge and 
 true wisdom ; with an eminent greatness of mind, and 
 contempt of the world ; with a great liberty and free- 
 dom of spirit ; an undaunted magnanimity and courage; 
 an extensive charity and goodness ; a venerable temper 
 and purity ; an amiable meekness and humility. So shall 
 you render yourselves honorable, and more excellent 
 than your neighbors in this world ; and be partakers 
 of immortal honor and glory, in the world to come. 
 Amen, 
 
DISC. II.] DUTY OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 93 
 
 SERMON IL 
 
 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY OF LOVING OUR ENEMI^IS. 
 
 Luke \ i . 27. 
 
 But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies. 
 
 While we travel through the wilderness of this 
 world, much of the comfort of our pilgrimage depends 
 on the good correspondence and mutual services and 
 endearments, of our fellow-travellers. Therefore our 
 blessed Saviour, whose precepts are all intended for our 
 perfection and felicity, fitted to procure to us the good 
 things, both of this world and of that which is to come, 
 has taken especial care to unite the minds of men in the 
 strictest bonds of friendship and love. He has been at 
 great pains, by his precepts and by his example, by 
 earnest persuasion and powerful motives, to smooth our 
 rugged humors, to calm our passions, and to free our 
 natures from that roughness and asperity, which hinder 
 us from cementing together. Now, were we to con- 
 verse with none but such as are Christians in earnest, 
 we should find it no hard matter to live in concord and 
 love ; we should meet with no occasion of quarrel and 
 contention ; and should only be obliged to love our 
 friends, because all men would be such. But well did 
 our Saviour know, that his part was to be small in the 
 world ; that many would oppose the profession, and 
 many more would neglect the practice, of that religion 
 which he taught ; and that his followers, besides com- 
 mon injuries incident to all men, were to meet with 
 much enmity and hatred for their Master’s sake. And, 
 therefore, that amidst all these storms they might main- 
 tain that constant serene tranquillity, that sweetness and 
 benignity of spirit, without which they could neither 
 be like him nor happy in themselves, he was pleased to 
 enjoin such an ardent affection and charity towards all 
 men, as no neglect can cool, no injury can extinguish. 
 To love those who have obliged us, is that which na- 
 
94 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 ture might teach, and wicked men practise ; to favor 
 those who have never wronged us, is merely an act of 
 common humanity : but our religion requires us to ex- 
 tend our kindness even to those who have injured and 
 abused us, and who continue to do and wish us mischief : 
 and enjoins that we never shall design any other re- 
 venge, against our most bitter and inveterate enemies, 
 than to wish them well, and do them all the good we 
 can, whether they will or not : for unto those that hear 
 him, our Saviour saith, “ Love your enemies.” 
 
 But, alas ! how little is this regarded, by the greater 
 part of those who call themselves Christians. Other 
 precepts are broken and slighted, but this is industri- 
 ously balded and discredited. In other cases, we ac- 
 knowledge our fault, but study to qualify and excuse it, 
 by the frailty of our nature, or violence of a temptation: 
 
 ‘ we are all sinners ; it is a fault indeed, but who can 
 help it V Now, though these excuses are very frivolous, 
 and v/ill be of no force in the great day of account, yet 
 they imply something of modesty and ingenuous ac- 
 knowledgment ; and men may repent, and forsake what 
 they already condemn. But in the instance of loving 
 enemies, and pardoning offences, many are so bold and 
 impudent, that, instead of obeying, they quarrel with 
 the law, as impossible and unjust ; passing sentence 
 upon that, by which themselves must be judged. ‘ How 
 unreasonable is it, say they, that we should love those 
 that hate us ? What congruity between that act, and 
 those objects ? Can cold snow produce heat, or enmity 
 beget affection ? Must we be insensible of the injuries 
 with which we meet, or reward him that offers them ? 
 Must we dissolve the principles of our nature, and cease 
 to be men, that we may become Christians ?’ These 
 are either the expressions or thoughts of too many 
 among us. And either Christ must come down in his 
 terms, and remit somewhat of the rigor of his laws, or 
 else all the promises of the Gospel, all the pleasures of 
 the other world, shall not engage them to his obedience. 
 They will rather choose to burn in eternal flames of 
 fury and discord, than live at peace with those that have 
 wronged them. 
 
 It can, therefore, never be unseasonable to press a 
 duty, so very necessary yet so much neglected. The 
 
Disc. II.] OI’ LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 95 
 
 text which I have chosen for this purpose, is very plain 
 and clear : “ Love your enemies.” But, because many 
 strain the precept to some such sense as may suit with 
 their own practice, we shall first search into its import, 
 and then persuade you to its performance. The full 
 meaning and import of the precept will appear, if we 
 consider, first. Who they are, whom we are commanded 
 to love ; and secondly. Wherein the love which we owe 
 them consists. 
 
 The persons whom we are commanded to love, are 
 called our “ enemies.” And lest we should mistake 
 them, they are clearly described in the following words : 
 the fountain of their enmity is within ; they are those 
 “ who hate us ;” who envy our happiness ; who wish 
 our misery ; and who abhor our persons and society. 
 Now, were this fire kept within their breast, it might 
 well scorch themselves, it could not prejudice us: but, 
 
 out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speak- 
 eth ;” their malice sharpens their tongues ; they are 
 further described as those that “ curse us ;” they vent 
 their wrath in oaths and imprecations, secret calumnies, 
 and open reproaches. Nor are their hands always 
 bound up ; they “ use us despitefully,” and procure us 
 mischief. Now, if our love must be extended to all 
 these, we shall hardly find any whom we dare safely 
 exclude. Of our private enemies, there can be no ques- 
 tion. But what shall be said of the enemies of our 
 country ? I see no warrant to exclude them from our 
 charity. We may, indeed, lawfully oppose their violent 
 invasion, and defend our rights with the sword, under 
 the banner of the public magistrate, to whom such au- 
 thority is committed : but all this may be done with as 
 little malice and hatred, as a judge feels in punishing a 
 malefactor ; the general may be as void of passion, as 
 the lord chief justice ; and the soldier, as the execu- 
 tioner. But charity will oblige a prince never to have 
 recourse to the sword, till all other remedies fail : to 
 blunt the edge of war, by sparing, as much as may be, 
 the shedding of innocent blood, with all other barba- 
 rities that use to accompany it ; and to accept of any 
 reasonable capitulation. 
 
 We come next to the enemies of our religion ; and, 
 indeed, many are so far from thinking them to be among 
 
96 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 the number of those whom they are oblig'ed to love, 
 that they look upon it as a part of their duty to hate and 
 malign them. Their zeal is continually venting itself 
 in fierce invectives against Antichrist, and every thing 
 they are pleased to call Antichristian ; and they are 
 ready to apply all the prophecies and imprecations of 
 the Old Testament, in their very prayers, against those 
 that differ from them. And, ordinarily, the animosities 
 are greatest, where the differences are least ; and one 
 party of a reformed church shall be more incensed 
 against another, than either against the superstition and 
 tyranny of Rome, or the carnality of the Mahomedan 
 faith. Yea, perhaps you may find some who agree in 
 opinion, and only differ in several ways of expressing 
 the same thing, and yet can scarce look on one another 
 without displeasure and aversion. But, alas ! how 
 much do these men disparage that religion for which 
 they appear so zealous : how much do they mistake the 
 spirit of Christianity ! Are the persons whom they 
 hate greater enemies to religion than those who per- 
 secuted the apostles and martyrs for professing it ? And 
 yet these were the persons whom our Saviour com- 
 manded his disciples to love ; and he himself prayed for 
 those that crucified him, and severely checked the dis- 
 ciples, when, by a precedent brought from the Old Tes- 
 tament, they would have called for fire from heaven, 
 on those who would not receive them ; telling them, 
 “They knew not what spirit they were of;” that is, 
 they did not consider by what spirit they were prompted 
 to such cruel inclinations ; or, as others explain it, they 
 did not yet sufficiently understand the temper and genius 
 of Christianity, which is pure and peaceable, gentle 
 and meek, full of sweetness, and full of love. If men 
 would impartially examine their hatred and animosity 
 against the enemies of their religion, I fear they would 
 find them proceed from a principle which themselves 
 would not willingly own. Pride and self-conceit will make 
 a man disdain those of a different persuasion, and think 
 it a disparagement to his judgment that any should differ 
 from it. Mere nature and self-love will make a man 
 hate those who oppose the interest and advancement of 
 that party which himself has espoused. Hence, men 
 are, many times, more displeased at some small mistakes 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 97 
 
 in judgment, than at the greatest immoralities in prac- 
 tice ; yea, perhaps they will find a secret pleasure and 
 wicked satisfaction, in hearing or reporting the faults 
 or scandal of their adversaries. Certainly the power of 
 religion, rightly prevailing in the soul, would mould us 
 into another temper ; it would teach us to love, and pity, 
 and pray for the persons, as well as hate and condemn 
 the errors which they are supposed to espouse: it 
 would make us wish their conversion, rather than 
 their confusion, and be more desirous that God would 
 fit them for another world, than that he would take 
 /them out of this. We may, indeed, wish the disappoint- 
 ment of their wicked purposes ; for this is charity to 
 them, to keep them from being the instruments of mis- 
 chief in the world ; but he that can wish plagues and 
 ruin to their persons, and that delights in their sins, or 
 in their misery, has in his temper more of the devil than 
 the Christian. 
 
 Thus you have seen who those enemies are, to whom 
 our charity must be extended. It remains to be con- 
 sidered, what is the nature of the love we owe them. I 
 shall not now spend your time in any nice or curious 
 speculations, about the nature of this master-passion. It 
 is the prime affection of the soul, which gives measures, 
 and sets bounds, to all the rest ; every man’s hatred, 
 grief, and Joy, depending upon, and flowing from, his 
 love. I shall now only observe to you, that there is a 
 sensible kind of love, a certain tenderness and melting 
 affection, implanted in us by nature, towards dur nearest 
 relations, on purpose to engage us to those peculiar 
 services which we owe them ; and there is an intimacy 
 and delightful union betwixt friends, arising from some 
 especial sympathy of humors, and referring to the main- 
 tenance of such correspondences. These are not 
 always at our command ; nor are we obliged to love 
 either strangers or enemies at this rate. It is not to be 
 expected, that, at first sight of a person w^ho had no- 
 thing singularly taking, we should find such a special 
 kindness and tenderness arising for him in our hearts ; 
 much less can fondness and passionate affection proceed 
 from the sense of any harm received from him. The 
 command in the text does not amount to this ; though 
 there be a great advantage in a tender and affectionate 
 9 
 
98 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 disposition, both to secure and facilitate our duty. But 
 we are certainly obliged to such a sincere and cordial 
 good-will to all men, as will incline us to perform all the 
 good offices in our power, even to those who have 
 offended us. But the nature and measures of this love 
 will more fully appear, if we consider what it excludes, 
 and what it implies. 
 
 First, then, it excludes all harsh thoughts and ground- 
 less suspicions. The apostle tells us, that “ charity 
 thinketh no evil ; that it hopeth all things, believeth 
 all things.” To entertain, with pleasure, every bad re- 
 port of those who have offended us, and to put the worst 
 construction on their doubtful actions, is both a clear 
 evidence of our hatred, and an unhappy method to con- 
 tinue it. Were the love whicl^ we recommend once 
 seated in the soul, it would soon cast out those restless 
 jealousies, sour suspicions, harsh surmises, and imbit- 
 tered thoughts : it would display itself in a more candid 
 and gentle disposition ; in fair glosses and friendly cen- 
 sures ; in a favorable extenuation of greater faults, and 
 a generous covering of lesser ones. It would make a 
 man interpret all things, in the best manner of which 
 they are capable ; and choose rather to be mistaken to 
 his own prejudice, by a too favorable opinion, than to 
 that of his neighbor, by a groundless jealousy. And 
 even in this sense it may be, that “Charity covereth a 
 multitude of sins.” 
 
 Again, the love which we owe to enemies excludes all 
 causeless and immoderate anger: “It suffereth long, 
 and is not easily provoked, and endureth all things.” 
 Our Saviour tells us, that “ Whoso is angry with his 
 brother without a cause, shall be in danger of the judg- 
 ment ;” and if his anger exceed the cause, he is equally 
 guilty. All anger is not vicious : we maybe angry, and 
 not sin. This passion, as all others implanted in us by 
 God, is innocent, when kept within its due bounds : it 
 has its proper office in the mind, as the spleen in the 
 body ; but its excess and distemper swells into a disease. 
 To make it allowable, it must not exceed the value of 
 the cause, nor the proportion of the circumstances. It 
 must be governed by discretion, and kept within the 
 bounds of reason, that it break not forth into indecent 
 expressions, or violent and blameable actions. And 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 99 
 
 further, it must not be too permanent and lasting : we 
 must not let the sun set upon our anger. Plutarch tells 
 us, that the Pythagoreans were careful to observe the 
 very letter of this precept; for, if anger had boiled up 
 to the height of an injury or reproach, before sunset 
 they would salute each other, and renew their friend- 
 ship : they were ashamed that the same anger which 
 had disturbed the counsels of the day, should also trou- 
 ble the quiet and repose of the night; lest, mingling 
 with their rest and dreams, it should become prevalent 
 and habitual in them. And surely we owe an infinitely 
 greater deference to the precepts of our blessed Saviour 
 and his holy apostles, than they did to their master’s 
 reasoning and advices. And, though we should not 
 take this precept in its strictest and literal signification, 
 yet this we must know, that the same passion and re- 
 sentment, which Vas innocent and rational in its first 
 rise, may become vicious and criminal by its continu- 
 ance. Anger may kindle in the breast of a wise man, 
 but rests only in the bosom of a fool. And this will 
 lead us to a third thing which the precept in our text 
 condemns. 
 
 The love of enemies here commanded, excludes all 
 rooted malice and rancor, proceeding from the memory 
 and resentment of injuries, after the prejudice sustained 
 by them is over. Certainly, there is nothing more con- 
 trary to charity than a peevish ruminating and poring 
 on the offences we have met with ; and their memories 
 are very ill employed, who seldom remember a courtesy, 
 or forget a wrong. It is ordinary for some, who dare 
 not profess intentions of revenge, to express their re- 
 sentment in some such threatening as this : ‘ that they 
 will forgive the injury, but never forget it.’ I hope they 
 do not mean, they will pass it by at this time, and re- 
 venge it afterward. This would but make the sin the 
 greater, by being more deliberate. Is it, then, that they 
 intend them no harm, but will cease to do them good ? 
 This is a lame and imperfect charity ; expressly contra- 
 dictory to the precept in the text, enjoining us ‘‘to bless 
 them that curse us, to do good to them that hate us, and 
 to pray for them that despitefully use us.” Nor must 
 we expect the blessing of God, if this be all we allow to 
 others ; “ for, with what measure we mete, it shall be 
 
100 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL^ 
 
 measured to us again.” There is but one way in which 
 we may lawfully remember an injury; and that is, to be 
 more cautious in trusting one who has deceived us, or 
 in exposing ourselves to the power of him who has 
 wronged us. In this case, religion allows and directs 
 us to join the wisdom of the serpent with the innocency 
 of the dove. But then, I am sure, it is neither neces- 
 sary nor fit to threaten those -who have wronged us 
 with our resolution to remember the injury. Without 
 threatening, we may be as cautious as we please. And 
 our threats would infallibly rankle and displease our 
 adversary, which ought to be no part of a Christian’s 
 design. A meek and charitable person will be loath to 
 have his memory infested, and his thoughts soured, with 
 resentment of wrongs ; and, if they occur to his mind, 
 he will make no other use of them than to put himself 
 on his guard ; unless, indeed, he thence take occasion 
 to benefit and oblige the person who has offended him, 
 and, as our text expressly directs, to do him good, to 
 bless, and pray for him. 
 
 Again, this precept prohibits the taking or procuring 
 any revenge. By revenge we mean such a simple evil 
 done to our adversary, as brings no real benefit or re- 
 putation to ourselves. For, certainly, it is not unlaw- 
 ful, unless some special circumstance makes it so, to 
 seek the reparation of our own right by an authorized 
 judge; nor yet, to provide for the public security, by 
 the punishment of offenders. This may, many times, 
 be done, without prejudice or hatred, yea, with great 
 kindness and compassion, toward the person of the 
 offender. But, if we have any charity or love to our 
 adversaries, we shall be really afflicted with the evil that 
 befals them ; and, therefore, will never willingly pro- 
 cure ourselves that trouble, by inflicting it on them. It 
 is evidence of a wicked and malicious humor, to please 
 ourselves in the misery of another ; or to delight in an 
 evil that brings us no good. Whatever latitude the 
 Jews either had or pretended to, it is not lawful for us 
 to desire eye for eye, or tooth for tooth ; unless we 
 could say, that our enemy’s eye would serve our head, 
 or his hand fit our arm, or his pain allay our torment. 
 
 From hence we may judge what is to be thought of 
 those, who are ready to revenge the smallest injury, 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 101 
 
 even an uncivil expression, with the death of the 
 offender ; unsatisfied, till they have ventured two lives, 
 and as many souls, in the combat : a thing which should 
 not be named among Christians, but with the same de- 
 testation as the vilest actions ; for, with whatever colors 
 of bravery or gallantry it may be painted, it is really 
 nothing else than a more specious and formal kind of 
 murder. Nor does it differ from the basest assassina- 
 tion, save only in this respect, that, together with the 
 wickedness of attempting another man’s life, it joins 
 the rashness and folly of exposing our own. 
 
 Lastly, the love which we owe our enemies, excludes 
 all supercilious and scornful contempt and neglect of 
 them ; which I mark the rather, because some think 
 they have sufficiently obeyed the precept, if they over- 
 look an injury, as thinking the injurious person beneath 
 their revenge. Meanwhile, their corrupt nature feels 
 as much pleasure in the scorn and disdain of their ene- 
 mies, as it could in the revenge of the injury : their 
 wicked humors are not starved, but only change their 
 diet. Of this nature was the answer of the philosopher, 
 to some who incited and provoked him to revenge : ‘ if 
 an ass kicks me, shall 1 kick him again V This is but 
 a lame and misshapen charity ; it has more in it of 
 pride than goodness. We should learn of the holy 
 Jesus, who was not only meek, but lowly. We should 
 contemn the injury, and pity the weakness, but we 
 should not disdain or despise the persons of our ene- 
 mies : “ Charity vaunteth not herself, is not puffed up, 
 doth not behave herself unseemly.” 
 
 Having thus discovered those things which are incon- 
 sistent with charity, and excluded by the love of our 
 enemies, it remains that we show what it imports and 
 requires. 
 
 First, then, it imports an inward kindness and affec- 
 tion ; which if it does not amount to that passionate 
 tenderness wdiich we have for our near relations and 
 intimate friends, implies, at least, a good will towards 
 them, and a friendly concernment in their interest. If 
 we love an enemy, we shall wish his welfare, and re- 
 joice in it, and be unfeignedly sorry for any disaster 
 which befals him : so far shall we be from rejoicing in 
 his misfortunes. And, certainly, had we a right sense 
 9 ^ 
 
102 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 of things, we should be more troubled for the harm 
 which our enemy does to his own soul by wronging us, 
 than for any prejudice which we sustain by him : our 
 compassion towards him would diminish, if not alto- 
 gether swallow up, our resentment. 
 
 But our kindness and good will towards our enemies, 
 should not rest in empty wishes ; it must express itself 
 in kind words, and friendly actions. When we speak 
 to our enemy, it must be in such smooth, discreet, and 
 obliging terms, as are most likely to mollify and gain 
 him ; that, by soft answers, we may turn away his 
 wrath ; and may shun all grievous words which stir up 
 anger. When we speak of him, it should be as advan- 
 tageously, as we can with truth ; concealing or quali- 
 fying his faults, and praising whatever is good in him* 
 And, surely, he must be singularly bad, in whom we can 
 find nothing to commend. 
 
 Again*, we must perform for them all those good 
 offices, which their necessities demand, and which our 
 power can reach. “Do good to them that hate you. If 
 our enemy hunger, we must feed him ; if he thirst, we 
 must give him drink : so shall we heap coals of fire upon 
 his head,” to mollify his obdurate temper, and overcome 
 his evil by our good ; not to aggravate his guilt and pun- 
 ishment, as some mistake the words : for, though that 
 be many times the issue, yet ought it not to be any part 
 of our design. 
 
 Lastly, because all that we can do for the good of 
 enemies, signifies little, we must employ our interest in 
 their behalf in the court of heaven ; begging of God, 
 that he would turn their hearts to himself, and to us ; 
 that he would bless them with the pardon of all their 
 sins, particularly the wrongs they have done to our- 
 selves; and that he would give them all things necessary 
 for their present welfare or future happiness : “ Pray 
 for them that despitefully use you.” And this will be 
 the surest evidence of our charity to them. Mild words 
 may be designed as a snare to entrap them ; courtesy, 
 may be shown them to gratify our vanity, or a generous 
 kind of pride ; we may feel a certain delight, in having 
 our enemy indebted to us, as knowing that it is more 
 glorious in the eyes of the world, to raise a fallen ad- 
 versary, than to trample on him. Bui it can be cheerful 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 103 
 
 obedience to God’s commands, and sincere love to our 
 enemy, which alone can induce us to take him into our 
 closets, and into our hearts ; which alone can share our 
 prayers with him, and make him participate in the fruits, 
 of our devotion; M^hich alone can make us have the 
 same regard for his interests as for our own, at once 
 recommending them both, with equal fervor, to our 
 heavenly Father. 
 
 By this time, I hope, you understand the import of 
 this precept, “ Love your enemies it remains, that we 
 exhort you to the performance. I shall begin, then, 
 with an argument, which may be of some force, to give 
 the first assault to our rebellious inclinations, and to 
 make way for further and more mild persuasions ; and 
 this argument shall be, the indispensable necessity of 
 the duty. We must not look upon this, as a matter 
 which we may do or omit at pleasure ; nor as a counsel 
 of perfection, highly commendable, but not absolutely 
 necessary to salvation. It is as indispensably required, 
 as any other duty of our religion ; and he who resolves 
 not to obey in this instance, may renounce his baptism, 
 and abandon Christianity. None can escape the obli- 
 gation of the precept, unless he be so rarely fortunate 
 as to have no enemies ; nor must any think to redeem 
 themselves from this duty, by any other performance. 
 Let our opinions be never so orthodox, and our zeal in 
 maintaining them, never so fervent; let our prayers be 
 never so frequent, and all our discourses eloquent and 
 convincing ; let our attainments be never so great, and 
 our confidence of salvation never so strong and un« 
 doubting ; yet, if we refuse to obey this precept, we are 
 not Christ’s disciples : “ Though I speak with the 
 tongues of men and angels ; though I have the gift of 
 prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all know- 
 ledge ; though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor ; 
 yea, though I give my body to be burned, and have not 
 this charity,” even to mine enemies, “it profiteth me 
 nothing.” And our Saviour himself tells us, in express 
 terms, that unless we forgive men their trespasses, 
 neither will God forgive us ours. Yea, he has taught 
 us to pray for pardon, in such terms as import a dread- 
 ful curse upon ourselves if we are malicious and re- 
 vengeful ; while we beg that God would pardon us, 
 
104 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 in the same manner that we pardon those who sin 
 against us ; subscribing, as it were, with our own hands, 
 and confirming out of our own mouths, that sentence 
 which shall be pronounced against us : for even so, will 
 God forgive us ; that is, he will take vengeance on us, 
 if we have dealt so with others. And as those who do 
 notdove their enemies, beg their own condemnation in 
 prayer, so also they eat and drink it, in the holy sacra- 
 ment. And men are commonly so far convinced of this, 
 that many choose to keep back from the table of the 
 Lord, that they may the more freely entertain their ani- 
 mosities. But, alas ! what a folly and madness this is ! 
 Think they to excuse a sin, by the neglect of a duty? 
 Or can they put off death, as they put off the participa- 
 tion of the sacrament ? Or can they hope to be admit- 
 ted into the eternal enjoyment of God, if they should 
 die in that malice which renders them unfit to approach 
 him in that holy ordinance ? Do not deceive yourselves : 
 never shall any enter into those blessed mansions, those 
 regions of peace and love, whose heart is not first in- 
 spired with charity, and softened into a compliance with 
 this very precept. And it were as absurd, to think that 
 a man may be malicious and revengeful all his days, 
 and yet afterward go to heaven, there to learn meek- 
 ness and charity, as to think that a man may be luxu- 
 rious and dishonest in this world, and become tempe- 
 rate, and honest, and happy in the other. In a word, 
 whatever shifts we may make to deceive ourselves, the 
 command is clear and express, the sanction severe and 
 peremptory ; w'e have but our choice of these two, love 
 of enemies, or future condemnation. 
 
 Nor can this seem unreasonable to any who consi- 
 ders that God, the author of our natures, the creator 
 of all our faculties, may justly rule our inclinations, and 
 dispose of our love and affection. And yet he is con- 
 tent, if I may so speak, to bargain with us, and to buy 
 off our natural, or rather our wicked and unnatural 
 resentments; offering us freedom from hell, his own 
 mercy and favor, and everlasting happiness, on this, 
 amongst other conditions, that we love our enemies. 
 
 Nay, further, the duty in itself is so reasonable, that 
 the more sober of the Heathen, who had nothing above 
 reason to teach them, have acknowledged it, if not as 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 105 
 
 necessary, yet as highly becoming, and an eminent 
 instance of a virtuous and generous mind. Plato could 
 say, ‘ That injury is by no means to be done, nor to be 
 repaid to him that has done it.’ When a malicious per- 
 son said to Zeno, ‘ Let me perish, if I do you not a mis- 
 chief his answer was, ‘ Let me perish, if I do not 
 reconcile you to me.’ Antoninus tells us frequently, 
 
 ‘ That all reasonable creatures are born for one another ; 
 and that it is the part of justice to bear with others : that 
 it is through ignorance they offend us, as not knowing 
 the right way to their own happiness ; and therefore, 
 we should rather instruct them better, than hate them : 
 that the best kind of revenge is, not to become like 
 them in wickedness and malice.’ And many other ex- 
 cellent arguments does that royal philosopher bring, to 
 the same purpose. And Plutarch gives this, as one of 
 the reasons why God is so slow in punishing wicked 
 persons, ‘ that we may learn meekness and patience by 
 his example,’ adding that excellent observation, that 
 ‘ our greatest happiness and perfection consists in the 
 imitation of our Maker.’ 
 
 But to leave the testimonies of Heathen, the obliga- 
 tion of this precept of loving our enemies may be de- 
 duced from another, which every man will acknowledge 
 to be highly reasonable ; the doing to others, what we 
 would have done to ourselves. Every one of us desires 
 to be loved and cherished by mankind ; to have our 
 faults pardoned, our failings overlooked, and our neces- 
 sities supplied. Or, if any be so haughty and stubborn, 
 that they disdain a courtesy from an enemy, yet I hope 
 there is none so mad as not to desire the favor of God ; 
 whose hatred he deserves infinitely more, than the most 
 bitter enemy can deserve his. How, then, can we think 
 it unreasonable, to show that mercy to others, which 
 ourselves expect and desire ? Can we look that our 
 master should forgive us ten thousand talents, if we take 
 our fellow-servant by the throat, and hale him into pri- 
 son for one hundred pence ? Or with what confidence 
 can we say. Pardon our sins, unless we be willing to add, 
 that we pardon those, who sin against us? Certainly, 
 if it be reasonable to seek pardon, it is just and equal to 
 give it ; and nothing but blind selfishness, and extrava^ 
 
100 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 gant partiality, can teach us to make so unreasonable a 
 difference between ourselves and others. 
 
 Again, the reasonableness of this duty will further 
 appear, if we compare it with that malice and revenge, 
 w^hich it opposes. Can there be any thing more against 
 natural reason, than to delight in an evil which can 
 bring no benefit to us? Yet this is the very nature 
 and essence of revenge : for, if the damage we sustain 
 can be repaired, it is no revenge to seek it; and, if it 
 cannot, it in no degree alleviates the evil of the acci- 
 dent, that we draw him who caused it into as great a 
 misery; nay, unless we are unnatural, and without bow- 
 els, it will augment our trouble, to see any evil befal him. 
 And he is a miserable person, indeed, whose delight 
 is in mischief; whose good is the evil of his neighbor. 
 Yea, I may say, that he who returns an injury, is many 
 times moi'e unreasonable than he who offered it : for he 
 who first wrongs another, has commonly some tempta- 
 tion of advantage by it ; which revenge cannot pretend 
 to. But if he has done it out of mere malice, yet he is 
 not worse than the man who returns it. There is as 
 much fantastic pleasure in spite, as in revenge : both are 
 alike miserable and extravagant. 
 
 And who are they against whom we bend our malice 
 and revenge? Are they not men, partakers of the same 
 nature, descended from the same stock with ourselves, 
 fellow-citizens with us in this world, and with whom we 
 should hope to live for ever in a better? And shall we 
 not bear much from those who are so nearly related to 
 us? Nay more, they are the workmanship of God’s 
 hands, and, for any thing we know, either are, or may 
 become, his children and friends : and dare w^e pretend 
 any love to God, if we do not spare them, for his sake? 
 And, lastly, if they have done us any real wrong, they 
 are, in so far, foolish, and destitute of reason : and who 
 would quarrel with a madman? Certainly, an injurious 
 person knows not what he is doing : for he can never 
 wound his neighbor but through his own sides ; nor 
 prejudice another in a trifling interest, without hazard- 
 ing his own eternal concernment ; and, therefore, he 
 deserves our pity rather than our hatred. 
 
 Much more might be brought, to demonstrate the 
 reasonableness of the duty to which our Saviour calls 
 
4 
 
 DISC. II.J OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 107 
 
 US in the text : but I hope what has been already said, 
 may suffice to stop the mouths of malicious and revenge- 
 ful men, who are ready to quarrel with it. And, if this, 
 or any other duty, appear to us absurd or unreasonable, 
 we may learn the cause from the apostle : “ The car- 
 nal man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God ; 
 for they are foolishness to him.’’^ It is the carnality 
 of our heart that make» it seem so ; and therefore, 
 instead of disputing the duty let us endeavor to purify 
 our souls and open the eyes of our mind; and we shall 
 find that to be true which wisdom said of her doctrines: 
 “ They are all plain, to him that understandeth ; and 
 right to them that find knowledge.”^ 
 
 But, in the third place, the love of enemies is not 
 only reasonable, but delightful ; it has a great deal of 
 pleasure and sweetness in it. Of this, I confess, the 
 greatest evidence must be had, from experience and 
 practice ; the nature even of earthly pleasures being 
 such, that the enjoyment only can make a man know 
 them. But, though the full knowledge of this fact re- 
 quire a nearer acquaintance, yet even those who look 
 at a distance, may perceive something of amiableness 
 in the love of enemies ; especially, comparing it with 
 the trouble and uneasiness of that vice from which it 
 would deliver us. Malice and revenge are the most 
 restless and tormenting passions, that can possess the 
 mind ; they keep it in continual hurry and disorder : 
 they knaw a man’s heart with anguish and vexation, 
 and imbitter all his enjoyments ; they mar the plea- 
 sures of the day, and interrupt the repose of the night. 
 Solomon describes these men : “ They sleep not, ex- 
 cept they have done mischief ; their sleep is taken awa}', 
 except they cause some to fall.*' 
 
 On the other hand, the meek and peaceable man, 
 whose mind is brought to a compliance with this pre- 
 cept, is above the malice of his enemies. It is not in 
 their power to vex him. Amidst all the assaults of 
 injuries and affronts, he is firm as a rock ; which no 
 winds can shake, no waves remove. He is happy in 
 the calmness and serenity of his spirit ; and is sure, by , 
 his patience and friendly behavior, either to convert, 
 
 * 1 Cor. ii. 14. bProv. viii. 9. ® Prov. iv. 16. 
 
108 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL* 
 
 or shame his adversary. And then, the consciousness of 
 performing his duty, and the assurance of future reward, 
 afford him a pleasure infinitely more pure and solid than 
 any can expect, by indulging and gratifying their venge- 
 ful humor. 
 
 The advantages of this duty will more clearly appear, 
 when we take a view of those prejudices which com- 
 monly are entertained against<it. 
 
 First, then, some cry out upon this precept, as en- 
 joining impossibilities; as doing violence to the very 
 constitution of nature ; as obliging men to a debt that 
 no man is able to pay. They will tell you, that it is as 
 easy to hate ourselves as to love our enemies ; to love 
 pain as to bear an injury meekly : flesh and blood can- 
 not endure it. What arrogance and presumption is 
 this, thus to impeach the divine laws ! It is impossible ; 
 therefore God should not have commanded it. Such is 
 the reasoning. Were it not far more rational to argue 
 thus : It is indispensably commanded, therefore it must 
 needs be possible ? And so it has been, to all good men 
 that ever lived : and so it will be, by God’s assistance, 
 to all who make it their study. Flesh and blood can- 
 not do it. True enough. But then take this into the 
 account. Flesh and blood shall never enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven. It is, indeed, against the propen- 
 sities of our corrupt nature ; but it is the work of Chris- 
 tians to mortify their corruptions. And, if we think 
 it impossible, at the command of God and for the pur- 
 chase of heaven, to love an enemy, and pardon an injury, 
 how w^ould we bear those hard trials which Christians 
 have suffered by the cruelty of persecutors ? Whether 
 is it easier to suffer a wrong, or to give our body to be 
 burned ? Certainly, when we have obeyed this precept, 
 we have not yet resisted unto blood ; and, therefore, 
 that obedience can never be impossible, since harder 
 things may be expected from us. Therefore seriously 
 set about the work, and endeavor to bring your minds 
 to a compliance with it ; and then, your own experi- 
 ence shall confute these idle pretences, and evince the 
 possibility of the performance. 
 
 Another prejudice against this precept, is, that it 
 seems to encourage injuries, by hopes of impunity and 
 reward ; giving the delinquent occasion to expect kind- 
 
DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 109 
 
 ness and love, instead of the punishment which he de- 
 serves ; and so, we should draw upon ourselves a se- 
 cond injury, by not requiting the first. 
 
 But we have already told you, that this precept does 
 not forbid the exercise of justice, by those to whom the 
 sword is committed, when the public security calls for 
 it. As a parent may at once love and correct his child, 
 so may a judge be in charity with the person whom he 
 punishes. And, though it should be granted, that by 
 pardoning injuries that are past we expose ourselves to 
 new ones, yet would this amount to no more, than our 
 suffering hardships by obedience to God ; which, 1 
 hope, is not sufficient to dispense with our duty. But, 
 truly, the fact stands not commonly thus : for if we con- 
 sult either our own observation, or the experience of 
 others, we shall find that meek and charitable persons 
 are most seldom exposed to injuries, or engaged in 
 troubles. He must needs be a desperately wicked per- 
 son, who will offer a second injury, to one who has re- 
 quited the first with kindness and love. Such a sweet 
 disposition will mollify the hardest hearts, and charm 
 the most froward humors ; especially if we carry our- 
 selves with such prudence and discretion, as may testify 
 that we are actuated by a noble and generous charity, 
 not by a stupid insensibility. How often does a soft 
 answer turn away wrath, and the overlooking of an 
 injury prevent further trouble; throwing water upon 
 the spark, before it break forth into a flame ? Hence, 
 if we look upon meek and quiet persons, we shall ordi- 
 narily find them happy in the peace of their families, 
 and in the favor and kindness of all their neighbors : 
 whereas, the angry, quarrelsome, and malicious person, 
 is an eye-sore to all about him ; his neighbors shun 
 him, his servants dread him, and all abhor and avoid 
 him. And therefore the observation of this precept of 
 our Lord, is so far from exposing us to new injuries, 
 that, by the mercy of God, it will prove the best means 
 to secure our tranquillity. Peace shall be the reward 
 of a peaceable temper. 
 
 But, lastly, some will tell us, that the love of enemies 
 and the pardoning of injuries, are inconsistent with the 
 principles of honor ; and will expose us to contempt 
 and derision. But, alas ! to what a sad pass are we 
 
 10 
 
110 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 come, if neither reason nor religion may prescribe the 
 rules of honor ; if our notions of it, must be taken from 
 the language of the sons of Belial, of strife and vio- 
 lence ; if, to imitate the Deity in his most glorious at- 
 tributes of mercy and forgiveness, and to become per- 
 fect as our Father which is in heaven is perfect, be ac- 
 counted a base and dishonorable thing ; and if, from 
 this vain, imaginary, fantastic shadow of reputation, 
 we will violate all laws, human and divine, and forfeit 
 eternal happiness. But who are they, that will think 
 the worse of you for your patience ? Some vain empty 
 fools, some profane atheistical wretches, whose judg- 
 ments are not valuable, nor their praise worth having. 
 Or what can they say of you, but that you are meek 
 and lowly, imitators of that blessed Master, whom we 
 profess to serve ? And why do we own the name of 
 Christians, if we be ashamed of the spirit and life of 
 Christianity? Why do we not call ourselves after the 
 name of Cain, or Nimrod, or some^other angry and re- 
 vengeful destroyer, if we esteem those qualities more 
 glorious and excellent? But, if we have any deference 
 for so wise a man and so great a king as Solomon, he 
 will tell us, that, “ it is the honor of a man to cease 
 from strife;” and that “he who is slow to anger, is 
 better than the mighty ; and he who ruleth his spirit, 
 better than he who taketh a city.” 
 
 Thus, you see how unreasonable those prejudices 
 are, which keep men from the practice of this necessary 
 duty. It remains, now, that we hint at some help for 
 its performance. 
 
 The Heathen were pretty ingenious in devising mo- 
 tives of patience. They would tell us, that ‘ if we were 
 newly offended, it was too soon to resent it ; if long 
 since, it was too late. If the offender be too strong for 
 us, it were folly to contend ; if he were too weak, it 
 were a shame. Are we offended by a friend, let us re- 
 member our old friendship ; if by an enemy, let us do 
 him a kindness, and he will do so no more.’ But 
 Christianity will direct us to better means, for compos- 
 ing the soul into the meekness and charity which it 
 requires. 
 
 The first T shall recommend, is humility. Let us 
 learn to have low thoughts of ourselves ; and then we 
 
Disc. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. Ill 
 
 shall both have fewer enemies, and be more inclined to 
 love them. Pride and self-conceit make us overrate 
 every petty injury, and incline us to revenge : but, if 
 we consider what poor contemptible things we are in 
 ourselves, and what we have deserved, if not from men, 
 yet from God, whose instruments they are for our cor- 
 rection, we shall be little concerned at what the world 
 calls affronts, and easily reconciled to those who have 
 wronged us. 
 
 Secondly, let us learn to have a low esteem of the 
 present world, and all things therein ; and this will cut 
 off the occasions of our hatred and animosities. Men 
 may wrong us in our fortune or reputation, but they 
 cannot rob us of piety and virtue ; of the favor of God 
 and eternal happiness. And therefore, if our minds be 
 once raised above all transitory vanities, we cannot 
 meet with injuries worth the resenting. If we aim at 
 heaven, and the glory of another world, we shall not 
 stand to quarrel and contend about any trifling interest 
 in our way thither. 
 
 Thirdly, the frequent and serious thoughts of death 
 would conduce much to allay our hatred, and dispose 
 us to meekness and charity. Naturalists tell us, that 
 when swarms of bees fight in the air, they are dispersed 
 by throwing dust among them.^ Did we in our thoughts 
 often reflect upon that dust to which we must all shortly 
 return, we should more easily lay down our quarrels, 
 and animosities. While we contend about small things, 
 little do we consider that death is coming on apace, and 
 will swallow up the victor and the vanquished ; him 
 that is in the right, and him that is in the wrong. Look 
 back upon the private contentions, or public commo- 
 tions, which infested the world a hundred years ago. 
 Where are they who managed them ? They are all 
 gone down into the dark and silent grave. Death has 
 decided their controversies, and within a few days it 
 will do so with ours, and send us all to plead our cause 
 before our great Judge ; and it will go ill with us, if we 
 appear there in malice. Therefore, why should our 
 
 * ‘ Hi motus animorum, atque htsc certamina tanta 
 Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescent.’ 
 
 ViRG. Georg, iv. 86 . — Ed. 
 
112 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY [SCOUGAL, 
 
 hatred be long, since our life is so short ? One would 
 think we should find better employment, for the short 
 time we have to spend here. 
 
 But, lastly, and above all, let us propose to ourselves 
 the blessed example of the holy Jesus; “who, when 
 he was reviled, reviled not again ; when he suffered, 
 threatened not ; but committed himself to him that 
 judgeth righteously.” 
 
 Let us frequently remember, what great things he 
 has done and suffered, for us poor sinful wretches ; 
 even while we were enemies and rebels to him ; how, 
 in all the passages of his life, and throughout the bloody 
 scene of his sufferings, he was actuated by that same 
 charity and love to his enemies which he calls for at 
 our hands. It was this, which moved him to descend 
 from heaven, and clothe himself with the frailties of 
 our nature, and endure the troubles of a calamitous life, 
 and the pains of a bitter death, — to deliver us from that 
 eternal misery, into which w^e had plunged ourselves. 
 And shall not his goodness and mercy to us, mollify 
 our hearts, and overpower the corruption of our re- 
 vengeful nature, and inspire us with earnest desires 
 and resolutions to imitate his blessed example? After 
 all that he has done and suffered for us, can we be guilty 
 of such a shameful ingratitude, as to deny him this poor 
 satisfaction and acknowledgment, to pardon an enemy 
 for his sake ? Has he died for us, when we were his 
 enemies, and shall we refuse to live at peace with ours ? 
 Remember, with what patience he endured the contra- 
 diction of sinners against himself; with what humility 
 he condescended to wash the feet of him, who was, at 
 the same time, resolved to betray him : with what mild- 
 ness he bare the supine negligence and stupidity of his 
 disciples, who slept in the time of his agony. What 
 charity and meekness did he evince, towards those who 
 sought his life ! He could have called for legions of 
 angels to. destroy them, or made the earth to open her 
 mouth and swallow them up: but he would not employ 
 his miraculous power, save only for their good; restor- 
 ing a servant’s ear, and reproving the preposterous 
 zeal of him who cut it off. Yen, while he hung upon 
 the cross and was approaching to the gates of death, all 
 the cruel pains of body and far more intolerable press- 
 
113 
 
 DISC. II.] OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 ure of spirit, which he then sustained, did not lessen 
 his tenderness and affection for his murderers: “ Father, 
 forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Let 
 us be frequent and serious in the meditation of these 
 things. And, if we have any veneration for the ex- 
 ample of our Saviour, and any sense of his infinite 
 mercy, this will dispose us to the practice of his pre- 
 cepts, and the obedience of his laws ; and particularly 
 to the observation of this necessary, this reasonable, 
 this delightful duty, that we love our enemies. 
 
 10 " 
 
114 
 
 NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGALr 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE OF EARLY AFFLIC- 
 TIONS. 
 
 Lam. iii. 27; 28. 
 
 It is good for a man^ that he hear the yoke in his youth. He sitteth 
 alone and keepeth silence^ because he hath borne it upon him. 
 
 The great difference between the maxims of the 
 world, and those which religion proposes, is in nothing 
 more observable, than in taking the measures of happi- 
 ness and felicity. The world accounts him a happy 
 man, who enjoys a perpetual calm and sunshine of 
 prosperity; whose pleasant and joyful days are never 
 overcast with any cloud, nor his tranquillity interrupted 
 by any disastrous accident ; who was never acquainted 
 with any other change, but that which brought him the 
 new and fresh relish of succeeding pleasures and en- 
 joyments. But religion has taught us to look upon this, 
 as a condition full of danger ; much more to be pitied 
 than envied ; to be feared, than to be desired. It has 
 taught us, to consider afflictions as instances of the Di- 
 vine goodness, as tokens and pledges of his love ; for 
 ‘‘ whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth, and scourgeth 
 every son whom he receiveth;” and these severe dis- 
 pensations are very necessary, and may prove useful 
 and advantageous: “Blessed is the man,” saith the 
 psalmist, “whom thou chastenest, O Lord;”'' “It is 
 good for me that I have been afflicted ; that I may 
 learn thy statutes.”^ And the prophet in the text, “ It 
 is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.” 
 He was, at this time, loaded with the heaviest weight 
 of trouble and sorrow ; what for the public calamities 
 of his nation, and what for his own particular sufferings : 
 “ His eyes were running down with rivers of water, 
 for the destruction of the daughter of his people 
 
 * Psalm xciv. 12. 
 
 b Psalm cxix. 71. 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 115 
 
 they trickled down and ceased not. Judah was gone 
 into captivity because of affliction : she dwelt among 
 the Heathen, and found no rest ; all her persecutors 
 overtook her in the straits. The ways of Zion mourned, 
 because none came to the solemn feasts ; the young and 
 the old were lying on the ground in the streets ; the 
 virgins and young men were fallen by the sword ; and 
 the few that remained, were starving for hunger. The 
 people sighed, and sought bread ; they gave their plea- 
 sant things for meat to relieve their soul ; the children 
 and sucklings swooDed in the streets, their soul was 
 poured out into their mother’s bosom ; the women ate 
 their fruit, their children of a span long. And the 
 prophet had a large share in these calamities, both by 
 his own interest, and by his compassion towards his 
 neighbor : “ I am the man,” saith he, ‘‘ that hath seen 
 affliction, by the rod of his wrath. Surely against me 
 is he turned; he turneth his hand against me all the day.” 
 
 But, after he had thus bemoaned himself, and given 
 some vent to his passion and sorrow, he puts a stop to 
 the current that was grown too impetuous, and turns 
 his thoughts another way. He acknowledges the jus- 
 tice of God’s dispensations ; and that it was a favor 
 they suffered no more : — “ This I recall into my mind, 
 therefore have I hope. It is of the Lord’s mercies that 
 we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. 
 They are new every morning.” Nay, when he had 
 further pondered the matter, he finds himself indebted 
 to the goodness of God, even for the afflictions he en- 
 dured : “It is good for a man, that he bear the yoke in 
 his youth.” 
 
 The bearing of the yoke is an easy and obvious me- 
 taphor, importing the restraint of liberty ; when our 
 desires are denied, and we have not our wills, and can- 
 not ramble up and down as we please : and also, the 
 pressure of afflictions, which gall and torment us, under 
 which we smart and groan. Such is the yoke, which 
 the prophet tells us it is good for a man that he bear. 
 A strange doctrine indeed to flesh and blood ; and how 
 few there are that believe it ! We judge of things by 
 their outward appearance, and as they affect us at pre- 
 sent; “Now no affliction or chastening seemeth, for 
 
116 NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [sCOUGAL* 
 
 the present, to be joyous, but grievous and we can- 
 not persuade ourselves, that there is any good in that 
 which we feel to be troublesome and unpleasant. But, 
 if we consult our reason and our faith, they will soon 
 bring us to the acknowledgment of this truth, that 
 “ affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth 
 trouble spring out of the ground.” The crosses with 
 which we meet are not the effects of blind chance ; but 
 the results of a wise and unerring Providence ; which 
 knows what is fittest for us, and loves us far better than 
 we can love ourselves. There is no malice or envy 
 lodged in the bosom of that blessed being, whose name 
 and nature is love. He takes no delight in the troubles 
 and'miseries of his creatures : “He doth not afflict will- 
 ingly, nor grieve the children of men.” It were infi- 
 nitely unworthy of his wisdom and goodness, to please 
 himself in seeing such poor creatures as we are tossed 
 up and down in the world ; to behold our anguish, and 
 hear our groans. It is our happiness and welfare which 
 he designs, in all his dispensations ; and he makes 
 choice of the most proper and effectual means for that 
 end. He sees us wandering out of the way, ready to 
 ruin and undo ourselves : and first he essays to reduce 
 us, by milder and more gentle methods ; he tries our 
 mercy and goodness; he draws us with the cords of love, 
 gratitude and ingenuousness, by all the endearments of 
 with the bands of a man. But, if we break all these 
 bands asunder, and cast away these cords from us ; if 
 we abuse his goodness, and turn his grace into wanton- 
 ness ; then, not only his justice, but his love, not only 
 his hatred to sin, but his affection for us, will oblige 
 him to alter his method, and take the rod in his hand, 
 and try what severity can do. God’s design in afflict- 
 ing us is excellently expressed by the author to the He- 
 brews : “ He chasteneth us for our profit, that we may 
 be partakers of his holiness.” Holiness is the highest 
 perfection, and greatest happiness, of which we are 
 capable : it is a real participation of the Divine nature, 
 the image of God drawn on the soul ; and all the chas- 
 tisements with which we meet, are designed to reduce 
 us to this blessed temper, to make us like unto himself; 
 
 ® Heb. xii. H. 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 117 
 
 and thereby, capable of being happy with him, to all 
 eternity. This will more clearly appear, if we reflect 
 on the natural temper of our minds, and the influence 
 which prosperous or adverse fortune is wont to have 
 upon them. 
 
 And, first, we are naturally proud and self-conceited : 
 we have a high esteem of ourselves, and would have 
 every body else value and esteem us. This disease is 
 very deeply rooted in our fallen nature : it is, ordina- 
 rily, the first sin that betrays itself in the little actions 
 and passions of children ; and, frequently, the last which 
 religion enables us to overcome. And such is its maligni- 
 ty, that it renders us odious and vile, in the sight both of 
 God and man. It cannot but be infinitely displeasing 
 to that great and glorious Majesty, to see such silly 
 creatures, whom he brought forth out of nothing, who 
 are every moment ready to return into nothing again, 
 and who have nothing of their own but folly, and mi- 
 sery, and sin, — to see such creatures, either so blind as 
 to value themselves, or so unreasonable as to desire 
 others to value them. Good men must needs hate us 
 Tor it, because God does so ; and evil men hate us for 
 it, because they are themselves proud, and therefore are 
 jealous of the attempts of others at self-exaltation, as 
 tending to depress and diminish them. Pride alone, is 
 the source and fountain of almost all the disorders in 
 the world ; of all our troubles, and of all our sins. And 
 ^ve shall never be truly happy, or truly good, till we 
 come to think nothing of ourselves, and be content that 
 all the world think nothing of us. Now, nothing has a 
 more natural tendency to foment and heighten this 
 natural corruption, than constant prosperity and suc- 
 cess. The psalmist, speaking of the prosperity of the 
 wicked, who are not in trouble as others, neither are 
 they plagued like other men, presently subjoins the 
 eflect, — “ Therefore pride compasseth them about, as a 
 chain. Sanctified afflictions contribute to abate and 
 mortify the pride of our hearts, to lance the swelling 
 imposthume, to make us sensible of our weakness, and 
 convince us of our sins. Thus “ doth God open the 
 ears of men, and seal their instruction, that he may 
 
 d Psalm Ixxiii. 6. 
 
118 NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from 
 man.e And if they be bound in fetters, and be holden 
 in cords of affliction ; then he showeth them their work, 
 and their transgressions that they have exceeded.”^ 
 Afflictions put us on the search, both to find out the 
 offences by which we have provoked God, and to make 
 us more sensible of the heinousness and malignity of 
 their nature : “I have surely heard Ephraim bemoan- 
 ing himself thus. Thou hast chastised me, and I was 
 chastised, as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke : turn 
 thou me, and I shall be turned ; for thou art the Lord 
 my God. Surely, after I was chastised I repented ; and 
 after I was instructed, I smote upon my thigh : I was 
 ashamed, yea, even confounded, because I did bear the 
 reproach of my youth.”® 
 
 Another distemper of our minds, is our too great 
 affection to the world, and worldly things. We are too 
 apt to set our hearts wholly upon them ; to take up our 
 rest, and seek our happiness and satisfaction in them. 
 But, though they may well divert and amuse awhile, 
 they can never satisfy, or make us happy ; the souls 
 which He made for Himself, can never rest, till they 
 return unto Him:^ and, therefore, he often finds it neces- 
 sary, either to remove our comforts, or imbitter them ; 
 to put aloes and wormwood on the breasts of the world, 
 that thereby we may wean ourselves from it; and finally 
 we may be carried to the end of our being, the fountain 
 of blessedness and felicity. The few and little com- 
 forts of this life, notwithstanding all the troubles and 
 crosses with which they are interlarded, are apt to 
 keep the hearts, even of good men, in too great love of 
 this world. What would become of us, if our whole 
 life were altogether prosperous and contenting, with- 
 out any intermixture of crosses and afflictions? It is 
 too probable, we should never look any further ; but 
 conclude, with Peter on the mount of transfiguration, 
 “ Lord, it is good for us to be here.” As Almighty 
 God hath a very great affection to us, so he is very 
 
 Job, xxxiii. 16, 17. f Job xxxvi. 8, 9. 
 
 e Jer. xxxi. 18, 19. 
 
 h ‘Fecisti nos ad te, Domine; et inquietum est cor nostrum, donee 
 rcquiescat in te.’ — S. Augustin. — Ed. 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 119 
 
 desirous of our love ; not that it brings any advantage 
 to him, but because it is our greatest happiness and per- 
 fection. He bestows his mercies, to gain our hearts : 
 but when we begin to idolize the gifts, and forget the 
 giver, he becomes jealous, and takes them away, that 
 he may not have any rival in our affections. And, cer- 
 tainly, it is no small advantage to have our hearts in 
 any measure loosened from the world, disentangled 
 from every thing here below. He makes a good pur- 
 chase, who obtains this privilege, let it cost him never 
 so dear.i 
 
 Another bad effect, which prosperity is wont to pro- 
 duce in our corrupt nature, is, that it makes us forget- 
 ful of God, and unthankful for his mercies. When 
 second causes answer our expectations and desires, we 
 are seldom wont to look beyond them : we never regard 
 the fountain, till the cisterns begin to fail. This it was, 
 that made Agur pray against a plentiful fortune, “ lest 
 I be full and deny thee, and say. Who is the Lord ?” 
 When the weather is fair, and the sails are filled with a 
 prosperous gale, the rough and stubborn mariners are 
 seldom at their devotion ; but when the storm is risen, 
 and the sea begins to swell, and every wave threatens 
 to devour them, “ then they call to the Lord in their 
 trouble,” as on him who can alone “ deliver them out 
 of their distress.” The psalmist, speaking to the Jews 
 of their stiff-necked and rebellious predecessors, says, 
 that “ when God slew them, then they sought him ; 
 they remembered that God was their rock, and the 
 high God their redeemer.”if — “In their affliction,” saith 
 the Lord, by the prophet, “ they will seek me early.”^ 
 I doubt not, a great many devout persons will acknow- 
 ledge, that it was some affliction or other which first 
 taught them to pray. And, as afflictions contribute to 
 make us remember our dependence on God, and then 
 excite us to seek unto him ; so, also, they render us 
 more sensible of our obligations to him, and more thank- 
 ful for the mercies which he has bestowed on us. We 
 are so dull and insensible, that we seldom value any of 
 the Divine mercies till we find what it is to want them. 
 
 i ‘ Q^iiocunque pretio, bene emitur.’ 
 k Psalm Ixxviii. 34, 35. i Hbsea v. 15. 
 
120 NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 We put very little value on our food and raiment, and 
 the ordinary means of our subsistence, unless we have 
 been sometimes pinched with want. We consider not 
 how much w^e are indebted to God for preserving our 
 friends, till some of them be removed from us. How 
 little do we prize our health, if we have never had expe- 
 rience of sickness or pain ! Where is the man who seri- 
 ously blesses God for his nightly quiet and repose ? 
 And yet, if sickness or trouble deprive us of them, we 
 then find them to have been a great and invaluable mer- 
 cy, and that it is God who giveth his beloved sleep. 
 
 Once more, prosperity renders us insensible of the 
 miseries and calamities of others. Those “ who were 
 at ease in Zion, did not grieve for the afflictions of Jo- 
 seph.” But afflictions soften the heart, and make it 
 more tender and kindly ; and we are always most ready 
 to compassionate those griefs, which ourselves have 
 sometimes endured : the sufferings of others make the 
 deepest impressions upon us, when they put us in mind 
 of our own. It is mentioned, as a powerful motive to 
 engage the children of Israel to be kind and merciful 
 to strangers, that “ they knew the heart of a stranger, 
 having been strangers themselves in Egypt.” Now, 
 this tender and compassionate temper well becomes a 
 Christian, whose duty it is, to weep with those that 
 weep, and to have as deep a sense and feeling of the 
 griefs of others, as he is wont to have of his own. 
 
 These and many more advantages, do sanctified and 
 well-improved afflictions bring to a Christian ; on ac- 
 count of which, “ it is good for him, that he hath borne 
 the yoke.” But I hasten to that which is mentioned 
 in the text. Only, by the way, that I may not need to 
 return, let me here take notice of the season which is 
 here mentioned, fittest for a man to bear affliction : “It 
 is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.” 
 
 We are all willing to put off the evil day ; and, if we 
 must needs bear the yoke, we would choose to have it 
 delayed, till we grow old. We think it sad, to have 
 our morning overcast with clouds, to meet with a storm 
 before we have well launched forth from the shore. 
 We are wont to indulge and applaud children and young 
 folks, in their frolics and jovial humors; we will tell 
 them they will have time enough for cares and troubles, 
 
ISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 121 
 
 hen they grow older ; we turn that irony of Solo- 
 .^lon’s into a serious advice, “ Rejoice, O young man, 
 in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and the 
 sight of thine eyes.” But the divine wisdom, which 
 knows what is fit for us, often makes choice of our 
 younger years, as the most proper to accustom us to 
 the bearing of the yoke. And a little consideration 
 will make us discover the advantages of this season, 
 for suffering afflictions ; they being, at that time, most 
 necessary, most tolerable, and most advantageous. 
 First, I say, they are most necessary. For youth is 
 the time of our life which implies the greatest danger 
 of our running into wild and extravagant courses : our 
 blood is then hot, and our spirits unstayed and giddy ; 
 we have too much pride to be governed by others ; and 
 too little wisdom to govern ourselves. The yoke is 
 then, especially, needful to tame our wildness, and re- 
 duce us to a due stayedness and composure of mind. 
 Then, also, it is most supportable. The body is strong 
 and healthful, less apt to be affected with the troubles 
 of the mind ; the spirit, stout and vigorous, will not so 
 easily break, and sink under them. Old age is a bur- 
 then, and will soon faint under any supervenient load. 
 The smallest trouble is enough to bring down grey 
 hairs with sorrow to the grave. And therefore, since 
 we must meet with afflictions, it is certainly a favora- 
 ble circumstance to have them at that time of our life 
 when we are most able to endure them. And lastly, 
 the lessons which afflictions teach us, are then most ad- 
 vantageous, when we learn them betimes ; that we may 
 have the use of them in the conduct of our after lives. 
 An early engagement in the ways of religion is a great 
 felicity ; and the means by which this is to be effected, 
 can never be too soon administered. Youth is more 
 soft and pliable, and evil dispositions are more easily 
 cured before time and custom have hardened us in them. 
 A tree needs little force to bend it when it is young ; 
 and there needs the less of the rod if the child be 
 brought under discipline betimes. And thus, on many 
 accounts, “ it is good for a man, to bear the yoke in his 
 youth.” 
 
 We proceed to the particular advantage of afflictions^ 
 which is mentioned in the text : “ He sitteth alone and 
 
 11 
 
122 NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon him.” 
 The words are capable of a twofold interpretation ; and 
 both meanings suit well with the purpose : for, we may 
 either understand them properly, of solitude and si- 
 lence ; or metaphorically, of patience and quiet sub- 
 mission ; both of which are the good effects of sancti- 
 fied and well-improved afflictions : and, accordingly, we 
 shall say something to both. 
 
 Nature has made us sociable creatures; but corrup- 
 tion has carried this inclination to excess : so that most 
 persons think it an intolerable burthen, to be, for any 
 considerable time, alone. Though they love them- 
 selves out of measure, yet they cannot endure their 
 own conversation ; they had rather be hearing, and dis- 
 coursing of the most naughty and trivial things, than 
 be sitting alone, arid holding their peace. Outward 
 prosperity heightens this humor. When the heart is 
 dilated with joy, it seeks to vent itself in every com- 
 pany. When a man is free from trouble and cares, he 
 thinks of nothing but how to please himself with va- 
 riety of diversions and conversations. Crosses, on 
 the other hand, render a man pensive and solitary : 
 they stop the mouth, and bind up the tongue, and in- 
 cline the person to be much alone. Sadness makes his 
 company disagreeable to others, and he finds theirs as 
 little agreeable to him : “ He sitteth alone and keepeth 
 silence, because he hath borne it upon him.” Thus 
 the same prophet said, “ I sat not in the assembly of 
 the mockers, nor rejoiced : I sat alone, because of thine 
 hand.”^ 
 
 Now, he who considers, on the one hand, the guilt 
 which we are \ront to contract, and the prejudice which 
 we sustain, by too much conversation with others, and, 
 on the other hand, the excellent improvement which 
 we may make of solitude and retirement, will account 
 it a good effect of afflictions, that they dispose us to be 
 alone. In considering the evils of frequent conversation, 
 we are not to prosecute the grosser and more scandal- 
 ous vices of the tongue. It might seem a poor commen- 
 ^dation of solitude and silence, that a man is not swear- 
 ing, or lying, or scolding, or talking profanely, when 
 
 > Jer. XV. 17. 
 
DISC. iii.J OF Early afflictions. 123 
 
 he is alone : a man may converse enough, and keep 
 himself free from these. We rather choose to mention 
 such evils as are wont to be less noticed, and can be 
 with more difficulty avoided. 
 
 And first, experience may teach us that much con- 
 versation ordinarily begets a remissness and dissolution 
 of spirit ; that it slackens and relaxes the bent of our 
 minds, and disposes us to softness and easy compliances. 
 We find it hard enough at any time to compose our 
 spirits to that stayedness and severity which religion 
 requires ; but if we be too much in company, it is almost 
 impossible to maintain it. That cheerfulness and com- 
 plaisance which are judged necessary to render con- 
 versation agreeable, easily degenerate into levity and 
 sin ; and we are very ready to displease our Maker, 
 when we are too intent on pleasing our friends. This" 
 loose frame and dissipation of mind which society occa- 
 sions, made a wise man complain, that he always came 
 out of company less a man.™ 
 
 Another prejudice which we receive from society is, 
 that it fills our* minds with noxious images, and fortifies, 
 our corrupt notions and opinions of things. Our hearts 
 are naturally too much addicted to the things of the 
 world ; we regard them too much, and place too high 
 a value upon them; and the discourses which we hear 
 redouble the temptation, by bringing them continually 
 into our thoughts, and setting them off to the greatest 
 advantage. When we are alone, in a sober temper, and 
 take time to reflect and consider of things, we are 
 sometimes persuaded of the vanity and worthlessness 
 of all those glittering trifles by which the generality of 
 mankind are so sadly bewitched : but when we come 
 abroad and listen to the common talk, and hear people 
 speak of greatness, and riches, and honor, with concern 
 and admiration, we quickly forget our more sober and 
 deliberate thoughts, and suffer ourselves to be carried 
 away with the stream of the common opinion. And, 
 though the effects be not so sudden and observable, yet 
 these discourses are still making some secret and insen- 
 sible impressions upon us. 
 
 w ‘ Ex hominum consortio, semper venio minus homo.’ — Seneca. 
 
124 
 
 NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 Thus also is our judgment corrupted about the quali- 
 ties and endowments of the mind. Courage and gallan- 
 try, wit and eloquence, and other accomplishments of 
 this nature, are magnified and extolled beyond all mea- 
 sure ; whereas humility, and meekness, and devotion, 
 and all those Christian graces which render a soul truly 
 excellent and lovely, are spoken of as mean and con- 
 temptible things ; for, though men have not the impu- 
 dence formally to make the comparison, and prefer the 
 former, yet their very air and way of discoursing about 
 these things, sufficiently testifies their opinion. With 
 what affection and concernment will they represent a 
 gallant or learned man ; but how faintly do they utter 
 the character of a good man ! And s6, in censuring 
 men’s failings, they exaggerate the smallest instances of 
 w^eakness or imprudence, but speak lightly enough of the 
 greatest crimes. Drunkenness and impurity are men- 
 tioned in such terms, as express little sense of their 
 heinous nature, and tend to lessen the horror in which we 
 should hold them. Ambition and revenge, and such other 
 plausible vices, are rather allowed than condemned. 
 And while we converse in the world, and are accustomed 
 to such representations of things, our judgments are 
 thereby exceedingly corrupted, and we entertain false 
 and pernicious maxims. And so hard it is to guard our- 
 selves against the contagion, that we had better sit alone 
 and keep silence, than be continually exposed to the 
 temptation. 
 
 I shall mention but another of those evils with which 
 our conversation is commonly attended. The most 
 ordinary subjects of our entertainments are the faults 
 and follies of others. We meet, and talk, and fall to 
 describe the life and deportment of others.^ Were this 
 one theme of discourse discharged, we should often find 
 but little to say. I scarcely know any fault of which 
 good persons are so frequently guilty, and so little sen- 
 sible. They know, perhaps, the truth of the things 
 asserted, and they have no malicious design in reporting 
 them ; they tell them only as they do the public news, 
 to divert themselves and gratify their friends. But 
 would we consult our own hearts, and apply the great 
 
 Itur in verba, sermo seritur, vita aliena describitur.’ 
 
DISC. III.] 
 
 OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 125 
 
 rule of righteousness, of doing unto others as we would 
 be done unto ourselves, we should soon be convinced 
 that there is much more guilt and sinfulness in such 
 discourses than we are ready to apprehend. How ill 
 do we take it to have our own failings thus exposed, 
 and to hear that any person has made as bold with us 
 as we are wont to make with others ? Again, how un- 
 willing would we be that the persons of whom we speak 
 so freely, should overhear our discourse or be informed 
 of it. Now, if the practice had nothing blameable in it, 
 why should we be so shy to avow it ? 
 
 I have only hinted at these things ; but he who shall 
 seriously ponder them, will readily acknowledge that 
 there is no little mischief even in those entertainments 
 which pass for very innocent in the world ; and that he 
 shuns much guilt and many snares, who sits alone and 
 keeps silence. But solitude and retirement not only 
 deliver us from these inconveniences, but also afford 
 very excellent opportunities for bettering our souls. 
 Those hours which we misspend in needless visits and 
 idle talk, if rightly improved, might set us a great way 
 forward on our journey to heaven. While we are too 
 busy in making or entertaining acquaintance with men, 
 we often fall out of acquaintance both with God and 
 ourselves. 
 
 The most profane and irreligious persons will find 
 some serious thoughts rise in their minds, if they be much 
 alone. And the more any person is advanced in piety and 
 goodness, the more will he delight in retirement, and 
 the more benefit will he receive from it. Then it is 
 that the devout soul takes its highest flight in divine 
 contemplations, and makes its nearest approaches to 
 God. I find the vulgar Latin renders the words of the 
 text,® “ The solitary person will sit still and hold his 
 peace, because he has lifted himself up above himself 
 has raised his spirit above his ordinary pitch,? ‘In 
 solitude,’ says one of the fathers, ‘we breathe, as it 
 were, in a purer air ; heaven is more open unto us, and 
 God is more familiar and frequent in his visits. To 
 which purpose, some have applied that passage of the 
 
 ® Sedebit solitarius et tacebit, quia levavit se, supra se.” 
 p ‘ In solitudine, aer purior coelum apertius, familiarior Deus,^ 
 
 IF 
 
126 NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE [SCOUGAE.. 
 
 prophet Hosea, “ Behold, I will allure her, and bring 
 her into the wilderness, and there speak comfortably 
 unto her or, as the original imports, ‘ I will speak 
 unto her heart.’ That rule which our Saviour gives for 
 our devotion, to enter into our closet and shut the door 
 behind us, is as necessary to preserve us from distraction 
 as from vanity and ostentation. When we have retired 
 as much as we can from the world, we still carry too 
 much of it along with us. The images of things suffi- 
 ciently persecute and disturb us, though we be not ex- 
 posed to the objects themselves. Our blessed Saviour 
 thought not the mountains and deserts retired enough 
 for his devotions, but would add the darkness and silence 
 of the night. Little does the world understand those 
 secret and hidden pleasures, which devout souls feel, 
 when having got out of the noise and hurry of the 
 world, they sit alone and keep silence, contemplating 
 the Divine perfections which shine so conspicuously in 
 all his works of wonder ; admiring his greatness, and 
 wisdom, and love, and revolving his favors towards 
 themselves ; opening before him their griefs and their 
 cares, and disburdening their souls into his bosom ; 
 protesting their allegiance and subjection unto him, and 
 telling him a thousand times that they love him; and 
 then, listening unto the voice of God within their hearts, 
 that still and quiet voice, which is not wont to be heard 
 in the streets, that they may hear what God the Lord 
 will speak : for he will speak peace unto his people, 
 and to his saints ; and will visit them with the expres- 
 sions of his love. No wonder if those blessed souls 
 who have tasted the pleasures of holy retirement, and 
 found themselves, as it were, in the suburbs of heaven, 
 grow weary of company and affairs, and long for the 
 returning of those happy hours, as the hireling for the 
 shades of the evening: no wonder they pity the foolish 
 busy world, who spend their days in vanity, and know 
 not what it is indeed to live. 
 
 But here I would not be Inistaken, as if I recom- 
 mended a total and constant retirement, or persuaded 
 men to forsake the world, and betake themselves unto 
 deserts. No, certainly ; we must not abandon the sta- 
 tions wherein God hath placed us, nor render ourselves 
 useless to mankind. Solitude has its temptations, and 
 
DISC. III.] OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS, 127 
 
 we may sometimes be very bad company to ourselves. 
 It was not without reason, that one wise man warned 
 another, who professed to delight in conversing with 
 himself, ‘ Have a care, that you be keeping company 
 with a good man.’q Abused solitude may whet men’s 
 passions, and irritate their desires, and prompt them to 
 things which company would restrain. And this made 
 one say, that ‘ he who is much alone, must either be a 
 saint or a devil.’ Melancholy, which inclines men most 
 to retirement, is often too much nourished and fomented 
 by it ; and there is a peevish and sullen loneliness, 
 which some people affect under their troubles, whereby 
 they feed on discontented thoughts, and find a kind of 
 perverse pleasure in refusing to be comforted. But all 
 this says no more, but that good things may be abused : 
 that excess or disorder may turn the most wholesome 
 food into poison. And therefore, though I would not 
 indifferently recommend much solitude unto all ; yet, 
 surely, I may say, it were good for the most part of 
 men, that they were less in company, and more alone. 
 
 Thus much of the first and proper sense, of sitting 
 alone and keeping silence. We told you it might also 
 import, a quiet and patient subrnission to the will of 
 God ; the laying of our hand on our mouth, that no 
 expression of murmur or discontent may escape us : 
 “ 1 was dumb,” said the psalmist, “ I opened not my 
 mouth, because thou didst it.”** And the prophet de- 
 scribes our Saviour’s patience, that “ he was oppressed, 
 and was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth : he was 
 brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep be- 
 fore the shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.”® 
 Indeed, a modest and unaffected silence, is a good way 
 to express our submission to the hand of God, under 
 afflictions. The Heathen moralists, who pretended 
 much to patience, could never hold their peace; hut 
 desired always to signalize themselves by some fetches 
 of wit, and expressions of unusual courage. But, cer- 
 tainly, the mute and quiet Christian behaves himself 
 much better. That eloquent and expressive silence 
 says more, than all their vain and stoical boastings. 
 
 ^ ‘ Vide, ut cum homine probo.’ 
 
 ? Psalm xxxix. 9, ® Isaiah liii. 7. 
 
ADVANTAGE OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. [SCOUGAL, 
 
 We cannot now insist at any length on this Christian 
 duty, of patience and submission to the will of God ; 
 we shall only say two things of it, which the text im- 
 ports. First, That this lesson is most commonly 
 learned in the school of afflictions : “ He sitteth alone 
 and keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon 
 him.” In that forecited place of Jeremiah, ^ Ephraim, 
 bemoaning himself, acknowledges “ that he had been 
 as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke which makes 
 the greater reluctancy against it. Children that are 
 much indulged, are the more impatient if they come to 
 be crossed ; and there is too much of the child in us 
 all. The apostle tells us, that “ tribulation worketh 
 patience.”" Custom makes every thing more tolerable ; 
 and, if it please God to sanctify the first stroke, the 
 second is received with the greater submission. The 
 other thing which I have to say on this duty, is, that 
 this advantage of afflictions is very great and desirable; 
 that it is, indeed, very good for a man to have borne the 
 yoke in his youth, if he has thereby learned to sit alone 
 and keep silence, when the hand of the Lord is upon 
 him. There is nothing more acceptable unto God, 
 no object more lovely and amiable in his eyes, than a 
 soul thus prostrate before him, thus entirely resigned 
 to his holy will, thus quietly submitting to his severest 
 dispensations. Nor is it less advantageous to ourselves : 
 it sweetens the bitterest occurrences of our life, and 
 makes us feel an inward and secret pleasure, notwith- 
 standing all the smart of affliction ; so that the yoke 
 becomes supportable; the rod itself comforts us ; and 
 we find much more delight in suffering the will of God, 
 than if he had granted us our own. 
 
 Now, to this God, who loveth us, and correcteth us 
 for our profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness 
 and, thereby, of his happiness, — to Him, Father, Son, 
 and blessed Spirit, be all honor, praise, and glory, now 
 and for ever. Amen. 
 
 ‘ Ch. xxxi. 18. 
 
 Romans v. 3. 
 
DISC. IV.] 
 
 A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 
 
 129 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 THAT THERE ARE BUT A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 
 
 Luke xiii. 23. 
 
 Then said one unto him ; — Lord, are there few that he saved 7 
 
 Those who have so much charity and goodness, as to 
 be nearly touched with the interests of mankind, can- 
 not but be more especially concerned about their ever- 
 lasting condition ; and very anxious to know what shall 
 become of poor mortals, when this scene is over : when 
 they shall cease to appear on the stage of the world, 
 being called off to give an account of their deportment 
 on it. And, since we are assured that there are differ- 
 ent and very opposite states of departed souls, some 
 being admitted into happiness, and others doomed to 
 misery, beyond any thing that we can conceive, this 
 may suggest a further inquiry: how is mankind likely 
 to be divided ? shall heaven or hell have the greater 
 share ? Such a laudable curiosity as this, it was, that 
 induced one of our blessed Saviour’s followers to pro- 
 pose the question in the text, “Lord, are there few that 
 be saved ?” 
 
 Our Saviour had been lately foretelling the great suc- 
 cess the Gospel should have : how, like a little leaven, 
 that quickly ferments the whole mass into which it 
 is received, Christianity should soon propagate itself 
 through the world, and many nations should embrace 
 the profession of it. This disciple it seems, was desi- 
 rous to know whether the efficacy should be answerable 
 to the extent ? Whether it should take as deep root in 
 the hearts of those that owned it, as it was to spread 
 itself far and wide, on the face of the earth? In a word, 
 whether the greater part of men were to be saved by it ? 
 I called this a laudable curiosity ; and there is reason 
 to think it is so, since our Saviour himself, who best 
 knew the occasion and import of it, does not check, but 
 satisfy the inquiry ; which he was not wont to do when 
 the questions were useless or blameable. Those who 
 
130 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 inquired into the time of the general judgment, received 
 no other account but that it was among those secrets 
 which God reserved for himself. And, again, when 
 they asked of the time that the kingdom should be re- , 
 stored unto Israel, he tells them plainly, it was not for 
 them, it concerned them not at all, to know such things 
 as these. But here, as the question seems to have pro- 
 ceeded from zeal for the honor of God, and concern in 
 the happiness of mankind ; so its resolution might be 
 very useful : and accordingly it is improved by our 
 Saviour ; who at once resolves the doubt, and presses 
 a very weighty exhortation, in the following words : — 
 “ Strive to enter in at the strait gate : for many, I say 
 unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able.” 
 
 We are not, at this time, to prosecute the whole im- 
 port of this latter verse ; for that we refer you to an 
 excellent sermon, entitled The Way to Happiness. 
 We shall only consider the answer, which is implied in 
 it, to the foregoing question ; namely, that the number 
 of those who are to be saved, is really small. 
 
 On this point, we design to fix our meditations at 
 this time. And, indeed, there is scarcely any doctrine 
 that needs to be more inculcated : for, amongst all the 
 stratagems, by which the great enemy of mankind plots 
 and contrives their ruin, few are more unhappily suc- 
 cessful, than the fond persuasion that heaven and ever- 
 lasting happiness are easily attainable. What one says 
 of wisdom, we may, with a little alteration, apply to 
 this purpose ; that many might have reached heaven if 
 they had not been confident of doing so.^ The doors 
 of the Christian Church are now very wide, and men 
 have access to them upon very easy terms. Nay, this 
 privilege descends to men by their birth, and they are 
 reckoned among Christians, before they well know what 
 the term means. The ordinances and mysteries of our 
 religion are common to all, save those whom gross ig- 
 norance, or notorious crimes, exclude. There are no 
 marks on the foreheads of men, whereby we can judge 
 of their future condition ; they die, and are laid in their 
 graves, and none come back to tell how it fares with 
 them ; and we desire to think the best of every parti- 
 
 y ^ Multi ad sapientiam pervenissent, nisi putassent se pervenissed 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED, 131 
 
 cular persorr. But, whatever charity be in this, there 
 is little prudence in the inference which many draw 
 from it ; who think, that they may live as their neigh- 
 bors do, and die as happily as they ; and, since the 
 greatest part of men are such as themselves, that heaven 
 must be a very empty place, if all of them be debarred. 
 Thus, perhaps, you have seen a flock of sheep on a 
 bridge, and the first leaps over, and the rest, not know- 
 ing what is become of those that went before, each of 
 them follow their companions into that hazard or ruin. 
 Interest and self-love so strongly blind the minds of 
 men, that they can hardly be withheld from the belief 
 of that which they would very fain have true. Hence 
 it is, that, notwithstanding all we are told to the contra- 
 ry, the opinion of the broadness of the way that leads 
 to heaven, and the easy access to it, is still the most 
 epidemic, and, I think, the most dangerous heresy. 
 Many of the commonalty are so ignorant as to avow it ; 
 and the strange security of more knowing persons loud- 
 ly proclaims it. I know he undertakes an unwelcome 
 errand, who goes about to dispossess the minds of men, 
 of such a pleasant and flattering error. But what shall 
 we do ? Shall we suffer them to sleep on and take their 
 rest, till the everlasting flames awake them ? Shall we 
 draw their blood on our heads, and involve ourselves in 
 their ruiri, by neglecting to advertise them of their 
 hazard ? No, my friends : duty obliges and the holy 
 Scriptures warrant us, to assure you, that there are few 
 that shall be saved ; that “ the whole world lieth in 
 wickedness,”^ and that “they are a little flock, to whom 
 the Father will give the kingdom.” 
 
 That this certain, though lamentable, truth, may 
 make deeper impression on our minds, we shall, first, 
 propose some considerations, for the better understand- 
 ing what great things are required, in those who look 
 for everlasting happiness ; and then, w^e shall reflect on 
 the actions and ways of men ; that, comparing the one 
 with the other, we may see how little ground of hope 
 there is for the greatest part to build on. 
 
 First, then, consider the nature of that divine Majes- 
 ty, whose presence and enjoyment it is that makes 
 
 ^ 1 John V. 19. 
 
 * Luke xii. 32. 
 
132 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 heaven desirable ; and think how inconsistent it is with 
 his infinite holiness, to admit impure and impenitent 
 sinners into the habitation of his glory. Certainly, 
 “ he is of purer eyes than to behold evil, and cannot 
 look on iniquity.’’^ “He is not a God that hath plea- 
 sure in wickedness : neither shall evil dwell with Him. 
 The foolish shall not stand in his sight.”* It is strange 
 what conceptions foolish men entertain of Almighty 
 God ; imagining, that those who have been all their 
 days wallowing in sin, shall be admitted into an ever- 
 lasting fellowship with Him. Sooner shall light and 
 darkness dwell together, and heat and cold in their 
 greatest violence combine, and all contrarieties of na- 
 ture be reconciled. Can two walk together, except 
 they be agreed ? Can there be any converse, between 
 those whose natures suit so ill together ? Surely, they 
 who think so easily to attain happiness must imagine 
 God altogether such a one as themselves; else they 
 could never hope, that he would choose them, and cause 
 them to approach unto him. But how widely shall they 
 find themselves mistaken, when he shall reprove them, 
 and set their sins in order before them : and they shall 
 discover to their confusion, that he is a “ consuming 
 fire to all the workers of iniquity !” Men are wont to 
 frame a notion of God according to their own wishes, 
 as if he were but an empty name : and this is the com- 
 mon shelter, against every convincing reproof. But 
 this temerity shall, at length, sufficiently confute itself; 
 and men shall feel that justice, which they will not be- 
 lieve. There is not strife among the attributes of God : 
 that one of them should swallow up another. Mercy 
 is open to all who forsake their sins ; but justice shall 
 seize on those who continue in them. That compas- 
 sion, which made God to give his dear Son for the re- 
 demption of mankind, will never prevail for the pardon 
 and deliverance of any impenitent sinner. Abused 
 goodness will certainly turn into fury ; and infinite 
 mercy, being despised, shall bring down upon sinners 
 all the dreadful effects of an omnipotent vengeance. 
 
 Consider, secondly, what that happiness is which all 
 men so confidently promise to themselves ; and see 
 
 y Hab. i. 13. 
 
 * Psalm V. 4, 5. 
 
t)ISC, IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 133 
 
 whether it be likely that it should be so easily attained. 
 Glorious things are every where spoken of that hea- 
 venly Jerusalem ; and all that is excellent or desirable 
 in this world, is borrowed to shadow it forth in the holy 
 Scriptures ; we are told of crowns, and kingdoms, and 
 treasures, and rivers of pleasure, and fountains of living 
 waters, and of an exceeding eternal weight of glory. 
 
 But, thirdly, all these do not suffice to convey into 
 our minds any full apprehension of the happiness we 
 expect ; and, after all that can be said, it does not yet 
 appear what we shall be. These metaphors and alle- 
 gories serve but to assist our minds a little, and give us 
 some confused apprehensions of the things which eye 
 hath not seen, nor ear heard ; nor, said that beloved 
 disciple who lay in the bosom of our Saviour, can it 
 enter into the heart of man to conceive, what God hath 
 prepared for them that love him. Can we, then, expect 
 that so glorious a prize shall be gained without any 
 labor ? Shall such a recompense be bestowed, on those 
 who never were at any pains about it? What toil and 
 travail does it cost the avaricious, to gather together 
 that white and yellow earth which they call money ? 
 With what care and pains, do the ambitious ascend to 
 any degree of preferment ? What industry and study do 
 studious men employ, to reach a little knowledge, and 
 be reckoned amongst the learned? And shall heaven 
 and everlasting happiness slide into our arms, when we 
 are asleep? No, certainly. God will never disparage 
 the glories of that place, to bestow them on those who 
 have not thought them worthy of their most serious en- 
 deavors. But, as the greatness of that happiness may 
 justly discourage all pretenders to it, so its nature leaves 
 small ground of hope, to the greater part of the world. 
 I wonder what most men expect to meet with in hea- 
 ven, who dream of coming thither. Think they to feast 
 and revel, and luxuriate there, and to spend eternity in 
 foolish mirth and vain talk ; in sport and drollery, and 
 sensual pleasure ? — for such alone are the exercises of 
 which they are capable, or in which they can find relish 
 or satisfaction. Away with all those Turkish notions, 
 whereby we disparage the happiness to which we pre- 
 tend. The joys of that place are pure and spiritual, 
 and no unclean thing shall enter there. The felicity of 
 
134 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 blessed spirits consists in beholding and admiring the 
 divine perfections, and finding the image of them shining 
 in themselves in perfect conformity to the will and nature 
 of God, and intimate and delightful society and commu- 
 nion with him. And shall souls be blessed in seeing and 
 partaking of the divine likeness, who never loved it, and 
 who would choose any thing, rather than to converse 
 with God ? A little reflection on the common temper 
 of men’s minds, may assure us that they are very far 
 from that meetness and aptitude ‘‘ for the inheritance of 
 the saints in light, which the apostle speaks of. 
 The notion and nature of blessedness must surely be 
 changed ; or else, the temper of their spirits : either 
 they must have new hearts, or a new heaven created 
 for them, before they can be happy. It is a strange infa- 
 tuation of self-love, that men in the gall of bitterness 
 should think it is well with their souls, and fancy them- 
 selves in a case good enough for the enjoyment of 
 divine pleasures. 
 
 In the fourth place. Let us reflect on the attempts 
 and endeavors of those, who have gone to heaven be- 
 fore us. How they did fight and strive, wrestle and 
 run, for obtaining that glorious prize ; and we shall see 
 how improbable it is, that the greatest part of men 
 should gain it, with so little pains. Noah, Abraham, 
 Jacob, David, and all those ancient worthies, recorded 
 in Holy Writ, have either done or suffered so great 
 things, as gave ground to expect that country which 
 they looked after, “ accounting themselves strangers 
 and pilgrims on the earth;” as you may see in the 
 eleventh chapter of Hebrews : where, after a large 
 catalogue of their performances, the author tells us of 
 others, “ who were tortured, not accepting deliverance ; 
 that they might obtain a better resurrection. And 
 others had trial of cruel mockings, and scourgings, yea, 
 moreover, of bonds and imprisonment. They were 
 stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were 
 slain with the sword : they wandered about in sheep- 
 skins, and goat-skins ; being destitute, afflicted, tor- 
 mented : of whom the world was not worthy. They 
 wandered in deserts and in mountains, and in dens and 
 
 ^ Col. i. 12. 
 
DISC. IV.J A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 135 
 
 caves of the earth.” Such, also, was that holy vio- 
 lence wherewith the Christians of the first and golden 
 ages forced open the gates of heaven, and took posses- 
 sion of it. The ardent affection with which these 
 blessed souls were inflamed toward their Maker and 
 Redeemer, made them willingly give up their bodies to 
 be burned in the fire, for the glory of God and the pro- 
 pagation of the Christian faith. Their constancy in suffer- 
 ings, amazed their bloody persecutors, and out-wearied 
 the cruelty of their tormentors; they rejoiced in nothing 
 more, than that they were accounted worthy to suffer 
 shame, for the name of Jesus.” . And what shall we 
 say of their universal charity and love, which reached 
 their very enemies ? Of their humility and meekness, jus- 
 tice and temperance, and all those other virtues, which 
 many of the Heathen themselves observed and admired? 
 ‘Behold,’ said one, ‘ how the Christians love one an- 
 other !’ ‘ These are the men,’ says another ! ‘ who 
 
 speak as they think, and do as they speak.’ Pliny, after 
 an exact inquiry, writes to the Emperor Trajan, ‘ that 
 he could never find any other guilt in the Christians, 
 except they met together before day-break, to sing a 
 hymn to Christ, as if he were God ; and then to bind 
 themselves with a sacrament or oath, not to do any 
 mischief; but on the contrary, that they shall not rob, 
 steal, or commit adultery, or falsify their words, or deny 
 their trust, <fec.’ This was the crime of Christians, in 
 those first ages, to engage themselves not to commit 
 any crime. They needed not, in those days, to be pur- 
 sued by tedious processes, or dragged against their will 
 to the profession of repentance. They would sue for 
 it with tears, and stand, for many years, at the door of 
 the church begging to be received. The censures of 
 the Church were then looked upon as very serious and 
 dreadful things ; and they who would encounter death 
 in the most terrible form, would tremble if threatened 
 with excommunication. Now, tell me, I pray you, 
 what you think of these men ? Did they supererogate, 
 and go beyond their duty ? Or were they fools in do- 
 ing these things, when half the pains might have served 
 their turn ? Did heaven and happiness cost them so 
 much labor, and think you to be carried thither fast 
 asleep, or rather, while you are bending your forces 
 
136 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL, 
 
 quite another way ? If you cannot look so far backy 
 or if you imagine these but romances, like the poetic 
 accounts of the golden* age, when all men were happy 
 and good, I shall then desire you to take notice of a 
 few persons whom the divine goodness has rescued 
 from that deluge of wickedness which overflows the 
 world. There are, perhaps, some two or three in a 
 city, or in a county, who live very far beyond the com- 
 mon rate of men, and who may be accounted angels 
 upon earth, if compared with the multitude. They have 
 escaped the pollution that is in the uorld, and have 
 learned to despise all its vanities ; their aflections are 
 above, and their greatest business is, to please and 
 serve their Maker ; their thoughts and aflections are, 
 in a great measure, holy and pure, their converse inno- 
 cent and useful, and in their whole deportment they 
 observe such strict rules of holiness and virtue, as others 
 may think needless or superstitious ; and yet these per- 
 sons are deeply sensible of their own imperfections, 
 and afraid enough to come short of heaven. I speak 
 not now of those scrupulous persons whom melancholy 
 exposes to perpetual and unaccountable fears ; much 
 less of others who make a trade of complaining, and 
 would be the better thought of, for speaking evil of them- 
 selves, and would be very ill-pleased if you should be- 
 lieve them. I speak of rational and sober men, whose 
 fears arise from their due consideration and measure of 
 things ; from the right apprehensions w^hich they have 
 of the holiness of God, and the meaning and import of 
 the Gospel precepts. And certainly such holy jealousies 
 over themselves ought not to be judged needless : St. 
 Paul himself, w^ho had been rapt up in the third heaven, 
 and thereby received an earnest of eternal happiness, 
 found it necessary to take care, “ lest, by any means, 
 while he preached to others, himself should be a cast- 
 aw^ay.”’' I know it is ordinary for men to laugh at 
 those who are more serious and conscientious than 
 themselves ; to wonder w^hat they aim at, and to hope 
 to be as sure of heaven as they. But, ere long, they 
 shall discover their mistake, and shall say, wdth those 
 spoken of in the Book of Wisdom, “ This w'as he. 
 
 b 1 Cor. xi. 27. 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 137 
 
 whom we had sometimes in derision, and a proverb of 
 reproach. We fools accounted his life madness, and 
 his end to be without honor. How is he numbered 
 among the children of God, and his lot is among the 
 saints ! Therefore have we erred from the way of 
 truth : and the light of righteousness hath not shined 
 unto us ; and the sun of righteousness rose not upon 
 us.” 
 
 To come yet closer to our present purpose : a serious 
 consideration of the laws and precepts of the Gospel, 
 will fully convince us of the straitness of the gate, and 
 narrowness of the way, that leadeth to eternal life. We 
 cannot name them all, nor insist upon any at length. 
 Look through the excellent sermon on the mount, and 
 see what our Saviour requires of his followers. You 
 will find him enjoining such a profound humility, as 
 shall make us think nothing of ourselves, and be 
 content that others think nothing of us ; a meek- 
 ness which no injuries can overcome, no affronts nor 
 indignities can exasperate ; a chastity, which restrains 
 the sight of the eyes, and the wandering of the desires; 
 such an universal charity, as will make us tender other 
 men’s welfare as our own, and never take any other 
 revenge against our most bitter ehemies, but to wish 
 them well, and to do them all the good we can, whether 
 they will or not. Whatever corrupt glosses men are 
 bold to put on our Saviour’s words, the offering the 
 other cheek to him who smote the right one, and the 
 giving our coat to him who hath taken our cloak, 
 obliges^ us to suffer injuries, and part with something 
 of our right, in order to avoid strife and contention. 
 The pulling out our right eye, and cutting off our right 
 hand that offends, imports the renouncing of the most 
 gainful callings, or pleasant enjoyments, when they be- 
 come a snare to us. The hating of father and mother 
 for the sake of Christ, at least implies the loving of 
 him infinitely beyond our dearest relations ; and the 
 being ready to part with them, when either our duty 
 or his will calls for it. And we must not look upon 
 these things as only counsels of perfection, commend- 
 able in themselves, but which may yet be neglected 
 without any great hazard. No, certainly; they are 
 absolutely necessary ; and it is folly to expect happi- 
 
138 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL, 
 
 ness, without the conscientious and sincere performance 
 of them all : “ Whosoever shall break one of these 
 least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall 
 be called the least in the kingdom of heaven that is, 
 according to all interpreters, he shall have no interest 
 in it. You see, then, by what strict rules he must 
 square his actions, who can, with any ground, hope to 
 be saved. But I must tell you further, that he must not 
 be excited to the performance of his duty, merely by 
 the force and sanctions of these laws. True religion 
 is an inward, free, and self-moving principle ; and those 
 w^ho have made a progress in it, are not actuated only 
 by external motives; are not merely driven by threaten- 
 ings, nor bribed by promises, nor constrained by laws ; 
 but are powerfully inclined to that which is good. 
 Though holy and religious persons much regard the 
 law of God, yet it is not so much the authority and 
 sanction of it, as its reasonableness, and purity, and 
 goodness, that prevails with them. They account it 
 excellent and desirable in itself. They feel that in 
 keeping of it there is great reward ; and that divine 
 love by which they are actuated, makes them become a 
 law unto themselves : 
 
 Q,uis legem det amantibus ? 
 
 Major est amor lex ipse sibi. 
 
 In a w'ord, what our blessed Saviour said of himself, is, 
 in some measure, applicable to his followers — that it is 
 their meat and drink, to do their Father’s will. And, 
 as the natural appetite is carried out toward food, 
 though we should not reflect on its necessity for the 
 preservation of our lives, so are they carried, with a 
 natural and unforced propension, toward that which is 
 good and commendable. 
 
 Hitherto, we have been speaking of the qualiflcations 
 which are necessary for obtaining an entrance into hea- 
 ven. It is high time we were casting our eyes upon the 
 w’orld, to see how the tempers and actions of men agree 
 with those qualifications. And first, if we look back upon 
 the old world, we shall see how soon wickedness over- 
 spread the face of the earth, and all flesh had corrupted 
 
 • [Page 17.] 
 
DISC, IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 139 
 
 their way; and of all the multitudes that were then in 
 the world, only Noah and his family were found worthy 
 to escape the general deluge ; nay, even in it there was 
 a cursed Cham, the father of a wicked generation. After 
 that the Church of God was confined to a very narrow 
 corner : and while darkness covered the face of the 
 earth, only Palestine was enlightened with the know- 
 ledge of God : “ He showed his word unto Jacob, his 
 statutes and his judgment unto Israel. But he dealt not 
 so with every nation : as for his judgments, they have 
 not known them.'^ They were given up to the lusts of 
 their own hearts, and worshipped the works of their 
 own hands.” Their devotions were performed unto 
 devils, and their religious mysteries were full of the 
 grossest impurities. I shall not now enter on the debate, 
 whether ever any Heathen might possibly have been 
 saved ? We are more concerned to secure our own sal- 
 vation, than to dispute about theirs: and yeti must say, 
 that, amongst all the lives of celebrated Heathen, I 
 could never meet with the character of a truly good 
 man. And, though I love not to decry morality, yet 
 that pride and self-conceit which mingled itself with 
 their fairest actions, makes me look upon them as in- 
 deed, ‘ splendida peccata,’ a more specious kind of sins. 
 But, supposing something could be said for Socrates 
 and Plato, and two or three others, what is that to those 
 huge multitudes, who, without all peradventure, ran 
 headlong into everlasting destruction? But let us leave 
 those times, and look upon the present condition of the 
 world It is a sad account of it that is given by Breer- 
 wood in his ‘Inquiries,’ that, dividing the whole world 
 into thirty parts, nineteen are Pagan, six are Mahomedan, 
 and only five remain for Christians of all persuasions. 
 I shall not warrant the exactness of his reckoning; but 
 certainly the number of Christians bears but a very 
 small proportion to the rest of mankind. And of these, 
 again, how few are there orthodox in their religion. I 
 dare not condemn all those who live in the Romish com- 
 munion ; but surely they labor under very great disad- 
 vantages; and besides the common difficulties of Chris- 
 
 d Psalm cxlvii. 19, 20. 
 
140 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 tianity, their errors and superstitions are no small hin- 
 drances to their progress. 
 
 But we may, perhaps, think ourselves little concerned 
 in them. Let us, then, consider those who live in com- 
 munion with ourselves, and see what is to be thought 
 of the generality. And first, we shall find a very great 
 number so grossly ignorant, that they know not the way 
 that leads to life. And truly it is not so broad that peo- 
 ple should keep it by guess. And however they ima- 
 gine that their ignorance will not only be excusable in 
 itself, but afford a cloak to their other wickedness, — yet 
 dreadful is that threatening of the prophet Isaiah, “ It 
 is a people of no understanding; therefore. He that 
 made them will not have mercy upon them ; and He 
 that formed them, will show them no favor.” But, 
 besides those many thousands that perish for lack of 
 knowledge, how great are the number of vicious and 
 scandalous persons? Remove but our gluttons and 
 drunkards, our thieves and deceivers, our oppressors 
 and extortioners, our scolders and revilers, our forni- 
 cators and adulterers, and all that abominable crew, that 
 are guilty of such heinous crimes, and how thin should 
 our Churches be ! To what a small number should we 
 quickly be reduced ! A little corner would hold us all. 
 And think you these I have been speaking of are fit to 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven ? Perhaps you may 
 account us rash, to condemn so many of our neighbors; 
 but the apostle has done it to our hands : “Know ye not 
 that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God ? 
 Be not deceived : neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor 
 adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves 
 with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, 
 nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom 
 of God.” e You see what a heavy sentence is pro- 
 nounced ; and oh ! how many are included under it ! I 
 shall name one other vice, which I fear wdll drive in no 
 small number of those who are yet behind — and that is, 
 the unaccountable sin of swearing; by which men com- 
 monly throw away their souls, without any temptation, 
 pleasure, or advantage. How often do men baffle the sa- 
 cred name of God, by calling him to witness such trifles, 
 
 ® 1 Cor. vi, 10. 
 
DiSCi IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 141 
 
 as they might be ashamed to attest, before any grave 
 or sober person ? This they account an ornament of 
 speech; and their words would never sound big enough 
 without it. I cannot pause to reckon up all the aggra- 
 vations of this sin. It is certainly inconsistent with a 
 religious temper ; and this alone, if there were no more, 
 would condemn the greater part of the Christian world. 
 And what shall we say of all those other vices, which 
 are so frequently practised, yea, and defended too, 
 among us ? For, alas ! we are arrived at that height of 
 impiety, that virtue and vice seem to have shifted places; 
 evil and good to have changed their names. It is counted 
 a gallant thing, to despise all divine and human laws ; 
 and a childish scrupulosity, to forbear any thing that 
 may gratify our passions. A strong faith is accounted 
 an argument of weak judgment ; dependence upon Pro- 
 vidence is judged want of foresight ; and there is no wit 
 but in deceiving others : no man is reckoned generous 
 unless he be extremely ambitious ; and it is want of 
 courage to forgive an injury. O Religion, whither art 
 thou fled ! In what corner of the world shall we 
 find thee ! Shall we search for thee in the courts 
 and palaces of great men? Pride and luxury have 
 driven thee thence ; and they are too much concerned 
 in the business and pleasures of this world, to regard 
 those of another. Shall we seek thee in the cottages 
 of the poor? Envy and discontent lodge there; their 
 outward wants take up all their thoughts, and they have 
 but little regard for their souls. Shall we go into the 
 city? Cheating, and extortion, and intemperance, are 
 almost all that we can meet with there. And if we 
 retire into the country, we shall find as little innocence 
 in it : “ We may look for judgment, but behold oppres- 
 sion; for righteousness, but behold a cry.” 
 
 After all that we have hitherto said, some may think 
 themselves safe enough, being conscious of none of 
 those vices which we have named. But, alas ! what is 
 all this. They may still be far from the kingdom of 
 heaven. Religion consists not of negatives ; and the 
 being free from gross and scandalous vices, is a poor 
 plea for heaven. Look how thy soul is furnished with 
 those divine graces which ought to qualify thee for it. 
 
 I shall name but one ; and it is, the love of God : every 
 
142 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL, 
 
 body pretends to it ; but how few are there in the world 
 that understand w^hat it means, that feel its power and 
 efficacy on their own spirits ! Love is that weight by 
 which a soul is carried toward the object which it 
 loves, and rests in it as its proper centre.^ Those who 
 are acquainted with this noble passion, even in its wan- 
 derings and deviations from its proper object, when it is 
 wholly fixed on some silly creature like ourselves, — 
 these, I say, know what mighty effects it is wont to 
 produce on the souls where it prevails ; how it makes 
 them almost forget their own interest, and consult that 
 only of another ; how careful they are of every thing 
 that may please or advantage the person loved ; and 
 afraid in any action to offend them ; what delight they 
 have in their conversation, and how hardly they endure 
 to be absent from them. See, therefore, if thou findest 
 any thing answerable to these effects, in the affection 
 which thou pretendest unto God. Are his glory and 
 honor the dearest of all things unto thee ; wouldst thou 
 rather hear thyself, and all thy friends reviled, than His 
 holy name blasphemed ? Is it thy greatest care and 
 business to please Him, and art thou watchful against 
 every sin ? Is there nothing in the world so dear unto 
 thee, but thou wouldst part with for his sake? Desirest 
 thou that he should do his own will, rather than thine ? 
 Is nothing so delightful, as to converse with him ? And 
 does every thing seem burthensome which detains thee 
 long from him? If we would examine ourselves by 
 these tests, I fear most of us would find our confidence 
 built on a sandy foundation. 
 
 Perhaps you will tell me, that though things be not 
 so well at present, — though you have not yet attained 
 these endowments, which are necessary to fit you for 
 heaven, nor indeed have begun to endeavor after them, 
 — yet, hereafter, you hope all shall be well ; you will 
 repent and amend before you die. Consider, I beseech 
 you, my brethren, what it is that you say. When think 
 you that this promised reformation shall begin ? Some 
 two or three years after this, when you have pleased 
 yourselves, and indulged your appetites a little more ? 
 But what assurance have you to live so long ? Are not 
 
 { ‘ Amor est pondus animi.’ 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 143 
 
 your neighbors, who expected death as little as you, 
 dropping down every day around you ? And suppose 
 you live, what greater probability is there of your re- 
 formation at a future time than now? Had you not, 
 several years ago, the same thoughts and resolutions 
 which yet have no effect ? Will you not again have 
 the same temptations and snares ? Will your passions 
 be more easily overcome, when strengthened by longer 
 custom ? Will it be more easy to return, after you have 
 wandered further out of the way? Perhaps it is on a 
 death-bed repentance, that you have grounded your 
 hopes : you resolve to part with your appetites when you 
 can keep them no longer, and to serve God Almighty 
 with the dregs of your time. I shall not tell you what 
 shrewd objections are proposed by some great and 
 learned men, against the validity and acceptableness of 
 such a repentance ; some of them, perhaps, have been 
 too peremptory and severe. True and unfeigned re- 
 pentance, which includes the sincere love of God, and 
 resignation to him, will never come too late : the found- 
 ation of heaven is laid in the souls of those that have it. 
 But when we consider what a great matter true repent- 
 ance is, the shortness of the time, the hindrances of a 
 distempered body, and the ordinary relapses of men 
 who have promised fair on such occasions, and have 
 outlived that sickness which they thought had been 
 mortal ; when we consider these things, we cannot but 
 acknowledge that a death-bed repentance is seldom 
 sincere ; and that it is an unfit time to begin to fight 
 with principalities and powers, when, perhaps, we have 
 not strength to turn ourselves on our beds : in a word, 
 that of those who thus delay and put off the momentous 
 business, but very few shall be saved. 
 
 When we have said all that we can say, there are 
 many who will never be persuaded of the truth of that 
 which we have been proving. They cannot think it 
 consistent with the goodness and mercy of God, that 
 the greatest part of mankind should be damned ; they 
 cannot imagine that heaven should be such an empty 
 and desolate place, and have so very few to inhabit it. 
 But what folly and madness is this, for sinful men to 
 set rules unto the Divine goodness, and to draw con- 
 clusions from it, so expressly contrary to what he has 
 
144 THAT THERE ARE BUT [SCOUGAL. 
 
 himself revealed ! Is it not enough that he has taught 
 us the way to be happy, and given his own Son to the 
 death, to make it possible ; that he has waited so long, 
 and invited us so earnestly, and so frequently told us 
 our hazard ? If all this cannot prevail ; if we be obsti- 
 nately resolved to continue wdcked and miserable ; if 
 we despise his goodness, and turn all his grace unto 
 wantonness ; if we slight his threatenings, and will have 
 none of his reproof; if we court damnation, and throw 
 ourselves headlong into hell, — how can we expect that 
 he should interpose his omnipotency to pull us from 
 thence, and place us in heaven against our will ? Those 
 blessed regions are not like our new plantations, which 
 are sometimes peopled with the worst sort of persons, 
 lest they should be altogether desolate. There are thou- 
 sands of angels, and ten thousand times ten thousand, that 
 stand about the throne. We know little the extent of 
 the universe, or what proportion the wicked or misera- 
 ble part of rational beings, bears to those that are happy 
 and good ; but this we know, that God was infinitely 
 happy before he had made any creature, that he needs not 
 the society of the holy angels, and will never admit that 
 of wicked and irreligious men. 
 
 The doctrine on which we have been insisting is sad 
 and lamentable ; but the consideration of it may be very 
 useful. It must needs touch any serious person with 
 very much of grief and trouble, to behold a multitude 
 of people convened together, and to think, that, before 
 thirty or forty years, a little more, or a great deal less, 
 they shall all go down unto the dark and silent grave, 
 and the greater, the far greater part of their souls, shall 
 perish everlastingly. But this consideration may urge 
 us to the greater diligence and care, that we may do 
 what we can toward the prevention of these sad con- 
 sequences. Were the sense of this truth deeply en- 
 graven on all our minds, with what care and diligence, 
 with what seriousness and zeal, would ministers deal 
 with the people committed to their charge, that, by any 
 means, they might save some ! How would parents, 
 and husbands, and wives, employ all their diligence 
 and industry, and make use of the most likely methods 
 for reclaiming their near relations, and pulling them 
 from the brink of hell ! Lastly, what holy violence 
 
DISC. IV.] A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 145 
 
 would each of us use, for saving ourselves from this 
 common ruin, and making our calling and election sure? 
 This is the use of what we have been endeavoring to 
 enforce : and may Almighty God so accompany it with 
 his blessing and power, that it may be happily effectual 
 to so excellent a purpose. And unto this God, Father, 
 Son, and Holy Spirit, be all honor, praise, and 
 thanksgiving, now and for ever ! Amen. 
 
 13 
 
146 
 
 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE OF PRAISE AND THANKS- 
 GIVING. 
 
 Psalm cvii. 15. 
 
 0 that men would praise the Lord for his goodness^ and for his 
 
 wonderful works to the children of men ! 
 
 There is scarcely any duty of religion 'more com- 
 monly neglected, or more slightly performed, than this 
 of praise and thanksgiving. The sense of our wants 
 urges us to beg favors from God ; and the conscious- 
 ness of our sins constrains us to deprecate his wrath. 
 Thus interest and self-love send us to our prayers. But, 
 alas ! how small a part has an ingenuous gratitude, in 
 our devotion! How seldom are we serious and hearty, 
 in our acknowledgment of the divine bounty ! The 
 slender returns of this nature which we make, are often 
 a formal ceremony, a preface to usher in our petitions 
 for what we want, rather than any sincere expression 
 of our thankfulness for what we have received. Far dif- 
 ferent was the temper of the holy psalmist, whose affec- 
 tionate acknowledgments of the goodness and bounty of 
 God, in the cheerful celebration of his praise, make up 
 a considerable part of his divine songs. How often do 
 we find him exciting and disposing himself to join voice, 
 hand, and heart, together, in this holy and delightful 
 employment ! “ Bless the Lord, O my soul : and all 
 
 that is within me, bless his holy name.^ My heart is 
 fixed, O God, my heart is fixed. I will sing and give 
 praise. Awake up, my glory, awake psaltery and harp : 
 
 1 myself will awake right early.”^' And, conscious of 
 his own insufficiency for the work, he invites the co- 
 operation of others ; calling in the whole creation to 
 assist him : “ O sing unto the Lord a new song ; sing 
 unto the Lord all the earth. Give unto the Lord, O 
 ye kindreds of the people, give unto the Lord glory 
 
 e Psalm ciii. 1. 
 
 h Psalm Ivii. 7, 8. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 147 
 
 and strength.^ Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the 
 Lord, from the heavens : praise him in the heights. 
 Praise him, ye sun and moon : praise him, all ye stars 
 of light; mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all 
 cedars ; beasts, and all cattle ; creeping things, and fly- 
 ing fowl.j Bless the Lord, all his works, in all places 
 of his dominion.”^ Many such figurative expressions 
 occur ; and allowance must be made for the poetical 
 strain : but in the text we have a proper and passionate 
 wish, “ O that men would praise the Lord for his good- 
 ness, and for his wonderful works to the children of 
 men.” 
 
 Man is the great priest of this lower world ; by whom 
 all the homage and service of the other creatures, is to 
 be paid to their common Lord and Maker. “God hath 
 made him to have dominion over the works of his hand; 
 he hath put all things under his feet : all sheep and 
 oxen ; yea, and the beasts of the field : the fowl of the 
 air the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through 
 the paths of the seas.”i The divine bounty, in maintain- 
 ing these poor creatures, redounds to man ; and there- 
 fore it is highly reasonable that he should pay the tribute 
 of praise for them, who are not capable of knowing their 
 dependence on God, or their obligations unto him. — 
 “The young lions roar, and seek their meat from God.”“ 
 “ The young ravens do cry unto him.”‘' But these are 
 only the complaints of languishing nature, heard and re- 
 lieved by the God of nature ; though not directly and 
 particularly addressed to him. Man alone is capable to 
 entertain communion with God ; to know his goodness, 
 and to celebrate his praise. 
 
 “ O that men would praise the Lord !” Praise is the 
 acknowledgment of the goodness and excellency of a 
 person : and, though the desire of it in us, who have 
 nothing of our own but folly and sin, and whose best 
 performances have a miserable alloy of adherent infirmi- 
 ty, be a blameable vanity and presumption, — yet, cer- 
 tainly, it is highly reasonable for God, who is the author 
 and fountain of all good, to require and expect praise from 
 his creatures. He has made this world, as a great temple 
 
 i Psalm xcvi. 1. 7. 5 Psalm cxlviii. 1. 3. 9, 10. ^ Psalm ciii. 2*2 . 
 
 I Psalm viii. 6, 7, 8. ^ Psalm civ. 21. ” Job xxxviii. 41 . 
 
148 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL. 
 
 for his honor : and it should continually resound with 
 his praise. It is true, all the praises of men and angels 
 can add nothing to his happiness and glory ; yet, there 
 is a fitness and congruity in the thing ; and it is our hap- 
 piness, as well as our duty, to perform it : “ for it is 
 good to sing praises to our God ; for it is pleasant, and 
 praise is comely.”® This is the blessed employment of 
 the holy ones above : and, if ever we taste the pleasures 
 of heaven upon earth, it is then, when our souls are 
 transported with an overflowing sense of the divine 
 goodness, and our mouths are filled with his praise. 
 
 “ O that men would praise the Lord, for his good- 
 ness !” All the attributes of God deserve our highest 
 praise. Power, wisdom, and goodness are all one in 
 him ; but, as we have different conceptions of these, 
 goodness is that lovely attribute which peculiarly at- 
 tracts our affection, and excites our praise. Our love to 
 God, does not so much flow from the consideration of 
 his greatness, whereby he can do whatever he will, as 
 from the consideration of his goodness, that he always 
 wills what is best ; that his almighty power is regulated 
 by infinite wisdom, and actuated and exerted by un- 
 speakable bounty. 
 
 “ O that men would praise the Lord, for his goodness; 
 and for his wonderful works to the children of men !” 
 The divine goodness spreads and extends itself, over all 
 the parts of the universe ; and embraces the whole crea- 
 tion in its arms : it not only displays itself most illus- 
 triously to the blessed inhabitants above ; but also 
 reaches to the meanest worm that crawls upon the 
 ground. The beasts of the field, and the fowls of the air, 
 and the fishes of the sea, and the innumerable swarms 
 of little insects which we can hardly discern with our 
 eyes, are all subjects of that almighty care : by him they 
 are brought forth into the world ; by him they are fur- 
 nished with provision suitable for them : “ These all 
 wait upon thee ; that thou mayest give them their meat 
 in due season. That thou givest them, they gather ; 
 thou openest thine hand, they are filled with good . ”p 
 B ut here, to excite us to thankfulness, he makes choice 
 of an instance in which we ourselves are more nearly 
 
 ° Psalm cxlvii. 1. 
 
 p Psalm civ. 27, 28. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIt^lNG. 149 
 
 concerned ; and exhorts ns to praise the Lord for his 
 wonderful works to the children of men. If the good- 
 ness of God to the holy angels be above our reach ; and 
 his bounty to the inferior creatures be below our no- 
 tice, — yet, , surely, we must be infinitely dull, if we do 
 not observe his dealings with ourselves, and those of 
 our kind. As our interest makes us more sensible of 
 this peculiar bounty, so gratitude obliges us to a more 
 particular acknowledgment of it. 
 
 Thus, yon have the meaning and import of the text. 
 I know not how we can better employ the rest of the 
 time, than by suggesting to your meditations particular 
 instances of this goodness, and of God’s wonderful works 
 to the children of men. 
 
 Let us, then, reflect on the works both of creation and 
 providence. Let us consider in what a goodly and well- 
 furnished world he hath placed us ; how “ he hath 
 stretched out the heavens as a curtain over our heads, 
 and therein hath set a tabernacle for the sun,” which, 
 as a universal lamp, enlightens all the inhabitants of 
 the earth. “ His going forth is from the end of the 
 heaven, his circuit to the ends thereof ; and there is 
 nothing hid from his heat.” In the morning he arises, 
 and makes the darkness flee before him, and discovers 
 all the beauty and lustre of things. And truly, “ the 
 light is sweet ; and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to 
 behold the sun.” Nor is it less useful and advantageous 
 for directing our ways, and ordering our several em- 
 ployments j “ Man goeth forth to his work, and to his 
 labor, until the evening. He maketh darkness, and it 
 is night.’’^^ The curtains are drawn and all things hush- 
 ed into silence, that man may enjoy the more quiet re- 
 pose : and yet, to lessen the horror of darkness, and to 
 guide such as are obliged to travel in the night, while the 
 sun is enlightening another part of the world, we have 
 the moon and stars to supply his room. “ O give thanks 
 unto the Lord, for he is good : for his mercy endureth 
 for ever. To him, that by wisdom made the heavens : 
 for his mercy endureth for ever. To him, that made 
 great lights : for his mercy endureth for ever. The sun 
 to rule by day : for his mercy endureth for ever. The 
 
 ^ Psalm civ. 23. 
 
 13 
 
150* THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL, 
 
 moon and stars to rule by night : for his mercy endure th 
 for ever.” 
 
 Again, how wonderfully has he furni&hed this lower 
 world for our maintenance and accommodation. “ The 
 heaven, even the heaven of heavens are the Lord’s : but 
 the earth hath he given to the children of men.*' He 
 hath made us to have dominion overall the works of his 
 hands ; he hath put all things under our feet : all sheep 
 and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field : the fowl of 
 the air, the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth 
 through the paths of the seas.”® By the art and indus- 
 try of man, the swiftest fowls are caught; the fiercest 
 creatures are tamed ; the strongest beasts are overcome ; 
 and all are made conducive to his service. The horse 
 helps our journey, both with speed and ease ; the oxen 
 labor the ground for us ; sheep afford us meat and 
 clothes ; from the bowels of the earth we dig fuel, me- 
 tals, and stones ; which are still the more plentiful, as 
 they are useful and advantageous to us. Those stones 
 which serve for building, are almost every where ready 
 at hand ; while rubies and diamonds, and other such glit- 
 tering trifles, are found but in a few^ places of the world, 
 and obtained with a great deal of toil. And to what 
 hardship should all sort of artificers be put, if iron were 
 as scanty as gold ? The surface of the earth yields grass 
 for the cattle, and herb for the service of man ; and 
 wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and bread 
 which strengthens his heart. These it affords us, from 
 time to time ; and, while we are spending the produc- 
 tions of one year, God is providing for us against another. 
 There is no small variety of seasons and influences 
 which concur for the production of that corn, which we 
 murmur for so much when we want it, and value so lit- 
 tle when it abounds. The winter cold must temper and 
 prepare the earth ; the gentle spring must cherish and 
 foment the seed ; vapors must be raised and condensed 
 into clouds, and squeezed out and sifted into little drops, 
 to water and refresh the ground ; and then the summer 
 heat must ripen and digest the corn, before it be fit to 
 be cut down. “ Thou visitest the earth and w'aterest it : 
 thou greatly enrichest it with the river of God which is 
 
 ' Psalm cxv. 16. 
 
 » Psalm viii. 6, 7, 8. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 151 
 
 full of water ! thou preparest them corn, when thou 
 hast so provided for it. Thou waterest the ridges thereof 
 abundantly: thou settlest the furrows thereof: thou 
 makest it soft with showers ; thou blessest the springing 
 thereof : thou crownest the year with thy goodness ; 
 and all thy paths drop fatness. They drop upoa the 
 pastures of the wilderness ; and the little hills rejoice on 
 every side. The pastures are clothed with flocks ; the 
 valleys also are covered over with corn ; they shout for 
 joy, they also sing.”‘ 
 
 “ O Lord, how wonderful are thy works ! in wisdom 
 hast thou made them all : the earth is full of thy riches. 
 So is the great and wide sea, wherein are things creep- 
 ing innumerable, both small and great fishes. There 
 go the ships,” those great engines of traffic and com- 
 merce, by which every country is easily furnished with 
 the productions of another. And, indeed, it is a won- 
 derful and astonishing contrivance of nature, that men 
 should be easily transported to the remotest places in 
 such floating houses, and carried, so to speak, upon the 
 wings of the wind ; that they should be able to find out 
 their way in the widest ocean and darkest night, by the 
 direction of a trembling needle, and by the unaccounta- 
 ble influence of a sorry stone. “ They that go down to 
 the sea in ships, that do business in great waters ; these 
 men see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the 
 deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy 
 wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount 
 up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths, their 
 soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, 
 and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits’ 
 end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, 
 and- he bringeth them out of their distresses. He mak- 
 eth the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. 
 Then are they glad, because they are quiet ; so he bring- 
 eth them unto the desired haven. O that men would 
 therefore praise the Lord for his goodness, and for all 
 the wonders that he doeth for the children of men.”" 
 
 But now, we are fallen, unawares, from the works of 
 creation, to those of providence. Indeed, it is hard to 
 keep to any exact method, in a subject so copious ; where 
 
 ‘ Psalm Ixv. 9, 10, 11, 13, 13. 
 
 Psalm ciii. 27, &c. 
 
152 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [sCOUGlAL. 
 
 one thing obtrudes itself upon us, before we have done 
 with another. Let us call back our thoughts, to a more 
 orderly consideration of that bountiful providence which 
 follows us from time to time. We are infinitely indebted 
 to the divine goodness, before we see the light of the 
 world. “ He poureth us out as milk, and curdleth us 
 like cheese. He clothes us with skin and flesh, and 
 fenceth us with bones and sinews. He granteth us life 
 and favor, and his visitation preserveth our spirit.”"^ — 
 This is so entirely the work of God, that the parents do 
 not so much as understand how it is performed ; for, 
 who knows the way of the spirit, how it comes to en- 
 lighten a piece of matter ; or how the bones grow, in 
 the womb of her that is with child ? “I will praise thee, 
 for I am fearfully and wonderfully made : marvellous 
 are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well. — 
 My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made 
 in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of 
 the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance yet being 
 imperfect, and in thy book were all my members writ- 
 ten ; which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet 
 there was none of them. How precious also are thy 
 thoughts unto me, O God ! How great is the sum of 
 them Nine months ordinarily pass in the forming 
 of this curious and wonderful piece, before it be exposed 
 to the view of the world ; and then, the prisoner is re- 
 leased from that narrow confinement, and the mother 
 and the child are delivered together. The mother for- 
 getteth her anguish and pangs, for joy that a man-child 
 is born into the world. The poor infant is naked and 
 weak, ready to expire for hunger and cold, unable to 
 do any thing for itself but Aveep and cry : but he that 
 brought it into the world, has already provided for- its 
 sustentation. The mother’s breasts are filled with a 
 wholesome and delicious liquor, which fails not, from 
 time to time ; but is invisibly supplied, like the widow of 
 Sarepta’s oil, till the child become capable of stronger 
 food. 
 
 But it was not enough, that mothers should be ena- 
 bled to sustain their infants, unless they had been also 
 powerfully inclined to it ; and, therefore, God hath im- 
 
 T Job X. 10, 11, 12. 
 
 w Psalm cxxxix. 14, 15, 16, 17. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 153 
 
 planted in them those bowels of kindness and compas- 
 sion, which prompts them to the most tender and aftec- 
 tionate care, and makes them as ready to help their child- 
 ren’s necessities as their own : which, though it hardly 
 deserve the name of a virtue, being common to them 
 with the brutes, for “ even the sea-monsters draw out 
 their breasts, and give suck to their young yet, cer- 
 tainly, it is an effect of the divine wisdom that infants 
 may not want those succors, which would never have 
 been so effectually secured to them by a law. Mean- 
 while, the poor infant is so weak, and so unable to en- 
 dure the least violence, and withal exposed to so innu- 
 merable dangers, that the mother’s solicitude and care 
 would be to little purpose, if it were not preserved by a 
 higher and invisible power, which watches for its safety, 
 and keeps it from being overlaid, when the mother and 
 nurse are fast asleep. 
 
 As we grow in years, our necessities multiply, and 
 dangers increase rather than diminish ; and we are still 
 more and more obliged to God, for the supply of the 
 one, and for our preservation from the other. We 
 think, perhaps, ‘ we have now set up for ourselves ; 
 and can provide what is necessary by our own industry ; 
 and can keep ourselves out of harm’s way.’ But there 
 cannot be a more foolish and unreasonable thought. — 
 There needs but a little consideration to undeceive us. 
 All that we project and do for ourselves depends on the 
 integrity of our faculties, and the soundness of our rea- 
 son ; a happiness which we can never secure to our- 
 selves. I choose this instance the rather, because it is a 
 mercy invaluable in itself, and I fear very seldom consi- 
 dered by us. What an unspeakable blessing it is that 
 we are preserved in our right wits ; that we are not roar- 
 ing in some bedlam, or running furiously up and down 
 the streets ; that we have not our spirits sunk into silli- 
 ness or stupidity, which would make every little child 
 mock and deride us ! It is possible enough, that this 
 should befal the wisest and most steadfast of us all. A 
 stroke on the head, a few more degrees of heat in the 
 blood, a little more agitation of the vital spirits, were 
 enough to do the business. So weak and mutable crea- 
 
 Lam. iv. 3. 
 
154 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAL* 
 
 tures are we ; so small is the distance between a wise man 
 and a fool. Next to the use of our reason, how much 
 are we indebted to the divine goodness, for our health 
 and welfare ! These bodies of ours arb made up of so 
 various parts, and withal, so nice and delicate, that the 
 least thing in the world is enough to entangle and dis- 
 order them. A drop of humor, or a grain of sand, will 
 sometimes occasion such anguish and pain, as render a 
 man insensible to all the comforts which he enjoys in the 
 world : and they who understand any thing of the hu- 
 man body, will justly wonder that all the parts are kept 
 in order for an hour.^ What a mercy, therefore, ought 
 we to account it, to find ourselves in health and vigor ; 
 no aching in our head, no noisomeness in our stomach, 
 no fever in the blood, none of the humors vitiated, none 
 of those innumerable conduits broken which convey 
 them, but all the organs performing their proper func- 
 tions, and a sprightly vigor possessing every part ? — 
 How much are we indebted to that providence, which 
 preserves us from falls and bruises, and keeps all our 
 bones so that none of them is broken ; which watches 
 
 y ‘ Death meets us every where, and is procured by every instrument, 
 and in all chances, and enters in at many doors ; by violence and secret 
 influence ; by the aspect of a star and the smell of a mist ; by the emis- 
 sions of a cloud, and the meeting of a vapor ; by the fall of a chariot, 
 and the stumbling at a stone ; by a full meal or an empty stomacli ; by 
 watching at the wane, or by watching at prayers ; by the sun or the 
 moon ; by a heat or a cold ; by sleepless nights or sleeping days ; by 
 water frozen into the hardness and sharpness of a dagger, or water 
 thawed into the floods of a river ; by a hair or a raisin; by violent mo- 
 tion or sitting still ; by severity or dissolution ; by God’s mercy or 
 God’s anger; by every thing in providence and every thing in manners ; 
 by every thing in nature and every thing in chance.’ 
 
 Jeremy Taylor. Works-, vol. iv. p. .311. 
 
 ‘ Some from the stranded vessel force their way ; 
 
 Fearful of fate, they meet it in the sea : 
 
 Some, who escape the fury of the wave. 
 
 Sicken on earth, and sink into a grave. 
 
 In journeys or at home, in war or peace. 
 
 By hardships many, many fall by case. 
 
 Each changing season does its poison bring. 
 
 Rheums chill the winter, agues blast the spring ; 
 
 Wet, dry, cold, hot, at the appointed hour, 
 
 All act subservient to the tyrant’s power ; 
 
 And, when obedient Nature knows his will, 
 
 A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.’ — Prior. En. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 155 
 
 over US, when we are not able to care for ourselves ? — 
 What a blessing it is, to enjoy the repose of the night ; 
 that we are not wearied with endless tossings and roll- 
 ings, nor “ scared with dreams, and terrified with vi- 
 sions,” visitations of which holy Job complains ; that we 
 are protected from fire and violence, from evil spirits, 
 and from evil men : “ I will both lay me down in peace, 
 and sleep ; for thou,* Lord, only, makest me to dwell in 
 safety ?” 
 
 And what shall we say of our food and raiment, of 
 our houses and manifold accommodations ; of the kind- 
 ness of our neighbors, and the love of our friends ; of 
 all the means of our subsistence, and all the comforts of 
 our lives? We are made up, as it were, of a great 
 many several pieces, have such a variety of interests 
 and enjoyments concurring to our present happiness, 
 that it is an unspeakable goodness which continues 
 them all with us, from time to time ; that, when we 
 awake in the morning, we shall find our minds clear, 
 our bodies well, our house safe, all our friends irf health, 
 and all our interests secure. He is “a wall of fire 
 about us, and about all that we have, by night and by 
 day, and his mercies are new every morning.” It were 
 tedious to speak of those more public mercies, the 
 peace and tranquillity of kingdoms, and all the happy 
 effects of society and government. I shall only say, 
 that it is a signal instance of the divine wisdom and 
 goodness in the government of the world, that such a 
 vast number of persons, actuated only by self-love, 
 should all conspire for the public interest, and so emi- 
 nently advance one another’s welfare ; that magistrates 
 should so willingly undergo the trouble of government : 
 and that a heady and inconsiderate multitude should be 
 commanded and overawed by a single man. Certainly 
 it can be no other, but that same God, who stilleth the 
 noise of the waves, that can prevent or compose the 
 tumults of the people. 
 
 Hitherto w'e have considered those instances of the 
 divine bounty which relate to our temporal concerns. 
 But surely we were made for some higher and more 
 excellent end, than to pass a few months or years in 
 this world, to eat, drink, sleep, and die. God has de- 
 signed us for a more lasting and durable life ; and has. 
 
156 
 
 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE ‘ [SCOUGAL. 
 
 accordingly, made greater provisions for it. He takes 
 care of our very bodies ; but has an infinitely greater 
 regard to those spiritual and immortal substances which 
 he has breathed into us. And here, in all reason, we 
 ought to begin with that great and fundamental mercy, 
 which is the root and spring of all his other mercies 
 toward the souls of men, I mean the incarnation and 
 the death of his only begotten Son. But, alas ! where 
 are those affections with which that mercy should be 
 spoken and heard of? Our dulness makes me alrfiost 
 afraid to meddle with so high a theme. That the eternal 
 Son of God, the Wisdom of the Father, the Maker 
 and Lord of all things, should clothe himself with the 
 infirmities of the human nature, and come down from the 
 habitation of his glory, and take up his abode among 
 the wretched and rebellious children of men, to reclaim 
 them from their wickedness and folly, and reduce them 
 to their duty and their happiness, — that he should have 
 gone up and down in the world for upward of thirty 
 years, in poverty, affliction, and contempt; doing good 
 and suffering evil; scattering blessings, and enduring 
 injuries, wherever he came ; and at last, should have 
 yielded up his life in unspeakable anguish and torment, 
 to be a propitiation for our sins, — these are matters 
 which should never be spoken or heard of, without our 
 losing ourselves, as it were, in a rapture of admiration, 
 gratitude, and love : “ Oh ! the length, breadth, depth, 
 and height, of that love which passeth all knowledge;” 
 which made God assume our nature, that we might be- 
 come partakers of his ! It is true, all that our Saviour 
 has done and suffered, proves ineffectual to the greater 
 part of mankind. But surely they have themselves to 
 blame. God hath both said and sworn, “ that he hath 
 no pleasure in the death of sinners, but would have 
 them rather repent and live.” And, indeed, his way of 
 dealing with them sufficiently declares the same truth. 
 With what long-suffering patience does he wait for their 
 repentance ; what pains does he take to reclaim and to 
 restore them ! 
 
 It is an astonishing thing, to consider what indignities 
 and afiVonts are, every day, done unto that infinite Ma- 
 jesty by sinful dust and ashes, and that he does not 
 avenge himself by their total overthrow; that they 
 
5>ISC. V.] OF FRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. J57 
 
 should violate his law, and despise his threatenings, and 
 defy him, as it were, to his very face, and yet that he 
 should pity and spare them, and wait to be gracious 
 unto them. Were the government of the world com- 
 mitted to the meekest person on the face of the earth, 
 he would never endure the outrages which are commit- 
 ted against heaven ; he would presently lose all his 
 patience, and turn the whole frame into ruin. But God 
 is love. His thoughts and ways are not like those of 
 men ; but, as the heavens are higher than the earth, so 
 are his thoughts and ways higher than ours.” And, 
 when the obstinate wickedness of sinful creatures forces, 
 as it were, and extorts punishment from his hands, 
 what reluctancy, what unwillingness does he express 
 to this work; this strange and unnatural work, as him- 
 self seems to term it! How shall I give thee up, O 
 Ephraim ? How shall I give thee up ? O that my peo- 
 ple had hear^ned unto me, that Israel had known my 
 ways ! O J^usalem ! Jerusalem ! thou that killest 
 the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto 
 thee, how often would I have ‘gathered thy children 
 together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under 
 her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is 
 left unto you desolate !” 
 
 Again, as God waits patiently for our reformation, 
 so he makes use of many methods and means to bring 
 us unto it. He has published the Gospel through the 
 world, and brought down the knowledge of it to our 
 days, in spite of all the opposition of devils and men. 
 He has established a Church, and appointed a whole 
 order of men, whose peculiar calling and business in 
 the world is* to tak6 care of people’s souls, to instruct 
 them in the way to heaven, and, as ambassadors in 
 Christ’s stead, to beseech them to be reconciled unto 
 God. These are some of his common mercies ; but 
 who can express that favor and love which he shows to 
 his own, to those blessed persons whom he chooses 
 and causes to approach unto himself, when he rescues 
 them from the vanity of their conversation, and from 
 “ that pollution which is in the world, through lust 
 when he moulds their souls into a conformity with him- 
 self, and stamps his blessed image upon them ; when he 
 visits them with his Holy Spirit, and fills their heart 
 
15S THE DUTY AND PLEASURE [SCOUGAt. 
 
 with those hidden pleasures, which none can understand 
 but those that feel them : “ A stranger intermeddleth 
 not with their joy.” And yet even these are but the 
 earnest of that great felicity for which he has designed 
 us, of “those joys that are at his right hand, those 
 pleasures which endure for evermore.” “ Eye hath not 
 seen, nor ear heard, nor can it enter into the heart of 
 man to conceive, what God hath prepared for those 
 that love him.” And “ it doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be.” Meanwhile, those small and imperfect dis- 
 coveries which are made to us in the holy Scriptures, 
 of that inconceivable happiness, are enough to over- 
 whelm us with admiration and wonder. To think, that 
 the blessed day is coming, when we shall be loosed from 
 these dull and lumpish bodies ; those sinks of corrup- 
 tion, diseases and pains ; those prisons and dungeons 
 of our heaven-born souls ; and, being clothed with robes 
 of light and glory, shall get above the clouds, and all 
 those storms and tempests which are hJfc below ; and 
 be carried into those blessed regions of calmness and 
 serenity, of peace and joy, of happiness and security; 
 when we shall come unto the “ innumerable company 
 of angels, and the general assembly of the Church of 
 the hrst-born, and the spirits of just men made perfect; 
 and to Je-sus the mediator of the new covenant ;” there 
 to behold the glory of God, and all the splendor of the 
 court of heaven ; to view and contemplate that infinite 
 power which created the world, that unsearchable wis- 
 dom which orders all things, that unspeakable goodness 
 which employs them both ; nay, “ so to see God as to 
 become like unto him ;”J and “ beholding, with open 
 face, the glory of the Lord, to be changed into the 
 same image, from glory to glory;”™ to receive the con- 
 tinual illapses of the divine goodness, and the constant 
 expressions of his favor and love ; and to have our own 
 souls melted and dissolved into the flames of reciprocal 
 aftection, and that fire fed and nourished by uninter- 
 rupted enjoyments ; in a word, to be continually trans- 
 ported into ecstacies and ra,ptures, and swallowed up in 
 the embraces of eternal sweetness, and to be lost, as it 
 were, in the source and fountain of happiness and bliss! 
 
 1 1 John iii. 2. 
 
 " 2 Cor. iii. 18. 
 
DISC. V.] OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 159 
 
 “ Lord, what is man, that thou takest knowledge of 
 him ? or the son of man, that thou inakest such account of 
 him ? " and that thou shouldest set thine heart so much 
 upon him ? ^ O that men would therefore praise the 
 Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to 
 the children of men ! O give thanks unto the Lord, 
 for he is good ; for his mercy endureth for ever. Blessed 
 be the name of the Lord from this time forth and for 
 evermore.” Amen. 
 
 Psalm cxliv. 3. 
 
 * Job vii. 17. 
 
160 
 
 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 THE IMI’ORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF THE MINISTERIAL 
 FUNCTION. 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE SYJS’OD OF ABERDEEN. 
 
 2 Cor. ii. 16. 
 
 Who is ^sufficient for these things 7 
 
 Reverend and dearly beloved men, brethi’en, and 
 fathers — it is one of the advantages of that peace and 
 tranquillity, . with which Almighty God is pleased to 
 bless the poor Church, that its officers have liberty of 
 assembling together on these occasions, for mutual 
 assistance and counsel, in the exercise of their holy 
 function. And, indeed, if there were no matter of 
 public deliberation, yet ought we gladly to embrace the 
 opportunity of seeing one another’s faces ; not only 
 that we may maintain and express a brotherly corres- 
 pondence and affection, but also, that we may animate 
 and excite one another to greater measures of diligence 
 and zeal ; as coals, being gathered together, mutually 
 receive and propagate some new degrees of vigor and 
 heat. This I have always looked upon as none of the 
 meanest advantages of these synodical meetings, and 
 shall think myself very happy if my poor endeavors, in 
 the performance of this present duty, may, by the divine 
 blessing, contribute any thing toward this excellent 
 and desirable purpose. To this end,^ I have made choice 
 of a text, w hich I hope may afford us some useful medi- 
 tations, for awakening in our souls a deeper sense of 
 those great engagements under which we lie. 
 
 The blessed apostle, in the former verse, and in the 
 beginning of this, had been speaking of the different 
 success the Gospel met with among those to whom it 
 w^as preached ; that it was not like those weak and 
 harmless medicines, which, if they do no good, are sure 
 to do no hurt ; but like some perfumes, which are com^ 
 
161 
 
 DISC.' VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 fortable and strengthening to the wholesome, but trou- 
 blesome and noxious to the weak, — so does it prove a 
 vital savor to those who receive and obey it, but a most 
 deadly poison to all who reject and despise it: “For 
 we are unto God a SAveet savor of Christ, in them that 
 are saved, and in them that perish ; to the one, we are a 
 savor of death, unto death ; and to the other, a savor of 
 life, unto life.” And then he takes occasion to consider 
 what a great matter it is to be employed in those admi- 
 nistrations Avhich so nearly concern the happiness and 
 misery of mankind : “ and who is sufficient for these 
 things ?” 
 
 We shall not detain you with an explication of the 
 Avords. Two things, I conceive, are implied in them : 
 1. The importance : 2. The difficulty of the Ministerial 
 Function. For, if a business be of small concern, it is 
 little matter who have the management of it; there is 
 no great harm done if it miscarry ; any body is sufficient 
 for that thing. On the other hand, if the matter be never 
 so Aveighty; if there be no difficulty in it, no extraordi- 
 nary endowments ^e necessary, in those to Avhom it is 
 committed ; comnro^ prudence, and little care will suf- 
 fice ; there is no likelihood that it can miscarry. But 
 the work of the ministry is at once so important and 
 so difficult, of so great coiiseqiiehce, and so hard to be 
 performed, that there is a great deal of reason for an 
 emphatic interrogation: “Who is sufficient. for these 
 things ?” 
 
 I. First, Let us fix our thoughts awhile on the 
 Aveight and importance of the ministry ; and we shall 
 find that it is a greater burthen lying on our shoulders, 
 than if the greatest affairs of this world were devoh^ed 
 upon us, and Ave held up the pillars of the earth. This 
 will appear, whether we consider the relation in Avhich 
 we stand to the Almighty God, or the charge of the 
 flocks which are committed to our care. 
 
 To begin with the first. That infinite majesty which 
 created, and Avhich continually upholds, the earth, and 
 all things in it, as the just owner and Lord of the whole 
 creation, (for all are his servants, and must obey his 
 Avill,) is yet pleased to claim a special property in 
 some things which he chooses for himself, and em- 
 ploys for peculiar designs : “ Nevertheless, of old did 
 
162 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 he choose a house for himself, and a place to be 
 called by his name. At Salem was his tabernacle, and 
 hjs dwelling-place in Zion. The Lord loved the gates 
 of Zion, more than all the dwellings of Jacob.” And 
 the Church, in all ages, has thought it fit to separate 
 some places from vulgar and common use, and to ap- 
 propriate them to the service of God. Again, though 
 all times and seasons belong unto God, yet has he set 
 apart a day for his worship, and sanctified a Sabbath 
 for himself.p All men were created for the honor of 
 God, and are infinitely obliged to serve him ; yet, be- 
 cause the greater part of mankind are too much engaged 
 ill worldly affairs, and have their, souls fettered in the 
 distracting cares of this life,^ and almost buried in their 
 bodies, it has pleased the divine wisdom to call forth a 
 select number of men, who, being delivered from those 
 entanglements, and having their minds more highly 
 purified, and more peculiarly fitted for the offices of 
 religion, may attend continually on that very thing. 
 Religion is every man’s general calling ; but it is our 
 particular calling also : and while tlm laborer is at his 
 plough, the craftsman at his forge, »d the merchant in 
 his shop, the minister ought to be employed in the ex- 
 ercise of devotion, for the purpose of advancing piety 
 and the honor of our Maker. My beloved, you are 
 deputed, as it were, by the whole creation, at least by 
 the inferior’ world, to present their homage and service 
 to God, and to praise him for all his works. You ought 
 to maintain a correspondence between heaven and 
 earth, to deprecate the wrath of God, and to avert his 
 vengeance and plagues from mankind. Your business 
 is the same with that of the holy angels : you dwell in 
 the house of God, and should be continually praising 
 him. And this is an employment so holy, that, were 
 OUT souls a’s pure as cherubs, as zealous and active as 
 the blessed spirits above, we should yet have reason to 
 cover our faces, and to be swallowed up in a deep sense 
 of our own insufiiciency. And what is sinful dust and 
 ashes, that he should stand in so near a relation to the 
 Lord of glory ? What is man, O blessed God I that 
 tliou shouldst choose him, and cause him to approach 
 
 p See Joseph Mede’s masterly sermon on 1 Cor. xi. 22; and Dr. 
 Townson’s discourse on ‘ The Sabbath and Sanctuary^ — Ed. 
 
DISC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 163 
 
 unto thee? “that he should dwell in thy courts, arid be 
 satisfied with the goodness of thy house, even of thy 
 holy temple ?”‘J The priesthood, under the law, was a 
 very sacred and venerable thing ; and no profane hand 
 might intermeddle with the meanest offices that belonged 
 unto it. All the zeal, and seemingly religious care, 
 which Uzzah had for the tottering ark, served not to 
 excuse his presumption when he intruded upon the 
 Levitical function : but as the Gospel-ministry is so 
 much more excellent and sublime, being intrusted with 
 the administration of those holy mysteries which were 
 but shadowed in the former, — how pure and holy 
 ought those lips to be, by which God speaks unto his 
 people, and by which they speak unto him; which some- 
 times pronounce those powerful and effectual sentences 
 of absolution and excommunication, which are so surely 
 ratified in heaven ; and those hands which are employed 
 in the laver of regeneration, and to handle the bread of 
 life ! ‘ These are the men who assist at the pangs of 
 
 the new birth, and to whom baptismal regeneration is 
 committed ; by those who put on Christ, and are bu- 
 ried with the Son of God, and so become members of 
 that blessed head. ' Upon which account the sacerdotal 
 function is more creditable than that of kings arid 
 princes ; and we owe more honor unto priests, than 
 unto parents themselves ; for they have begotten us of 
 blood, and of the will of the flesh; but these are the 
 authors of that nativity which we have from God ; that 
 adoption, whereby, through grace, we become the child- 
 ren of the Most High.’"' And again, the same father, 
 speaking of the sacerdotal power, expresses it in these 
 terms : ‘ Men who live on earth dispense the things that 
 are in heaven ; and are intrusted with a power to which 
 neither angels nor archangels can pretend; for to none 
 of these was it said, “What ye bind on earth, shall Jbe 
 bound in heaven.” . Earthly princes have the power of 
 binding, but it is only the bodies of men. These bands 
 that I speak of, take hold of their souls, and reach unto 
 the very heavens ; so that God ratifies above, what the 
 priest determines below; and the decrees of his servants 
 
 *1 Psalm liv. 4. 
 
 ' S. Chrysostom, de Sacerdotio^ lib. iii.* 
 
164 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 are confirmed by their Lord. “The Father hath given 
 all judgment to the Son;” but now, it seems, the Son 
 delivers it to the pastors of the Church ; and so eminent 
 is this authority, that one would think the persons in- 
 vested with it must needs be raised above the common 
 condition of men, and exempted from human affections, 
 and, as it were, already placed in heaven.’ Thus far 
 this holy father. Nor can I pass by what he says of 
 that ineffable privilege, of the celebration of the holy 
 sacrament, though some of his expressions, being figu- 
 rative and hyperbolical, have been abused by the Romish 
 party : ‘ When thou dost behold the Lord of glory of- 
 fered up, and the priest performing the sacrifice, and 
 the people round about dyed, as it were, and made red, 
 with that precious blood, where, I pray thee, dost thou 
 conceive thyself to be? Dost thou think thou art on 
 earth, and conversing among mortal creatures; or art 
 thou not, rather, on a sudden transported into heaven? 
 Dost thou not lose all thoughts of the body and material 
 things, and, with a pure mind and naked soul, be- 
 hold the things that are done in those regions above ? 
 And when the minister has invoked the Divine Spirit, 
 and performed those reverend and dreadful mysteries, 
 and holds the Lord of all things in his hand, tell me, I 
 beseech you, in what order of things we are to place 
 him? What uprightness, what purity is required of 
 him ! What hands should they be that administer those 
 things ! What lips that utter and pronounce those words ! 
 For, at that time, the holy angels stand by the priest ; 
 the place is full of blessed spirits, who desire to look 
 into those things ; and all the orders of the heavenly 
 host shout, and raise their voice together, as we may 
 easily believe, if we consider the work that is then in 
 hand.’ I cannot relate all that this excellent person 
 speaks to the same purpose, but shall proceed to the 
 next thing we proposed. Namely,. 
 
 The weight and importance of the ministerial function, 
 (considered in relation to the people committed to our 
 charge. We are not intrusted with their fortune or estate, 
 nor with their bodily-health and welfare, nor with the af- 
 fairs of state, or the interest of kingdoms ; though, indeed, 
 religion has no small influence on these ; and the labors 
 of ministers, if successful, would contribute exceedingly 
 
165 
 
 b!SC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 to the public tranquillity, and the present felicity of 
 men. But our main business lies another way. We 
 have to do with rational and immortal souls, those most 
 noble and divine substances, which proceeded from God 
 and are capable of being united to him eternally, but 
 withal in hazard of being eternally separated from 
 him, — ‘ these stakes,’ as the poetical and philosophic 
 father calls them, ‘between God and the devil and on 
 us it in some measure depends, to whose share they 
 shall fall ; whether they shall be angels or fiends. We 
 may say, with reason, of our office, what the painter 
 vainly boasted of, ‘ we work for eternity.’^ The im- 
 presses we make, shall last for ever. My beloved, the 
 most serious of our thoughts come very far short of the 
 inestimable worth of the ‘ depositum,’ that treasure 
 which is committed to our care. He who created and 
 redeemed the souls of men, best understands their value : 
 and we see in what esteem he holds them, by the pains 
 which he is pleased to take about them. Their salva- 
 tion was contrived before the mountains were brought 
 forth, before the foundation of the earth was laid ; the 
 design was formed from all eternity ; and glorious are 
 the methods by which it is accomplished. ‘ At this, both 
 the law and the prophets aimed. To this purpose, the 
 Deity emptied itself and was clothed with the human 
 nature ; to this purpose was that strange and wonderful 
 conjunction, God and man united together !’"» At this 
 end all the actions and all the sufferings of pur blessed 
 Saviour aimed ; for this he was born, and for this he 
 died. And shall we undervalue the price of his blood, 
 or think it a small matter to have the charge of those for 
 Avhom it was shed ? It is the Church of God which we 
 must oversee and feed; that Church for which the world 
 is upheld, which is sanctified by the Holy Ghost, on 
 which the angels themselves attend. What a weighty 
 charge is this we have undertaken ! “ Who is sufficient 
 for these things ?” 
 
 • AfJi(pta6T]Tr]ixaTa rov Qeov Kai Saifxovoiv, — SynESIUs. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Laboramus aeternitati.’ 
 
 ® ‘ Hue magistra lex tendit ; hue, inter Christum et legem, interjeeti 
 prophetsB ; hue exinanita Deltas ; hue assumpta caro ; hue nova ill£^ 
 mixtio.’ — S. Gregor. Naz, 
 
166 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 That these matters may yet make a deeper impres- 
 sion on our hearts, let lis further consider the dreadful 
 consequences of miscarriage in the discharge of the 
 ministerial function; and we shall find that it reflects a 
 great deal of dishonor on the divine Majesty, and on 
 our blessed Savior ; that it very much hazards the souls 
 of our people, and certainly ruins our own. I say, it re- 
 flects dishonor on Almighty God ; as the faults of ser- 
 vants commonly prejudice the reputation of their mas- 
 ters, and as the failings of ambassadors are imputed to 
 their princes. We stand in a nearer relation to God, 
 and are supposed to be best acquainted with his will, 
 and to carry the deepest impressions of his nature on 
 our minds. And ignorant people will entertain the 
 meaner thoughts of the holiness of God, when they 
 miss it in those who are called his servants. Certainly, 
 it is no small reproach which the faults or miscarriages 
 of ministers bring upon the ways of godliness, and upon 
 the holy religion which we profess. It is no small 
 affront, that is hereby offered to the blessed Author of 
 Christianity; greater, without question, than all the 
 malice and spite of his open enemies is able to practise : 
 for, by the negligence of ministers, he is crucified afresh, 
 and put to open shame. And ho%v great is the hazard 
 which our poor people run, by our negligence or fail- 
 ings 1 Even as much as the worth of their souls amounts 
 to. If the watchmen be not faithful, .and give not timely 
 warning, the sword will speedily come, and the people 
 will be taken away in their sins.'" ‘ Like people, like 
 priests,’ will still be a proverb of general truth : but if 
 the negligence and miscarriage of a minister hazards 
 the souls of others, it certainly ruins his own ; which 
 made St. Chrysostom say, ‘Equidem, ex ecclesiae min- 
 istris, non arbitror multos servari words so terrible, 
 that I tremble to put them into English : and yet,^ if a 
 man should speak fire, blood, and smoke ; if flames 
 could come out of his mouth, instead of words ; if he 
 had a voice like thunder, and an eye like lightning, he 
 could not sufficiently* represent the dreadful account 
 that an unfaithful* pastor shall make. Into what horror 
 and confusion shall it cast them, at the last day, to hear 
 
 y ‘ Causa sunt ruin® popuU sacerdotes mail ’ 
 
let 
 
 DISC. VI.] Ot THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 the blood of the Son of God plead against them ; to 
 hear our great Master say, ‘ It was the purchase of my 
 blood which ye did neglect. God died for these souls, 
 of whom ye took so little pains ! Think not, therefore, 
 to be saved by that blood which ye have despised, or to 
 escape the torments into which multitudes are plunged 
 through your faults !’ By this time, I hope it is appa- 
 rent, that the work of the ministry is of great weight 
 and importance; that much depends on the right dis- 
 charge of this holy office ; and that a miscarriage in it 
 is the most dangerous thing in the world. 
 
 II. The second thing of which we had to speak, is, 
 the difficulty of managing this charge aright. And this 
 will appear, if we consider, 1. The end and design of 
 the- ministerial function ; 2. The impediments which 
 we have to overcome, in the prosecution of that end : 
 and, 3. The several sorts of duties and exercises, in- 
 cumbent upon us. 
 
 1. As for the first: the great business of our calling 
 is, to advance the divine life in the world ; to make re- 
 ligion sway and prevail ; to frame and mould the souls 
 of men into a conformity to God, and superinduce the 
 lineaments of his blessed image upon them ; to enlighten 
 their understandings, inform their judgments, rectify 
 their wills, order their passions, and sanctify all their 
 affections. The world lieth in sin ; and it is our office to 
 awaken men out of their deadly sleep ; to rescue them 
 out of that dismal condition. We are the instruments 
 of God for effectuating these great designs: and, though, 
 when we have done what lies in our power, we be not 
 accountable for the success, yet nothing below complete 
 success should be our aim : and we should never cease 
 our endeavors, until that gracious change be wrought in 
 every person committed to our charge. Now, if any 
 think this an easy work, let them pitch on some person 
 of their acquaintance, whom they know to be addicted 
 to some one particular vice, and try whether it be easy 
 to reclaim him. Persuade the drunkard, tf you can, to 
 forsake his cups ; the covetous wretch, to part with his 
 money ; reason but the wild gallant into serious thoughts, 
 and a grave and sober deportment; try to purge your 
 neighborhood of gross crimes and scandalous vices; 
 and persuade those that live about you, to live at least 
 
168 IMPORTANCE AND DlFriCtLTY [SCOEGAt, 
 
 as becomes men. In this undertaking, you have the ad* 
 vantage of dealing with that self-love, which prevails in 
 them. You may easily convince them that the practice 
 of these virtues which you recommend would contribute 
 much to their temporal felicity, to those interests of 
 pleasure, advantage, and honor, for which they have the 
 greatest regard ; and yet you shall find even this task 
 not easy to be performed. But, to raise men to the 
 greatest heights of mortification and self-denial ; to 
 make them truly- humble, meek, and resigned to the will 
 of God; to overpower that selfish principle, which is so 
 deeply rooted in the constitution of our souls, and 
 which so readily insinuates itself into all our affections 
 and designs ; so to place divine love and universal cha- 
 rity upon the throne, that the honor of God, and the 
 welfare of their fellow creatures, may be as dear to men 
 as their own concerns ; to have religion become another 
 nature unto them, and they, as it were, a living law 
 unto themselves ; — this, this is so great and wonderful 
 a change, that, as Omnipotence only is able to produce 
 it, so, certainly, they have a mighty task, who are em- 
 ployed as instruments in its production. 
 
 Again ; let me appeal to the conscience and experi- 
 ence of every one, what difficulty they find in dealing 
 with their own souls, in regulating their own passions, 
 and in mortifying their own corrupt affections : yet 
 here we have the advantage of a nearer application; we 
 can carry home our reasons with more force upon our- 
 selves, than upon others ; our thoughts and meditations 
 must be more clear and lively than our words and ex- 
 pressions are. If it be hard, then, to persuade ourselves 
 to be good, it is surely much harder to persuade others 
 to be so. 
 
 2. Consider, in the next place, the enemies whom we 
 must encounter ; enemies, that oppose the design of 
 our employments. “ We wrestle not against flesh and 
 blood, but against principalities and powers.” All the 
 forces of hell are up in arms against us ; all the powers 
 of darkness continually oppose us ; and little do we 
 know those hidden arts by which these accursed spirits 
 apply themselves to the souls of men, to suggest and 
 insinuate their temptations. The world, also, with all 
 its cares and pleasures, is daily fighting against us ; and 
 
DISC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 169 
 
 there is no estate or condition in it, which is not sur- 
 rounded with a thousand temptations. The poor are 
 so much taken up in providing for the necessities of 
 this life, that they can hardly be persuaded to think 
 upon another. The rich are commonly drowned in 
 sensual pleasures ; and our Saviour tells us, “ It is 
 easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, 
 than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of hea- 
 ven.” The influence of sensual objects is very strong. 
 And, though the possessions of the other world be as 
 far beyond our enjoyments here, as this world is above 
 nothing; yet, because the things of this world are pre-' 
 sent, and are ever and anon offering themselves unto 
 us, and bearing upon our senses, therefore they too 
 frequently prevail against all the persuasions of reason, 
 and religion too. And w^hat shall we say of the evil 
 company and bad example, that inveigle the souls of 
 men ? We, perhaps, see them once a week, and bring 
 them to some degree of sobriety, and a sound mind ; 
 but then their wicked neighbors and the companions of 
 their sin, meet them every day, and by their counsel and 
 example obliterate any good impression which has been 
 made upon them : and thus, we lose more in a week, 
 than we are able to recover in a whole year. But the 
 greatest enemies we have, are those within the souls of 
 men ; their depraved affections, their inordinate desires, 
 and their corrupt inclinations. When physicians un- 
 dertake the cure of bodily distempers, they have the 
 consent of the party ; he is ready to comply with their 
 prescriptions. But our greatest difficulty is in dealing 
 with the wills of men, and making them consent to be 
 cured. They hug the disease, and shun the medicine 
 as poison, and have no desire to be well. Hence it is, 
 that they do their utmost to keep us strangers to their 
 souls ; and take as much pains to conceal their inw^ard 
 distempers, as they ought to do in revealing them. We 
 have justly shaken off the tyranny of the Romish con- 
 fession ; but, alas! our people go too far in the other 
 extreme ; and, because they are not obliged to tell every 
 thing to their pastors, in effect they acquaint them with 
 nothing. Perhaps some persons, lying under some 
 terrors and trouble of mind, may apply themselves to 
 us, to give vent to the Are that burns within them ; but 
 15 
 
170 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGALr 
 
 otherwise, they content themselves to see us in the pul- 
 pit, and care not how little we be acquainted with their 
 temper and conduct. It will be long ere any come to 
 tell us, that they find themselves proud, or passionate, 
 or revengeful, and inquire how they shall get these 
 vices subdued ; that they are covetous and uncharitable, 
 and beseech us to tell them how they shall amend ; to 
 acquaint us with their temptations, and to learn the 
 fittest methods to oppose them. We are seldom trou- 
 bled with addresses of this nature ; and it is hard to do 
 any thing toward a cure, when they will not let us 
 know the disease. 
 
 3. The difficulty of the ministerial function will fur- 
 ther appear, if we will consider its several duties and 
 exercises. We shall but touch some of them, at pre- 
 sent, and may, perhaps, have occasion to speak more 
 in the application. % 
 
 Catechizing is a necessary but painful office. It is 
 no small toil, to tell the same things, a thousand times, 
 to dull and ignorant people, who, perhaps, shall know 
 but little when we have done. It is this laborious exer- 
 cise, that sometimes tempts a minister to envy the con- 
 dition of those who gain their living by the sweat of 
 their brows, without the toil and distraction of their 
 spirits. 
 
 Preaching is an exercise of which many are ambi- 
 tious ; none more than those who are least qualified. 
 And, it is probable, that the desire of this liberty is no 
 small temptation to some of our giddy people, to go 
 over to that sect and party, where all ranks, and both 
 sexes are allowed the satisfaction to hear themselves 
 talk in public. But it is not so easy a matter, to per- 
 form this task aright ; to stand in the presence of God, 
 and to speak to his people in his name, with that plain- 
 ness and simplicity, that seriousness and gravity, that 
 zeal and concern, which the business requires ; to ac- 
 commodate ourselves to the capacity of the common 
 people, without disgusting our more knowing hearers 
 by the insipid flatness of our discourse ; to excite and 
 awaken drowsy souls, without terrifying and disturbing 
 more tender consciences: to bear home the convictions 
 of sin, without the appearance of any personal reflec- 
 tion ; in a word, to approve ourselves unto God, as 
 
i:)ISC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 171 
 
 workmen that need not be ashamed, rightly dividing 
 the word of truth.” ^ 
 
 Discipline is an edged tool ; and they had needs be 
 no fools that meddle with it. It is a hard thing to ma- 
 nage the processes of the censures of the Church, with 
 such care and prudence, that we may neither encourage 
 flagitious persons by our remissness ; nor irritate 
 others by needless severity ; nor give advantage to 
 captious and troublesome men, for want of some legal 
 formality. 
 
 But certainly, the greatest and most difflcult work of 
 a minister is, to apply himself particularly, to the seve- 
 ral persons under his charge : to acquaint himself with 
 their behavior, and the temper of their souls ; to re- 
 dress what is amiss, and to prevent their future miscar- 
 riages. Without this private work, his other endeavors 
 dvill do little good. And, considering the great variety 
 that is among the humors and dispositions of men, 
 equal, almost, to that of their faces, this must needs be 
 an infinite labor. ‘ It is the art of arts, and the most 
 difficult of all sciences, to govern such a manifold and 
 various creature as man.’^ And another Gregory has 
 written a whole tractate, ‘ Of the diversity there is 
 amongst men’s tempers, and the several ways of deal- 
 ing with them.’ What a martyrdom is it, for some 
 modest and bashful tempers, when they find themselves 
 obliged to use freedom and severity in reproving the 
 faults of those who, in quality or age, are above them- 
 selves ! And, what a hard matter it is to deal with 
 people that are ready to leave the world, and enter 
 upon eternity; when their souls, as it were, hang on 
 their lips, arid they have one foot, as we use to say, 
 already in the grave ! The minister is seldom sent for, 
 till the physician has given the patient over : and then 
 they beg of him to dress their souls for heaven, when 
 their winding-sheet is preparing, and their friends are 
 almost ready to dress the body for the funeral. Now, 
 though some of these have lived well, and, like the 
 wise virgins, have oil in their lamps ; yet, it is a great 
 matter to calm them, and to dispose their souls for that 
 great change which they are presently to undergo. But, 
 alas ! it fares otherwise with the greater part. They 
 
 w 2 Tim. ii. 15. 
 
 ^Gregor. Naz. Orat. Apologet, 
 
172 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [sCOUGALf 
 
 are yet strangers to the ways of religion ; the work of 
 their salvation is yet to begin ; their passions to be 
 mortified, their corruptions subdued, the whole frame 
 of their souls to be changed : and, though they have 
 scarce so much strength as to turn them on their beds, 
 yet their warfare against principalities, powers, and 
 spiritual wickedness, is but newly commenced ; their 
 work is great, their disadvantages many, and the time 
 very short that is before them. Perhaps they are dull 
 and insensible, and we shall hardly persuade them of 
 their danger. They will acknowledge ‘ they are sin- 
 ners, and so are all others as well as they ; they trust 
 to the mercies of Christ, and have confidence enough 
 of their salvation ; and cannot be persuaded they want 
 any thing that is necessary for its security.’ Others, 
 again, are seized with fear, and call for the minister 
 to comfort them. What shall he do?- Shall he tell 
 them that all their terrors are just, and it is now too 
 late to repent ? I know some divines are peremptory 
 in this case, and think they should be left in despair ; 
 but, surely, it were sad employment for a minister to 
 visit a dying man only in order to tell him that he is 
 damned ; and, withal, it is too great boldness in us, to 
 limit the grace and mercy of God. True and sincere 
 repentance will never come too late ; but, certainly, a 
 death-bed repentance is seldom sincere ; and it is hard, 
 either for the minister, or for the man himself, to tell 
 whether it be only the fear of hell, or a true and godly 
 sorrow, that he feels within his soul. All that a mi- 
 nister can do, is, to press him to all possible seriousness, 
 and to resign himself to God for the event ; or to lay 
 before him, in general, the terms and conditions of the 
 Gospel covenant : the application will be hard and un- 
 certain. 
 
 These, and many more, are the difficulties of the 
 ministerial function. It was not without a great deal 
 of reason, that one of the fathers called it, ‘ A weight 
 under which the shoulders of an angel might shrink. 
 Hence it was, that the holy men of old have been so 
 mightily afraid to undertake it. Jeremiah, who was 
 sanctified from the womb, and ordained a prophet to 
 
 7 ‘ Onus angelicis humcris formidandum.* 
 
DISC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 173 
 
 the nations, when he received his commission, cried 
 out, “ Ah ! Lord God, behold, I cannot speak, for I 
 am a child.” Ezekiel, though strengthened and con- 
 firmed by God, yet went unwillingly ; yea, “ in the bit- 
 terness and indignation of his spirit.” And, in the 
 ancient Church, the more eminent and remarkable per- 
 sons were, in piety and worth, the more sensible they 
 were of the greatness of this charge, and the more un- 
 willing to engage in it. Some of them have fled into 
 the mountains and deserts, or hid themselves in the dens 
 and caverns of the earth ; and were more afraid to be laid 
 hands on by the bishop, than by the most bloody perse- 
 cutors. Three times did Saint Ambrose flee from Mi- 
 lan ; and it is reported, that after he had travelled hard 
 all night, he found himself, next morning, at the outer 
 gate of that city, which he endeavored to avoid. Saint 
 Gregory Nazianzen, being taken in his flight, and ordain- 
 ed by force, composed that excellent oration, which is at 
 the beginning of his works ; in which he so well ex- 
 presses the greatness and the danger of the ministry, 
 that the reading of it, and I wish it were frequently and 
 attentively read, might, I think, do much to quell the con- 
 fidence of the most confident intruders. Saint Augustine 
 entered by chance into the church of Hippo, just as the 
 bishop Valerius was speaking to the people concerning 
 the choice of a minister, of whom they stood in great 
 need. He was presently pitched upon, and ordained 
 almost by force, after he had, with tears, deprecated the 
 charge, and in these remarkable terms : ‘ What, do you 
 wish that I should perish ?’* intimating the hazard he 
 should thereby run. And Saint Chrysostom professes 
 of himself, that when he was chosen to a bishopric, his 
 soul and body were almost parted asunder, so great was 
 the grief and fear that seized upon his spirits; and that 
 he many times wondered, how he had ever entered into 
 the minds of those who chose him, or of what great of- 
 fence that Church had been guilty, which had provoked 
 God to suffer it to be committed to such an unworthy 
 person. So sensible were these excellent men of the 
 difficulties of this holy function, even in those first and 
 golden ages of the Church. And, certainly, they are 
 
 * ‘ Quid ! vultis ut peream V 
 
 15 ^ 
 
174 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUOAL,, 
 
 much augmented to us, who live in these dregs of time, 
 when religion is almost banished out of the world ; its 
 principles called in question, by many pretenders to 
 judgment and wit ; and its practice not only neglected, 
 but derided : insomuch, that men are frighted from god- 
 liness by the contempt that lies upon it.^ We have a 
 world of wickedness to fight against ; and “ Who is suf- 
 ficient for these things 
 
 Thus, having prosecuted the import of the text, it is 
 time to make some application of it. And, first, I shall 
 address myself to those of the laity who vouchsafe us 
 their presence ; that they may not think their time mis- 
 spent, in some hours of attendance. 
 
 You see what a weighty and difficult charge they have, 
 to whom your souls are committed. Whence is it, then, 
 that some of you account the ministerial function the 
 most useless employment in the commonwealth, and 
 that which might be most easily spared ? And think 
 that ministers have easy lives, gaining their living by 
 the breath of their mouths, as some of you are pleased 
 to word it ? Whence is it, that this holy calling comes 
 to be so much despised, and that the names of minister, 
 parson, or priest, are become words of ignominy and 
 contempt? And, whatever advantages of birth and edu- 
 cation a minister may have, yet his employment is 
 thought enough to degrade him, and put him below every 
 one that can pretend to the name of a gentleman. 
 
 Again, how comes it, that those small gleanings of the 
 Church’s patrimony, which sacrilege and oppression have 
 deft us, should yet be envied, and looked upon with an 
 evil eye ; and that a clergyman, who has spent his time, 
 and much of his fortune, in the schools of the prophets, 
 to fit himself for that employment in which he may be 
 most beneficial to mankind, should yet be maligned for 
 a small annuity during life, which, perhaps, amounts not 
 to the gains of the meanest tradesman ? And yet, if 
 those persons had chosen another employment, if they 
 had taken Galen or Justinian for their masters, perhaps 
 they would have had parts and abilities sufficient to have 
 advanced themselves, as well as others, to wealth and 
 honors; and would not have been envied for it. My 
 
 ‘ ‘ Mali esse coguntur, ne ridiculi fiant.’ 
 
DISC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 175 
 
 beloved, I account him not worthy of the name of a 
 minister of Christ, who cannot patiently suffer injury, 
 contempt, and envy. But, certainly, it is no good part 
 in the people, to put these upon them : it is a shrewd 
 token, that they have a small regard to piety and reli- 
 gion ; and that their own souls are the things about them 
 for which they have the least concern. Learn, I beseech 
 you, dear Christians, learn to take more rational mea- 
 sures of things. Think how much you are indebted to 
 the divine goodness, which has taken so great care of 
 your everlasting happiness, as to set apart an order of 
 men whose business it shall be to promote and advance 
 it. Do all that you can to encourage and assist them in 
 their work ; give them the encouragement of your con- 
 stant attendance, and assist them, by helping to instruct 
 those children and servants who are under your several 
 charges. Apply yourselves frequently to them for ad- 
 vice and direction, and be often putting up that import- 
 ant question, “ What shall we do to be saved V’ Yield 
 them that submission and obedience, which is due unto 
 them in the Lord. Go not to church to sit as judges 
 and censure the sermon when you return. If you be 
 not pleased with it, your ignorance or indisposition may 
 be the cause, and modesty should oblige you to silence. 
 If you be taken with what you have heard, spend not 
 your time in talk about it ; practice is the best way to 
 commend it. Beware of that spiritual pride and con- 
 ceitedness, which makes “ the people to strive with 
 their priests which the prophet Hosea notes as an 
 heinous sin. Finally, to sum up your duty in the apos- 
 tle’s words : “ Obey them that have the rule over you, 
 and submit yourselves : for they watch for your souls, 
 as they that must give account : that they may do it with 
 joy, and not with grief : for that is unprofitable foryou.”*^ 
 I might, in the next place, take an occasion from what 
 has been said, to press the great obligation that lies on 
 patrons of churches, to seek out and to make choice of 
 those whom they judge to be best qualified, for so high 
 and weighty a charge; and might show, that it is no 
 small guilt that he draws upon himself, who presents a 
 person to the care of souls, of whose prudence and fide- 
 
 ^ Hosea iv. 4. 
 
 ® Hebrews xiii. 17. 
 
176 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGAL* 
 
 lity, it may be, he hath so little confidence, that he dare 
 not intrust him with the management of his fortune, or 
 the tuition of his child; while, perhaps, others are over- 
 looked, who* might be capable of doing much more ser- 
 vice in the Church, merely because they have not the 
 good fortune to be related or recommended to the pa- 
 tron, or because they have less money or more con- 
 science, than to bargain for the living. But I forbear 
 this : and shall crave liberty of this venerable auditory, 
 to take this occasion of doing something that relates to 
 my peculiar functions,^ in speaking a little to those sons 
 of the prophets, those candidates for holy orders, whose 
 diligence and study aim at the ministry, and who are to 
 be employed in the vineyard of God when the present 
 laborers shall be called off to receive their reward. 
 
 You see, sirs, what a dreadful and important charge 
 it is to which you aspire. Consider, I beseech you, 
 what great pains are necessary, to fit and qualify you 
 for it. Ordinary callings are not learned, without a 
 long apprenticeship ; and will the art of governing souls 
 be learned on a sudden ? It is not a knowledge of con- 
 troversy, or the gift of eloquence, much less a strong 
 voice and bold confidence, that will qualify you for it. 
 The errors that abound among us, make it necessary, 
 indeed, that you should know how to deal with the ad- 
 versaries ; for the clergy are many times put to the pass 
 the Jews were, at the building of the second temple : 
 “ wdth one hand they must build the house of God, and 
 with the other they must hold a weapon :’'® yet, certain- 
 ly, your greatest work lies within, in purifying your 
 minds, and learning that wisdom which is necessary for 
 souls. Begin, then, I pray you, and preach to your pas- 
 sions, and try what good you can do to your friends and 
 neighbors. Study that gravity and seriousness, that hu- 
 mility and self-denial, that purity and mortification, 
 which become those who may one day stand in so near 
 a relation to God, and bear so eminent a charge in his 
 Church. Be not too hasty and forward in rushing into 
 public ; it is better you be drawn than run. Nazianzen 
 complains of some in his time, who, with profane hearts 
 
 d Divinity Professor, in King’s College, Aberdeen. 
 « Nehemiah iv. 17. 
 
DISC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 177 
 
 and unwashed hands, rushed into the holy function ; and 
 before they were fit to receive the sacrament, would 
 take upon them to celebrate it ; and though they be not 
 come unto the age of men, if they have Learned some 
 pious words, think themselves fit to be overseers of 
 others : O prcEfectururri ! O elatum animum ! Sacer 
 etiam a cunahulis Samuel! Sapieutes et magistri su- 
 mus ! This, I say, was the humor of some in his days; 
 and I am afraid the case is not much better in ours. — 
 But if you be truly sensible of what you are to under- 
 take, you would think no time too much, to be spent in 
 preparation for it. 
 
 It remains, yet, that I address myself briefly to you, 
 my Reverend brethren, and Right Reverend fathers. 
 We have been endeavoring to lay before you the im- 
 portance and difficulty of your employment ; and you 
 know them much better than we can tell you. But these 
 things ought not to discourage you, or make you faint 
 under the weight, but rather to animate and excite your 
 care. As Alexander said once of an eminent hazard he 
 had encountered, ‘that now he had met with a danger 
 worthy his courage so may I say of your office, that 
 it is a business worthy of your zeal, and of the love and 
 affection which you owe unto your blessed Master. And, 
 indeed, you can give no greater testimony of it, than by 
 a faithful and conscientious discharge of the duties of 
 your calling. If your work is great, your reward is in- 
 finitely greater ; and you have Omnipotence engaged in 
 your assistance. Up and be doing, and the Lord shall 
 be with you : only let us be careful to maintain such a 
 deep and constant sense of the engagements under 
 which we lie, as may awaken us unto the greatest dili- 
 gence and watchfulness, both over ourselves and others. 
 
 As for the particulars of your duty, I dare not take 
 upon me to be an instructer, who have much more need 
 to learn my own. Yet, since I am not placed here to be 
 altogether silent, I shall offer to you the apostle’s exhorta- 
 tion to Titus, and take the liberty to insist a little upon 
 the particulars of it : “These things speak, and exhort, 
 and rebuke with-all authority. Let no man despise thee.” 
 These things speak : Here he points at that, which 
 ought to be the matter of our doctrine and instruction. 
 We are not to entertain our people with subtile specu- 
 
178 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGAL* 
 
 lations, metaphysical niceties, perplexed notions, and 
 foolish questions, which engender strife ; but let us 
 speak the things which become sound doctrine. Let ns 
 frequently inculcate the great and uncontroverted truths 
 of our religion, and trouble our people no further with 
 controversy, than necessity requires. Let us study to 
 acquaint them with the tenor of the Gospel covenant, 
 and what they must do to be saved ; to inform them of 
 the particular duties which they owe, both to God and 
 man : for the apostle had before been speaking of the 
 duties to be recommended to every one, according to 
 their several capacities and relations. And, indeed, it 
 were not amiss, that in catechizing, ministers would 
 bring home the articles of faith, by practical improve- 
 ments ; both teaching men their particular duties, and 
 pressing them to the performance. But it is not enough 
 to speak these things ; to tell men what is incumbent 
 upon them : we must, besides, endeavor to excite them 
 by the most powerful and effectual persuasions ; the 
 judgment being informed, we must do all to influence 
 the affections : and this is the proper use of our preach- 
 ing ; which, though it be overvalued by those who place 
 all religion in hearing, yet, certainly, it is of excellent 
 use, and ought to be managed with a great deal of care. 
 Let the matter be weighty and grave, the method plain 
 and clear, the expression neither soaring on the one 
 hand, nor too familiar on the other.^ Some good men 
 are not aware, what contempt they draw on religion, by 
 their coarse and homely allusions, and by the silly and 
 trivial proverbs of which they make use. Nor should 
 our expressions be too soft or effeminate, nor our pro- 
 nunciation affected or childish. Religion is a rational 
 and manly thing ; and we should strive to recommend it 
 with the greatest advantage. But, above all, let us study 
 such a zeal and fervor, as flowing from a deep sense of 
 the things we speak, and being regulated with prudence 
 and decency, may be fittest to reach the hearts of the 
 hearers. The vulgar, that usually sit under the pulpit, 
 as the excellent Herbert speaks, are commonly as hard 
 and dead as the seats they sit on, and need a mountain 
 
 f ‘ Oratio^sit pura, simplex, dilucida, ct manifesta ; plena gravitatis et 
 ponderis ; non afiectata elegantia ; sed non intermissa gratia.’ — S. 
 Ambr, de Off. i. 22 . — Ed, 
 
DISC. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 179 
 
 of fire to kindle them. The best way is to preach the 
 things first to ourselves, and then frequently to recollect 
 in whose presence we are, and whose business we are 
 doing. And I think it no small advantage, that some 
 of a neighboring nation have, who make some consider- 
 able pause when they have done with a point, that they 
 may raise their souls toward God, and that the people 
 may renew their attention. 
 
 But, when we have done all that we can by public and 
 general exhortation, we shall effectuate very little, with- 
 out a more particular application to the persons under 
 our charge. Interest and self-love will blind the eyes, 
 and stop the ears, of men ; and make them shift off 
 from themselves, those admonitions from the pulpit 
 which are displeasing. And, therefore, we are com- 
 manded not only to teach and exhort, but also to rebuke 
 with all authority. Now, those whom we are to rebuke, 
 are, in the first place, persons of a different persuasion, 
 who dissent from our religion, or withdraw from our 
 ordinances; and these must be dealt with very patiently, 
 and with much long suffering. It is not to be expected, 
 that a hasty conference, or an abrupt disputation, should 
 prevail with those who have been long habituated to 
 false persuasions, and, perhaps have drunk them in with 
 the first of their serious thoughts, and religious inclina- 
 tions. We must first study to combat the perverseness 
 of their will, the prejudices of the world, the desire of 
 victory and applause, their pre-engagement in a party, 
 and their shame and unwillingness to yield ; and strive 
 to render them meek and pliable, and sincerely desirous 
 to know the truth. When we have obtained this, they 
 will be both more easily convinced, and more inexcusa- 
 ble, if, through weakness, they still continue in their 
 errors. But let us never rest in having drawn over a 
 person, to our party, till we have engaged him to seri- 
 ousness in the practice of religion; for if he continue 
 a stranger to that, it is little matter whether he be Pro- 
 testant or Papist, Pagan or Mahomedan, or any thing 
 else in the world : nay, the better his religion is, the 
 more dreadful will his condemnation be. It was an ex- 
 cellent saying of an eminent and holy person, yet alive, 
 in our Church, ‘ That he would rather be instrumental 
 in persuading one man to be serious in religion, than the 
 
180 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY [SCOUGAL. 
 
 whole nation to be conformists.’ Another class, whom 
 we have to rebuke, are, in the next place, those of our 
 own religion, for the vices and failings of their lives. 
 And this must be done with a great deal of courage and 
 zeal ; of prudence and discretion ; of meekness and 
 love. More knowing and ingenious persons may be 
 dealt with, sometimes, by secret insinuations, and ob- 
 lique refle^ctions, on the vices of which they are guilty; 
 and we may sometimes seek a way to reprove their fail- 
 ings, by regretting and condemning our own. But that 
 artifice is not necessary with the less educated : having 
 professed our love and good intentions, it will be best 
 to come directly to the point. Now, this supposes a 
 great deal of care, to acquaint ourselves with the hu- 
 mors and conversation of our people ; and the name of 
 watchmen, that is given us, implies no less. And, though 
 the lamentable vastness of some of our charges make it 
 impossible to do all that we could wish, yet must we not 
 fail to do all that we can. It is an excellent practice of 
 some ministers whom I have the happiness of knowing; 
 that seldom miss any day wherein they do not apply 
 themselves to some or other of their people, and treat 
 about the affairs of their souls. 
 
 Another thing which may be implied in rebuking 
 with all authority, is the conscientious exercise of that 
 authority which Christ has delegated, in the public cen- 
 sures and rebukes of the Church. But of this I shall 
 say no more, save only, that it were an intolerable pre- 
 sumption, and horrid sacrilege, to make use of these to 
 serve the ends of our passion and private revenge. 
 
 The last clause of the passage we cited, sounds some- 
 what strange : “ Let no man despise thee.” Surely no- 
 body desires to be despised ; and it is not always in. the 
 power of man to hinder it. But the meaning of the 
 words is, that there should be nothing in our carriage 
 and deportment which may deserve contempt. We 
 ought still to have that apology of the orator in readi- 
 ness; ‘Quid putem ? contemptumne me? Equidem, 
 non video quid sit, in vita, moribusque nostris, quod de- 
 spici possit.’^ There is nothing that exposes a minister to 
 
 ^ [What shall I think ? that I am despised 7 Truly, I see not what 
 there is in my life and deportment that merits contempt.] 
 
Disc. VI.] OF THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 181 
 
 SO much contempt, as a vicious and irreligious deport- 
 ment. Even those who are profane themselves, and who 
 love vice in their other companions, yet abhor it in a 
 clergyman ; as thinking it too gross and disingenuous, 
 to practise all the week what he has been condemning 
 on Sunday. I shall not insist upon the grosser sort of 
 vices. Nolo tarn male ominari de ecclesia ; I would 
 not bode so much evil to the Church, as to imagine the 
 clergy capable of them. I shall point but to a few things, 
 which, though less heinous in their nature, tend to the 
 contempt and disrespect of the clergy. 
 
 And, first, the least imputation of covetousness does 
 a great deal of mischief this way. And you know that 
 will be reckoned covetousness in you, which is not so 
 in others. You will be more blamed for taking your 
 own, than they for encroaching on their neighbor’s. And 
 therefore, to prevent this imputation, so far as the 
 meanness of a minister’s provision, and necessity of his 
 family, will permit, he should show himself frank and 
 liberal in his dealings, especially in the poorer sort. 
 
 Another occasion of contempt is, the too much fre- 
 quenting the company of the laity, and a vain and trifling 
 conversation among them. It was a wise saying, who- 
 ever he was that spoke it, ‘ Quotidiana clericorum cum 
 laicis conversatio, contemptibiles, ipsos reddit.’ And 
 that of Hierom to Nepotian is very observable : ‘ Facile 
 contemnitur clericus, si ad prandium invitatus saepius 
 veniat.’ A minister, in his conversation, ought carefully 
 to avoid all foolish and excessive jesting, and immode- 
 rate mirth. I could never think it a good character of 
 a clergyman, to call him a merry fellow, or a notable 
 droll ; and yet I do not condemn all cheerfulness and 
 freedom, nor the innocent exercise of wit ; but it is one 
 thing to make use of these now and then, when they 
 come in our way, and another to search and hunt after 
 them ; and those who have the knack of it, are ready 
 enough to fall into excess. 
 
 A third thing which will bring a clergyman into con- 
 tempt, is an unallowable patience in hearing his Master 
 dishonored, by the oaths and profane talk of those of 
 whom he stands in awe. My brethren, if we had no 
 more but the common principles of ingenuousness and 
 honor, they might make us resent these, as greater 
 
182 THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. [SCOUGAL. 
 
 affronts than if men should spit in our faces ; and yet 
 this is but one of the meanest engagements that lie upon 
 us, to check these exorbitances with the greatest severity. 
 
 I shall name but another, and it is this : when men, 
 on purpose to avoid this contempt, would seem to dis- 
 claim their employment, by imitating the habit and 
 deportment of secular persons ; when they study the 
 gentleman so much, that they forget the clergyman. If 
 we be ashamed of our own employment, no wonder if 
 others despise it. Far different were the thoughts of 
 that worthy gentleman and excellent minister, whom I 
 named before, that sweet singer of Israel, Mr. Herbert, 
 who, the same night that he was admitted into the office 
 of the ministry, said to his friend, ‘ I now look back on 
 my aspiring thoughts, and I think myself more happy 
 than if I had obtained what I so ambitiously thirsted 
 for. And I can now behold the court with an impar- 
 tial eye, and see plainly that it is made up of fraud, and 
 titles, and flattery, and many such other imaginary 
 painted pleasures. My greatest ambition, from hence- 
 forth, shall be, that I bring glory to my Jesus, whom I 
 have this day taken to be my master and governor; and 
 I am so proud of his service, that I will always observe 
 and obey, and do his will, and always call him Jesus, 
 my master. I will always contemn my birth, and any 
 title or dignity that can be conferred upon me, when I 
 shall compare them with the title of being a Priest, and 
 serving at the altar of Jesus, my master. 
 
 I am afraid I have encroached too far on your patience. 
 I shall close all, with a serious obtestation of our great 
 apostle to Timothy, which, you may believe, I durst 
 not utter in my own name, but in the name of the great 
 Master of us all : “ I charge thee before God, and the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and 
 the dead at his appearing, and his kingdom : preach the 
 word, be instant in season, and out of season ; reprove, 
 rebuke, exhort, with all long-suffering and doctrine.” 
 And the Lord, of his mercy, so assist and prosper us 
 all in his own work, that we may be the happy instru- 
 ments of advancing his kingdom, and the welfare of 
 souls, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 
 h IzAAC Walton^s Life 0/ George Herbert.* *— Ed. 
 
 * [This, with the lives of other worthies, by the same faithful pen, 
 will shortly appear in the Parish Lihrary.\ 
 
DEVOUT MEDITATIONS: 
 
 COLLECTION OP THOUGHTS 
 
 UPON 
 
 RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY THE HON. CHARLES HOW, 
 
' Sir, I pray, give my brother Farrer an account of the decaying con- 
 dition of my body, and tell him, I beg him to continue his daily prayers 
 for me : and let him know, that I have considered that God only is 
 what he would be ; and that I am, by his grace, become now so like 
 him, as to be pleased with what pleaseth him ; and tell him, that I do 
 not repine, but am pleased with my want of health ; and tell him, my 
 heart is fixed on that place, where true joy is only to be found : and that 
 I long to be there, and do wait for my appointed change, with hope and 
 patience.’ — George Herbert. 
 
HOW’S DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 I. I HERE purpose, by the grace of my good God, 
 which I most humbly beg that he will be pleased always 
 plentifully to afford me, to write down some meditation 
 or reflection, as often as I can conveniently, from this 
 time forward. And that for these two reasons : first, to 
 oblige myself frequently to enter into serious contem- 
 plation of the great God, and of the most proper means 
 to render myself acceptable to him : and next, that by 
 help of these meditations and reflections I may be able 
 to make a judgment of the state and condition of my 
 mind for the time past, and to compare it with that of 
 the present, in order to make my life as uniform as is 
 possible in all virtue : for all which purposes, I most 
 humbly beg the assistance of my gracious God. 
 
 II. There is one picture which a man should be draw- 
 ing all the days of his life ; the picture of God upon his 
 soul : and, though the resemblance must needs be ex- 
 tremely faint and imperfect, yet, by a constant applica- 
 tion and meditation upon the beauties of the original, 
 he cannot fail to make an admirable piece. 
 
 III. Prayer, unaccompanied with ^ fervent love of 
 God, is like a lamp unlighted ; the words of the one with- 
 out love, being as unprofitable as the oil and cotton of 
 the other without flame. 
 
 IV. Faith is as necessary to the soul, as the sun is to 
 the world : were it not for these bright prolific lights, 
 both the one and the other must remain dark and fruit- 
 less. 
 
 V. Had we, (what we can .only have by a divine illu- 
 mination of our reason, which I beg of my good God 
 to vouchsafe me,) had we, I say, true notions of God 
 and eternity, right notions of ourselves and of the world 
 they could not fail to create in us thoughts full of humility 
 toward ourselves, full of contempt toward the world. 
 
1S6 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOAV, 
 
 full of the highest adoration toward God, and full of 
 earnestness to acquire a happy eternity. 
 
 VI. The faculty of thinking justly, is a more desira- 
 ble talent than that of eloquence in speaking ; the one 
 being in order to an advantage only in expectation, 
 whereas the other is the assured mark of a mighty ad- 
 vantage already received ; the one tends to the advance- 
 ment of interest or reputation, the other to the increase 
 of wisdom and virtue ; the one may make a man more 
 agreeable to the world, the other will infallibly render 
 him most agreeable to himself, and, what is infinitely 
 more valuable, most acceptable to God. 
 
 VII. My adorable God, I humbly beseech thee to ac- 
 cept the sacrifice I here, in all humility, and I trust, sin- 
 cerity, desire to make thee, of the remainder of my 
 life ; to be entirely employed, with the utmost vigor 
 both of my soul and body, in thy service and adoration. 
 And I humbly implore thee to bestow upon me every 
 grace, and every virtue, which may render me accepta- 
 ble to thee, and worthy of thy service. Pardon, I be- 
 seech thee, all the heinous sins and offences of my life 
 past, for the sake of thy blessed Son, my Saviour Jesus 
 Christ ; and be pleased to bestow upon me a steadfast 
 faith, an ardent love, an humble and perfect obedience, 
 and a will, capable of no other inclination, than what it 
 shall continually receive from the absolute guidance of 
 thy divine will ; to which I beg it may be ever perfectly 
 subservient, with all readiness and cheerfulness. And, if 
 any action of my life, or thought of my soul, should 
 ever, in the least, be contradictory to it, 1 heartily re- 
 nounce toth that and myself. My good God, as I could 
 not have taken this resolution without thy particular 
 mercy, so I know that I shall never be able to main- 
 tain it, without thy continual assistance. Give me, there- 
 fore, of thy great goodness, entirely to overcome all my 
 passions, and to contract and draw all my afiections into 
 one constant and ever-flowing stream of love to thee. 
 Let neither the world, nor life itself, be ever able to 
 withdraw the least part of them from this channel. But, 
 as all my thoughts and actions are continually before 
 thee, so I humby beseech thee that they may never be 
 unworthy of thy divine presence, for Jesus Christ his 
 sake, thy blessed Son, my merciful Redeemer. 
 
18t 
 
 HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 VIII. That is an admirable expression in the first col- 
 lect in the Morning Prayer, “ Thy service is perfect 
 freedom.” And a noble freedom it is indeed, to have 
 the soul released from the insupportable slavery of ig- 
 norance and vice, and set at liberty to range in the spa- 
 cious and delicious plains of wisdom and virtue ; to 
 have it delivered from the harsh and turbulent tyranny 
 of insulting passions, and established under the gentle 
 and delightful government of right reason. O my good 
 God, grant my soul this happy freedom, and set my 
 heart at liberty, that I may cheerfully run the ways of 
 thy blessed commandments, and suffer no impediment 
 to obstruct my course ! 
 
 IX. Nothing can be truly valuable, that will not be 
 valuable a hundred years together. To demonstrate 
 this truth to our understanding, we have but to consider 
 the millions of years that have preceded this hundred 
 years, and the vast eternity that preceded them ; the 
 millions of years that must succeed this hundred years, 
 and the boundless eternity that will succeed them; and, 
 after a serious and just comparison between the one and 
 the other, we shall find a hundred years a most con- 
 temptible portion of time. After the same manner, we 
 have but to consider riches, honor, reputation, and even 
 life itself ; they must all have an end, as to any particu- 
 lar person, within a much shorter compass, than that of 
 a hundred years : and upon such a consideration, we 
 shall be forced to acknowledge that our contempt would 
 be bestowed upon them, with much more reason and 
 justice, than that high esteem and veneration which 
 most men think their due. And it is, indeed, much 
 more worthy of a wise man to labor to despise, rather 
 than to procure them, and to seek his felicity, more in 
 the contempt than in the enjoyment of them.^ 
 
 X. The great uncertainty and inconstancy so gene- 
 rally observed in mankind, is, doubtless, from this cause, 
 that all their fancies and imaginations spring, not from 
 the truth and reality of things, but from their passions ; 
 which, being very changeable and irregular, can never 
 
 ‘ In this and in a subsequent meditation (sect, xv.) such as are con- 
 versant with the writings of Epictetus, and Marcus Antoninus, will 
 discern a great connexion between the reasoning of our author and 
 that of the ancient Stoics.— First Ed. 
 
188 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 produce regular ideas, any more than a crooked rule can 
 be the measure of a straight line. A mind surrounded 
 with passions, is in as miserable a condition as a country 
 too weak to defend itself, seated in the midst of many 
 powerful princes, continually' contending for the pos- 
 session of it : sometimes it is surprised one, some- 
 times by another ; but it is never long under the govern- 
 ment of the same master ; nor can it have the benefit 
 to be governed by settled and regular laws, which will 
 always be altered by every new intruder. In this de- 
 plorable state is the mind surrounded with powerful 
 passions ; sometimes subdued by one, and sometimes 
 by another, but always a slave ; ever variable and chang- 
 ing, but never for the better. Now, that this is the true 
 cause of man’s inconstancy, evidently appears from the 
 following considerations. What different ideas arise in 
 the mind, from the two passions of prodigality and ava- 
 rice ? How unlike are the images drawn upon it by 
 the passion of love, to those which are drawn by malice 
 and revenge ? Nay, at different times, how unlike will 
 the same passion make a man to himself? How strange 
 and ridiculous a change does pride make in a man : one 
 hour, it shall humble him to act the part of a base, mean 
 flatterer, making most servile courtship and addresses 
 to some powerful favorite ; the next hour raising him 
 to the highest pitch of insolence, it shall make him look 
 with contempt and disdain upon all whom he thinks his 
 inferiors ? When a man is thus governed by his pas- 
 sions, it is impossible to know any thing of him cer- 
 tainly, but his name : for, like a Proteus, he is continu- 
 ally transformed by those passions into some new mon- 
 ster; and this changeableness in himself, will make his 
 judgment uncertain and variable ; at one time approv- 
 ing what he dislikes at another ; the same things be- 
 coming, alternately, the objects of his pleasure and dis- 
 pleasure; eagerly pursued one day, and rejected the 
 next ; and thus, things continually change their shapes 
 and appearances, according as his deceitful passions 
 shall think fit to represent them, Now, it is easy to 
 imagine how the mind must labor with anxiety, under 
 these false representations of things made by the passions : 
 and what a comfort and support it would be to be enabled 
 to steer a steady course : to be able truly to distinguish 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 189 
 
 good from evil, to choose the one and refuse the other ; 
 and, having made a right choice of things pleasant and 
 profitable, to be sure to have them constant, and, as such, 
 always to be approved and embraced by the judgment. 
 Now these true representations of things to the mind, 
 can be made only by illuminated reason ; and we may 
 be sure, that such images as she draws of them, will 
 have a true likeness. And, if she were to copy them 
 over again ten thousand times, she would draw them 
 exactly with the same lineaments and features ; for, 
 where the things themselves do not alter, we may be 
 sure her pencil will not vary. 
 
 XI. In order to pass a right and just judgment in 
 any case whatsoever, it is necessary to have unbiassed 
 affections. How, then, can a man captivated and in- 
 flamed with the love of sensual pleasures, be capable of 
 giving an impartial judgment, between God and the 
 world ? Or how is a man, with affections enslaved by 
 vice, fit to judge between that and virtue ? And yet, 
 men thus incapaciated to be judges in these cases are 
 often very confidently passing sentence : and, what is 
 worse, too many seemingly unconcerned spectators, are 
 apt to be persuaded that their judgment is equitable. 
 
 XII. Meditation is the life of virtue, as virtue is the 
 life of the soul. It is the conduit, by which a happy 
 and delightful communication is maintained between 
 God and the soul ; through which the graces and bless- 
 ings of God descend to the soul, and through ^rhich, 
 the ardor, the praises, and adoration of the soul, ascend 
 to God. It is the exercise of the soul, which makes it, 
 and preserves it, vigorous and healthful ; without which 
 it would soon become heavy and languid, void of plea- 
 sure and weary of its own being ; and this uneasiness 
 would oblige it to seek ‘its satisfaction in vain and tri- 
 fling entertainments, and debase it, at last, even to folly 
 and vice. 
 
 XIII. I suppose these words, “ Pray without ceas- 
 ing,” may very well be interpreted according to the lite- 
 ral meaning. For, if the soul can once get an absolute 
 dominion over its passions, keeping continually a strict 
 guard over them ; if it be always duly prepared, and 
 have, in their just degrees, all the requisites of prayer, 
 which are faith, repentance, love, humility, obedience,. 
 
190 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 thankfulness, resignation, charity, and sincerity ; 
 though the man be not always upon his knees, yet, his 
 conversation will in such a manner be in heaven, his 
 soul will be so abstracted from the world, as to be almost 
 continually exercising itself, in some act either of praise, 
 petition, or adoration of God. Which, no doubt, his 
 infinite goodness will accept as an incessant prayer, 
 though it be not accompanied with all the outward cir- 
 cumstances of devotion ; which, to be sure, will not be 
 neglected neither, by such a one, at proper seasons. 
 And, in reality, a formal and customary kneeling, a lift- 
 ing up the hands and eyes to heaven, without the heart, 
 a cold and careless uttering of words, are but the dead 
 carcass of prayer. The life of it consists in the combi- 
 nation of the fore-mentioned qualifications ; without 
 which it can neither be satisfactory to a wise man, nor, 
 it is to be feared, acceptable to the Almighty God : 
 Whom I humbly beg, to instruct and enable me both 
 how and what to pray ; that none of my addresses to 
 Him may be unworthy of so great and glorious a being. 
 
 XIV. Had men but the same curiosity in their inqui- 
 ries relating to the essence of God, and the immortality 
 of their own souls, that they have in other philosophical 
 matters, it would carry them earnestly to implore His 
 assistance ; which is absolutely necessary, in order to 
 make the experiments requisite for such sublime dis- 
 coveries. By the help of these experiments, a mighty 
 progress would soon be made, in those most profitable 
 sciences of wisdom and virtue ; which, indeed, are the 
 only sciences worthy of our time and pains ; the only 
 ones, that can conduct us to substantial happiness in 
 this life, and to that which is eternal in the next. But 
 happiness, temporal and eternal, are too generally neg- 
 lected, through our ignorance of their beauties and ad- 
 vantages. Now, the experiment I would have all men 
 try, is this : first, having made a serious and sincere ap- 
 plication to God, to betake themselves heartily to sub- 
 due all their passions, which are so many clouds and fa- 
 tal impediments to the mind’s advancement in this most 
 excellent knowledge ; to purify the soul, as much as 
 possible, from all vicious and impure affections and in- 
 clinations ; and, after these things are done, it were 
 hard to conjecture what infinitely profitable, and conse- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 191 
 
 quently delightful, discoveries she would be enabled to 
 make of her own nature, and, in how extraordinary a 
 manner the good God would be pleased to reveal him- 
 self to her, being thus purified. Those happy few alone 
 can tell, who have made the experiment ; none but they 
 can know what evidences and assurances of their own 
 immortality are conveyed by that Divine Being, to souls 
 thus disposed to receive them ; what glances of his eter- 
 nal brightness and glory he is pleased to dart upon 
 them, for their comfort and encouragement ; and what 
 extraordinary measures of faith, how nearly approach- 
 ing to certainty, he may vouchsafe, for the completion 
 of their felicity, to afford them, by the more intimate 
 communication and operation of his blessed Spirit. 
 
 XV. It is of great use to reflect, that the riches, ho- 
 nors, and pleasures, which we are apt so eagerly to pur- 
 sue, when past, leave no advantage behind them ; and 
 that all the pains, miseries, and troubles, which we so 
 carefully avoid, when they depart from us, carry all 
 their mischiefs along with them.^ So that it is equal, 
 when a man comes to die, whether he spent all his time 
 in pleasures and delights, lying at his ease on beds of 
 down, or whether he had lain all his lifetime tormented 
 upon a rack ; whether he had lived a king, or a beggar : 
 so great are the vanities of the one condition ; so short 
 the miseries of the other. ® 
 
 XVI. That a man should not find in his heart to 
 betake himself to the solid comforts of a virtuous life, 
 for fear of interrupting or spoiling the gay diversions 
 of the world, is just as reasonable, as that a man should 
 be so much delighted with the neatness of his garden, 
 and charmed with the variety of plants and flowers, and 
 its other pretty contrivances, that he could not find it 
 in his heart to deface it, though he were sure to discover 
 a mine of gold by digging it up. 
 
 b The same sentiment has been finely expressed by Musonius ; who 
 was honored with banishment by Nero. I take the liberty of transferring 
 the passage, from the vast common-place book of Aulus Gellius : — 
 
 * Av Tt Trpa^rjsKoXov ficra ttovov. b nev irovos oi)(^eTaij to Se koXov fxevet. 
 
 Av Ti TToirjarji aiar^pov [led* * fj^ovrjg. to jicv f/Sv oi'xtTai, to 6e aiff^pov fievei, 
 
 Aul. Gell. xvi. 2 — Ed. 
 
 t* If a gwd action cost us labor, the labor is soon past, but the virtue of the 
 action continues ; — If a base action be performed with pleasure, the pleasure 
 is soon past, but the shame remains.] 
 
 ® See medit. ix. and the note there given, at the foot of the page. 
 
192 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 XVII. Whosoever would be wise, and consequently 
 happy, must raze out of his mind all those false mis- 
 taken notions which have been imprinted there from 
 his infancy ; and must endeavor to expel from thence 
 that pernicious infection of error, which it has been so 
 long hatching from erroneous customs and examples, 
 and which, if too long neglected, will prove fatal to it. 
 Among ten thousand other things, of which we have 
 mistaken notions, I will make choice of life and death, 
 for my present consideration. How charmingly de- 
 sirable does our fancy paint the one, and with what 
 dreadful deformity does it disguise the other! And 
 how uneasy are these wrong conceptions apt to make 
 us, by fixing our affections upon that life which we must 
 not long enjoy, and raising our aversion to that death 
 which we cannot possibly avoid ! Our great business, 
 then, in order to make our days serene and happy, is 
 to remove our affection from life, and our aversion from 
 death. And, to compass this, we must deface those 
 images of them both which our deluding fancies have 
 drawn upon our minds, -and set ourselves diligently to 
 trace out new lines, and more resembling features. And 
 first, to consider that gaudy blaze of life which appears 
 so fair, and shines so bright ; which is extinguished 
 almost as soon as kindled, and, by its speedy decay, 
 becomes contemptible: let us paint it, binding and fet- 
 tering the soul, and detaining it in a dark uncomfortable 
 prison, darkened by ignorance and made uncomfortable 
 by folly. And let death be drawn in its natural shape, 
 as the friend and deliverer of the soul, approaching to 
 release it from this hated confinement, and to put it into 
 the possession of that desirable liberty, after which it 
 had so long been languishing. What we improperly 
 call life, is no more of life, than that which a child has 
 in the womb, who cannot properly be said to enter into 
 life till it is born, and the midwife is thought to do it no 
 unkind office in bringing it into the world. Why, then, 
 should we think death our enemy, for doing the same 
 friendly office to the soul, which cannot truly be said 
 to enter into life, till it enters into eternity ; since that 
 only is worthy to be called life, which is eternal, and to 
 which it can attain only by the kind assistance of death ? 
 Then those glimmering sparks of life which it had here 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 193 
 
 below, will be kindled into a glorious unextinguishable 
 flame. And, instead of those faint rays of pleasure 
 which, by the means of faith and virtue, it pleased the 
 great and good God to make shine upon it here, eternal 
 streams of joy and brightness shall then flow in upon 
 it, from the incomprehensible glories of the divine 
 presence.^ 
 
 XVIII. Faith is the brightness of the great God 
 shining upon the soul ; and virtue, which is nothing 
 else but a combination of love and obedience to him, is 
 a light proceeding from faith. They both ebb and flow 
 together; and when faith rushes in plentifully, and 
 rises high in the soul, virtue will maintain a proportion- 
 able height ; but as faith retires and grows low, virtue 
 will retreat and sink also. Now our passions are the 
 black thick clouds that cause so frequent and tedious 
 eclipses of this light of faith ; and by their interposition, 
 deprive the soul of its only comfort. They are those 
 fierce and strong winds, which keep back this tide from 
 flowing in upon the soul, both to refresh and enrich it ; 
 which, I think, is argument sufficient for the absolute 
 
 i ‘ He that is no fool, but can consider wisely, if he be in love with 
 this world, we need not despair, but that a witty man might reconcile 
 him with tortures, and make him think charitably of the rack, and be 
 brought to dwell with vipers and dragons, and entertain his guests 
 with the shrieks of mandrakes, cats, and screech-owls, with the filing 
 of iron, and the harshness of rending of silk, or to admire the harmony 
 that is made by a herd of evening wolves, when they miss their draught 
 of blood in their midnight revels. The groans of a man in a fit of the 
 stone, are worse than all these ; and the distractions of a troubled con- 
 science are worse than those groans ; and yet a careless, merry sinner 
 is worse than all that. 
 
 ‘ But if we could, from one of the battlements of heaven, espy how 
 many men and women, at this time, be fainting and dying for want of 
 bread, how many young men are hewn down by the sword of war, 
 how many poor orphans are now weeping over the graves of their 
 fathers, by whose life they were enabled to eat ; if we could but hear, 
 how many mariners and passengers are, at this present, in a storm, 
 and shriek out, because their keel dashes against a rock, or bulges 
 under them ; how many people there are that weep with want, and 
 are mad with oppression, or are desperate by too quick a sense of a 
 constant infelicity : in all reason, we should be glad to be out of the 
 noise and participation of so many evils. This is a place of sorrows 
 and tears, of great evils and a constant calamity : let us remove from 
 hence, at least in affections and preparation of mind.’ — Ji;hemy Tay- 
 lor, Holy Dyings vol. IV. p. 367. — Ed. 
 
 17 
 
194 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW, 
 
 necessity of the utter extirpation of our pernicious 
 passions.® 
 
 XIX. How long is the soul kept and nourished in 
 ignorance of itself, and of its original ; like a child of 
 noble extraction, obliged by some misfortune to be con- 
 cealed and educated as their own, by poor peasants ! 
 Believing himself to be of no higher birth, the child 
 entertains no other than mean and low thoughts and 
 designs, suitable to such a condition. But so soon as 
 his true parents are made known to him, he quickly 
 banishes from his mind all that is base and ignoble, and, 
 animated by the knowledge of his true condition, con- 
 ceives such thoughts as are answerable to it. It is faith 
 which makes this discovery to the soul ; and no sooner 
 acquaints it that it has the great God for its parent, 
 than it discards all base, ungenerous designs, and re- 
 nounces its former trifling pleasures and mean affec- 
 tions, disdaining the low objects of its love and desire. 
 It is immediately filled with noble and aspiring thoughts; 
 all its aims and designs from thenceforth become great 
 and elevated, and worthy of its divine birth. 
 
 XX. It is wonderful that pride should be so natural 
 to man ; that it should take root so deep in so impotent 
 and helpless a creature. For, when rightly considered, 
 all human power is entirely founded upon human weak- 
 ness : it is not the empire over beasts, but over his fel- 
 low-creature man, that is the subject of his ambition, 
 and cause of his pride. And this reflection ought to 
 be his mortification, that he himself is liable to all the 
 injuries which he can offer to another : and that it is 
 the weakness and infirmity of human nature, common 
 alike to himself and others, which renders any man 
 obnoxious to his cruelty or oppression. 
 
 XXL Pride, by a great mistake, is commonly taken 
 for greatness of soul, as if the soul was to be ennobled 
 by vice. Now, that pride is one of the most enormous 
 of vices, I think no reasonable man will dispute ; it is 
 the base offspring of weakness, imperfection, and igno- 
 rance ; since, were we not weak and imperfect crea- 
 tures, we should not be destitute of the knowledge of 
 
 * When I speak of the extirpation of passions, I mean only the 
 restraint of the vicious extravagance of our affections. — See Sect, xxiii. 
 
MOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 195 
 
 ourselves ; and, had we that knowledge, it were impos- 
 sible we should be proud. But, on the contrary, gen- 
 uine humility is the certain mark of a bright reason and 
 elevated soul; for in truth, it is their natural conse- 
 quence. When we come to have our minds cleared by 
 reason, from the thick mists that our disorderly passions 
 cast about them ; when we come to discern more per- 
 fectly, and consider more nearly, the immense power 
 and goodness, the infinite glory and duration, of God ; 
 when we come to make a comparison between his per- 
 fections, and our own frailty and weakness, and the 
 shortness and uncertainty of our beings, — then we 
 should humble ourselves even to the dust before him. 
 Can the greatest monarch upon earth free himself from 
 the least mischief incident to the meanest of men? 
 Can he, by his own power, give vigor to his body, 
 or length to his life ? Can he free the body from pains 
 and diseases, or the life from vexation and trouble ? If 
 not, what excellence has he to boast of, above other 
 men ? What advantage has he to be proud of, in rela- 
 tion to his fellow-creatures ? Custom has made a wide 
 difference, indeed, between man and man ; but it is a 
 difference purely fanciful and not real ; for it must be 
 some intrinsic worth in any creature, that gives it the 
 preference to another. Titles, riches, and fine houses, 
 contribute no more to making one man better than an- 
 other, than the finer saddle to making the better horse. 
 And it truly shows a poor spirit, for one man to take 
 these paltry advantages of another. If he is ambitious 
 to excel his fellows, let it be in something that belongs 
 to himself, something that demonstrates him to be a 
 better creature. Let him not think, like a false jewel 
 among ignorant people, to derive a value from being 
 set in gold. Let him contend in virtue, which alone is 
 capallle of putting a great and true difference between 
 man and man. Whosoever gains the advantage here, 
 has reason to value it, though it will never make him 
 proud. 
 
 XXII. At first it seems a little strange that reason, 
 which is always constant and the same, should make 
 such various impressions upon the minds of men. But, 
 when we come to consider, it is no more to be wondered 
 at that men differ in their judgments and opinions, than 
 
196 
 
 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 [how, 
 
 that they are unlike in their faces. For the same argu- 
 ment must have different effects, according to men’s dif- 
 ferent understandings ; as the same distant object ap- 
 pears differently to several men, according as it happens 
 to strike each man’s sight. That which seems green to 
 one, may appear blue to another ‘J so that, till the sense 
 of seeing becomes uniform in several men, it is impos- 
 sible that any object should have the same appearance 
 to them. And it holds alike, as to the operation of rea- 
 son and arguments upon the mind. Reason, we know, 
 is uniform ; and whatever disputes concerning it arise, 
 it is not that there are really different appearances in 
 reason, but the difference is in our conception and un- 
 derstandings. Reason is not various, though our weak 
 judgments concerning her are so. If the sight of all 
 men were alike and true, every object must necessarily 
 appear alike to them, and such as really they are, with- 
 out any deception ; and, in like manner, were the minds 
 of all men alike, and rightly disposed, all arguments 
 and reason would work alike upon them all. But in- 
 terest, partiality, pride, and other ungovernable affec- 
 tions, cause all the disorders in the mind ; and, conse- 
 quently, in the world. 
 
 XXIII. The passions and affections^ of the mind are 
 commonly confounded one with another, and promis- 
 cuously used, as two different words to signify the same 
 thing : which I think prejudicial, and apt to lead men 
 into great and fatal mistakes. For, since some pas- 
 sions only are taken to be vicious, and others allowed 
 to be innocent, as, by such nice distinctions, the differ- 
 ence between them is not easily discovered ; so, by 
 men’s partiality, and indulgence to their own frailties 
 and their pleasure, it is to be feared, that such passions 
 only will be by them interpreted to be vicious, as do not 
 thwart their inclinations, and to which they themselves 
 are not greatly addicted. By this means vicious pas- 
 sions may attack us in disguise, and, at distance, may 
 
 f I recollect having read, several years ago, in the ‘ Transactions of 
 the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester,’ a very interest- 
 ing paper, describing an extraordinary organic hallucination of this 
 kind. — E d. 
 
 s The passions and affections are innocent or vicious, according to 
 their degrees or tendency. 
 
HOW.] HEVOITT MEDITATIONS* 197 
 
 hang out friendly colors ; but, when they approach to 
 assault us, we shall perceive to our smart that they are 
 enemies. Besides, I think it is treating vice rather too 
 favorably, to let it shelter itself under the same name 
 with innocence. Therefore, for my own private assist- 
 ance, I shall take the liberty to make a distinction be- 
 tween affection and passion ; that when the just bounda- 
 ries between these two very different territories are fair- 
 ly marked out, I may the better be able to keep within 
 the limits of the one, without making incursions into the 
 other. Now, I take the affections of the soul to be the 
 life and vigor of it ; by whose warmth and activity all 
 its springs receive their power of moving and acting ; 
 and without which the soul could no more subsist, than 
 the body without the soul : for it is by the help of the 
 affections, that it moves to good or evil, that it acts vir- 
 tuously or viciously. The affections may be called the 
 fire of the soul ; which, wisely managed, is ready to 
 serve it for all sorts of beneficial purposes ; but, care- 
 lessly neglected, or foolishly employed, is capable of 
 breaking into unruly flames, to man’s utter ruin and 
 destruction. So long as this fire is under the manage- 
 ment of reason, it is both useful and necessary, and still 
 retains the name of affection ; but, when it becomes dis- 
 orderly and breaks loose from the government of rea- 
 son, then it becomes pernicious and vicious, and deserv- 
 edly assumes the name of passion^ which signifies the 
 disorder and anguish of the soul. When, therefore, at 
 any time, I speak of the necessity of eradicating, or ex- 
 tinguishing XhQ passions^ I do not mean to eradicate, or 
 extinguish the affections of the soul, without which it 
 cannot subsist ; but to eradicate and extinguish its dis- 
 orders and anguish, with which it cannot subsist com- 
 fortably. 
 
 XXIV. Human reason, of itself, has not power suffi- 
 cient to conduct a man to wisdom and virtue. These 
 are of so noble and sublime a nature, that nothing but 
 the divine influence can produce them in the soul of 
 man. Virtue may, therefore, be termed a new affec- 
 tion, not born in the soul, but introduced into it by the 
 divine influence ; which moves a man to love those 
 things that are pleasing to God, and to hate and reject 
 whatsoever may offend him. 
 
 17 ^ 
 
198 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 XXV. Man is both born and nourished in error : he 
 imbibes not only his nurse’s milk, but her errors : he 
 receives from his parents, not his being only, but, to- 
 gether with it, their errors also : he is not only diverted 
 with the conversation of his companions, but infected 
 with their mistakes. Thus error takes the earliest pos- 
 session of the soul, and never quits her hold, till obliged 
 to it, either by the grace of God, or by the stroke of 
 death. Nor is it any wonder, in these circumstances, 
 that man should be ignorant of the right ends of life, 
 and of his true business in the world. It is to be feared, 
 that too many have no other notion, than that they are 
 placed in the world, like beasts in a pasture, to devour 
 its product ; and that their great work is to endeavor to 
 excel each other in large possessions, rich clothes, state- 
 ly houses, costly furniture, splendid equipage, delicate 
 tables, and such other trinkets of pride and luxury, and 
 incitements to violence and injustice. And this is the 
 noble ambition that kind parents strive to kindle in 
 their beloved children ! Great God ! that men’s un- 
 derstandings and ambition should be so short-sighted, 
 as neither to see, nor aim at any thing, beyond the poor 
 extent of these impertinent vanities ! And that any 
 man can think that thou hast given him a being, to be 
 wholly employed in these pursuits ! That thou hast be- 
 stowed reason upon him, only that he may sully it with 
 his passions ; as if the use of it were, not to give him 
 the pre-eminence over beasts, but to render him inferior 
 to them ; for, doubtless, a rational brute is the worst of 
 brutes, as having larger capacities for mischief. It is 
 strange that men can think that they receive blessings 
 from God, not to make them more mindful of him, or 
 to excite their addresses to him, but to make them neg- 
 lect and forget him ! that his gifts are bestowed upon 
 them, to rob the great Benefactor of that affection, which 
 should be the usual consequence of his beneficence! 
 and that the faint and forced adorations of their last 
 breath are the only tribute due to God, as it is, too 
 often, the only one that falls to his share ! 
 
 XXVI. All men have some chief aim superior to all 
 others ; the compassing of which, is the great employ- 
 ment of their thoughts, and labor of their souls. Other 
 designs are carried on only leisurely and accidentally, 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 199 
 
 without any great concern ; the soul being entirely bent 
 upon the success of that object, which it has made choice 
 of as its grand business and satisfaction. The object of 
 the ambitious man is power and honor ; that of the lux- 
 urious man, is sensual pleasure ; that of the covetous 
 man, is the increase of his wealth. But that of the wise 
 man, is the increase of his virtue. He looks upon the 
 world as a stage, where he is placed by the great Crea- 
 tor, to act his part; and upon life, as the time allowed 
 him to act it in. He is diligently careful of all his ac- 
 tions and behavior, knowing that his fate depends upon 
 his performances. He values not the hissings or ap- 
 plauses of the inconstant, ignorant multitude ; but is 
 most industriously solicitous to obtain the approbation 
 of the Almighty Spectator. 
 
 XXVH. Man is the only creature in the world whose 
 happiness is imperfect, and who is sensible that it is so ; 
 who has something in him, that disdains the imperfection 
 of his own being, and languishes aftfer a condition more 
 perfect. Werehe, like other animals, composed only of 
 flesh and blood, he would find no more faults with his 
 being, than they do with theirs ; since the matter of 
 which his body and theirs is made, is not capable of 
 such reflections. But these are the secret repinings of 
 the soul, by which she plainly discovers herself ; and 
 our attentive observation of her, will soon turn into de- 
 monstrations that we have such a principle existent in 
 us. And, since it is natural for all beings to seek and 
 thirst after happiness, it is necessary to know where the 
 seat of happiness is fixed. It is the want of this know- 
 ledge, which makes us waste so much time in vain pur- 
 suits, and unprofitable attempts ; endeavoring to confine 
 happiness to the body, which is a prison too weak to 
 hold it. The senses which conduct it thither, are too 
 feeble long to guard and detain it : it is always attempt- 
 ing to make its escape ; and what is worse, it never misses 
 its aim. Besides, if it has no other existence than the 
 body, it must be very short-lived, and, in a contemptible 
 portion of time, must perish with the body. A man 
 that is of this opinion must be sure to keep his thoughts 
 always steadily confined within the compass of this life 
 and world. For, if they happen to wander beyond (it, 
 they will enter into dark uncomfortable regions, that 
 
200 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [H0\V% 
 
 will afford them nothing but black and dismal prospects 5 
 which too many unthinking people find by sad experi- 
 ence. Now virtue, which I may define to be the science 
 of happiness, will give us true notions of happiness, and 
 teach us that its true seat is in the soul. This is of a 
 capacity large enough to contain it, and of a duration 
 lasting enough to preserve it to eternity : there, it may 
 rise to unmeasurable heights, without restraint ; it can 
 never overburthen or overpower the immortal spirit. 
 It is the poor feeble body only, that is not able to sup- 
 port it ; too weak to bear the rapid and violent motions 
 of the soul, when filled and agitated with an excessive 
 joy. The heart is capable of supporting but a small, in- 
 significant measure of enjoyment ; it may easily be over- 
 charged with it, like a gun with powder, and be rent and 
 destroyed with its irresistible efforts ; according to the 
 several degrees of which, it often occasions ectasies, 
 swoonings, and death. The heart can no more sustain 
 immoderate joy, than immoderate grief; the one is des- 
 tructive by too much dilation, the other by too great a 
 depression ; and it is equal whether the vessel be crushed 
 by too strong a pressure without, or torn in pieces by 
 too violent an extension from wdthin ; which soever of 
 them happens, the frail cask is broken, and life spilt. 
 
 XXVIII. In case of temptation, it is a prudent cau- 
 tion to avoid the encounter, when we are conscious of 
 weakness, or unable to withstand it. But I do not think 
 it the part of a generous mind, to rest satisfied in a safe- 
 ty that is always owing to flight. It is much braver to 
 keep the mind continually exercised and inured by ima- 
 ginary conflicts, till it is taught and enabled to overcome 
 in those that are real; — that, whatsoever temptation 
 offers itself, the soul may be intrepid ; and, coming 
 bravely to the encounter, may know how to be victori- 
 ous by its own force and virtue. 
 
 h What is here so forcibly and beautifully recommended, would seem 
 to be included in that pithy injunction of the apostle, Meditate upon 
 these things^ 1 Tim. iv. 15. The Editor trusts he may be pardoned, 
 for extracting the following elucidative passage : — 
 
 ‘ The verb /icXeraw, wdiich, from the want of a more adequate repre- 
 sentative, we render by the English verb to meditate^ has a very com- 
 prehensive meaning. Among rhetoricians, it includes all the previous 
 discipline, study, examination of the subject, invention of topics, pro- 
 vision of materials, distribution of arguments, selection and arrange- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 201 
 
 XXIX. It is a preposterous resolution that some peo- 
 ple take of deferring to be virtuous till they grow old, 
 imagining that wisdom is the natural consequence of old 
 age ; as if that which is the greatest imperfection of hu- 
 man nature, were most proper to confer upon us its high- 
 est perfection. Long observation, indeed, gives expe- 
 rience ; but that is a thing very different from wisdom ; 
 though it is the utmost advantage which old age can pre- 
 tend to bestow upon us. Now, it is to be considered 
 that virtue is a habit of the mind, to be acquired with 
 great industry and application ; to be forcibly introduced 
 into the soul, in opposition to vice, which, it is to be 
 feared, has obtained long and undisturbed possession, 
 and which must be dislodged with great difficulty, and 
 by a persevering resolution. Now, this is not to be ef- 
 fected in a little time ; the inhabitants are all of its side ; 
 and it has so carefully strengthened the place that the 
 siege must be both long and doubtful. It is likely to be 
 an achievement which will not only require the vigor of 
 youth, but more time also than old age has to bestow 
 upon it. The chief end of a virtuous life is to give us 
 as near a resemblance as is possible, to God — to make us 
 pure as he is pure ; that is, to raise us to the utmost de- 
 
 ment of words, in short, all the kinds and degrees of preparation which 
 the orator employs, that he may be qualified to plead with ability and 
 success. In military affairs and agonistic games, it embraces the scien- 
 tific training, the study of tactics both in theory and practice, the habit - 
 uation both of mind and body to endurance of fatigue, the performance 
 of all manly and warlike exercises in the time of peace, the indispens- 
 able though mimic conflicts of countrymen with countrymen, and 
 friends with friends, in order, when the real conflict shall arrive, to a 
 vigorous opposition to the foe or the rival, in the arena or the field. 
 And with moral writers, both profane and sacred, it has a meaning 
 quite analogous to the former two : it denotes that thoughtful investi- 
 gation of goodness and virtue, which flows from a heartfelt interest in 
 the subject, and which issues in uniform, consistent, and exemplary 
 practice ; the forecasting, also, of probable or possible contingencies, 
 which may bring our virtue into trial ; the habitual comparison of 
 means with ends, of our duties with our powers ; the frequent resolu- 
 tion of human obligation at large, and of our own special obligations in 
 particular, into their several parts and degreed, with respect to our 
 God, our neighbor, and ourselves ; the continued moral recollection of 
 the several relations in which we stand, that there may be, so far as 
 possible, no excess and no defect, in our dealings and communications 
 with our fellow-men .’ — Practical Theology* vol. ii. p. 184 . 
 
 * [By Bishop Jebb.] 
 
202 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [hOW* 
 
 gree of purity of which our frail nature is capable. Now, 
 to defer this work till w^e grow old, is to resolve to be 
 as unlike God as is possible ; in a confident, but very 
 ridiculous assurance, that old age will help our deformi- 
 ty, will give us a very good resemblance of Him, and 
 will, in an instant, confer upon us purity like his, after 
 we have wilfully passed our whole life in contracting 
 pollution. So wonderful a change as this, it is indeed 
 possible for Him who can do all things, though not for 
 age, to make ; but it is such a change as no man can 
 reasonably expect. Can we think, when the purest and 
 sprightliest part of life has been drawmofif in the service 
 of vice, that the dregs are an offering fit for God 1 Can 
 we think it then only fit to please him, w^hen we are un- 
 able to offend him any longer ? This is no better than 
 being cast upon God Almighty by age and infirmity, 
 against < our will ; like mariners, w^ho are forced by 
 storms and tempests, upon a coast which they never in- 
 tended to come near. 
 
 XXX. It is generally believed, that the deluge occa- 
 sioned the shortness of man’s life ; w^hich is much con- 
 tracted since that time, in comparison of its length in 
 the time of the antediluvian patriarchs. The vicious- 
 ness of man’s life occasioned the flood : and, very pro- 
 bably, God thought fit to drown the world for these 
 two reasons : first, to punish the then living offenders ; 
 and, next, to prevent men’s plunging into those prodi- 
 gious depths of impiety, for all future ages. For if, in 
 the short term of life, which is now^ allotted to mankind, 
 men are capable of being puffed up to such an insolent 
 degree of pride and folly, as to forget God and their 
 own mortality, his powder and their own w eakness ; if a 
 prosperity bounded by threescore and ten years (and 
 what mortal’s prosperity, since the deluge, ever lasted 
 so long?) can swell the mind of so frail a creature to 
 such a prodigious size of vanity, what boundaries could 
 be set to his arrogance, if his life and prosperity, like 
 that of the patriarchs, were likely to continue eight or 
 nine hundred years together? If, under the existing 
 circumstances of life, men’s passions can rise so high ; 
 if the present short and uncertain enjoyments of the 
 world, are able to occasion such an extravagant pride, 
 puch unmeasurable ambition, such sordid avarice, such 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 barbarous rapine and injustice, such malice and envy, 
 and so many other detestable things, which compose 
 the numerous train of vice, — *how, then, would the 
 passions have flamed, and to what a monstrous stature 
 would every vice have grown, if those enjoyments 
 which provoked and increased them were of eight or 
 nine hundred years’ duration? If eternal happiness, 
 and eternal punishment, are able to make no stronger 
 impressions upon men’s minds so near at hand, it may 
 well be imagined, that at so great a distance they would 
 have made no impression at all ; that eternal happiness 
 would have been entirely devested of its allurements, 
 and eternal misery of its terrors ; and the great Creator 
 would have been deprived of that obedience and adora- 
 tion, which are so justly due to him from his creatures. 
 Thus the inundation of vice has, in some measure, by 
 the goodness of God, been prevented by an inundation 
 of water. That which was the punishment of one 
 generation, may be said to have been the preservation 
 of all those which have succeeded. For, if life had 
 not been thus clipped, one Tiberius, one Caligula, one 
 Nero, one Louis the Fourteenth, had been sufficient to 
 have destroyed the whole race of mankind : each of 
 whose lives, had they been ten times as long, and the 
 mischiefs they occasioned multiplied by that number, it 
 might easily be computed how great a plague one such 
 long-lived monster would have been to the world. 
 
 XXXI. Men are apt to place very narrow limits to 
 human virtue ; and, as a reason for their so doing, they 
 plead the frailty of human nature ; which, they pretend, 
 has such scanty bounds set to it, that it is in vain to 
 attempt to enlarge them. Men may flatter themselves 
 if they please with such pretences ; but, I doubt, they 
 will not pass for warrantable excuses of our careless- 
 ness and negligence. I doubt it will appear that if the 
 stream of our affections is too small to water a larger 
 field of virtue, it is because it is diverted for other pur- 
 poses into other channels. Where interest and ambi- 
 tion lead men, they can break through the bounds of 
 possibility, and march far into the territories even of 
 seeming impossibility. But when virtue is our con- 
 ductor, we are not ashamed to stop, long before we 
 arrive within sight of those borders. In the former 
 
204 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 case, men can depend upon the help of that imaginary 
 idol, Fortune ; but, in the latter, they dare not rely upon 
 the promised and sure assistance of the all-powerful 
 God. The riches and magnificence of a Persian king, 
 the wealthy treasures of the far distant Indies, could so 
 inflame the soul of Alexander the Great, as to make 
 him perform actions incredible, and surmount difficul- 
 ties seemingly unsurmountable. But the eternal joys 
 of heaven, the infinitely glorious and inestimable trea- 
 sures of the great King of kings, have not, it seems, 
 charms enough to kindle in our souls the same ardor. 
 So much is the thirst of fame greater than the thirst of 
 virtue ; so much, to our confusion be it spoken, are our 
 passions stronger than our faith. 
 
 XXXII. A wise man must take care not only to 
 govern his own passions, but to prevent himself from 
 being governed by the passions of other men : for, if 
 we must be subject to passion, it is equal whether it be 
 our own or that of other people. When the right way 
 is lost, it is no matter to which hand we wander. Now 
 it may happen, in many cases, that when a man has 
 withstood his own passions, and acted in conformity to 
 reason, yet other men, guided by passion, not by reason, 
 finding fault with his actions, will be apt to give him a 
 dislike of his own proceedings, unless he be very well 
 fixed and confirmed in his principles and reason. This 
 is a matter which very well deserves our utmost atten- 
 tion ; since upon it depends, not oniy the peace and 
 tranquillity of our lives, but our virtue also ; which 
 will be in danger to be shaken, if the mind be not 
 steady, and proof against the reproaches and derisions 
 of the world. 
 
 XXXIII. Most men are ready enough to reckon up 
 the income of their estates, and compute how it will 
 answer their several expenses. But few employ their 
 arithmetic to calculate the value and income of their 
 life and time ; or consider how they may be expended 
 to the best advantage. In these, though they are justly 
 accounted the more valuable treasure, the beggar has 
 as large a revenue as the king. The gracious God has 
 distributed equal portions of life and time to all degrees 
 and conditions of men, though not to every particular 
 man the same proportion ; and the sum total of this, is 
 
MOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 205 
 
 threescore and ten years, all beyond that and many 
 years also on this side of it, being but labor and sorrow. 
 Now we have to consider how much of this time is 
 likely to be spent in happiness and enjoyment, and 
 how much will be employed to less pleasing purposes. 
 Which may be thus easily computed. Twenty years 
 may be deducted for education, which is a time of dis- 
 cipline and restraint, and young people are never easy 
 till they are got over it ; and the last ten years of the 
 seventy may be deducted for sickness and infirmities, 
 which very often are the portion of those years : so 
 that, these thirty taken out of life, there remain but 
 forty ; out of which a third part, being at least eight 
 hours in the four and twenty, which amounts to about 
 fourteen years more, must be deducted for sleep, that 
 sister and image of death ; and then there remain but 
 twenty-six ; out of which, when the requisite allow- 
 ances are taken, for the time we are made uneasy with 
 our own passions, and tormented with the passions of 
 other people ; for what passes in sickness, pain, loss, 
 and affliction ; for what we consume in anxiety, respect- 
 ing things that must inevitably happen, and what in 
 anguish for accidents irrecoverably past ; for what 
 passes in stupid and insipid amusements, or brown 
 studies, without either trouble or pleasure : when this 
 is summed up, I doubt, we shall not render a much 
 better account of the poor inconsiderable remainder : 
 it being generally unprofitably wasted in vice and. 
 vanity. 
 
 XXXIV. I suppose men’s passions not only make 
 them miserable in this world, but are no inconsiderable 
 part of their torment in hell. For the body limits and 
 restrains the soul ; so that the flame either of virtue or 
 vice cannot in this life, blaze to an excessive degree. 
 But, when it is freed from that confinement, the pas- 
 sions become ten thousand times more furious and 
 raging, being let loose by divine vengeance, to torment 
 and rack the vicious soul : as, on the other hand, every 
 virtue is heightened and increased immeasurably, to 
 the infinite joy of the soul that is virtuous. For, it is 
 to be supposed thafthe inclinations, either to virtue or 
 vice, which the soul has at its departure out of the 
 body, are not changed, but exceedingly augmented and 
 
206 DEVOUT IM^EDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 strengthened after its separation. It is highly neces- 
 sary, therefore, to endue the soul with an habitual 
 virtue, before it passes into eternity, where habits are 
 not altered, but improved. 
 
 XXXV. The soul agitated with passions, fares like 
 a weak bird in a stormy day. She is not able to make 
 a straight flight, but is tossed from the track she would 
 pursue, being lost and carried in the air at the pleasure 
 of the winds. In this condition is the soul ; till, by a 
 constant meditation upon the great God, and applica- 
 tion to Him, it has obtained a strong and vigorous faith 
 to ballast and strengthen it, and enable it to maintain 
 the straight and steady course of virtue. ‘ 
 
 XXXVI. Reputation and praise may be useful sup- 
 ports to a weak virtue ; but when it becomes strong it 
 must cast them away, with the same indignation and 
 disdain that a child does his leading-strings, when he has 
 strength enough to walk without them. 
 
 XXXVII. It is a contradiction to imagine, that repu- 
 tation or praise is a suitable recompence for virtue. — 
 This is a reward which nothing but vanity can make 
 acceptable : it declares a man both foolish and vicious 
 who can be pleased and satisfied with it ; and it proves 
 that his supposed merit is owing only to his pride. True 
 virtue, as it has no other aim than the service and ho- 
 nor of the great God, so the least and only recompence 
 to which it aspires, is his approbation and favor. 
 
 XXXVIII. It gives a greatness of soul, truly noble, to 
 a virtuous man, to consider how honorable he is made, 
 by his being the servant of so great and glorious a mas- 
 ter. With what generous thoughts, what firm and grace- 
 ful confidence, does the assurance of His favor and love 
 inspire him ! How much does he disdain to increase 
 the gaudy slavish crowd, that so assiduously attend the 
 levees of poor frail princes, whose beings are no better 
 than his own ! With how much indignation does he 
 despise a fawning courtship, and attendance upon inso- 
 lent and vicious favorites, scorning to pay such homage 
 to vice ! How contemptible do the vain interests and 
 pursuits, hopes and fears, desires and aversions, that so 
 much busy and disturb the world, a|5pear to him, who has 
 
 i See Jeremy Taylor. Return of Prayers ; serm. v. p. 33 . — Ed. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 207 
 
 his soul enlightened and enlarged with the love of its 
 great Creator, and merciful Redeemer ! 
 
 XXXIX. It is wonderful to consider how vast a pro- 
 gress the ancient philosophers made in virtue, apparent- 
 ly by the help of natural reason only. Many of them, 
 indeed, were not ignorant of the inability of human rea- 
 son, singly, to make men virtuous ; but were conscious 
 of the necessity of divine assistance, in order to so great 
 a performance. And I make no question, but many of 
 them had that assistance to the consummation of their 
 own virtue. It is astonishing to reflect upon the strength 
 of their faith, both as to the existence of a deity, and the 
 immortality of the soul ; and what surprising effects it 
 had upon them, in rendering their lives highly virtuous, 
 in begetting in them the utmost contempt of the world, 
 and the most profound reverence and adoration of God. 
 With how much bravery and courage, in those cloudy 
 times, without the help and direction of that compass of 
 revelation which we enjoy, did those bold and generous 
 navigators sail in the wide and vast sea of virtue ! 
 What great ana usetul discoveries did they there make ? 
 What rich mines did they lay open to the world, if men 
 had but possessed industry enough to have wrought 
 them, and wisdom sufiicient to have exhausted their 
 treasures ! But, O merciful God ! how much greater 
 and plainer discoveries hast thou in thine infinite good- 
 ness, been pleased to reveal to mankind, by the example 
 and doctrine of the blessed Jesus ; who has brought life 
 and immortality out of thick clouds and darkness, not 
 only into a clearer and brighter, that were to say too 
 little, but into an open and manifest light ! Whose Gos- 
 pel is a system of so refined a philosophy, so exalted a 
 wisdom, and the divine characters that shjne in it are 
 so conspicuously legible, that nothing can hinder us from 
 reading them but the darkest ignorance and blackest 
 corruption. From both which, I beseech thee, O bless- 
 ed Saviour ! to deliver me ; imploring, that thou wilt be 
 pleased to endue me with the same blessed Spirit of 
 eternal truth, by whom thy holy word was dictated to 
 thy disciples ; that, by the assistance of that Spirit in 
 reading, I may understand thy word ; and, by under- 
 standing, may evermore delight in it, and conform my 
 life entirely to its precepts. 
 
20S BEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 XL. Most great and glorious God, who hast appoint- 
 ed the rivers to hasten with a rapid motion to the sea, 
 be graciously pleased, I most humbly beseech thee, to 
 make the stream of my will perpetually to flow with a 
 cheerful and impetuous course, bearing down pleasure, 
 interest, afflictions, death, and all other obstacles and 
 impediments whatsoever, before it, till it plunge itself 
 joyfully into the unfathomable ocean of thy divine will, 
 for the sake of thy beloved son, my Saviour, Jesus 
 Christ. Amen ! 
 
 XLI. This may be laid down as a general maxim, 
 that whosoever is not sincere to man, can never be sin- 
 cere to God ; nor can he that is insincere to God, be 
 ever sincere to man ; for without sincerity there can be 
 no virtue, either moral or divine. 
 
 XLII. The original and progress of virtue seems to 
 me to be this : God, in the first place, gives grace to man, 
 which grace produces faith, faith wisdom, and wisdom 
 virtue. Grace enlightens the soul, and makes the ob- 
 jects of faith visible to it ; faith having the prospect of 
 felicity in view, necessarily begets wisdom, or a most 
 earnest desire, and most prudent prosecution of that fe- 
 licity ; the consequence of which is virtue, or a suitable 
 conduct of our lives, for the attainment of the same end. 
 But there is another sort of faith, of a wretched kind, 
 which may arise in the soul of vicious men at the ap- 
 proach of death. For, the deluding scene of the plea- 
 sures and vanities of this world being withdrawn, a new 
 and real world wall discover itself to them ; they must 
 then have faith ; their eyes can no longer then be kept 
 shut ; they must then be convinced that there is a God, 
 from whose glorious presence they must for ever be 
 excluded ; heaven never to be enjoyed, and a hell not 
 to be avoided. As to the mercies of God to sinners, I 
 desire to have as enlarged notions of them as may be 
 consistent with reason ; having abundant need of them, 
 and humbly imploring them for my own salvation. I 
 make no doubt, that repentance and conversion may be, 
 and sometimes are, wrought by God Almighty, in a 
 moment ; and He, that sees its sincerity, may without 
 further proof be pleased to accept it. But it is an intoler- 
 able presumption for any one to expect and depend upon 
 such a favor ; besides, that he w ho has this sudden and 
 
HOW.] BEVOUI!' MEDltATlONS. 209 
 
 late sincerity, cannot have the satisfaction of knowing it 
 himself, having no time to make any convincing trial of 
 it ; but must lie under extraordinary doubts, whether it 
 be real or not, whether it be the effect of grace, or only 
 the effect of fear. At best, it is infinitely hazardous ; 
 and the case is of such prodigious consequence, that a 
 wise man, if possible, would run no hazard at all. 
 
 XLIII. Avarice can overcome pleasure, and constrain 
 the covetous man to abandon it all the days of his life, 
 for no other end than to heap up a useless treasure. 
 And were it not a shame, should vice have power to do 
 what virtue cannot perform ? Shall not our love and duty 
 to the adorable God, so much as oblige us to exchange 
 an inconsiderable pleasure for a vastly great one ? A 
 pleasure, which, like a flower, is no sooner blown than 
 it fades, for a joy, which, beginning to take root and 
 blossom here, will flourish and bear delicious fruit to all 
 eternity ? 
 
 XLIV, It is necessary to be wise, in order to love 
 wisdom ; to be good, that we may love mercy ; and to 
 be charitable, that we may love bounty : for, if these 
 things be wanting in us, how can we love God and adore 
 him as we ought to do, for those lovely attributes ? On 
 the contrary, it is as necessary to be temperate, that we 
 may hate intemperance; to be just, that we fhay hate in- 
 justice ; to be humble, that we may hate pride ; other- 
 wise how can we hate vice, which is so odious to God ? 
 
 XLV. My most gracious God, who hast been infinitely 
 merciful to me and my dear child, not only in the year 
 past, but through all the years of our life, be pleased to 
 accept my most unfeigned thanks, for thy innumerable 
 blessings to us ; graciously pardoning the manifold sins 
 and infirmities of my life past, and bountifully bestow- 
 ing, both upon my dear child and myself, all those graces 
 and virtues which may render us acceptable to thee 
 And every year which thou shalt be pleased to add to 
 our lives, add also, I most humbly implore thee, more 
 strength to our faith, more ardor to our love, and a 
 greater perfection to our obedience ; and grant, that, in 
 an humble sincerity, and constant perseverance, we may 
 serve thee most faithfully the remainder of our lives, for 
 Jesus Christ his sake, thy blessed Son, our merciful 
 Redeemer. Amen. 
 
 18 =" 
 
210 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 XLVI. Reason must be careful to keep all the affec- 
 tions of the soul, as a skilful general does his soldiers, 
 under a constant exercise and strict discipline. For too 
 much rest and liberty will make them grow licentious 
 and mutinous : and, when they have once learned to be 
 disobedient, it will be a difficult task to reduce them 
 again under good command. 
 
 XLVII. How happy is the soul, to whom virtue and 
 vice are the only objects of its desires and aversions. 
 Which loves nothing but what it is sure to obtain, and 
 dreads nothing but what it is sure to avoid. Which 
 rests upon a rock whose foundation is immoveable, and 
 leans upon a support that can never deceive it. Which 
 securely reposes itself upon the great and gracious God. 
 And, unlading itself of all its cares, lays them upon 
 Him, who so tenderly cares for us, and loves us with 
 a dearer and much better love, than we are able to feel 
 for ourselves. 
 
 XLVHI. If we do not believe God Almighty to be 
 infinitely wiser than ourselves, why do we worship him ? 
 If we do, why do we not, with a happy assurance, com- 
 mit ourselves and all that belongs to us, entirely to his 
 w ill and disposal ? 
 
 XLIX. Lively and elevated ideas of God, and of 
 eternal life, must necessarily create in us most despica- 
 ble and contemptible notions of this life and world. 
 For it is a notorious contradiction to say, that our love 
 to God is hearty and sincere, and yet, at the same time, 
 that we feel in ourselves a great and earnest love of the 
 world. It is a natural effect of love to create an ardent 
 desire to enjoy the company and presence of that which 
 is beloved. But vehemently to love this life and this 
 world, is to desire to be as far distant, and as long 
 absent, as possible, from God, whom we pretend to be 
 the object of our love. 
 
 L. I am convinced, that the pleasure of \nrtue has 
 been, and ever will be, a riddle in the world, as long as 
 it lasts. The meaning of it has never been, nor ever 
 can be, known or conceived, but by those to whom it 
 shall please God, out of his infinite goodness, to ex- 
 pound it. 
 
 LI. Faith is the blessed tree which produces the 
 noble and divine fruits of wisdom, virtue, and true feli- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 211 
 
 city. But it is of so fine and delicate a nature, that it 
 will not grow and thrive in the cold and barren soil of 
 man’s heart, without his incessant care and industry, 
 and the enlivening influence of the divine Spirit. O 
 gracious God, so cherish and increase, I most humbly 
 beseech thee, that small grain of it, which thou hast 
 been pleased to plant in my heart, that it may spread 
 and flourish, and take such firm root there, as to be 
 able to defend itself, and protect me, under the secure 
 shelter of its branches, from all storms and tempests 
 that shall ever assault either, in life or death ! 
 
 LII. Man must consider his being in one of these 
 two capacities ; either as liable to an utter dissolution 
 by death, or as capable of an eternal continuance after 
 death, in happiness, or in misery. If he believe the 
 former, why does he ever disturb his mind with the 
 doubtful thoughts of a God? If he believe the latter, 
 why does he unprofitably entertain his mind with any 
 thing else ? 
 
 LIII. My most good and bountiful God, what num- 
 berless praises have I to give thee, and pardons to beg 
 of thee, both arising from the employment about which 
 I have been, for some months past. What thanks have 
 I to return thee, for the ease, the conveniences, and 
 comforts of life, which thou hast so abundantly be- 
 stowed upon me ! But, O my gracious Lord I what 
 fervent addresses ought I to make to thy infinite mercy, 
 to forgive my ingratitude and weakness in suffering my 
 thoughts to wander from thee, and my affections to grow 
 languid toward thee ! How much time have I been 
 impertinently consuming in building a house, which I 
 ought to have employed, in endeavoring to form my 
 mind to a perfect obedience to thee Pardon, great 
 God ! I beseech thee, for Jesus Christ’s sake, all my 
 omissions and neglects, and my too often cold and dis- 
 tracted addresses to thee ; and grant, that I may pass 
 the rest of my life in an uninterrupted endeavor to 
 please thee, and in a continual return of thanks for 
 this, and for all those innumerable blessings, which 
 thou art never ceasing to bestow upon so undeserving 
 a wretch. 
 
 k See sections lix. Ixvi. Ixxxi. — E d. 
 
212 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS, [tlOW, 
 
 LIV. Assurance of eternal happiness, that sublimest 
 degree, that finishing stroke of human felicity in this 
 life, is that, which every soul pants after which makes 
 any serious reflections in matters of religion. It is, 
 therefore, necessary to know upon what foundation this 
 blessed state is built, and from what principles it arises. 
 And those, I think, it is plainly evident, are faith, love, 
 and obedience : since no man can have assurance, that 
 does not feel in himself the principle of obedience ; nor 
 can he have obedience, without the principle of love ; 
 nor love without the principle of faith. For it is a 
 notorious contradiction, to imagine, that any one can 
 be assured of God Almighty’s pardon, without obey- 
 ing Him ; of his favor, without loving Him ; or of the 
 eternal enjoyment of his goodness, without a firm and 
 steadfast belief in Him. But I am persuaded, that the 
 word faith is too frequently misunderstood, and taken 
 for a bare, careless, and faint assent, to any truth we 
 pretend to believe ; which notion is not only deceitful 
 and false, but pernicious and destructive. This, there- 
 fore, is what I mean by a firm belief in God ; when, 
 from intent meditation and mature reflection, the judg- 
 ment, reason, understanding, and all the faculties of the 
 soul, are overpowered with an irresistible conviction 
 of the necessary existence of such a Divine Being ; 
 who is also represented to the mind, as infinite in glory, 
 in power, in wisdom, in goodness, and in all perfection ; 
 with such charms, such beauty, such loveliness, as to 
 captivate and ravish the affections of the soul, and smite 
 it with a divine love. Such a love as may possess it with 
 an ardent desire after the enjoyment of him, with 
 diligent endeavors to please him, and with incessant 
 strivings to resemble him, and render itself amiable 
 and acceptable to him. Such a love, as may reign tri- 
 umphantly in the soul, engrossing all its affections, di- 
 vesting all other objects of their charms, nay, making 
 them appear vile and contemptible ; and delivering up 
 the absolute and entire dominion of the soul, to its great 
 and glorious Creator. Accept, great God, of such an 
 entire dominion over my soul, and be pleased to main- 
 tain it against all opposition and temptation whatsoever, 
 by thy infinite power, evermore 1 
 LV. The next thing necessary to be seriously and 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 213 
 
 impartially considered relating to faith, is what mea- 
 sures and degrees of it we have. For, since our eternal 
 happiness depends upon our being possessed of this 
 virtue, we cannot make too nice and diligent inquiries, 
 what proportion of it we feel in ourselves. And to 
 that end, we are to consider, whether there be any 
 thing that we fear, or love, more than God ; whether 
 his favor be the centre, to which all our aims, designs, 
 and desires tend : whether his displeasure is the evil 
 which we most carefully and solicitously strive to avoid ; 
 whether our chief study be, to know his divine will, 
 and* our constant labor, or rather delight, to perform 
 it ; whether any temptation, either of pleasure or gain, 
 be capable of moving us to do an ill action ; or whether 
 the fear of any loss or mischief, either to our persons 
 or estates, be capable of deterring us from perseverance 
 in good ones : for, if we value estate, reputation, or 
 life, more than we hate sin and vice, and would be in^ 
 duced to commit the latter, to save any of the former, 
 it is demonstrable, that we fear the loss of those things, 
 
 more than we foar Gon. And, if we. find oiirscives 
 
 capable of being tempted and allured, either by plea- 
 sure or profit, to do an unjust or vicious action, it is as 
 plain, that we love those things more than we love 
 Him ; and that the consideration of His favor and dis- 
 pleasure prevails upon us, then only, when nothing else 
 comes in competition with them. But, if we find that 
 we reject many things, which otherwise we should 
 choose ; that we despise many things, which otherwise 
 we should value ; that we refrain from many actions, 
 which otherwise we should have committed ; and da 
 many others, which else we should have avoided ; and 
 all this, only in regard to the favor or displeasure of 
 God, — it is evident that we are actuated by the influence 
 of a true and vigorous faith. Which grant, most gra- 
 cious God, to me thy poor unworthy servant, in the 
 most perfect manner of which my frail nature is capa- 
 ble ; pardoning in me all the defects of it hitherto, for 
 Jesus Christ’s sake ! 
 
 LVI. Duty and happiness are so closely linked toge- 
 ther, that the performance of the one, naturally draws 
 the other after it. For, as it is our duty gratefully to 
 adore the great God for all his blessings, and content’ 
 
314 DEVOtT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 edly to submit to all his dispensations ; so it is a plea- 
 sure to be grateful and contented : but he that is dis- 
 contented can never be grateful ; nor he that is con- 
 tented, miserable. Blessed be the most bountiful God, 
 who has annexed an unspeakable pleasure to faith and 
 virtue ; who has, in his infinite goodness, made those 
 things that are of the highest advantage to mankind, so 
 exceedingly delightful ! 
 
 LVIL Such is the weakness and imperfection of bare 
 human nature, supported only by its own force, that it is 
 capable of conducting us but rarely to truth ; though it 
 frequently I'eads us to innumerable errors. A remarka- 
 ble instance of this, is the opinion of that learned and 
 great philosopher, Aristotle, that the world and race of 
 man were eternal ; than which nothing was more inju- 
 diciously imagined ; nor was there ever a greater con- 
 tradiction advanced, nor more repugnant to common 
 sense. The falsity of the notion plainly appears from 
 this consideration, without recurring to revelation to 
 confute it : if there were an eternal succession of men, 
 We must, onr thoiigtits, trarp thic ©tornity np from one 
 
 man to another, till we arrive at that man who was the 
 first possessor of it ; since it is plain, from the nature of 
 succession, that there must have been a first ; and who- 
 soever that first was, w^ho was the possessor of eternal 
 life, we must necessarily conceive to be likewise pos- 
 sessed of eternal power ; and, being eternal without be- 
 ginning, he must infalliably continue eternal without 
 end ; which naturally leads us to the conception of a 
 being vastly different from man. So that this wild in- 
 coherent notion of the eternity of mankind, shows us 
 plainly how glimmering a light the clearest human rea- 
 son gives, and how much we stand in need of brighter 
 illuminations. But, though life in man has so short a 
 period, w^e cannot but conceive it to be somewhere eter- 
 nal. For, if we could possibly imagine a time when no 
 being had life, it is, I think, impossible to conceive how 
 any being could ever have begun to live. For it is evi- 
 dent, that life having annexed to it a measure of power, 
 must, consequently, be the work and product of power. 
 And, in supposing a lime when there was no such thing 
 as life, we suppose a time when there was no such thing as 
 power, since there can be no power without life. And, 
 
MOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 215 
 
 consequently, it were impossible that life could have had 
 any where a beginning: from whence it follows, that life, 
 in some one being, is eternal, and, from that inexhaustible 
 fountain, has been conveyed and bestowed to all creatures 
 that have ever possessed it. And that eternal fountain of 
 life is God : who is, also, the sole fountain of wisdom, of 
 power, of happiness, and of all goodness ; and who, out 
 of his infinite bounty, dispenses to all his creatures such 
 proportions of these several blessings as he thinks fit ; 
 each of them being totally and entirely comprehended 
 in his own blessed being ; whom my soul most humbly 
 adores, and to whom it desires faithfully to render all 
 honor, praise, and dutiful obedience, evermore. 
 
 LVIIL Man is of such a base and perverse disposi- 
 tion that he is seldom prevailed upon by mildness and 
 goodness ; but is restive and obstinate, like an untamed 
 horse, contending against the fixed methods of God’s 
 providence in the world. His mind seldom submits to 
 reason, but must be mastered and broken by rough 
 usage and affliction, till he is sensible of his own weak- 
 ness and inability to contend against almighty power. 
 Were man’s reason more strong, or his pride less pow- 
 erful, he would never be pushed on to so dangerous an 
 experiment. 
 
 LIX. There is no less necessity of the mind’s being 
 fixed and steady, in order to its right direction to the 
 subject of its consideration, than of the hand’s being 
 firm and unshaken, that it may surely hit the mark at 
 which it aims. For, when the mind is pointing at a 
 subject, if it has not firmness enough to keep itself fixed 
 upon it, every light thought or imagination is capable of 
 pushing it beside the mark, and making it lose its aim. 
 And, being thus unstable and uncertain, it is like a weak 
 bird in a strong tempest, that has neither force nor 
 weight sufficient to keep a direct course, but is carried 
 by the violence of the storm beside the place where it 
 endeavors to settle. In this condition is the mind, 
 when capable of being hurried from the subject of its 
 contemplation by every gust of passion. And, though 
 it has reason in view, it wants force to bear up to it, and 
 ballast sufficient to resist the fierce assaults of its unruly 
 affections, which keep it in a continual wavering course, 
 and hinder it from arriving at security and repose. 
 
216 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 The greatest concern, therefore, which a man has, is to 
 labor to gain such a steadiness of mind, such a method 
 of reasonable thinking, as may not be capable of any 
 interruption. And, when this is obtained, the next care * 
 must be, with the utmost diligence, to preserve the mind 
 in this happy state. And, to this end, we must not be 
 less watchful over innocent, than over vicious recrea- 
 tions ; and must take care that an undue eagerness in the 
 one does not amuse and lead us insensibly to the other. 
 For the thoughts being once unfixed, it is not so easy 
 a matter to settle them again ; and the affections being 
 by degrees disengaged from their true and proper ob- 
 jects, will be in danger of betaking themselves to false 
 and trifling ones : nay, it is well, being once upon the 
 wing, if they stop on this side folly and vice ; the first 
 step toward each of which, is a coolness and indiffer- 
 ence to wisdom and virtue. Now, such a case is not the 
 less deplorable, because innocent diversions were its oc- 
 casion : and, indeed, I doubt no diversions can properly 
 be called innocent, which have that fatal efiect. Be- 
 sides, by disuse the mind as well as the body contracts 
 sluggishness and impotence : so that, when it is brought 
 to exercise, and we endeavor to turn it to reasonable 
 thoughts, it appears that it has not only lost its vigor, 
 but its pleasure also ; since the pleasure of wisdom and 
 virtue, which are the result of right reason, depends upon 
 the vigorous impressions made by them upon the mind. 
 So that, it is impossible that a languid soul can ever be 
 a happy one, any more than a wavering soul, doubtfully 
 hovering between virtue and vice. I am but too sensi- 
 ble, how ill an effect idle and impertinent cares and 
 amusements, though very innocent ones, by some con- 
 tinuance and frequent repetitions, have upon the mind. 
 
 I had hopes when I began to build my house, that I was 
 pretty w^ell prepared against this danger ; being very 
 well aware of it, and, as carefully as I could, endeavor- 
 ing to prevent it. But I found, to my great dissatis- 
 faction and trouble, that those necessary cares and con- 
 trivances with which I was obliged to fill my head, were 
 so great a prejudice and incumbrance to my mind, that 
 I had neither liberty nor power, however zealous my 
 efforts, to penetrate far into those thoughts and reason- 
 ings, which I passionately desired, and after which I 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 217 
 
 often earnestly labored ; thoughts and reasonings, of 
 which I would rather be continually master, than of all 
 the houses and kingdoms upon earth. My soul was 
 clogged, and grown too heavy to soar above the reach 
 of low insipid conceptions ; its springs seemed relaxed, 
 and incapable of pushing it to vigorous imaginations ; 
 all its bright ideas were clouded ; it grieved and lan- 
 guished, to think from whence it was fallen ; and it 
 dreaded the misery of sinking yet lower. It mourned, 
 and was ashamed to stoop to those fairy delusions, those 
 shadows of pleasures, which the world affords, and 
 which it could not forbear to despise ; though it had not 
 force to reach its wonted joys, by bearing itself up to 
 lively meditations, full of love and adoration to its great 
 Creator. By this, my ever gracious God, thou hast 
 taught me, that thou being the only fountain of true joy 
 and felicity, every step I advance toward thee, the 
 nearer I approach my happiness ; and every degree I 
 depart from thee, the more I hasten toward my misery. 
 O be thou mercifully pleased to guard and protect my 
 faith, that neither the open force of the most violent 
 temptations may be able to shake it, nor the insinuating 
 allurements of innocent diversions,^ by gentle unsus- 
 pected impressions, to undermine it ; but keep me, per- 
 petually and firmly adhering to thee, constantly perse- 
 vering, to the last moments of my life, in all those 
 things which are pleasing and acceptable in thy siffht, 
 for Jesus Christ’s sake, my ever blessed Redeemer : 
 
 A peaceful life all other ways you ’ll miss ; 
 
 Through virtue lies the only path to bliss ! 
 
 LX. The first two things to be sought after, in order 
 to the acquiring of a settled calmness and undisturbed 
 pleasure of mind, are a constant and fervent love of the 
 adorable God, and a real and entire contempt of the 
 world. Now, the love of God will certainly dow from 
 a frequent and serious contemplation of his continual 
 and unspeakable goodness; as the contempt of the 
 world will undoubtedly ensue from a reasonable and 
 
 1 It was a favorite saying of the great Sir Matthew Hale, that 
 ^perimus liciiis f — ‘We perish by [the abuse of] things allowable.’ 
 —Ed. 
 
 19 
 
218 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 impartial consideration of its worthlessness. These I 
 look upon as the necessary foundation, upon which 
 alone may be built that noble, beautiful, and desirable 
 structure of an intrepid, virtuous, and peaceful mind : 
 the only valuable treasure upon earth ; and that alone, 
 of which we may be innocently covetous ; a dominion 
 more glorious, than all the empires of the world ; in the 
 pursuit after which alone, ambition is justifiable. O my 
 God, possess my soul with such an ardent love of thee, 
 so buoyant above all my other affections, that no one 
 may ever come in competition with it ; such a love, as 
 may not only subdue all other affections, but purify and 
 make them innocent ; such a love, as may create in my 
 soul a perpetual pleasure in the contemplation of thee, 
 and a continual thirst after thee, never to be quenched 
 but by the fullness of enjoyment; a love, which may 
 transport my soul with thy divine perfections, and paint 
 there such lively images, such bright ideas of thy glori- 
 ous majesty, that none of the trifling pleasures and 
 temptations of this world, may be able to make on it the 
 least impression. And as, my gracious Lord, thou hast 
 given me much, and forgiven me much, so raise my 
 love to a degree proportionable to thy bounty and 
 mercy !*" 
 
 LXI. Death is said to be the king of terrors. These 
 words I suppose are usually misunderstood ; they are 
 not, in Scripture, meant of a natural death, as it is only 
 the separation of soul and body, but must be understood 
 of damnation, that eternal death, which is, most pro- 
 perly, though not emphatically enough, if words were 
 to be found to heighten the expression, termed the king 
 of terrors, as being the eternal separation of the soul 
 from God — its everlasting exclusion from any portion of 
 felicity. And I think it is evident it ought to be taken 
 in this sense ; for a man who has either led a virtuous 
 or innocent life, or who, having done otherwise, truly 
 and sincerely repents, resolving upon a perfect and uni- 
 versal obedience to his God for the future ; who is con- 
 scious to himself of no wilful breach of his resolution, 
 
 ™ ‘ Semel ercro, breve prJEceptum tibi prsecipitur ; dilige, et ruod 
 VIS FAC. Radix sit intus dilectionis, non potest de ista radice nisi bo- 
 num existere.’— S. August, tom. iii. p. 875.— Ed. 
 
219 
 
 HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 but continually begs pardon for such failings and infirmi- 
 ties as he cannot either discover or avoid ; who unfeign- 
 edly abhors those follies and vanities, which he fancied 
 so much pleasure in before, placing his greatest delight 
 in love and obedience to God ; who looks upon his 
 being as made for another world, not for this ; and who 
 can, with the piercing eye of faith, cast frequent, though 
 imperfect glances thither, and make such discoveries of 
 the glories of heaven, as to inflame his soul with an earn- 
 est desire to enjoy them ; — such a one must needs be- 
 hold death with a wishing eye ; it will appear to him no 
 otherwise, than as that which opens the door to his li- 
 berty and happiness, and lets him into those joys for 
 which he has so greatly longed : he would behold death 
 approaching with the same pleasure that a man cast 
 upon a desert island would see a ship sailing to his 
 relief; he would run eagerly to the shore, and embark 
 with delight. 
 
 LXII. It is not amiss, in the matter of behefits re- 
 ceived, to consider how easily and almost naturally the 
 love of corrupt, ungrateful man, passes from the giver 
 to the gift, and, only glancing upon the former, fixes 
 itself on the latter. And this being remarkably notori- 
 ous in the case of benefits received from Almighty 
 God, it concerns us to consider well what we receive, 
 and how much we pay ; that we may know whether our 
 payments in love, duty, and adoration, bear any tolerable 
 proportion to what we owe, and what we have received, 
 in real benefits ; whether our love to God be pure and 
 sincere, or only mercenary and interested ; whether it 
 flows from those infinite perfections that render him 
 truly amiable, or proceeds only from our value of the 
 things which he bestows. If the last be the case, then, 
 to speak plainly, we must confess that we love God a 
 little, because he gives us those things which we love a 
 great deal ; and, I doubt, it may too often be added, 
 much better than himself. For, if our love of him be 
 grounded upon our love for the things which he gives 
 us, it is demonstrable that v/e loved those things not 
 only before, but better than him ; and that our love to 
 him was kindled, not by his own excellence, but by the 
 excellence we fancied in his gifts. Now, if those things 
 have no intrinsic value in them, nor have any just 
 
220 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 title to our affection, and yet rob God of it, to whom it 
 so justly belongs, I fear such a love can hardly be cleared 
 from being in some measure idolatrous. But there are 
 gifts that have a real value in themselves, such as faith, 
 wisdom, virtue, &c.; the love of these will increase our 
 love to God : in these, we need not fear loving the gift 
 more than the giver, since it is by the love of these 
 excellences only that we can arrive at the love of God ; 
 for faith gives us true notions and apprehensions of him; 
 wisdom leads us to the knowledge of him ; and virtue, 
 to the obedience of him. And the same may be shown 
 from every other grace or virtue. In loving truth, jus- 
 tice, bounty, &c., we actually love God ; for these vir- 
 tues are a part of his essence, and inseparable from it, 
 not belonging properly to any other, but exclusively 
 his own: no portion or degree of any of them reside in 
 any other being, otherwise than by a gracious communi- 
 cation of them by God, from their several originals re- 
 maining entire and complete in himself. From whom 
 I humbly beg continual supplies, and increase of all 
 graces and virtues, through his infinite bounty and 
 compassion. 
 
 LXIII. Pleasure results from an impetuous motion 
 of the united affections in the prosecution, expectation, 
 or enjoyment of some good, or at least, of what we take 
 to be *such. But even in sensual pleasures, it is more 
 in the expectation than in the enjoyment. For the 
 share which the body has in pleasure is very inconsi- 
 derable, the much greater part, either of pleasure or 
 pain, being lodged in the mind, and felt there ; though 
 the body is capable of a greater and more lasting per- 
 ception of pain thaji it is of pleasure. Now, to be sen- 
 sible of this truth, we have but to consider some one of 
 the most sensual pleasures, that of gluttony, for instance ; 
 and it is the same of all the rest. This, at first, may 
 appear to be entirely the enjoyment of the body, though 
 that bears a very small share in it ; for it lasts no longer 
 than the meat is going down, and tasted upon the 
 palate. The chief of this pleasure is in the fancy and 
 imagination; in the earnest longings after it, and ex- 
 pectation of it, before it is really tasted ; so that the 
 participation of any sensual pleasure is, properly, rather 
 the cessation of pleasure than the enjoyment of it ; since 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 221 
 
 enjoyment extinguishes that principal part of pleasure 
 which was tasted in the mind, by the help of fancy and 
 imagination. 
 
 LXIV. A great part of wisdom consists in knowing 
 how to make a right estimate of things. For our affec- 
 tion and aversion always attend upon our esteem and 
 disesteem ; and if these be built upon a false foundation, 
 the affection and aversion will be fixed upon wrong 
 objects. So that we shall either love what we ought to 
 hate, and hate what we ought to love ; or at least, our 
 love and hatred will exceed their due bounds, with re- 
 spect to the value of the different objects upon which 
 they are placed. Happiness and misery are things, 
 the one of which is most earnestly coveted, the other 
 most carefully avoided, by all mankind. But how can 
 a man with any judgment set himself to procure happi- 
 ness and escape misery, unless he has first the know- 
 ledge of those good and evil things which conduce 
 severally to them ; for we must call every thing good 
 that contributes to our happiness, and every thing 
 evil that procures our misery. Ignorance and mistake 
 are fatal, in the choice of good and evil ; wherefore, it 
 behoves every man to be able to discern between the 
 one and the other, no less than it behoves a physician 
 to distinguish wholesome herbs from poisonous plants; 
 lest, where he designs a remedy, he should administer 
 destruction. If men are ignorant what are the ingre- 
 dients that enter into the composition of happiness 
 and misery, or if they are mistaken in the choice of 
 those ingredients, they will be wretched enough to 
 choose the contrary of what they seek after. Is it rea- 
 sonable to imagine, that care and skill are necessary for 
 the acquisition of every trifle upon which we ignorantly 
 set a value ; as riches, and honor, and all those sciences, 
 by the means of which we hope to reach any of these 
 attainments ; and yet, that true and substantial happi- 
 ness, which is the perfection of our being, comes by 
 chance, without being sought after ? Can man be vain 
 enough to imagine that the mind can be furnished with 
 just and true notions, without ever taking the pains to 
 think ; with lofty and generous conceptions, without giv- 
 ing itself the trouble to meditate and reflect ? That it 
 can, to the utmost of its power, fathom the depths of the 
 
222 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 knowledge of God and itself, without an unwearied 
 diligence and constant application ? And finally, that, 
 having by such means ascended to a high degree of 
 felicity, it can be able to maintain its station, without 
 industry and assiduity ? 
 
 LXV. We are not only miserable enough to be go- 
 verned by our passions, but foolish enough to repine and 
 murmur, that God Almighty will not submit to be go- 
 verned by them too. This is the cause of our so frequent 
 quarrels at his pleasure, in ordering and disposing the 
 affairs of the world ; and of our uneasiness, in vainly 
 contending with his unchangeable decrees, which are 
 unchangeable therefore, only because they are the result 
 of His infinite unerring wisdom ; all whose determina- 
 tions, as they are best in themselves, so, doubtless, are 
 they the most beneficial to his poor creatures. What 
 we want, is simply confidence enough to rely entirely 
 on His mercy ; this is the one ground of reliance, which 
 will never disappoint us. 
 
 LXVI. How many irretrievable inconveniences do 
 ipen fall into, purely from the fickleness and continual 
 mutability of their dispositions. It were good, there- 
 fore, thoroughly to understand ourselves, in order to 
 prevent the miseries accruing from this cause. We 
 think, perhaps, this instant, that such a thing would 
 please lis, and make us happy ; accordingly we apply 
 our utmost diligence, sparing no pains to procure it : and 
 it is ten to one, by that time we have it, our humor is 
 altered, our labor lost, and all our expectations of hap- 
 piness frustrated. Then our inconstant fancy pitches 
 upon some other object, persuading us it is that which 
 will give us content ; this also obtained, from the same 
 cause disappoints us as much as the former ; and not 
 pleasing us, the consequence is,, that we grow weary and 
 disgusted ; and it is well, if we have it in our power conve- 
 niently to get rid of it, when we think fit : for a thousand 
 instances may be given, of cases where a mistake in the 
 satisfaction which we propose to ourselves, proves vastly 
 prejudicial, and often causes the misery of our whole lives. 
 How frequently are young people ruined, and elder ones 
 unfortunate, upon this very account ? Imagining that 
 the warmth of their present temper will continue, and 
 procure them satisfaction, in despite of all the inconve- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 223 
 
 niences which may attend its gratification. But that ea- 
 gerness unexpectedly relaxes, they are left in the lurch, 
 defrauded of their happiness, and loaded with vexation. 
 Thus, unhappy man turns restlessly from one thing to 
 another, hoping by change to find relief ; and never re- 
 flects that the desire of change is his disease ; that his 
 disquiets will never cease, till he has unalterably fixed 
 upon the objects of his pleasure ; and till, having brought 
 his mind to like and love only what is fit and reasonable, 
 he keeps it firm and constant in the approbation of these 
 things. When the vagrancy of humor and fancy is set- 
 tled, a man has but to choose, for once, his pleasures, 
 and, so far as the nature of human things will permit, he 
 is assured to have them permanent. I myself was in 
 great danger of making a scurvy experiment of what I 
 have been saying ; and had not my mind, by my ever 
 good God’s assistance, taken a pretty strong bent before- 
 hand, toward the satisfaction which I had previously 
 fixed upon, it would have run the hazard of declining 
 from it ; for the ideas which it had conceived began to 
 wear away, for want of renewing the impressions by in- 
 tent meditation and frequent reasonings ; and from these 
 I was in a great measure precluded, by an incessant hurry, 
 for six or seven months together, of trivial employments, 
 in conversing with workmen, and contriving for build- 
 ing. Thence, I found it no easy matter, to bring my 
 mind up to its former station ; and it considerably lost 
 ground, notwithstanding my continual endeavors to keep 
 it immoveable in those principles, in which I had resolved 
 to persevere to my life’s end : for though, I thank God, 
 I found no inclination to be vicious, yet the ardor of my 
 virtue, and consequently the pleasure I received from it, 
 were extremely abated. And, though I still retained an 
 abhorrence to vice, yet my indignation at it was much 
 slackened : so that virtue did not seem to have alto- 
 gether so charming, nor vice so deformed, an aspect as 
 they used formerly to appear in : and the passions, 
 which I hoped had been pretty jvell overcome, began to 
 strive and struggle for mastery again. Now, had they 
 prevailed, the house which I was building for a comfort- 
 able retreat from the world, where I designed to spend 
 my days in the service and adoration of my most mer- 
 ciful God, and in studying to cultivate my mind, and to 
 
224 
 
 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 [how. 
 
 improve it in all virtue, and to render it less unworthy 
 of his favor, — would have seemed to me a melancholy 
 habitation. And, after all my charge and pains in build- 
 ing it, I should have grown weary of a solitary life ; for 
 solitariness without virtue, is an unsupportable burthen. 
 And I should probably have left my retreat, to have 
 played the fool somewhere else. But, blessed be my 
 gracious God who has averted, and I trust in his infi- 
 nite mercy ever will avert, from me, so fatal a mischief! 
 O let me never stray from thee, nor shrink, in the least, 
 from my resolutions of an entire obedience to thee. 
 Hold thou me up, that I may never fall ; and, in thy glo- 
 rious light, let me evermore see light. Leave me not to 
 my own vain imaginations, the greatest curse that can 
 befal wretched man. 
 
 LXVII. As a reasonable, well-grounded faith is the 
 highest perfection, and supreme felicity, of human na- 
 ture, in this imperfect state, so, an unreasonable and ob- 
 stinate belief, is most destructive in its consequences to 
 salvation. He is as sure to miss the mark at which he 
 aims, who over-shoots it, as he that shoots below’ it; 
 and, perhaps, he is not less likely to fail of salvation, 
 who over-believes, than he who believes too little, or 
 does not believe at all ; for, though it is absolutely ne- 
 cessary to believe that Jesus Christ came into the 
 world to be the Saviour of mankind, and that it is through 
 his merits, propitiation, and intercession alone, that we 
 can reasonably hope to be saved, — yet, if we think that 
 he has so absolutely purchased salvation for us, as to 
 disengage us from the obligation of our utmost obedience, 
 and to release us from laboring and striving diligently, 
 according to the utmost extent of onr power, to serve and 
 please the great God, to imitate his perfections, to exter- 
 minate, as far as possible, all sin and impurity out of our 
 souls, and to be always renewing in them the almost 
 worn-out traces of his glorious image, — he that has such 
 an unreasonable, preposterous faith, I doubt, will find 
 himself as much wide of the mark in the affair of his 
 salvation, as he that believes nothing relating to it. Such 
 an unlimited mercy were rather to render us libertines, 
 than make us free ; it were to suppose that the infinitely 
 
 » Mr. How cannot here be defended, from a sort of classical pan,— Ed. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 225 
 
 pure God had purchased and given a liberty to those 
 whom he has pleased to love and favor, of being as im- 
 pure and vicious as they thought fit ; which is the most 
 notorious contradiction imaginable ; since no reasonable 
 man can conceive, that a being of an essence perfectly 
 pure, can delight in perverse, polluted creatures, of a 
 nature entirely opposite to his own. Yet, after all, we 
 must not pretend a title to the favor of God, from any 
 virtue or purity of which we are capable ; but having, 
 to the' utmost we are able, performed our duty, we must 
 cast ourselves wholly upon his mercy, through the me- 
 rits and intercession of Jesus Christ our Saviour. F or, 
 it were a rash presumption to think that such a crea- 
 ture as man is, were capable of doing or being any 
 thing, that could merit from the Deity ; who bestows all 
 things upon his indigent creatures, but who neither 
 needs, nor can receive, any thing from them ; who ac- 
 cepts, indeed, our most imperfect praises and adoration, 
 not flowing from ourselves, but from the influence and 
 inspiration ofhis blessed Spirit in us, who is the author of 
 all our virtue, and by whose power alone it is, that we are 
 able to forego any vice. How, then, can frail man merit 
 aught of his Creator, who has nothing of his own to be- 
 stow upon Him ? Who, with all his pride and arrogance, 
 is likewise so impotent as not to be able to give himself 
 the life of the poorest insect, nor so much as to retain 
 his expiring breath one moment ; how much less, then, 
 has he power to assume and lead a virtuous life? such 
 a life, as makes some approaches toward that of angels ; 
 which nevertheless, not being the result of man’s wisdom 
 or ability, can claim no title to merit ? If the seed sown 
 produce a pleasant harvest, it is to the sower the praise 
 belongs. And whatsoever virtues, from the divine in- 
 fluence, spring up in the soul, to the bountiful God alone 
 the honor is due. 
 
 LXVHI. Neither vicious nor innocent pleasures, 
 which are communicated by the bodily senses, can ever 
 give satisfaction to a rational man ; who, by a clearer 
 reason, discovering their vanity and insufficiency, will 
 not unprofitably waste his desires and affections upon 
 them. But the pleasures of virtue, which are conveyed 
 to the mind by thought and reflection, come attended 
 with a delightful force, which convinces the reason of 
 
226 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 every wise man : so that his soul may freely, without 
 check or restraint, devote itself to their enjoyment. 
 
 LXIX. Though it is impossible to describe all the 
 delusions which wild passions impose upon mankind, 
 the two following may justly be reckoned amongst the 
 greatest ; and are, indeed, the pillars upon which error, 
 vice, and ignorance, are erected, and by which they are 
 supported. The first is, man’s conceptions of eternity 
 are slight and superficial : he is as though he had neither 
 share nor concern in it ; his imagination is filled and 
 loaded with the enjoyments of time, as though it were 
 his own unalterable and unalienable possession. The 
 second, and no less mischievous delusion, is, that man’s 
 thoughts and notions of the Deity are low, mean, and 
 unworthy of that most glorious Being : while his mind 
 is fraught with great and lofty ideas of his own suffi- 
 ciency and excellence, very unsuitable to so impotent and 
 helpless a creature. Were these two gross mistakes 
 rectified, man would soon grow better acquainted with 
 himself ; would lead^ life becoming a reasonable crea- 
 ture ; and would have a more true and intimate know- 
 ledge of God, in comparison with which, all the things 
 we see, or can conceive, are of no value. 
 
 XXX. This day® puts me in mind of the great per- 
 plexity and uneasiness which I have perceived in many 
 people, occasioned by the superstitious impressions 
 made upon their minds, by the tales of weak and igno- 
 rant people in their infancy. A period, when the ten- 
 der mind is most apt to receive the impressions of error 
 and vice, as well as those of truth and virtue ; and, 
 having once received either the one or the other, is likely 
 to retain them as long as it subsists in the body. How 
 charitable a care is it, therefore, and how much the duty of 
 every parent whom it has pleased God to bless with a right 
 understanding, to endeavor to transmit that understand- 
 ing, with what improvement he can, to his children ! 
 To have, at least, as much care of them, as a gardener 
 has of a nice delicate plant that he values ; when he 
 diligently shelters and defends it, from the pernicious 
 assaults of storms and tempests, and blasting winds, till 
 a milder season and warmer sun put it out of danger ! 
 
 ChildermuS'day, 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 227 
 
 With no less industry ought a kind parent to guard the 
 tender mind of his child from the hurtful notions, and 
 superstitious conceits, of foolish, ignorant people ; who, 
 by senseless, impertinent tales, begin to plant errors and 
 vice in the innocent soul, even from the cradle. It is 
 in the nursery where ignorantly deluded, and deluding 
 wretches, first sow those tares in the child, which it is 
 ten to one whether the grown-up man is afterward ever 
 able to root out. There every simple creature, if not 
 prevented, will be blotting the yet clear and unspotted 
 soul, and sullying it with false lines, and foul characters ; 
 besmearing it, after their awkward manner, with horrid 
 images of frightful sprites and hobgoblins, and painting 
 upon it a thousand monstrous and terrific shapes of 
 death, to make their future life miserably wretched. 
 Thus, with a barbarous folly, they create, betimes, the 
 most abhorring aversion in the mind, to that which 
 Providence has ordained ; and, with a detestable im- 
 piety, sow in it the seeds of reluctance and contradic- 
 tion to the wisdom, will, and unalterable decrees of the 
 Almighty. So that, when wiser people come to try 
 their skill, they find their unhappy soul so bedaubed 
 with those odious, hideous figures, that there is little 
 room left for fairer and better impressions. Here is 
 laid the groundwork of an erroneous judgment, and 
 wrong understanding ; and, amongst other mischiefs 
 that have here their beginning, are those very grievous 
 ones, of a timorous and superstitious spirit, apt to give 
 credit to the luckiness or unluckiness of certain days, / 
 and to a thousand ominous whimsies and conceits ; 
 which, as they are the unhappy offspring of weakness 
 and ignorance, so are they the never enough to be de- 
 tested parents of grief and misery, to those who are 
 weak and wretched enough to be deluded by them. All 
 these deplorable follies proceed from wrong and un-^ 
 worthy apprehensions of God’s providence, in his care 
 of man, and government of the world. For no reason- 
 able creature can ever imagine, that the all-wise God 
 should inspire owls and ravens to hoot out the elegies 
 of dying men ; that he should have ordained a fatality 
 in number, and inflicted punishment without an offence ; 
 and that, the being one amongst the fatal number at a 
 table, should, though contrary to no command, be a 
 
228 PEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 crime not to be expiated, but by death ! That even 
 spiders and candles should have a foreknowledge of 
 man’s destiny: that certain days are unlucky, as if the 
 good and virtuous were not, at all times, in all places, ( 
 and in all numbers too, assured of the protection of the ’ 
 infinitely merciful God. These are such horrid con- 
 ceits, so void of reason, and so full of impious folly, 
 that those people can neither have right notions of him, 
 nor trust, nor faith in him, that give credit to them. I 
 might have added amongst the nursery-accomplish- 
 ments, that the passions are generally nourished there, 
 as carefully as the child ; and it is well, if the indulgent 
 mother, as well as others in the family that should have 
 more wit, do not think pride and ambition admirable 
 ingredients in a genteel and virtuous education. Thus 
 folly, like gunpowder, runs in a train from one genera- 
 tion to another, preserved and conveyed by the perpe- 
 tual tradition of tattling gossips. 
 
 LXXI. Though, as I have formerly said, man, who 
 has no goodness or virtue originally in his own power, 
 can merit nothing from that Being to whom all power 
 belongs, yet he ought so to live, and so to act, as if the 
 highest pitch of human virtue were scarcely, or at most 
 but just sufficient, to procure the eternal favor of God ; the 
 consequence of which, to those on whom it is bestowed, 
 is no less than eternal felicity. 
 
 LXXII. The affections of the soul of man, being 
 encumbered with as many distractions as there are 
 objects to excite and engage them, what measure of 
 proportion, O most gracious God, can the gratitude of 
 so frail and imperfect a creature, bear to the obligations 
 ever flowing upon him from thy unlimited bounty ! If 
 every minute of time comes from thee loaded with 
 blessings, what an unaccountable sum must the year 
 produce ? And, if the blessings of a year surpass our 
 account, how must we be confounded and lost in the 
 reckoning of our whole lives ? And should we, by the 
 same method, most merciful God, strive to number our 
 sins and offences, we should find it a task equally im- 
 possible with that of numbering thy mercies : accept, 
 therefore, I most humbly beseech thee, the imperfect 
 thanks and adoration of my soul, and continually aug- 
 ment its power and capacity more perfectly to render 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 229 
 
 them both to Thee. Accept, likewise, of its unfeigned 
 sorrow for all my sins and offences, and continually 
 diminish in it the force of corruption, and all tendency 
 and inclination to vice and disobedience. And, as thou 
 renewest thy blessings with the year, to me and my 
 dear child, so I beg thou wilt be pleased to make us 
 both clean hearts, and to renew also right spirits within 
 us ; that we may most gratefully, obediently, and ac- 
 ceptably, serve thee all the days of our lives, for Jesus 
 Christ’s sake, our gracious Lord and Saviour. 
 
 LXXIII. Man’s excessive love of the world, and 
 want of love to the great Creator, is, I may affirm, the 
 cause of nine parts in ten of the vexations and uneasi- 
 nesses of this life. Nor must he depend, for a remedy, 
 upon the force of his reason ; which, without assistance, 
 is too weak to subdue the fierce and obstinate passions 
 that it has to encounter. Now, the passions, though 
 they suffer a small defeat, can immediately levy new 
 recruits, and return to the attack with fresh vigor ; 
 while reason, having no such supplies, must needs at 
 length be overcome. Those ever-multiplying hydra’s 
 heads are not to be lopped off, by so weak an arm ; and it 
 were but inconsiderate rashness to attempt the labor of 
 a Hercules, without the strength of a Hercules. Nor 
 can so difficult a work be successfully undertaken, 
 otherwise than by the help of that divine irresistible 
 power, which is communicated to man by faith; a 
 power sufficient to make him more than conqueror. 
 But, of all the mistakes which men continually make, 
 there are, perhaps, none more frequent, and I am sure, 
 none more dangerous, than those concerning faith ; a 
 treasure, with the possession of which they are too apt 
 to flatter themselves ; though, when it is requisite to 
 be employed, it were well if they did not too often find 
 themselves deceived. This one instance I think is suf- 
 ficient to demonstrate this matter : no man will walk 
 upon the brink of a precipice, where he is assured that 
 every slip is attended with death ; nay, few care to ap- 
 proach even within a moderate distance where they 
 might stand secure enough ; because their fear, in 
 that case, always represents to them the danger much 
 greater and nearer than it really is. Now, if men be- 
 lieved the eternal displeasure of God to be as great a 
 20 
 
230 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW, 
 
 mischief as the precipice, they would undoubtedly dread 
 it as much, and as carefully avoid it. But we see many 
 men, who think they have faith, or at least who would 
 be thought to have it, not only walking continually upon 
 the outwardmost borders of innocence, but frequently 
 stumbling, and falling far within those of vice ; without 
 greatly concerning themselves to prevent such slips for 
 the future. Thus, in the case of temporal evil, it is 
 evident, that the firm belief of the danger will not suf- 
 fer men to approach it so remotely even as where no 
 danger is ; but, in the case of spiritual evil, their want 
 of faith leads them confidently, into situations where it 
 is impossible for them to escape.p So much can fear, 
 in base degenerate man, prevail beyond reason ! So 
 weak is reason, without the strength of faith ! O, my 
 gracious God, grant me that inestimable treasure, by 
 which my life may be furnished with all virtues that 
 may rendfer it pleasing in thy sight, for Jesus Christ’s 
 sake ! 
 
 LXXIV. Fancy is a weather-cock, that turns with 
 every blast of the opinion and applause of the incon- 
 stant, unthinking world. Whatever point it stands at 
 at this moment, the next, perhaps, it shall be hurried to 
 that which is directly opposite. And he that steers his 
 life by this compass, will be sure to make a very uncer- 
 tain and vexatious voyage. Instead of ever arriving 
 at the haven of tranquillity and enjoyment, he will be 
 forced upon the rocks of delusion and disappointment, 
 where he will be wretchedly entertained, with repent- 
 ance and despair. 
 
 LXXV. Religion is a thing much talked of, but little 
 understood ; much pretended to, but very little prac- 
 tised ; and the reason why it is so ill practised, is be-, 
 cause it is not better understood. Knowledge, there- 1 
 fore, must precede religion ; since it.is necessary to be' 
 wise in order to be virtuous. It must be known to 
 whom, and upon what account duty is owing, otherwise 
 
 p ‘ The point between lawful pleasures and vice, is like a boundary 
 between two kingdoms at war with each other. It is, therefore, most 
 prudent, weak and defenceless as we are, not to venture to the very 
 edge of our own side, but leave some space between, lest an insidious 
 enemy surprise and take us captive, unawares.’ — Dr. Towson’s Works^ 
 vol ii. p. 223. — Ed. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 231 
 
 it can never be rightly paid. It must therefore be con- 
 sidered, that God is the object of all religion, and that 
 the soul is the subject wherein it exists and resides. 
 From the soul it must proceed, and to God it must be 
 directed ; as to that Almighty Being, whose power 
 alone could create a rational soul, and whose goodness 
 only could move him to make it capable of an eternal 
 felicity. This infinite bounty of God has laid a per- 
 petual obligation upon the soul, to a constant love, 
 obedience, and adoration of Him ; and to an undoubt- 
 ing assurance, that the same power and goodness which 
 created man, will, if he perseveres in the sincere per- 
 formance of his duty, for ever preserve and protect 
 him. The body, therefore, can have no other share in 
 religion, than by its gestures to represent and discover 
 the bent and inclination of the mind. Which repre- 
 sentations, also, are but too often false and treacherous, 
 deluding those that behold them into the opinion of a 
 saint, but truly discovering a notorious hypocrite to 
 God ; who sees the vast distance between real inten- 
 tions, and deceptive pretences. People are as much 
 deceived themselves as they deceive others, who think 
 to use religion as they do their best clothes ; only wear- 
 ing it at church on a Sunday, to appear fine, and make 
 a show, and as soon as they come home again, laying 
 it aside carefully for fear of wearing it out : but religion 
 is good for nothing, that is made of so slight a stuff as 
 will not endure wearing ; which ought, in truth, to be 
 as constant a covering to the soul, as the skin is to the 
 body ; division being the ruin of both. Nor must it be 
 thought that religion consists only in the bending of 
 the knees, which is a fitting posture of humility, but in 
 the fervent and humble adoration of the soul ; nor in 
 the lifting up of the hancTs and eyes, but in the warmth 
 of the affection. Outward gestures and decent be- 
 havior are things very fit and reasonable, being all 
 that the body can pay ; but inward sincerity alone, can 
 render them both acceptable. Much less, does religion 
 consist in dismal looks and sour faces ; which only 
 show, that it is very unpalatable to those who make 
 them ; and it seems to me, as if they were swallowing 
 something that went grievously against their stomachs. 
 It is likewise to be considered, that the frequency and 
 
232 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW, 
 
 fervency, not the length of prayer, give it acceptance ; 
 that one petition, from a well-disposed mind, rightly 
 addressed to God, is more efficacious than ten sermons 
 carelessly heard, and more carelessly practised. But 
 hearing being a much easier duty than praying, because 
 it can often change into sleeping, is therefore so much 
 preferred to it by a great many people.: but if, in the 
 end, their profound ignorance will not excuse them, I 
 am sure their stupid obstinacy never will. But, in 
 order to praying rightly, so many virtues are required, 
 that people think, perhaps, it would take up too much 
 time and pains to acquire them: and they are much in 
 the right, if they think their prayers will be insignifi- 
 cant without virtue, and that an ill man can never pray 
 W'ell, and to purpose; for the stream Will always par- 
 take of the fountain : and, if the mind, which is the 
 fountain of all our addresses to God, be vicious and 
 impure, the prayers which proceed from it, must needs 
 be sullied with the same pollutions. But, on the con- 
 trary, if the mind be once made virtuous, all that pro- 
 ceeds from it will be pleasing and accepted. And as 
 to dejected looks, and a sorrowful countenance, they 
 are nowise graceful in religion ; which is so far from 
 being a melancholy thing, that it can never appear dis- 
 pleasing, or tiresome, to a mind where wisdom and 
 virtue do not first seem troublesome ; for wisdom, in- 
 structing the soul to act reasonably, instructs it, like- 
 wise, to serve and obey God readily and cheerfully. 
 And, to a wise man, that which appears reasonable will 
 always appear delightful ; and religion is that very same 
 reason and wisdom, whose ways are ways of pleasant- 
 ness, and all whose paths are peace. 
 
 LXXVI. The peace of God being what we often 
 pray for, and earnestly desire, ought, so far as possible, 
 to be understood, in order to be more earnestly coveted, 
 and surely possessed. For that in which it is said to 
 pass all understanding, is the invaluable advantage and 
 delight with which it is constantly attended, and not 
 that it is so unintelligible a thing as not possibly to be 
 apprehended by us ; since that which in a great degree 
 we are capable of feeling, we are certainly in some 
 measure capable of understanding. This blessing is 
 prayed for, that we may have the unspeakable comfort 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 233 
 
 of feeling it ; and indeed, there is no understanding it 
 but by feeling it. But though we may comprehend 
 enough of its value to make it infinitely desirable, yet 
 the utmost extent of it as far surpasses our understand- 
 ing as the blessings which precede and follow it ; which 
 are the favor of God, and the inconceivable bliss that 
 accompanies the eternal enjoyment of him. Therefore, 
 I will never cease my endeavors to know as much, nor 
 my petitions to thee, my gracious God, to make me feel 
 as much of this blessed peace of thine, — a peace which 
 all the power, wealth, and glory of this world, can never 
 give, — as thou, of thy infinitely tender mercy, shalt 
 think fit to bestow upon me. It is natural that the 
 word peace should put us in mind of its contrary, war ; 
 since peace arises from the conclusion of war, and from 
 the cessation of strife and combat ; and tJiat there is a 
 contest in the soul of man, between reason and passion, 
 wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, is too evident to need 
 proof. And it is as plain, that wheresoever there is 
 strife and contention, there must be trouble and dis- 
 order: therefore, the agitated mind must needs be per- 
 plexed and restless so long as this intestine war con- 
 tinues, and till there be a complete victory gained on 
 one side or other. If vice and passion absolutely prevail, 
 the contest indeed will be at an end, but it will be a 
 wretched termination ; and such a peace only will ensue, 
 as will suffer those outrageous enemies to tyrannize 
 without opposition or control ; a peace fatal to the soul, 
 debarring it from any future hopes of liberty or happi- 
 ness. But, if it please the all-merciful, as well as all- 
 powerful God, to succor man’s weak reason and virtue, 
 engaged in this doubtful and dangerous conflict, and so 
 to illuminate the one, and strengthen the other, as to give 
 them an entire victory, — then he crowns the transported 
 soul with his divine peace ; the joy and comfort of 
 which as much surpass all expression, as its infinite 
 benefit and blessing surpass all understanding; which 
 peace, most gracious God, grant evermore, I beseech 
 thee, to thy poor un'tVorthy servant, for Jesus Christ’s 
 sake. Amen. 
 
 LXXVII. Imperfection is an argument that there is 
 such a thing as perfection ; and the experience of so 
 many things imperfect, plainly leads us to a certainty 
 20 ^ 
 
234 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 of Others that are perfect. For, one contrary is an 
 argument of another opposite to it, as cold of heat, 
 darkness of light, death of life, and so of innumerable 
 others ; the former, in all these cases, being the priva- 
 tion of the latter, and, therefore, an evident demonstra- 
 tion of them. The world were a prodigious heap of 
 imperfection, if it could be conceived to be independent, 
 and to bear no relation to any thing but itself; and 
 man is the most unfinished and imperfect of all its 
 animals ; who seems to have a capacity only of aiming 
 at and pretending to power and wisdom, without any 
 ability of attaining to either ; whose greatest advantage 
 is, from his own manifest insufficiency and imperfection, 
 to raise to himself a most convincing argument of the 
 union of all those virtues and perfections in the Deity, 
 of which he himself possesses little more than confused 
 notions and faint conceptions : and thus, from his own 
 clouds and darkness, he may reason himself into an 
 assurance of the existence of that blessed and unclouded 
 light. Since man, therefore, finds in himself such a 
 deficiency of power and wisdom, he must needs perceive 
 how unfit and unable he is to be his own governor ; 
 being assaulted from without by unhappy accidents 
 which he cannot prevent, and from within by vexations 
 and perturbations of mind which he is not able to 
 redress ; and by consequence he must be conscious, that 
 his corrupted will and depraved affections have much 
 less any title to be his rulers. Why, then, does he not 
 betake himself to consider what is the will and pleasure 
 of that transcendent Being, whom superior power and 
 excellence, by an unquestionable right, have constituted 
 his lord and governor ; bending the utmost of his endea- 
 vors, and dedicating his whole life to the fulfilment and 
 performance of God’s holy will ? As, by thy grace and 
 mercy, most merciful Creator, which, in all humility, I 
 implore of thee, it is my full purpose and design to do. 
 
 LXXVIII. The great preference frequently given to 
 sermons above prayer, makes me desirous to consider 
 that matter, in order to a true discovery to which of 
 them the preference is justly due, and what the real 
 value of ftach of them is. 
 
 Sermons serve for these two purposes : to teach their 
 duty to those who are ignorant of it, and to put those 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 235 
 
 in mind of their duty who are neglectful of it ; showing 
 the first sort how to perform it, and persuading the 
 latter effectually to put it in practice. In both which 
 things sermons contribute to salvation no otherwise than 
 he who shows a traveller his right way, and advises him 
 to keep in it, contributes to his reaching his journey’s 
 end. For, if the traveller shall rest satisfied in the bare 
 advice and instruction which he has received, and pro- 
 .ceed no further, he is never likely to reach the place of 
 his original designation ; since it is not to be supposed 
 that he who directs him, is to carry him thither upon his 
 back. It is just the same case in hearing sermons. The 
 minister’s business is no more than to teach us how to 
 be saved ; our own piety and virtue must carry us to 
 heaven. This is the use of sermons, and a very great 
 and necessary use it is ; and yet a man may be damned, 
 notwithstanding all the good instructions that enter in 
 at his ears, unless they make a right impression on 
 his heart. But it cannot be imagined that the same 
 thing will serve for all purposes. The ear is made for 
 one use, and the heart for another ; the one is the con- 
 duit of instruction, the other the seat of wisdom. So 
 the mouth is very useful in receiving food for the body, 
 but it is the stomach that must digest and prepare it for 
 strength and nourishment. Thus it sufficiently appears 
 what the use of sermons is. 
 
 The use of prayer is now to be considered. And 
 first, it must be known, that the affections of the soul 
 have something that corresponds and sympathizes with 
 them in the body, by which they usually discover them- 
 selves ; as grief in the soul appears by the weeping of 
 the eyes, and joy displays itself in a gay and cheerful 
 countenance. And so in our several duties' to God, 
 according as the soul i,s affected from the same causes, 
 it will certainly make the same outward discoveries. If 
 it be oppressed with trouble, or has a lively sense of its 
 wants and imperfections, it will oblige the tongue to 
 utter them, seeking redress in humble petitions. If it 
 abounds with gratitude, the lips will not be able to re- 
 frain their thanks, or to withhold their praises and ado- 
 rations, when the soul is inflamed with love. Thus 
 prayer is the language of the soul, whereby it expresses 
 its several conditions and affections to the Almighty 
 
236 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 God, between whom and it, by this means, a constant 
 correspondence is held. By prayer the soul explains 
 and unfolds itself to God, and, by the virtue of prayer, 
 draws down continual benefits and blessings from liea- 
 ven, asking being made the condition of receiving. And 
 it is a folly for any one to expect favors that he will not 
 take the pains to ask for. 
 
 And thus the advantages of those different but neces- 
 sary duties are discovered. Sermons hold the light for 
 the direction of prayer; the former being the instruments 
 of instruction, the latter the instrument of salvation. 
 Nay, I might add, that were all people as wise and as 
 virtuous as they ought to be, and could continue so, 
 there would be no need at all of sermons since there 
 would be no occasion for teaching or persuading ; the 
 former relating only to the ignorant, and the latter to 
 the obstinate and vicious. Insomuch, that as folly, 
 weakness, and vice, have alone made sermons neces- 
 sary, so nothing but such a perfection in wisdom and 
 virtue, as the frailty of human nature will hardly admit 
 of, can ever render them useless. But the obligation to 
 prayer is that which nothing can ever cancel or dis- 
 charge ; for the more perfect wisdom and virtue grow, 
 the more vehement and incessant will they render 
 prayer, which can never cease so long as there remains 
 any spark of the love of God in the soul, or any sense 
 of his bounty and benefits. Could prayer have an end, 
 the pleasure of the soul must end with it; since the 
 smothering of strong affections causes as great an un- 
 easiness in the mind as the venting of them gives relief, 
 and consequently delight. Wherefore, so long as there 
 is love in the soul, it will take pleasure in declaring 
 that love; and so long as there is gratitude, it will 
 delight in expressing that gratitude; and whilst; it con- 
 tinues virtuous and happy, it must have these affections. 
 Therefore, prayer must be as eternal as the soul itself. 
 
 LXXIX. All virtue is imitation : every wise man 
 knowing full well, that his own virtue is no original, but 
 a faint and imperfectjcopy only, of the divine perfections. 
 
 ' I do verily believe, that, if parents did their duty as they ought, 
 the word publicly preached would not he the ordinary means of regene- 
 ration in the Church, hut only without the Church, among infidels.’ — 
 Baxter, Saint's Rest, iii. 14, Works^ vol. iii. p. 223. 
 
iHOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 237 
 
 It is plain, that whosoever would gain the affection 
 of other men, must form his humor to the model of 
 theirs; otherwise, he can never hope to be successful, 
 since likeness and agreeableness of humors, is that which 
 creates mutual friendship and affection. And the same 
 method must be observed toward God : his favor must 
 be obtained by resemblance ; and his image must be 
 drawn upon the soul, before he will place his love upon 
 it. And I know not, whether this will not be the main 
 question at the day of judgment, ‘Whose image and 
 superscription does he bear V This will be the mark, 
 that shall discover to whom every soul belongs, whether 
 to God, or to the devil ; a proprietorship according to 
 which they must be finally disposed of. For, though 
 both body and soul must share in the judgment, yet the 
 soul alone shall undergo the trial. It wall not, therefore, 
 be by a demure or sanctified look, but by a virtuous and 
 sanctified soul, that every one must be acquitted. Be 
 ye perfect, as God is perfect, is the entire sum and sub- 
 stance of religion. 
 
 LXXX. How pride can so far intoxicate the under- 
 standings of men, as to make them really think them- 
 selves exalted above other men, by riches and honor, 
 and, in the vanity of their hearts, to look down w ith con- 
 tempt upon their supposed inferiors, — is prodigious, 
 usual as it is. Certainly, it cannot be imagined, that the 
 richer clothes create the nobler heart, or the choicer 
 meats the more honorable blood. Though, with all the 
 senseless boasting of noble blood, it is the quails and 
 woodcocks, and other dainties, that give it all the pre- 
 eminence it has, above that which is bred by coarser 
 diet ; with the adoption of gouts and scurvies, and other 
 honorable attendant diseases, into the bargain. 
 
 LXXXI. Every body that wishes me well, seeing I 
 have built a convenient and pleasant house, to show 
 their kindness, are apt to wash that I may live long to 
 enjoy it : which I take very kindly of them, since I know 
 their wishes are correspondent to their own natural de- 
 sires. Though, at the same time, I perceive that their 
 notions of life and happiness, and mine, are very differ- 
 ent. For I cannot think this life worth desiring, barely 
 upon account of pleasure ; and I should be ashamed to 
 put up so unworthy a petition to the all-wise God, as to 
 
238 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [hOW. 
 
 prolong my life, for no other end, than for the short and 
 insignificant enjoyments that attend it. As if there were 
 no expectation of a more complete and perfect happiness 
 than what we enjoy in this world ; as if the flesh and 
 blood with which our souls are invested, were the 
 only vehicles of pleasure ; and, by consequence, as if 
 the Almighty Creator had made creatures to be more 
 happy than himself, and those innumerable companies 
 of blessed spirits, who rejoice in the beams of his glory. 
 God is infinitely gracious to man : indulging him in the 
 innocent gratification of his appetites ; and supplying 
 his wants, while he continues in this world. But that 
 is a very wrong reason, why a man should desire that 
 he may never go out of this world. He ought to con- 
 sider, that his conveniences are suited to the necessities 
 of this life, and are no longer useful, than that lasts ; and 
 it were unreasonable to expect, that his life should be 
 lengthened and proportioned to his conveniences. As 
 long as we live in this world, a house is necessary ; but 
 it is not necessary to live, because we have a house. 
 So long as cold weather lasts, a cloak is necessary; but 
 nobody would wish the continuance of ill weather, be- 
 cause he had a cloak. This life, of which we are here 
 so fond, is but the dawning to life and we must be 
 conducted through that gloomy, but short passage of 
 death, into the bright and perfect day, that shall be eter- 
 nally enlightened by the splendor of the divine glories 
 in heaven. It is immortality that makes life a desirable 
 blessing; without this, it would be but an unprofitable 
 and burthensome trifle, preserved with anxiety, and 
 quitted with terror. And how great a weakness of faith 
 must we discover, when we are capable of preferring a 
 bauble of a house, before the eternal enjoyment of the 
 Almighty God ; who will first enlarge all the capacities 
 of the soul to love, desire, resemble, and adore him ; and 
 then abundantly replenish it with suitable gratifications. 
 There, the soul, languishing and thirsting after wisdom 
 and truth, will have free access to the blessed and eter- 
 nal fountain of them, to satiate itself with boundless 
 draughts of delight: there, it may ever gratify, ever sa- 
 
 ' ‘ Dies iste, quern tanquam extremum reformidas, seterni natalis 
 est.’ — Seneca, Epist. 102. — Ed. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 239 
 
 tisfy, without ever extinguishing, its unmeasurable de- 
 sires. For the pleasures of the soul are quite different 
 from those of sense, which are destroyed by fruition ; as 
 they must needs be, since pleasure, which has its entire 
 existence in desire, must necessarily increase and abate, 
 live and perish, with it. But, though I say that plea- 
 sure has its existence in desire, yet desire is so far from 
 being productive of pleasure, that it always creates pain 
 and uneasiness, so long as the desire remains wholly 
 unsatisfied. For, though nothing pleases us, but what 
 we like and desire, yet we must have some sort of en- 
 joyment of what we like, before it can give us pleasure : 
 and, for this reason, the hungering and thirsting after 
 righteousness, is very different from the hungering and 
 thirsting after meat and drink. The thirsting of David’s 
 soul after the living God, was very different from that 
 of the hart after the water brooks, though the allusion 
 is very lively and elegant. For none ever thirst after 
 God and righteousness, but those who, in some measure, 
 already enjoy the one, and possess the other. And, 
 from the knowledge of the pleasure arising from that 
 lesser degree of enjoyment and possession, they are 
 still desiring and thirsting after a greater. Happy, not- 
 withstanding, in what they possess and enjoy, and 
 ravished with the assured expectation of a more full and 
 complete felicity, full in its abundance, and complete in 
 its duration. Whereas, in the natural hunger and thirst 
 of the body, it is pain and want that create the desire ; 
 and pleasure proceeds only from the ceasing of the pain, 
 and relieving of the want ; which makes it differ ex- 
 tremely from the other cases, where «he want of enjoy- 
 ment is continually relieved, and the present supplies, 
 which God affords to the eager desire, at once gratify 
 and inflame it. There are but two things, which, were 
 they not both limited by entire resignation to the will of 
 my God, would make me desirous of life ; the one for 
 my own advantage, the other for my dear child’s. And 
 I most humbly implore of thee, my ever gracious Lord, 
 to grant me for myself, to live till thou hast so far per- 
 fected my faith, love, obedience, and sorrow for having 
 ever offended thee, that I may be received into thy ever- 
 lasting favor. Which I have confidence, through thy 
 infinite mercy, and through the mediation of thy blessed 
 
240 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 Son .Tesus Christ, that thou wilt grant me, and not 
 suffer thy poor servant to perish for ever. And, for my 
 dear child, I humbly commit both her and myself to thy 
 protection ; and beg, that thou wilt graciously be pleas- 
 ed to bless her with a continued innocence and purity 
 of life ; bestowing upon her plentifully of thy grace and 
 wisdom, and making her thy accepted servant, to trust 
 in thee, to love thee, and to obey thee faithfully, all the 
 days of her life, that thou mayest give her eternal bliss 
 in thy heavenly kingdom. . And, for her instruction in 
 virtue, my tenderness inclines me to wish to live to see 
 her confirmed in it. For I must confess, that in my 
 conflicts with aversion to death, and love of the world, 
 when I consider her youth, and the scarcity of friends, 
 I always find that the weakest, and worst-guarded part, 
 in which I can be assaulted. But I must humbly resign 
 both her and myself, to the determination of thy divine 
 will ; which I beg may always be done ; and that thou 
 wilt ever make mine most joyfully conformable to it. 
 In full confidence that thou wilt answer my humble pe- 
 tition, to make my dear child a virtuous woman, zeal- 
 ously mindful evermore to perform her duty to thee, by 
 such ways and methods as thou, in thy infinite wisdom 
 and mercy, shall think fit. 
 
 LXXXII. Where there is not a strong faith, there 
 can be no love ; where there is no love, there can be no 
 desire *, where there is no desire, there is no notion or 
 conception of beauty; and, where there is no notion or 
 conception of beauty, there can be no delight : and, by 
 consequence, there is no beauty in that holiness which is 
 not supported by faith, and pursued with delight. O 
 grant me, my most adorable God, evermore to serve 
 thee in the beauty of holiness ; and give me all those 
 graces and virtues, which are necessary for so glorious, 
 so sublime a performance ! 
 
 LXXXIII. So teach me, great God, to number my 
 days, that I may apply my heart unto wisdom ! This is 
 an arithmetic truly worth learning ; most of our errors 
 being committed for want of a right calculation of time 
 and eternity ; for want of computing how much we have 
 to do in time, and how long to continue in eternity : 
 how unspeakable the concern ; how short and uncertain 
 the preparation. Display, good Lord, I beseech thee, 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 241 
 
 to my understanding, the inestimable treasures of thy 
 truth ; the only treasures of which I am ambitious ; the 
 knowledge of thy truth being that invaluable pearl of 
 wisdom, which I am most desirous to purchase at any 
 rate. Instruct me in all my addresses to thee, and dic- 
 tate all my petitions ; grant that they may always be for 
 those things that may tit me to please thee, and not for 
 such as may be the fittest to please myself; and, for an 
 accumulation of blessing, so influence my soul with thy 
 divine Spirit, that thy will may ever be my pleasure. 
 
 LXXXIV. Every man, when he perceives the near 
 approach of death, finds it reasonable to betake himself 
 to hearty prayer for the mercy and favor of God. And 
 can any one be so infatuated, as to think it fit to pass his 
 whole life in an entire ignorance and neglect of that Al- 
 mighty Being, to whom at last he will be obliged to 
 resort as to his only refuge and support ? But so much, 
 in poor man, does base fear prevail above reason ; so 
 much stronger an influence has the terror of almighty 
 power, over man’s degenerate spirit, than the charming 
 allurements of infinite bounty and goodness I 
 
 LXXXV. How faint are the impressions which truth 
 usually makes upon the mind of man ! not for want of 
 force in the one, but through the obduracy of the other. 
 What an unhappy skill has vice and folly, in forging 
 such wretchedly hardened armor for the soul, as will 
 not suffer it to be penetrated by truth, though never so 
 sharp and piercing ! A miserable defence -against an 
 instrument that is never employed to wound, but to 
 cure ; but a treacherous shield, that never opposes those 
 cruel weapons, which give not only wounds, but death. 
 
 LXXXVI. If the passions of men make their lives 
 uncomfortable, and are hardly to be endured, for so 
 short a space, how can they be borne with, when they 
 shall become eternal? For I take it for granted, that 
 one mighty torment of damnation will be an excessive 
 heightening and enlarging of all the passions, ivith an 
 utter deprivation of any prospect of enjoyment. But, 
 on the other side, if the love of wisdom and virtue be so 
 SAveet and delightful to the soul in this its imperfect 
 state, what floods and torrents of joy will be poured in 
 upon it, when all its affections shall be boundlessly and 
 eternally enlarged for their reception ? As doubtless 
 21 
 
242 - DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 they will be, to the inconceivable bliss of those most 
 happy souls, who shall be received into the everlasting 
 favor of the Almighty. And that I, and my dear child, 
 may be of that blessed number, grant, my most merciful 
 God, I humbly beseech thee, for the sake of thy dear 
 Son Jesus Christ, our Saviour ! 
 
 LXXXVII. Honesty is like* a strong perfume : one 
 little grain of it suffices to enrich a great mass, that had 
 neither scent nor value before. How little honesty is 
 there in the world ! and yet, what numbers of men, 
 that by some or other are termed honest ! A small 
 proportion of this noble, though unfashionable virtue, 
 is sufficient to gain the vulgar esteem ; though the most 
 of it, that one who truly endeavors to be an honest 
 man, can make himself master of, will scarce give him a 
 tolerable opinion of himself : for here it is requisite, 
 that his desires should enlarge themselves beyond what 
 he possesses ; or else, a very moderate degree of it vv ill 
 make him sit down contented. Some men are satisfied, 
 if they can but shelter themselves from ignominy, under 
 the shadow of honesty ; and others, if they have but 
 enough of it to procure them a pretty good reputation, 
 have as much as they desire ; and, I am sure, if the es- 
 teem of unthinking people were of any value, much 
 more than they deserve, since that is all they aim at. 
 Thus the first sort betake themselves to honesty, as they 
 would to a spreading tree in a storm, only for shelter 
 and protection ; the latter make use of it, as they who 
 want true ones, do of false jewels, to amuse the world 
 with their counterfeit lustre, and deceitfully to procure 
 themselves that respect, to which they had no just title. 
 What worth, then,'* must there be in the thing itself, 
 whose bare appearance can give protection, and confer 
 esteem ! But, as honesty deserves diligently to be 
 sought after, so it is most difficult to be acquired ; being, 
 as I may say, an elixir extracted from all the virtues ; 
 never right, when any one of them is wanting in its 
 composition. For, it is not enough to be honest only 
 so long as a man may be honest without disadvantage ; 
 he ought to be so at the peril of all he is worth. Nor 
 is it sufficient to be honest only so long as a man may 
 be honest with safety ; he ought to preserve his inte- 
 grity at the expense of his life. He that designs to be a 
 
HOW.J 
 
 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 243 
 
 real honest man, must think that the most honorable 
 character he can possibly aspire to ; and must have the 
 least falsehood or injustice in as great a detestation, as 
 murder or blasphemy. So far must he be from doing 
 wilfully a dishonest action, that his soul must abhor a 
 dishonest thought. In short, he ought to be immovea- 
 ble and unshaken ; neither to be deterred by fear, nor 
 allured by advantage, but to be proof against all tempt- 
 ations ; and he should value his sincerity equally with 
 the favor of his God, believing that he shall undoubtedly 
 forfeit the one, v/henever he foregoes the other. 
 
 LXXXVIII. Wisdom, which is sometimes called ho- 
 liness, sometimes righteousness, is that vital principle, 
 whose separation is as fatal to the sou], as the separa- 
 tion of the soul is to the body. It is that lamp of iaith, 
 which enlightens it, and introduces into it those beau- 
 ties and glories of the divine perfections, which irresisti- 
 bly inflame it with love and desire. A love, whose pure 
 fire purges the ^oul from dross and impurity ; a love, 
 that utters peace and pardon to it; a love, that van- 
 quishes sin, and triumphs over temptation. Great God, 
 I beseech they, cleanse and enlarge all the clogged and 
 narrow passages of my soul, that thy glories may rush 
 in, and perpetually feed it with this divine flame, con- 
 stantly to ascend, with an uncontrollable motion, in 
 praises and adorations, to thy heavenly throne ! 
 
 LXXXIX. I make no doubt, that many people would 
 be apt to judge, by my way of living, and by what I 
 write, that my thoughts and life are the effects of a dis- 
 mal melancholy. Which is a great mistake. For, I 
 thank God, they are both of them the effect of his infi- 
 nite goodness, as they are the cause of a far more se- 
 rene and pleasant life, than ever I led under the con- 
 duct of folly and passion. My vicious inclinations 
 made me but too well acquainted with the pleasures that 
 most men are so fond of ; nor did I naturally want 
 pride and ambition, sufficient to have pushed me to the 
 utmost extravagance of endeavoring to procure riches 
 and honor. But my gracious God, whom I can never 
 enough love and adore, for his invaluable mercies to 
 me, has clearly discovered to my reason, the wretched 
 folly of such pursuits ; and has so far strengthened it, 
 as not to suffer it to be overpowered and dazzled, with 
 
244 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 such childish and gaudy vanities. So that my contempt 
 of the world and its advantages, is not for want of 
 knowing the value of them ; but that very knowledge 
 makes me despise them. It is natural, amongst men 
 that are ignorant of what it is that dictates and governs 
 their own thoughts, and the thoughts of others, to won- 
 der at any body whose judgment and opinion differs 
 from their own ; not considering that the same diver- 
 sity of judgment and opinion causes the same astonish- 
 ment on the other side. But that wonder ceases, when, 
 by reason and reflection, a man is led to an insight of 
 that common nature, which he shares with the rest of 
 mankind. For then he readily discovers the sources 
 and causes of all their severally different opinions, and 
 the various conceptions arising from each passion, as far 
 as the windings of such an intricate labyrinth are capa- 
 ble of being traced. No wise man, therefore, will won- 
 der even at the folly of another ; because I take it for 
 granted, that the wisest of men, now-a-days, have found 
 difficulty enough to overcome their own folly, and to re- 
 strain their still natural propensity to it. Which will 
 incline them, not only to be thankful to that infinite 
 wisdom, which has so graciously communicated itself to 
 them, but, to be very compassionate of the weaknesses 
 and follies of other men, and heartily to wish and pray 
 for their relief. But a presumptuous, inconsiderate fool 
 has no mercy for those who have different sentiments 
 from his own ; which is the cause of so much blind 
 zeal, and so many barbarous persecutions, as have been 
 in the world ; men in power and authority, being unrea- 
 sonably bent to model the opinions of others exactly to 
 their own, without considering or caring whether they 
 be right or wrong ; and without imagining, that they 
 have any dependence upon any being greater or wiser 
 than themselves. 
 
 XC. It would seem strange, perhaps, should I say 
 that it is a sin to be miserable, and that it is a sin not 
 to be happy. But yet, when narrowly examined, I 
 believe it will appear no more strange than true. For 
 the effect must needs partake of the cause, and misery 
 must therefore be undoubtedly sinful, because it is ac- 
 knowledged to be the offspring of sin. But there are 
 two sorts of miseries incident to mankind ; the one not 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 245 
 
 to be avoided, and therefore to be pitied ; the other to 
 be remedied, and therefore inexcusable. The former 
 sort are such as are occasioned by bodily indispositions, 
 the latter are the diseases of a vicious mind. To the mise- 
 ries of a distempered body, we are enslaved by nature ; 
 to those. of a distempered mind, we voluntarily submit. 
 In the former case, we want power to break our chain ; 
 in the latter, we want will to obtain our freedom. I 
 think it cannot be denied, that it is a sin to be miserable 
 through the vice of the mind ; since it is apparent that 
 those miseries generally proceed either from, desiring 
 things vicious or impossible, or from dreading things 
 natural or unavoidable ; in all which cases, we are 
 guilty of disobeying or repining at the will of God, to 
 which we ought cheerfully and in all humility to submit; 
 for, by desiring things vicious, we discover our disobedi- 
 ence ; by desiring things impossible, we demonstrate our 
 impiety; and, by dreading things natural and unavoid- 
 able, we betray our infidelity.. Thus, it being proved 
 that it is a sin to be^ miserable, it will follow, by unde- 
 niable consequence, that it is a sin not to be happy. It 
 is evident that true happiness consists in such a peace- 
 ful tranquillity and contentment of mind, as is neither 
 to be ruffled by fear, nor discomposed by desire. And 
 it is as certain that such a blessed temper can never be 
 obtained without faith, love, obedience, and submission, 
 in their several relations to God, and all of them to a 
 great perfection. Now, happiness resulting from the 
 union of these virtues, and the want of any one of them 
 being sinful, it must be granted that it is a sin not to be 
 happy. 
 
 XCI. Whosoever thinks himself wise enough, or 
 virtuous enough, is in a fair way never to be either. 
 He that engages in those difficult paths must keep in 
 perpetual motion ; there is no stopping without losing 
 ground. He must consider, that if his undertaking be 
 glorious, it is also laborious ; that he has a strong tide 
 to stem, which, if he does not keep resolutely advanc- 
 ing, will inevitably bear him down the stream. The 
 current of passion is fierce and rapid, not to be resisted 
 by feeble reason and wavering resolution. But if the 
 difficulties to be overcome be great, the prize to be 
 obtained exceeds all value. He, therefore, whose noble 
 2P 
 
246 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 ambition pushes him to the pursuit of wisdom and vir- 
 tue, must not be discouraged at their height ; nor must 
 he think to rest upon the steep ascent of those aspiring 
 mountains which hide their lofty tops in heaven ; thither 
 we must climb before we can reach them, securely to 
 sit down and enjoy eternal happiness and repose. 
 
 XCII. It fares with a feeble mind, too weak to resist 
 the powerful assaults made upon it by the cares, neces- 
 sities, and contingencies of life, — as it does with the 
 poor bee in a windy day, who, spying the flowers 
 which aflbrd honey, makes eager attempts to settle 
 upon them ; but the impetuous storm drives it away, 
 and often obliges it to rest upon some tasteless plant, 
 from whence it can extract nothing that is useful, no- 
 thing that is sweet. And in the same manner the in- 
 constant mind, not sufliciently upheld by wisdom and 
 virtue, is apt to be hurried from the objects of its plea- 
 sure and happiness, and forced to fix upon such objects 
 as not only yield it neither, but envenom it w ith anxiety 
 and disquiet. 
 
 XCIII. Either we owe no obedience to God Al- 
 mighty, or else w^e owe the most exact obedience that 
 it is possible for us to pay him. For, if any duty be- 
 longs to him, it must necessarily be the most perfect 
 duty that the utmost capacity of our nature can enable 
 us to perform ; even as perfect as an indigent creature 
 is capable of expressing to his bountiful Creator. 
 
 XCIV. No ! By the grace of God, justice and equity, 
 not favor and interest, shall be the pillars I will make 
 use of to support my fortune in the w^orld. When those 
 are too weak to uphold it, let it take its chance. And I 
 liope I should be able to take the same course, if my 
 life itself were the stake at issue. For I had much 
 rather lose my right or my life, by another man’s in- 
 justice, than obtain the one, or preserve the other, by 
 any base pursuit, or unw^orthy application of my own. 
 Nor shall 1 ever value, or seek for, any favor but that of 
 my God ; to whom he that has grace enough to com- 
 mit himself, may with security enough commit his for- 
 tune. Of him, therefore, I humbly beg to dispose both 
 of me and of mine, perfectly according to his own plea- 
 sure; trusting that he will always vouchsafe to support 
 my faith, whatever else he shall permit to fail me. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 247 
 
 XCV. Faith, that fruitful parent of all other graces, 
 can never be too carefully cultivated and improved. It 
 is the source of pleasure, the lamp of wisdom, and the 
 soul of virtue. It is that mysterious ladder by which 
 the soul ascends to heaven, and heaven descends to the 
 soul ; by which a joyful correspondence is continually 
 held between it and its Creator. Faith is that celestial 
 flame which purifies the soul from dross and pollution, 
 and which opens in it a new and glorious scene, gilded 
 with the ineffable brightness of the Deity, adorned with 
 the inconceivable delights of blissful eternity, and en- 
 riched with holy hope, pure desires, love divine, and 
 joy unutterable. 
 
 XCVI. No man can truly be termed an honest man, 
 who is capable of being moved, by any temptation 
 whatsoever, to be dishonest. For, though there were 
 but one temptation in the world that had power to work 
 that effect, yet such a person still lies under the possi- 
 bility of being an ill man. And the best that can be 
 said of him is, that he is honester than thousands of 
 others, and has but that one unhappy exception to his 
 being a perfectly upright and virtuous man. A citadel 
 may be called strong, in comparison of a weaker, be- 
 cause it can hold out a longer siege; but if any force be 
 able to make it surrender, it cannot be called impreg- 
 nable ; neither can the soul of man be positively termed 
 virtuous, till it is so fortified as to become impregnable 
 against all manner of vice. 
 
 XCVII. Virtue and vice are words better known in 
 the world by their sound, than by their true meaning. 
 Men take the liberty to give such an interpretation to 
 them, as is most suitable to their own fancy and inclina- 
 tion. But he who thinks it necessary to lead a virtuous 
 life, and designs to apply himself heartily to the doing 
 so, must come to a better and juster understanding of 
 what the things are, that are really meant by those 
 words. I take it, that virtue consists in acting conform- 
 ably to the divine attributes and perfections of God ; 
 and vice, in acting in opposition and contradiction to 
 those perfections. This latter is very properly called 
 sinning against God, as offending not only against his 
 commands but against his very essence. For, as acting 
 falsely and deceitfully, oppressively and unjustly, cruelly 
 
248 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 and maliciously, covetously or impurely, is acting vi- 
 ciously, because plainly against the attributes of truth, 
 justice, mercy, bounty, and purity, in God; so, acting 
 faithfully and sincerely, generously and justly, kindly 
 and mercifully, charitably and temperately, is acting 
 virtuously, because in conformity to those several 
 divine attributes. And, as every reasonable man must 
 conceive the Deity to be the exact model of perfection, 
 so he must necessarily contemplate him as the model 
 of his most exact imitation. 
 
 XCVIII*. Strife and contest are evidences of differ- 
 ence and contrariety ; and difference and contrariety 
 demonstrate clearly a plurality of principles ; for where 
 there is unity there is no contradiction ; all contest 
 must at least be between two. Fire being of an un- 
 compounded nature, has no variance in itself, but an 
 addition of water to it causes a strife, and plainly dis- 
 covers a diversity of elements. Thus man, were he a 
 simple, uncompounded principle, would never find any 
 strife or contradiction in himself, any more than there 
 is in other animals, in whom no such thing can be per- 
 ceived. But, being compounded of the two very differ- 
 ent principles of soul and body, he is sensible of con- 
 tinual disputes and contradictions in himself; which, I 
 think, is a very sufficient demonstration of the existence 
 of those two different principles of soul and body in his 
 composition. Nay, further, there is a possibility of the 
 one being pleased, while the other grieves ; of the one 
 being delighted, while the other feels pain, as has been 
 evident, in men that have chosen to suffer punishment, 
 rather than do a vicious unjustifiable action. And, 
 though it is sufficiently known, that the body abhors 
 pain and dissolution, yet there have been those who 
 have rejoiced in flames and delighted in death. A ma- 
 nifest triumph of the soul over the body, which shows it 
 to be not only a different but a far more excellent prin- 
 ciple, than any thing in mere corporeal life. 
 
 XCIX. I have formerly had it in my thoughts, that 
 imperfection is an undeniable argument of perfection ; 
 which I find confirmed by this further reflection, that 
 whatsoever is imperfect, has some degrees of perfection 
 in it ; as a part has some portion of the whole, and is an 
 argument of a whole. If, therefore, that which is im- 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 249 
 
 perfect has some degree of perfection, as must be ac- 
 knowledged, then it is plain that there is such a thing as 
 perfection ; since it is impossible that there should be 
 any degrees of a thing which is not. The next inquiry 
 must be, where is this perfection lodged ? It is evi- 
 dently not in the insensible, nor in the brutish part of the 
 creation ; nor yet in man, to whom his little portion of 
 reason must clearly evidence that it is not in him ; 
 though it as clearly discovers that imperfection is in 
 him. Where then shall we seek it, or expect to find it, 
 but in thee, O infinitely perfect, all-wise, all-mighty, all- 
 glorious, and all-bountiful God ! My soul, then, most 
 humbly adores thee, and begs this inestimable blessing, 
 that thou wilt enable it most fervently, sincerely, unin- 
 terruptedly, and acceptably, to love, serve, and adore 
 thee, from this moment to all eternity, for Jesus Christ 
 his sake, thy blessed son, my most merciful Redeemer ; 
 to whom, with thee, and the Holy Spirit, the one great 
 God, be evermore attributed all honor, power, praise, 
 majesty, and perfection ! 
 
 C. We can assign an end for the creation of all beasts, 
 fowls, fishes, trees, and plants, and even of the sun, 
 moon, and stars ; namely, for the use, support, and con- 
 venience of man. And can it be imagined, that man 
 was made for no other end, than to consume and devour 
 the rest of the creation ; and that he himself is a useless, 
 worthless, insignificant thing,* -though lord and master 
 of the whole earth ? Great God ! that thou, whose 
 power, wisdom, and glory shine so bright in all thy 
 works, shouldst yet remain almost undiscovered to thy 
 creature man ; on whom thou hast bestowed a rational 
 soul, on purpose to enable him to arrive at the felicity 
 of knowing, loving, obeying, and adoring thee. Which, 
 grant that I may faithfully perform ; and account those 
 duties the highest excellences and advantages of my 
 being ; and enjoy the blessing of them to all eternity ! 
 
 Cl. Upon whatsoever foundation happiness is built, 
 when that foundation fails, happiness must be destroyed. 
 It is wisdom, therefore, to choose such a foundation for 
 it, as is not liable to destructive accidents. If happiness 
 be founded upon riches, it lies at the mercy of theft, de- 
 ceit, oppression, war, and tyranny ; if upon fine houses 
 and costly furniture, one spark of fire is able to consume 
 
250 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 it ; if upon wife, children, friends, health, or life, a thou- 
 sand diseases, and ten thousand fatal accidents, have 
 power to destroy it. But if it be founded upon the in- 
 finite bounty and goodness of God, and upon those 
 virtues that entitle to his favor,^its foundation is immove- 
 able, and its duration eternal. 
 
 ClI. Could I ever sufficiently value the worth and 
 benefit of that noble virtue, faith, I might be induced to 
 think I had already mentioned it often enough. But 
 every degree of advancement in the knowledge of it, 
 discovers such infinite beauties and excellences, that, 
 were I to live a thousand years, and w^ere able to em- 
 ploy my whole time in meditating upon this one incom- 
 parable virtue alone, I must, of necessity, leave much 
 more unthought and una,dmired concerning it, than my 
 mind, by such slow progresses as it is now capable of 
 making toward wisdom and knowledge, could possibly, 
 in that space of time, comprehend. This, to many peo- 
 ple, might seem a studied encomium, rather than an 
 urgent truth. But I do not desire to amuse myself with 
 such trifling conceits : truth is the thing I labor after ; 
 and I hope that great Being, who is environed with the 
 bright glories of it, will vouchsafe to shed a portion of 
 its pure enlightening rays upon my soul, darkened and 
 clouded wdthsin and ignorance. , If the expression will 
 be allowed, I may say, that there is as great a variety of 
 climates in the mind of man, as there is in the globe of 
 the earth. The one occasioned by the nearness or dis- 
 tance of faith, as the other is by the vicinity or remote- 
 ness of the sun ; the former shedding the same happy 
 influences upon the soul, as the latter does upon the 
 world. They who, by a near approach, bask in the 
 beams of that illustrious virtue, like the inhabitants of 
 Spain and Italy, enjoy the serenity and delights of so 
 fortunate a situation ; ever gratified with the rich and 
 delicious fruits which are its natural product. While 
 those who, by an unhappy separation, are divided from 
 it, and have but rarely the benefit even of its short, re- 
 mote, and imperfect glances, may be compared to the 
 natives of Lapland and Norway, doomed and confined 
 to uncomfortable regions, abounding only in ice and 
 storms, barrenness and obscurity. 
 
 cm. Virtue requires the utmost force, application, and 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 251 
 
 exercise of the mind, both in order to its acquisition and 
 preservation. True notions, and right ideas, are not 
 to be acquired without our utmost labor and industry : 
 nor to be preserved, without unwearied thought and 
 diligence. And yet, it is absolutely requisite to have 
 both true notions, and right ideas, of things ; without 
 which, we must inevitably make a thousand mistakes in 
 the disposal of our affections and aversions, fatal to our 
 present tranquillity, and future happiness. For we can- 
 not forbear to love and hate according to our ideas of 
 things ; and if our ideas deceive us, we shall love where 
 we should hate, and hate where we should love. From 
 which cause it is, that so many prefer folly and vice to 
 wisdom and virtue ; deceived by the false ideas and con- 
 ceptions formed in the mind of the one and the other. 
 How much, then, ought we to love, and how diligently 
 to seek after truth ; which is the original of all our hap- 
 piness, as falsehood is of all our misery ! It is faith, it 
 is truth, that is the only unerring light, which can guide 
 and conduct the soul to present peace and eternal felicity ; 
 and it is doubt and falsehood which endeavor to seduce 
 it from both. But, after all, when we are happy enough 
 to have obtained right ideas, and imprinted them upon 
 the soul, we have then done but half our work. The 
 other no less difficult part is, to preserve them bright 
 and entire ; and, by continual reflection and meditation, 
 to renew those impressions which they have made : for 
 as these decay, our affections, as well as our aversions, 
 will grow languid toward their objects ; till, at last, by 
 a long neglect, if we should be so wretchedly careless, 
 virtue and vice will grow indifferent to us : and that in- 
 difference, in the end, will naturally terminate in the 
 preference of vice, and the rejection of virtue. Than 
 which, there is but one greater curse attending upon 
 folly ; and that is, the soul’s eternal confinement to it, 
 even after the discovery of its misery and deformity: 
 
 Scorn the world, abandon folly. 
 
 Purchase faith, that glorious treasure ; * 
 
 Faith is wisdom, wisdom virtue, 
 
 Virtue truth, and truth is pleasure. 
 
 CIV. I make no doubt but many think a contempla- 
 tive life, an idle life. But they who are of that opinion, 
 know better what belongs to the labor of the hands than 
 
252 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 to that of the mind ; to the force of the body than to 
 the vigor of the soul. That body may be able to bear a 
 great burthen, which would find itself too weak to sup- 
 port the violent impulses of an active mind ; and would 
 sooner languish, tire, and grow lean, with mental exer- 
 cise, than with corporeal. That metal would resist 
 the weaker assaults of a common fire, which would be 
 immediately forced to yield and dissolve, by the subtile 
 and impetuous flames of the piercing lightning. The 
 thinnest bodies make the most quick and violent impres- 
 sions ; a rapid stream will do that which a cannon bullet 
 cannot effect ; and the furious rage of a tempest sur- 
 passes the force of water ; though the yet thinner body 
 of fire is less to be resisted than both the former. If, 
 then, the most solid bodies are not able to oppose the 
 efforts of those which are more thin and pure, how un- 
 equal a match is flesh and blood, to the violent concus- 
 sions of an active spirit 
 
 CV. This day, I have lived forty-two years ; being 
 born in the year 1661. And I humbly thank my most 
 gracious God, for having given me life, and that he did 
 not destroy it whilst it was miserably clogged with sin 
 and folly. I humbly adore thy glorious Majesty, for 
 having given me a capacity of loving, obeying, and con- 
 templating thee ; and, consequently, a foretaste of hap- 
 piness eternal in the adoration of thee. Give me, I 
 implore thee, a power to exercise this privilege in the 
 most perfect manner that thy infinite bounty shall ena- 
 ble me to do ; and grant that the remainder of my life 
 may be spent in the exactest performance of every part 
 of my duty to thee, for Jesus Christ’s sake. 
 
 CVI. In any adversity that happens to us in the world, 
 we ought to consider that misery and affliction are not 
 less natural than snow and hail, storm and tempest : and 
 
 * ‘ It is an acknowledged truth, that the most yielding, are also the 
 most powerful agents in the natural world. Those finer elements 
 which scarcely afford perceptible resistance to our touch, are yet, in the 
 hands of Omnipotence, the great movers of this earthly system ; and 
 we learn from late discoveries, that their energy increases exactly as 
 their substance is attenuated and refined ; while we are equally assured, 
 that the hardest, the most unyielding, and most impenetrable bodies, 
 are absolutely void of all intrinsic power.*’ — Jebb’s Practical Sermons, 
 page 249. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 253 
 
 that it were as reasonable to hope for a year without 
 winter, as for a life without trouble. Life, how sweet 
 soever it seems, is a draught mingled with bitter ingre- 
 diAts. Some drink deeper than others, before they 
 come at these ingredients : but, if they do not swim at 
 the top for youth to taste them, it is ten to one but old 
 age will find them thick in the bottom. And it is the 
 employment of faith and patience, and the work of wis- 
 dom and virtue, to teach us to drink the sweet part down 
 with pleasure and thankfulness, and to swallow the bit- 
 ter without reluctance. 
 
 evil. He that has pleasure in himself, is pleased with 
 every thing ; and he that wants that pleasure, is pleased 
 with nothing : but to think reasonably, and act reason- 
 ably, will give a man pleasure in himself ; therefore to 
 think reasonably and act reasonably is the sure way to 
 be happy. To illustrate this argument, it is necessary 
 to consider, that the pleasure of a fool flows from things 
 without himself; whereas the pleasure of a wise man 
 springs up within himself: the former arises from the 
 bodily senses, the latter from the understanding ; the 
 one is the pleasure of the body, the other of the soul. 
 Now, it is evident, that the body has not, at all times, 
 power to communicate its pleasure to the soul ; no, not 
 even to the soul of the most vicious fool : which makes 
 its pleasures very imperfect ; since they extend but to 
 one-half of the man. But the pleasures of the soul 
 never fail to communicate themselves to the body ; and, 
 by that communication, are rendered as perfect as our 
 being is capable of ; because they become the pleasures 
 of the whole man. To give an instance of this : when 
 envy, anger, grief, or any other passion, disturbs the 
 mind, all the gratifications that can enter by the senses 
 of the body, are not able to give it pleasure ; nor is the 
 man, under these disturbances of mind, capable of being 
 happy. But, when the mind is freed from all perplexing 
 and disquieting passions, and is at liberty both to think 
 and to act reasonably, without any opposition from the 
 body, such a happy disposition of the soul necessarily 
 diffuses and communicates itself to the body, and gives 
 pleasure to the whole entire man. And, under this 
 pleasing temper of mind, whatsoever portion of plea- 
 sure the body is capable of contributing, will consider- 
 22 
 
254 
 
 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 [how. 
 
 ably raise and increase the stock of happiness, which 
 before was great enough not to stand in need of any 
 addition. Our main care, therefore, must be, not to 
 abandon bodily pleasures that are innocent, and consist- 
 ent with wisdom and virtue, since they are capable of 
 contributing to our happiness ; but to avoid laying in 
 too lavishly such stores of them, as may oppress and 
 stifle the supreme reasonable pleasure of the mind ; that 
 flame kindled by wisdom, and maintained by virtue : 
 without which it is impossible to enjoy any tolerable or 
 lasting measure of happiness. 
 
 CVIII. Doubts and uncertainty are the most general 
 roots of all human misery and discontent, in virtuous as 
 well as vicious men. The vicious man often doubts, 
 that, by following his inclinations he may destroy his 
 happiness ; and the virtuous man will be sometimes too 
 apt to doubt, that he has in vain washed his hands in in- 
 nocence ; and that, by renouncing his inclinations, he 
 has abandoned his happiness. But we must take care 
 not to permit ourselves to think that we are out of the 
 way, because we walk out of the road of the generality 
 of the world ; on the contrary, we may rest assured, 
 that the narrowest path, and where we And the least 
 company, is the right way. 
 
 CIX. So long as virtue does not appear lovely to a 
 man, it is in vain for him to imagine that he can love 
 God ; since it is impossible to love the author of the in- 
 junction, whilst the duty enjoined is repugnant and dis- 
 tasteful to us. Did ever a slothful servant cordially love 
 his master ? Or did ever a faithful, diligent servant, 
 who was convinced of the reasonableness of all his mas- 
 ter’s commands, hate him ? No : ivhere duty and rea- 
 son are perfectly reconciled, affection will instantly unite 
 itself to them ; and then obedience will become not 
 merely an easy, but a delightful task. 
 
 CX. Grief and discontent have generally their foun- 
 dation in desire : so that, whosoever can obtain the 
 sovereignty over his desire, will be master of his happi- 
 ness. On the other hand, all such desires as occasion 
 grief and discontent, are founded upon weakness or ig- 
 norance ; therefore, we must gain possession of the con- 
 trary qualities, which are wisdom and constancy, before 
 we can reasonably hope to be masters of our desires. 
 
HOW.] DjJVOUT MEDITATIONS. 255 
 
 The two chief heads, to which all human griefs and 
 discontents may be reduced, bodily pains and indispo- 
 sitions excepted, are these ; either we desire to have 
 what we cannot possess, or else we desire to be freed 
 from what we cannot get rid of. And it appears plainly, 
 that both these sorts of desires are founded upon weak- 
 ness and Ignorance ; being founded upon impossibilities, 
 which it must be either weakness or ignorance to lan- 
 guish after. For, if the things which we desire are in 
 our own power, there is no cause of grief ; and if they 
 are not, it is vain and unreasonable to grieve. Some- 
 times, indeed, we make ourselves miserable, by desiring 
 things possible ; but then, they are such as are hurtful 
 and inconvenient : so that, in this case, though our 
 desires are grounded upon possibility, they are yet 
 grounded upon inconsistency, which is altogether as 
 bad ; since the gratification of such desires is incompa- 
 tible with our happiness. Thus, generally, our discon- 
 tents are owing to our folly and impiety : to our folly, 
 because they are vain and fruitless ; and to our impiety, 
 because we cannot as we ought, submit to the divine 
 will, and cheerfully acquiesce in the divine determina- 
 tions. A manifest proof, either that we think ourselves 
 wise enough to contrive our own happiness ; or that we 
 mistrust the infinite bounty of God, lest it should fall 
 short in the distribution of it to us. As to grief for the loss 
 of friends, which still proceeds from impossible desire, 
 it must necessarily flow from one of these two causes : 
 either that we think their death a diminution of our 
 happiness, or of theirs ; or else that we grieve we know 
 not why, and, consequently, that our grief is unreason- 
 able. If the diminution of our own enjoyment cause 
 our lamentation, we are moved by interest and self- 
 love, not by the love of our friend. On the other hand, 
 if the diminution of our friend’s enjoyment be the occa- 
 sion of it, we must have an ill opinion of his condition. 
 But, if our felicity depends either upon friends, or any 
 thing else, in this world, it is very uncertain ; and if we 
 conceive, that the felicity of our friends is entirely de- 
 pendent upon the present union of soul and body, our 
 faith is as doubtful as our happiness. O good God, 
 how many degrees of doubt wilt thou allow to enter into 
 the composition of saving faith, if uncompounded faith 
 
256 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 too sublime for human nature ! If ten degrees of 
 doubt for one of faith, will not be accepted, I fear the 
 number of those who are saved by faith is very small. 
 O great God, increase my faith ! Increase the faith of 
 all mankind that have it, and bestow it upon those who 
 want it, out of thy infinite compassion. And let the 
 defects of our faith be supplied by thy mercyj through 
 Jesus Christ our Saviour. 
 
 CXI. I would examine whether grief be an effect of 
 infidelity ; and if it appear to be so, I am sure we ought 
 to endeavor, by all means, as far as possible, to banish it 
 out of our souls. Our Saviour tells us, that a sparrow 
 does not fall to the ground without the knowledge and 
 will of God, and that the very hairs of our head are num- 
 bered ; by which doctrine he would more forcibly in- 
 culcate, that nothing befals man without His knowledge 
 and appointment. Since, therefore, whatsoever hap- 
 pens to man in this world, is either directed by the will, 
 or consented to by the permission, of God, what ground 
 has grief to stand tipon, but human weakness ? All op- 
 position to the will of God, is wrestling with his power ^ 
 all reluctance to his appointments, and repining at them, 
 is contending, so far as man is able to contend, with 
 almighty power, by condemning and disapproving the 
 exercise of it, and avowing that we would oppose and 
 contradict it, if we were able ; which is the most inso- 
 lently-foolish impiety imaginable. And, for things that 
 befal us through the bare permission of God, where he 
 does not exert his own immediate power to bring them 
 to pass, — though in this case it were not impious to 
 grieve, yet it would be unreasonable ; since, where 
 there is a power, and a propensity, in any means suffi- 
 cient to effect a thing, unless it should please God to su- 
 persede that power, which he does not think fit to do, 
 but permits it to act according to its own propensity, — I 
 say, that, in this case, the non-interposition of the al- 
 mighty power, leaves an absolute force in that means, to 
 produce that effect : so that, the accident which it occa- 
 sions is as inevitable, as if it had been actually performed 
 by almighty pow er ; and, therefore, it w^ould be unrea- 
 sonable to lament it. Nay, in truth, I think myself 
 obliged upon further consideration to retract my saying, 
 that in such cases, it w^ould be no impiety to grieve ; 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 257 
 
 because, though this were not to repine at Providence, 
 for doing somethings which we would have undone, 
 yet it is evidently repining at it, for not putting a stop to 
 the power of second causes, and, by consequence, for 
 not doing something which we would have done ; which 
 is the same thing in effect. But as to the sort of grief 
 which I said shared of impiety, I mean only such a grief 
 as is occasioned by such actions as are the appointment 
 of Divine Providence, and not by such as he permits to 
 be within the compass of our own determination and 
 performance. For there is a grief that does not pro- 
 ceed from our contradiction to the will of God, but from 
 our having acted in a manifest contradiction to it, which 
 is called repentance. And though, by this grief, we 
 cannot revoke the sins which we have committed, yet 
 we discover by it our inclination and desire, if it were 
 possible to revoke them ; and we, thereby, give a testi- 
 mony of our sincere abhorrence of them, and of our pur- 
 pose and resolution never to be guilty of them more. 
 Which grief is most effectual to the procuring its end, 
 and therefore most reasonable : for, though it does not 
 really revoke the sin, yet it actually annuls the punish- 
 ment which would have attended the guilt of it ; and has 
 the desired effect of reinstating the sinner into the same 
 degree of God’s favor, which he enjoyed before the com- 
 mission of it. But for our grief for the loss of friends, 
 all that can be said of it, is this, that there is a strong 
 propensity in human nature to lament the loss of any 
 person or thing that is agreeable to us, and contributes 
 to our comfort and satisfaction ; and that it is very diffi- 
 cult to derive a sufficient power from reason to oppose 
 its efforts. A man must not pretend, therefore, to claim 
 an exemption from grief for the loss of his friend, who 
 does not make it appear from the rest of the actions of 
 his life, that he uses his utmost endeavors to govern 
 himself entirely by reason ; to subdue his passions, and 
 to get the mastery over pleasure as well as over grief : 
 otherwise, his not grieving, will be an evidence rather 
 of his ill-nature, than of his philosophy and religion. 
 And that man who conforms his life and behavior to 
 the usual methods and customs of the generality of 
 mankind in other things, ought likewise to do it in this ; 
 since it is reasonable to imagine that his thoughts, in th§ 
 22 ^ 
 
258 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 main, resemble theirs : and death, according to the 
 common notion of mankind, being looked upon as the 
 greatest evil, it were the highest pitch of ill-nature in a 
 man that thinks it so, not to lament when it happens to 
 his friend. But he who has established in his mind a 
 firm belief, that death is no evil ; but, on the contrary, 
 esteems it to be only the passage to perfect felicity, may 
 justly be allowed to have the same sentiments of it, in 
 relation to his friend, as he would have in regard to 
 himself. And now, having been so long on »the consi- 
 deration of grief, in order to a more perfect knowledge 
 of it ; I will enter upon that of another affection of the 
 soul which has a very close connexion with it, and 
 which is inseparable from it ; and that is love. For it 
 is plain we grieve, because we love either ourselves or 
 something else. And since I have discovered, that 
 grief is genei:ally both impious and unreasonable, as de- 
 viating from that perfect obedience and resignation 
 which we owe to God, and therefore is not allowable 
 in a wise and virtuous man, who makes it his endeavor 
 to know and perform his duty, with the utmost exact- 
 ness he is able, — it may be expected that I should tell 
 what other marks and demon'strations a wise and virtu- 
 ous man can give of his love ; which I think no difficult 
 task to do. For, if grief be the only mark of his love 
 to his friend, which a man is able to give, let him have 
 as sorrowful a heart as he pleases, I would not give a 
 rush for his friendship. These, in my opinion, are the 
 true properties of valuable friendship — to desire to have 
 done, and to endeavor to do, all imaginable good to 
 those we love ; to assist and comfort them, as far as we 
 are able, while they are in a capacity of being assisted 
 and comforted by us ; to contribute, with all our power 
 and skill, to their satisfaction and happiness ; to be as 
 covetous of their advantage as of our own ; and, when 
 any disaster or unhappy accident of any kind, befals 
 them, to ransack all the faculties of our souls to procure 
 their relief. But for lamentation when a friend is no 
 longer in a situation to receive or to need the marks of our 
 affection, it is neither beneficial nor reasonable, either in 
 respect of our friend or of ourselves ; though the wmrld, 
 wdiose love generally flows only from their tongues and 
 eyes, may think tears and complaints decent things. And 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 259 
 
 thus, they would make an easy amends by hypocrisy, 
 for their want of real friendship. 
 
 CXII. It is as impossible for a vicious man, under 
 the habit and power of vice, to conceive what is the 
 pleasure of a man that is virtuous, as it is for a beast to 
 conceive what is his pleasure. A beast is not endued 
 with such a spirit as is capable of receiving the ideas of 
 vice. Neither is a vicious man endued with such purity, 
 brightness, and elevation of soul, as to enable him to 
 receive and apprehend the form of virtue. And conse- 
 quently, he is as great a stranger to the manner of a 
 virtuous man’s thinking, as a beast is to his manner of 
 thinking. 
 
 CXIII. Amongst great numbers of men accounted 
 rich, but few really are so. I take him to be the only 
 rich man that lives upon what he has, owes nothing, 
 and is contented. For there is no determinate sum of 
 money, nor quantity of estate, that can denote a man 
 rich ; since no man is truly rich that has not so much 
 as perfectly satiates his desire of having more. For the 
 desire of more is want, and want is poverty. 
 
 CXIV. A fine gentleman may as well think to go 
 abroad in a blustering day, without disordering his 
 dress, as a wise man may fancy that he can abandon 
 his mind to the trifling business and hurry of the world, 
 without disordering his thoughts. 
 
 CXV. Thought is, undoubtedly, in a great measure 
 governed and directed by the affections ; which shows 
 the necessity of subduing the affections to right reason; 
 otherwise our thoughts can never be reasonable ; and 
 all human actions are, or ought to be, governed by 
 thought; therefore, such as the thoughts are such must 
 be the actions, equally partaking of wisdom or folly. 
 And I doubt that folly, by the natural consequence of 
 this argument, has the greater share in the government 
 of the world ; in the same manner as Themistocles said 
 his little boy governed Athens — ‘For this child,’ said 
 he, ‘ governs his mother, his mother me, and I the 
 Athenians.’ 
 
 CXVI. Since almost every man in these parts of the 
 world, thinks his salvation and happiness depend upon 
 his being a Christian, it is highly necessary to know 
 what is the true meaning of the word, and the thing. 
 

 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 [how. 
 
 Christian. In order to which, it must be observed, 
 that, in all ages, the most reasonable men have applied 
 themselves with their utmost industry to search after 
 truth ; the knowledge of which can alone be properly 
 termed wisdom. And these were called philosophers, 
 or lovers of wisdom ; of which there were several sects, 
 according to the several doctrines and opinions of the 
 authors or beginners of them. So that whosoever upon 
 the examination of the several doctrines of these philo- 
 sophers, afterward made choice of any one sect, pre- 
 ferring it to all the rest, and endeavored to regulate his 
 life and actions after its tenets, was called, according to 
 the name of that sect, either a Stoic, Peripatetic, Epi- 
 curean, &c. Now, after many philosophers had intro- 
 duced several opinions to instruct men how to arrive 
 at their supreme happiness, — for this is the philosophy 
 1 mean, and the only one worth our care and thought, 
 — Jesus Christ was born into the world ; who, unac- 
 quainted with learning and its professors, taught a doc- 
 trine much more clear, reasonable, and excellent, than 
 any which was ever known before ; and, indeed, so far 
 surpassing all human power of thought, that it were of 
 itself sufficient to give him a title to divinity, had there 
 been no other arguments for his being the Son of God. 
 And the embracers of his doctrine were called Chris- 
 tians. But, though the bare profession of this admirable 
 doctrine, is sufficient to give a man the name, yet some- 
 thing else is requisite to make him a real Christian ; and 
 that is, thoroughly to contemplate both the life and doc- 
 trine of our Saviour ; to obtain, so far as possible, the 
 same spirit; to enter into the same temper of mind ; to 
 be moved by the same influences, governed by the same 
 principles ; and, in short, to form the life, as exactly as 
 possible, after his model ; that is, to think as he thought, 
 and act as he acted : and this, according to my notion, 
 is that alone which can truly and deservedly confer upon 
 a man the name of Christian ; though, perhaps, it may 
 reduce the number of Christians within a narrow com- 
 pass. For I fear there are as many that bear that title, 
 who are not Christians indeed, as there were Israelites, 
 who were not Israelites indeed. He, therefore, that 
 aspires to be a Christian, must never slacken his endea- 
 vors, till he really feels himself one. And this is very 
 
HOW.J DEVOUT MEDITATIONS* 261 
 
 possible ; for the soul is as capable of the perception of 
 thing's within itself, as the body is of heat or cold, hunger 
 or thirst, ease or pain. And a man may as reasonably 
 conclude, that he is a good Christian, without feeling 
 himself such, as he may fancy that he is cold, or hungry, 
 or in pain, without feeling that he is any one of them. 
 It is evident that a man may feel within himself whether 
 he is, or is not, endued with the qualities belonging to a 
 Christian ; and therefore ought not to rest satisfied of 
 his being perfectly such, till he feels those qualities 
 within him : till he finds himself, in relation to his God, 
 firm in faith, fervent in love, humble, sincere, constant 
 in obedience, and cheerful in resignation. Whilst he is 
 laboring after these several graces, he is endeavoring to 
 be a Christian ; and when he has obtained them, he is 
 most certainly a Christian indeed, 
 
 CXVII. Every sincerely virtuous man, fixed in the 
 principles of virtue, and entirely influenced by reason, 
 must needs be in a fair way to be a good Christian. 
 Nor do I doubt, that, if Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, 
 with many other virtuous Heathens, had been happy 
 enough to have lived cotemporary with our Saviour, 
 and to have been acquainted with his life and precepts, 
 they would readily have embraced the Christian doc- 
 trine and been eminent in the first rank of its professors. 
 Was it not the integrity and virtue of Joseph of Arima- 
 thea, and of Nathanael, that had fitted them for Christian- 
 ity, and that had disposed their mind for the reception 
 of truth when and wheresoever they could find it ? And, 
 in my opinion, there had been sufficient reason for the 
 belief of the Gospel delivered by our Saviour, though 
 there had been neither predictions nor miracles to con- 
 firm his extraordinary mission ; and that upon this con- 
 sideration. Every truly virtuous man feels in himself 
 an utter abhorrence and aversion to falsehood and de- 
 ceit, and is assured, that, so long as he continues under 
 the influence of virtue, he is capable of neither ; for he 
 knows, that virtue is a power conferred by God upon 
 the mind of man, to capaciate him to act in conformity 
 to the divine will and commands : so long, therefore, as 
 he feels this divine power in his soul, which is what the 
 Scripture terms grace, he knows himself to be in no 
 danger of being false or deceitful ; since this power and 
 
262 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [H0\V- 
 
 falsehood are inconsistent, and cannot possibly subsist 
 in the mind of man at the same time. A virtuous man, 
 thus conscious of his own principles, is acquainted with 
 the effect that the same principles must necessarily have 
 in the minds of other men ; and, by consequence, dis- 
 covering in the life, behavior, and doctrine of our Sa- 
 viour, by infinite degrees, the most exalted purity, vir- 
 tue, and integrity, that ever any man was possessed of, 
 he will be perfectly convinced, that it was impossible 
 for any thing but truth to proceed from him. I trust, 
 through God’s great goodness, that even I myself am 
 not capable of lying or deceiving, for any advantage, or 
 upon any account whatsoever ; and, from the abhor- 
 rence and aversion I feel to those detestable vices, which 
 I beg my good God ever to continue in me, I am as con- 
 fidently assured, that it was impossible for any thing 
 but truth to proceed from the lips of the blessed 
 Jesus, whose name I am not worthy to mention, as I 
 am assured, that it is impossible for cold and darkness to 
 proceed from the sun. He, then, who has so often 
 owned himself to be the Son of God, is certainly so. 
 And my merciful Redeemer, through whose purity in 
 life, satisfaction in death, and mediation in glory, I trust 
 I shall receive the perfect remission of all my sins and 
 corruptions, and enjoy the eternal felicity of loving, 
 praising, Serving, and adoring him, is assuredly God ; 
 to whom, with the Father, and Holy Spirit, I hum- 
 bly ascribe all power and glory, world without end. 
 
 CXVIII. It v/ere worth a man’s while to consider, 
 whether his present temper of mind be such as he would 
 be willing to possess, as long as he lives. And if, upon 
 reflection, he finds his soul overspread with malice, 
 pride, envy, avarice, injustice, or any other vice, let 
 him consider, whether that be the state he desires it 
 should be in, when it leaves his body. If it be, let him 
 acknowledge himself an atheist; if it be not, let him 
 own himself a fool, and endeavor to grow wiser as soon 
 as he can. 
 
 CXIX. Wheresoever pride predominates in the soul 
 of man, self-love is the most powerful and active prin- 
 ciple in that pride. The extraordinary opinion of 
 himself which a proud man has, makes the extravagant 
 value he has for his own imaginary merit appear to him 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 263 
 
 just, and the great contempt he has for all other men, 
 reasonable. And, from this vain and foolish conceit, 
 he fancies that all the bounties and blessings of Provi- 
 dence ought to centre in him ; and looks upon the pros- 
 perous events that happen to others, as so many unjust 
 distributions of that good, to which he alone has a right. 
 It is no wonder, therefore, that a man, possessed with 
 such wild notions, should always be ready to bestow 
 upon himself any advantage that lies in his power, how 
 much soever it may be to the detriment of others, whom 
 he considers as so many ciphers in the creation, and 
 himself as the only significant figure. It is this exces- 
 sive pride, this unreasonable self-love, which excites in 
 the mind of man all those motions and agitations, that 
 hurry him to tyranny, oppression, fraud, rapine, cruelty, 
 and almost every other mischievous and detestable vice ; 
 so that, wherever this passion rules, she governs with an 
 impious sway, and is surrounded with a numerous reti- 
 nue, composed of every ill. From this it is plain, that 
 a wise and virtuous man can never be proud ; nor can 
 he be exalted in his thoughts, at any advantages he has 
 above others; because he is conscious of his own weak- 
 ness and inability to become either wise or virtuous, by 
 any thing he finds in his own power. And his sense of 
 the goodness />f the bountiful God, in bestowing upon 
 him more abundantly, w hat he has been pleased more 
 sparingly to vouchsafe to others, wnll inspire his soul 
 wdth humility, thankfulness, and adoration. Besides, 
 he will reflect, how unworthy he wmuld be of so glorious 
 a distinction, and of so invaluable, as well as undeserved 
 a preference to oUier men, if he could be capable of 
 acting so as to seem to attribute any part of it to him- 
 self ; and how just it w^ould be in that adorable Being, 
 to deprive him of those blessings which have downed 
 from the divine bounty alone ; and to degrade him to 
 the lowest rank of human nature. But no reasonable 
 man can think himself able to acquire and preserve wis- 
 dom by his own strength, when he knows, that either a 
 blow or disease is capable of making an idiot of him : 
 and thus, finding himself too weak to preserve wisdom, 
 his reason will readily demonstrate to him, that he 
 wants force to acquire it. But, on the contrary, a 
 proud, and, which is all one, a foolish man, thinks no- 
 
264 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 thing too jood for himself, and every thing too good for 
 others ; he thinks he has an indisputable title to all the 
 enjoyments of life, and that other men are unworthy of 
 them. His pride and envy make him unconcerned, 
 how little other men enjoy of happiness ; whilst his vi- 
 ciously tender love for himself, gives him the vain con- 
 ceit that he alone ought of right to engross it : his nar- 
 row mind, therefore, is confined to the compass of his 
 own body ; whereas the virtuous, which is the only great 
 and generous soul, admits of no limits to its bounty and 
 love, but such as give bounds to the creation. 
 
 CXX. How wretchedly disposed is the heart of man 
 toward God ! In prosperity, it is apt to be full of neg- 
 lect, in adversity, of repining; and as for love and obe- 
 dience, they may crowd in, when the other two think fit 
 to make room for them. 
 
 CXXI. I find the business upon which I have resolv- 
 ed, and in which 1 am employed, is, to oppose most of 
 my natural inclinations : so that, if Nature be in the 
 right, I am to blame in contradicting her ; but, if not, 
 which is the infallible truth, I doubt the greatest part of 
 mankind are fatally in the wrong. 
 
 CXXH. The capacity of thinking, is a most noble 
 and delightful faculty ; but we have not the absolute 
 government of it. It is often busy and waking in me, 
 when my frail body would willingly be at rest ; and it 
 is many times heavy and drowsy, when I am desirous 
 to keep it awake. We must, therefore, patiently watch 
 and attend upon wisdom ; and embrace every opportu- 
 nity of conversing with her, that she will please to favor 
 us with. For my own part, I have often wished, that 
 four hours only of the four and twenty would sufficient- 
 ly satisfy my body with sleep, that I might have the 
 happiness of employing as many of the rest as possible, 
 in the agreeable exercise of thought, the parent of 
 wisdom. 
 
 CXXHI. The scheme and manner of our thinking is 
 formed and altered, either by the impressions of outward 
 objects upon the mind, by the inward disposition of the 
 body affecting it, or by divine impulse : so that every 
 new temper of mind, displays a new scene of thought. 
 But, notwithstanding that numberless variety of schemes 
 of thinking, which roll with an incessant vicissitude in 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 265 
 
 the mind, there is but one that is right, one that is rea- 
 sonable ; unity being the inseparable property of truth. 
 Now, the first great difficulty, is to light on the right 
 scheme ; and the next, is to fix upon it : for it is this 
 alone which proceeds from the divine impulse ; and this 
 is continually combatted by those other trains of thought 
 which arise from other causes ; which makes it impossi- 
 ble for us firmly to retain, and establish the truth in our 
 minds, without a force derived and continued to them, 
 from the divine bounty and power. Which force, we 
 must labor to procure ; and act, as if we were able to 
 deserve it : which force, O my great and good God, 
 bestow, T beseech thee, upon thy most unworthy crea- 
 ture, for his sake who enjoyed it most amply and per- 
 fectly, leading a life in this world spotless of sin, and 
 triumphant over all temptations ! 
 
 CXXIV. Having lately observed so many new au- 
 thors, who pretend to give an account of the nature of 
 God, and of the human soul, and who are usually men 
 of no very virtuous principles, I would willingly consi- 
 der, how such men came to be qualified for such a per- 
 formance, and how the secret of God comes to be 
 intrusted with them ; which, David observes, was always 
 used to be committed to another sort of men. Now it 
 plainly appears to me, that a vicious man can have no 
 true notion of God; because the knowledge of a thing, 
 is necessary to the forming a notion of it. And no man 
 can have the knowledge of God, but he on whom God 
 himself shall be pleased to bestow it : for that knowledge 
 is the consequence of faith, and faith is not naturally 
 implanted in the mind of man ; it being solely the gift 
 of God, conferred npen men at such times as he thinks 
 ht. For, if it were originall)^ implanted in the mind, 
 there would be no such thing as a vicious man or unbe- 
 liever ; nor yet could there be any such thing as a rege- 
 nerate man ; since, if faith were natural to the soul, 
 there would be no need of any such work, as rooting 
 up, and new planting ; which is the laborious business 
 of regeneration, which is the happy effect of a lively 
 faith. How, then, should the vicious man come by this 
 knowledge, which he neither has from nature, nor can 
 possibly have by his own acquisition ? Besides, it is 
 evident that the moment God Almighty gives the 
 23 
 
266 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 knowledge of himself to any one, it makes him cease to 
 be vicious : for he who, by faith, has obtained the 
 knowledge of God, must immediately discover his glo- 
 rious beauties and perfections ; and he who has disco- 
 vered those, will find himself obliged to love God ; and 
 he who loves God, must needs obey him ; and he who 
 obeys God as he ought to do, is the direct contrary to a 
 vicious man. 
 
 ^ CXXV. Where there is no constancy of mind, thei^ 
 can be no constancy of happiness. Immutability is that 
 admirable attribute, which crowns the beatitude of the 
 Almighty. Inconstancy and change are the great im- 
 perfections under which human nature labors, the divine 
 nature being entirely exempt from them. ^ 
 
 CXXVI. If happiness be necessary to man, religion 
 is necessary in order to attain happiness. For religion 
 is, properly, nothing else, than a right-guided pursuit 
 after happiness. We must not imagine, when we per- 
 form any duty toward God, or put up our addresses to 
 him, that we literally do him either honor or service ; 
 but that we are doing the most reasonable thing in the 
 world, and the most beneficial to ourselves, by which 
 we aspire after, and acquire effectually, our greatest fe- 
 licity, from the bountiful acceptance of our performances 
 by God ; to whom they are utterly unprofitable, and to 
 whose complete and perfect sufficiency and bliss, all the 
 united beings of the creation would not be able to make 
 the most inconsiderable addition. We must, therefore, 
 by no means entertain such absurd notions, as to fancy, 
 that, in our religious duties, we are doing service to 
 God, when we are actually doing the greatest imagina- 
 ble honor and service to ourselves ; whilst He is pleased 
 to permit us to enter into any communication with him, 
 upon which he shall vouchsafe, through his own pure 
 bounty, to confer his favor. And, indeed, our perform- 
 ing any duty to God, as we ought, as well as the means 
 of procuring and increasing it, is the consequence of his 
 favor ; since it is by his favor only, that we are induced 
 and enabled to make any right applications to him. 
 
 CXXVII. There are two extraordinary virtues to be 
 learned from human imperfection. The imperfections 
 of others, may teach us patience ; the imperfections of 
 ourselves, may teach us humility. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 267 
 
 CXXVIII. We are not to imagine, that we do honor 
 to Jesus Christ by believing in him ; for our faith is a 
 tribute due to his excellence : and we do ourselves honor 
 in manifesting, by our faith in him, that discerning wis- 
 dom, by which we are led to discover the infinitely 
 superior excellence which was in him, above all the 
 men that have ever lived in the world ; which superiority 
 is evident in various instances, and particularly, in his 
 wonderful and intimate knowledge, both of the divine 
 and human nature. Our own experience, compared 
 attentively with his discourses and reasonings upon 
 that subject, will sufficiently demonstrate to us, that no 
 man ever had so clear an inspection into all the powers 
 and weaknesses, motions and mutations, vices and vir- 
 tues, of the mind of man, as he had ; nor did ever any 
 man understand the perfections and imperfections, the 
 miseries and happiness, incident and belonging to human 
 nature, in any degree equally with him ; neither was any 
 man ever able to prescribe such just rules and methods 
 of attaining happiness, and avoiding misery, as he, to the 
 infinite benefit and advantage of mankind, has been 
 pleased to do. And, since we have so sensible a demon- 
 stration, by our own inward feeling of what passes in 
 ourselves, and by our continual discoveries and obser- 
 vations of what passes in others, that Jesus Christ has 
 made so lively, just, and true a description of human 
 nature, no reasonable man ought to doubt either his 
 knowledge or sincerity, in what he has discovered to 
 us of the divine : for his truth in describing human 
 nature, is a justification of his truth in describing the 
 divine ; and his knowledge of the one, a justification of 
 his knowledge of the other. 
 
 CXXIX. The chief reason why few arrive at the 
 felicity of a clear and strong faith, seems to me to be 
 this ; the soul is not able so to disengage itself from the 
 objects to which its affections have united it, as to give 
 itself up freely to the disquisition of abstracted and im- 
 portant truths : such is the slavery to which our vices 
 and corruptions have betrayed us ; and such is the glo- 
 rious liberty, which we can never obtain, but by the 
 bountiful assistance of divine power ; which, by enlight- 
 ening the reason, and displaying before it far more 
 excellent and noble objects, can alone enable it to make 
 
268 
 
 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 
 
 [HOWj 
 
 a truer and better choice. But, whosoever is happy 
 enough to enjoy such an illumination, must not imagine 
 that his reason is more easy to be kept bright than a 
 piece of brass or iron; for if he neglect frequently to 
 rub and polish it, he will soon be convinced, that it will 
 lose its lustre. And nothing but our ignorance of the 
 difference between a clear and sullied reason, can ever 
 make us with patience endure the latter. 
 
 CXXX. Jesus, my Lord, have mercy upon me. I 
 believe thee, I know thee to be the Son of the everliv- 
 ing God ; not more from the miracles which thou hast 
 wrought, than from the words which thou hast spoken. 
 Thy words are no less a demonstration of infinite 
 wisdom, than thy works of infinite power ; and I most 
 humbly implore thy favor and mercy, both as my Sa- 
 viour and my God. 
 
 CXXXI. Thou great and adorable God, the com- 
 plete knowledge of whom is perfect felicity ; and even 
 the imperfect knowledge of whom the most desirable 
 blessing ; enlarge and purify my soul for the contem- 
 plation of thee, that, when I consider thy incompre- 
 hensible glories, I may adore thee, in a measure pro- 
 portionable to my conceptions of thee. Make my know- 
 ledge and adoration of thee to increase, every moment 
 of my life ; and, if it please thee, raise them still higher 
 in the last moments of it; that, by a lively faith, humble 
 obedience, fixed hopes, and ardent love, I may ascend 
 to the eternal fruition of thee, in thy everlasting kingdom 
 of glory, through Jesus Christ, my Saviour. Amen. 
 
 CXXXII. I think the mystery of the Trinity may 
 be very w^ell accounted for by human reason ; so far as 
 to vindicate it from being a contradiction. But, to 
 imagine that human reason is capable of arriving at a 
 clear and just notion of it, is to imagine that human 
 reason is not human reason; that it is neither finite 
 nor limited, but capable of extending itself, even to the 
 infinite extent of all truth. There is nothing more 
 vain, than to fancy that human reason is the measure 
 of all truth, and that nothing can be true but wdiat is 
 measured by it. We may as justly think, that a man’s 
 '^span is the measure of infinite space, or the hollow of 
 his hand the measure of all matter, as that his under- 
 standing is the measure of all truth. It is objected, 
 
HOW.J DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 269 
 
 that one cannot be three, nor three one : if this be 
 affirmed of numbers, I grant it is true ; but if it be af- 
 firmed, that by granting it to be true as to numbers, it 
 must necessarily be true as to the Trinity, I absolutely 
 deny that affirmation ; for the case is not the same be- 
 tween them. And this objection is only a fallacy, 
 which supposes two cases alike, which are not alike; 
 and therefore its conclusion is false. It is evident, that 
 the number three contains three units, and that three 
 units is more than one unit; it is also evident, that one 
 unit is not so much as three units, and therefore that 
 one unit cannot be three units. Now, to make the case 
 the same in the Trinity, and this a just confutation of it, 
 somebody must affirm, but who that somebody is I do 
 not know, that one essentially distinct God, may be 
 three essentially distinct Gods ; and that three essen- 
 tially distinct Gods, may be but one essentially distinct 
 God. But nobody that believes the Trinity rightly, 
 believes it in this manner ; and, therefore, this is a 
 fallacious comparison, and a wrong argument. The 
 true notion of the Trinity, as 1 conceive, is, that God 
 the Father has existed from all eternity; that God the 
 Son has been begotten by Him from all eternity, and 
 has eternally existed with him; that God the Holy 
 Ghost has, by an eternal procession, proceeded from 
 the Father and the Son, and eternally existed with 
 them. But nobody imagines, that either the Son, or the 
 Holy Ghost, were ever separated and divided from the 
 Father ; since such a separation would make three es- 
 sentially distinct Gods. On the contrary, the Christian 
 belief is, that both the Son and Holy Ghost are insepa- 
 rably united to the Father ; that they remain one same 
 and indivisible substance with Him, so as with Him to 
 make but one God. Now this is as far from a contra- 
 diction as to say, that a thousand houses are but one 
 city, and' one city is a thousand houses; that millions 
 of drops are one stream, and that one stream is a mik 
 lion of drops. All the difference is, that we know, by 
 our own perception, how thousands of houses make one 
 city, and how millions of drops make one stream ; and 
 so on the contrary. But we do not know, because it is 
 out of the reach of our senses, and beyond the bounds 
 of our understanding, how the three persons of the 
 23 ^ 
 
270 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [lIOW. 
 
 Trinity, as we call them, are one God ; or how the 
 undivided Godhead contains the three persons in the Tri- 
 nity. But, to give a yet clearer and juster instance of 
 the matter ; when we see a plant or tree, with different 
 shoots growing out of the same root, we think we 
 speak properly, and so we do, when we say it is one 
 plant or tree : and we speak as properly, when, de- 
 signing to distinguish the differences of that plant or 
 tree, we say, that the root and two shoots growing out 
 of it are three ; for there is both such a diversity and 
 distinction, as must be numbered by three ; and yet, in 
 another respect there is such a unity, as can be called 
 but one. There is such a union and connexion be- 
 tween the root and those shoots which grow out of it, 
 that when we conceive of them altogether, we can have 
 no notion but of one undivided plant or tree ; but, 
 when we conceive of the root and its several shoots, as 
 distinguished from one another, we lay aside the notion 
 of unity, and consider them as three distinct things ; and 
 yet, this is so far from any contradiction, that our no- 
 tions in both respects are very right, and agreeable to 
 the real truth of things. Thus, it is evident v/e have 
 notions of Trinity in unity without absurdity, how 
 wittily soever some men may make an unwary and dan- 
 gerous jest of it. This, in relation to the Deity, whose 
 essence and perfection are incomprehensible, must be 
 acknowledged to be a great mystery; a truth revealed 
 to us, but not explained to our understandings : we 
 have reason to believe it true, though we cannot com- 
 prehend, by our reason, after what manner it is true. 
 We are assured, and we have the fullest reason to be- 
 lieve, that all those beings which shall for ever con- 
 tinue in the favor and presence of God, must necessa- 
 rily enjoy a perfect felicity; but, to comprehend the 
 full nature, extent, and manner of that felicity, is above 
 the reach and capacity of our understandings ; and 
 must be so, till, by being made capable of enjoying it, 
 we become capable of understanding it. In short, as it 
 is not reasonable to believe very strange things, with- 
 out good grounds for our belief; so it is unreasonable 
 positively to conclude every thing to be false, the truth 
 of which does not lie evidently open and level to our 
 understandings. A wise man knows certainly many 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 271 
 
 truths, which an ignorant man cannot comprehend ; but 
 the wisest of men know, by many degrees, fewer truths 
 than they are ignorant of. 
 
 MODERATION IS VIRTUE.* 
 
 The word moderation has of late been so much in 
 every body’s mouth, that it gave me the curiosity to 
 examine the nature of the thing represented by that 
 word. There is, doubtless, one true original idea be- 
 longing to every singly significant word ; though cus- 
 tom may have applied several other significations to it, 
 different from its first and proper meaning. And it is 
 in the labyrinth of this various acceptation of words, 
 or rather misunderstanding of ideas, that contending 
 parties are apt to lose themselves in endless disputes. 
 My design, therefore, is to consider, in as few words as 
 possible, the nature of moderation, abstracted from 
 party and passion ; what it really is, and wherein it 
 consists. It is granted, on all hands, that moderation 
 is a virtue : but I think that is to say too little of it ; 
 since it is the indivisible point in which all virtue cen- 
 tres. For all excess is vicious ; and that spot only, 
 which is free and unpossessed by excess, is the point of 
 moderation, and the very centre of virtue and truth ; 
 surrounded with extremes, without partaking of them. 
 The virtue of prudence, is moderation in judgment; 
 the virtue of temperance, is moderation in appetite ; 
 the virtue of justice, is moderation in mutual dealings 
 and intercourse amongst men ; and the virtue of for- 
 titude, is moderation, setting just bounds and limits to 
 fear and desire, and equally balancing the mind between 
 timidity and rashness. I might as easily trace modera- 
 tion, in all the inferior subordinate virtues, as I have 
 done in these principal and original ones; but this 
 suffices to show, that moderation is the point in which 
 all virtue resides, and that there can be no separation 
 between them. So that, when it is required that our 
 moderation should be known to all men, nothing less is 
 meant, than that v/e should give to the world undenia- 
 ble evid-ences of our virtue, truth, and sincerity; which 
 are all comprehended in that one word moderation. 
 
 * This dissertation v/as written in December 1711. 
 
272 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 But, if any body imagines that in a contest concerning 
 an important truth, to yield up the point and depart 
 from that truth is moderation, he is infinitely mistaken ; 
 for it is so very far from it, that it is a vicious, and, by 
 consequence, immoderate compliance. To comply in 
 indifferent matters, is charity and civility ; but to com- 
 ply where justice and truth are concerned, is a manifest 
 renunciation both of the one and the other ; and men 
 must have a care that they do not permit their virtue to 
 be overpowered, either by their good-nature or good- 
 breeding. Where there is a contest between two per- 
 sons, the one is apt to desire the other to be more 
 moderate ; that is, to yield up the point in dispute : and 
 the other, if he has more right on his side, may more 
 reasonably and justly make that demand to him ; since 
 it is most certain, that the adherence to justice and 
 truth, is moderation ; and he who so adheres, is a mo- 
 derate or virtuous man : and, on the contrary, he who 
 either opposes justice and truth, or departs from them, 
 is an immoderate or vicious one. Should a Jew press 
 a Christian to renounce his religion, and, finding him 
 firm to his principles, desire him to be more moderate, 
 no man can imagine that it would be a virtuous mode- 
 ration in the Christian to renounce Christianity, and 
 turn Jew. But, here lies the fallacy and mistake : both 
 vice and virtue are, for want of a true distinction, 
 indifferently attributed to moderation ; which is vul- 
 garly and falsely taken for yielding and complying, no 
 matter whether reasonably or unreasonbly : and he 
 who cannot oblige another to comply with his interest 
 or passion, will always be apt to accuse him of want 
 of moderation. But I do not wonder that moderation 
 is more talked of than understood ; since most men’s 
 virtue lies more in their tongues, than in their affections 
 and understandings; and he who does not feel the 
 influence of virtue and moderation in himself, must 
 needs talk as ignorantly and imperfectly of it, as a blind 
 man does of colors. But, were there more moderation 
 in men’s minds, there would be more in their manners ; 
 more justice and integrity, more charity and generosity. 
 And, when the world is more possessed with that vir- 
 tue of moderation, it will be better known, better 
 practised, and less talked of: it will then be attended 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS* 
 
 with those natural effects of unity, peacCj and kindness^ 
 which it would never fail to produce, were it more real 
 and universal. In the mean time, I take the liberty to 
 advise all contending parties to examine very impar- 
 tially, whether, at the same time that they upbraid 
 their adversaries for having the mote of immoderation 
 in their minds, they have not a beam of it lying across 
 their own ; and, if they have, to remove it as soon as 
 they can ; for, having experimentally learned to work 
 that cure in themselves, they may more justly reprove, 
 and more skilfully and successfully advise and assist, 
 their neighbors. As for my own particular, I profess 
 to be of no other party than that of moderation ; which 
 is the party of right reason and truth : yet, at the same 
 time, I clearly foresee that it will be my fate, though I 
 shall never think it my misfortune, to be always on the 
 weakest side ; since power and superiority never fail 
 to get the better of moderation ; which is ever succes- 
 sively abandoned by all prevailing parties, and left as 
 a poor neglected portion, for those few who value it 
 enough to content themselves with it even nakedly, or 
 divested of power and advantage. 
 
 REPUTATION NO TRUE RULE OF ACTION. 
 
 One reason why men usually have such wrong notions 
 of things, is, because they receive general rules, which 
 yet have many exceptions to them, without having any 
 regard to those exceptions ; or rather, it is because they 
 receive those rules for general ones, which are not 
 general. For want of knowledge and judgment, they 
 do not make right distinctions between that part of a 
 rule which must always be the same, and other parts 
 which are liable to variation and change. It is a great 
 mistake amongst many people, that reputation is to be 
 the rule of action ; which is as much as to affirm, that 
 an uncertain and variable thing is to be a certain and 
 fixed direction ; that a heap of sand, which will be scat- 
 tered by the first wind, is a sufficient land-mark for 
 travellers for ever to know their way by ; that a thing 
 which is capable of as many forms and sudden changes 
 as the clouds in the air, is a constant and settled rule of 
 behavior and action. In short, if we have no other rule 
 
2Y4 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 of action but reputation, I must affirm, that we have no 
 rule at all. But I think we have another, which we 
 may securely follow and depend upon ; such a one, as 
 will keep us always in the right way, if we can but be 
 happy enough to keep our eyes ever fixed upon it : which 
 rule is, the united principles of right reason and religion, 
 or rather of true Christianity, which is right reason. 
 Here, we have a substantial rule ; there, we have only 
 the wavering shadow of one : here, we have something 
 that will last as long as right reason lasts ; there, we 
 have something that will change as often, as the stream 
 of men’s fancies and opinions changes, which is as often 
 as the weathercock : and those who resolve to be direct- 
 ed by it, must be as inconstant as the wind. Were a 
 man always to be governed by reputation, he must 
 change the fashion of his virtues, as often as the fashion 
 of his clothes ; otherwise he will run the hazard to be 
 laughed at for an old-fashioned virtue, as well as for an 
 old-fashioned coat. A foundation that is unfixed is a foun- 
 dation upon sand, fit only for fools to build on. Wise 
 men, therefore, will find another, and choose a founda- 
 tion, that has itself a foundation to rest upon ; and then 
 they know they may build securely. The true founda- 
 tion of action, is the truth and rectitude of action ; and 
 the foundation of that truth and rectitude, is the eternal 
 perfection and will of the divine nature. We are to do 
 things because they are right, not because they are 
 commendable ; always considering, that they are not 
 right because they are commendable, but commendable 
 because they are right. Wisdom, not vanity, ought to 
 move us to virtue. We are to act for the sake of truth, 
 in order to please God ; not for the sake of praise, in 
 order to please fools. Neither are we to satisfy our- 
 selves, with the trifling bauble of vain reputation, but 
 with the substantial benefit of having done our duty, and 
 of having pleased that adorable Being, whom w^e are 
 obliged to make it the whole business of our lives to 
 please. But to come to a clearer state of this matter, 
 without which there can be no avoiding of confusion, it 
 is necessary to distinguish between the different notions 
 of virtue, and the different motives to it ; by which we 
 may judge of the difference there is in men’s notions 
 of reputation. I wflll confine myself to two, viz., the 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 275 
 
 Heathen notion of virtue, and the Christian notion of it ; 
 for we must not confound the one with the other : but, 
 when we speak of virtue, we must know what virtue we 
 mean; or else, when men speak of reputation, we shall 
 never know what reputation they mean. The notion of 
 most of the celebrated Heathens was, that glory was the 
 only object fit for the pursuit of great and generous 
 souls ; and that such designs only were to be formed 
 and prosecuted by them, as would procure them the 
 most lasting, and, as they vainly enough imagined, im- 
 mortal glory ; that is, the praise and applause of their 
 actions while they lived, and the perpetuation of their 
 fame in after-ages ; so that future generations might 
 bestow that commendation upon their names and me- 
 mories, which the present did upon their living persons. 
 This present and Aiture glory was the idol of the more 
 generous Heathens ; it was the ultimate good which they 
 proposed to themselves in this life, and the only felicity 
 for which they hoped after death : so that, the only 
 motive of all their actions, the only incitement to their 
 ambition, was glory and praise ; a thin diet for a rational 
 mind to feed upon ; all the pleasure and immortality of 
 which, was to be enjoyed in the short space of this pre- 
 sent life only, by the help of a vain fancy, and over- 
 heated imagination. The other notion of Christian 
 virtue, is this, that the principal thing toward which a 
 wise man ought to bend his thoughts, designs, and ac- 
 tions, is the approbation and favor of God ; the eternal 
 enjoyment of whom, is the true immortal glory after 
 which he ought ambitiously to aspire. This is no vain 
 imaginary pleasure, but a real felicity ; to be felt, tasted, 
 and enjoyed for ever. It will not fail and vanish, when 
 the heat of imagination is extinguished, like the plea- 
 sure of commendation and praise ; but it will be so inse- 
 parably united to our very souls and beings, that the one 
 must last as long as the other. This is the true virtue, 
 the true principle of action, as well as the true rule by 
 which it is to be regulated. When our actions are 
 formed and finished by this rule, they will deserve praise 
 and commendation ; and we may with assurance give it 
 to ourselves, though all the world refuse it to us. He 
 who has the approbation of a well-instructed, well- 
 regulated conscience, needs no other ; if that acquits him. 
 
276 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 it is a divine acquittal, nor needs he care who condemns 
 him. Those who walk altogether by reputation, travel 
 in a labyrinth, amongst such a multiplicity of ways, that 
 they never find the right one, but weary themselves in 
 fruitless and endless labor. Among good fellows, it is 
 a reputation to drink ; among the debauched, to be in- 
 temperate ; among the atheists, to blaspheme; among 
 the pickpockets, to cheat and steal ; among politicians, 
 to deceive and circumvent ; and among heroes, to plun- 
 der and oppress. In short, every one commends what 
 he likes best himself; and where there is such variety of 
 different directors, a man who has no other knowledge 
 of his road, Avill be very apt to miss it. Among the cla- 
 mors of so many false reputations, the low voice of a 
 true reputation is hardly to be heard ; and, if heard, it 
 will hardly be credited against so strong an opposition. 
 There are so few who value either men or actions because 
 they are good, that he who considers reputation, will be 
 apt to choose one that makes a loud noise. Men gene- 
 rally love to have their praises proclaimed, not whisper- 
 ed. There are not many who can have the patience to 
 stay till the day of judgment, to receive the approbation 
 and applause of their actions. If a man is scorched with 
 the thirst of praise, he will strive to quench it though it 
 be in the first puddle ; he will not take the pains to 
 search far for a clear fountain, if muddy water be near 
 at hand. But it may be objected, that certainly reputa- 
 tion is a valuable thing, since it has been accounted so 
 by the wisest of men : neither will I deny that a just and 
 true reputation is a most desirable thing ; but I deny 
 that it is desirable only as it is praise and commendation ; 
 since ill actions, among many people, may procure 
 those, as well as good ones ; but it is desirable, as it is 
 the effect of a desirable cause ; it is desirable, because 
 true merit, which only can give a true reputation, con- 
 fers it ; and true merit is what every body ought to 
 aspire after, and to be thankful to God for giving it to 
 them, when they have it. iffen ought to be truly virtu- 
 ous, because true virtue is in itself a desirable thing, 
 loved by that adorable wisdom which is the fountain of 
 all wisdom as well as of all virtue ; and whether it is its 
 fortune to be commended or neglected, esteemed or 
 despised, it will not, or at least it ought not, to appear 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 277 
 
 less amiable to those who admire, covet, and possess it, 
 because they are assured it will make them approved 
 and accepted, where approbation and acceptance is a 
 more valuable, lasting, and substantial blessing, than 
 even that immortal fame and glory, which is so gene- 
 rally and foolishly preferred before it. 
 
 “ How can ye believe, which receive honor one of 
 another ; and seek not the honor that cometh of God 
 only 
 
 A strong vanity, makes a weak faith ; 
 
 And a strong faith, a weak vanity. 
 
 A RATIONAL ESSAY UPON THE TRINITY. 
 
 In relation to the Trinity, I would have it considered, 
 whether unity of nature or essence, and plurality of 
 persons, is not necessary to absolute felicity and per- 
 fection ; at least, whether, according to the best conjec- 
 tures of human reason about a matter so far beyond its 
 reach, it does not seem highly probable that it is so. 
 Infinite perfection undoubtedly belongs to the Deity ; 
 but whether that is consistent with unity of person, and 
 a solitary existence, is what I would now consider only 
 in a rational manner, without any regard to revelation. 
 We can attain to the knowledge of most of the attributes 
 of God, even to what is equal to a demonstration, by 
 just deductions and inferences from what we find to be 
 in ourselves. We are sensible of some small degree 
 of power and wisdom in ourselves ; from whence we 
 must certainly conclude, that what we find imperfectly 
 in such creatures as we are, must be most perfectly in 
 the Deity ; and that, by consequence, almighty poVer 
 and infinite wisdom are attributes belonging to him. 
 Since we can, by this manner of reasoning, enter so far 
 into the knowledge of the divine nature, as to find out 
 many of its perfections, why may we not, by the same 
 method, discover something of the nature of its felicity ? 
 We agree that the felicity of friendship is one of the 
 greatest belonging to human nature ; that an intimate 
 afiection between two friends, with a conformity of tem- 
 per, thoughts, and inclinations, is a great happiness of 
 human life ; and yet, we perceive there is an exceeding 
 imperfection in this happiness, from the separation and 
 division of the persons ; which necessarily obstructs that 
 24 
 
278 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 entire union, and perfect communication of thought and 
 affection, which are requisite to a complete felicity. 
 From hence we may reasonably infer, that the felicity 
 of the Deity is rendered infinitely perfect by a plurality 
 of persons, between whom there is an exact harmony of 
 thought, of will, and of affections ; who are inseparable 
 and indivisible, from a complete union of nature and 
 essence, in one eternal, infinite, and glorious Being. As 
 to the number of persons necessary to supreme felicity, 
 there is no foundation for human reason to determine 
 any thing concerning it; and therefore we can come by 
 revelation only, to the knowledge of the number. This 
 alone can confirm to us the former conjectures of our 
 reason ; by discovering, that a Trinity of persons united 
 in essence, is what composes the felicity and perfection 
 of the Deity. We may, by our reason, further conceive 
 concerning the eternal generation of the Son, and the 
 eternal procession of the Holy Ghost ; that since a 
 Trinity of persons is the perfection of the Deity, the 
 Father necessarily exists, not only eternally, but per- 
 petually imparting his divine nature to the Son ; and 
 that both the Father and the Son eternally and perpetu- 
 ally exist, imparting the divine nature to the Holy 
 Ghost. So that the Son receives his divine nature by a 
 spiritual generation, or communication from the Father, 
 as the Holy Ghost receives his divine nature by a spi- 
 ritual procession, or communication of it from the Fa- 
 ther and the Son. Had the existence of the Son been 
 only from an act of the will of the Father, and the ex- 
 istence of the Holy Ghost only from an act of the will 
 of the Father and the Son, we might have supposed a 
 time before those acts of the will took place ; and, by 
 consequence, that the generation of the Son, and pro- 
 cession of the Holy Ghost, was in time : but, when we 
 take it for granted, that the perfection of the Deity con- 
 sists in the union of three persons in one nature or 
 essence, we must conclude that union to be necessary, 
 perpetual, and eternal, as also the generation and pro- 
 cession to have been necessary, perpetual, and eternal. 
 From hence it appears, wherein consists the superiority 
 of the Father, which is in being the fountain and 
 source of the Deity, and in communicating the divine 
 nature to the Son, and jointly with him to the Holy 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 279 
 
 Ghost ; as the subordination of the Son consists in his 
 receiving the divine nature from the Father, and the 
 subordination of the Holy Ghost in his receiving the 
 divine nature from the Father and the Son : and hereby 
 it is evident, that the co-equality of the Son and of the 
 Holy Ghost to the Father, consists in the full and 
 complete participation and reception of the divine na- 
 ture from him. Upon this foundation, we may securely 
 worship*and adore the ever-blessed Trinity in unity, one 
 in perfect consent and harmony, one in perfect compla- 
 cency and love, as well as in nature and essence, with- 
 out danger of tritheism and idolatry. 
 
 I do not pretend to establish this way of reasoning, as 
 a foundation of faith, nor do I fix my faith upon the 
 conclusions I have drawn from reason, which can 
 amount to no more than a rational probability. I abso- 
 lutely believe those conclusions no further, than they 
 are supported and confirmed by Scripture, as under- 
 stood by the catholic Church. I only tried, for my 
 own satisfaction, how nearly I could reconcile revela- 
 tion and reason. The proposition from which all my 
 other inferences and conclusions seem to me clearly and 
 naturally to flow, is what I should no otherwise regard 
 than as a reasonable conjecture, which might either be 
 true or false, were it not warranted from Scripture, 
 which declares the Godhead to exist in three persons 
 united in one nature or essence ; from whence I make 
 no difficulty to conclude, that it is that particular mode 
 of existence, which constitutes the perfection and felicity 
 of the Deity. And I think I may, without presumption, 
 affirm, that, in conjunction with infinite wisdom and 
 almighty power, infinite harmony and love are the feli- 
 city of the Deity, and complete its perfection. In call- 
 ing this a rational essay, all that I mean, is, to show, 
 that the Trinity, as it is revealed in Scripture, is not a 
 notion absurd or contradictory to our reason; which is 
 too frequently objected to it. 
 
 an humble attempt, to illustrate the true mean- 
 ing and end of the sacrament of the lord’s 
 
 supper. 
 
 I will not suppose, that any question will be made, 
 whether a person who believes the divinity of our Sa- 
 
280 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 vionr, and acknowledges his satisfaction for the sins of 
 mankind, who truly repents of his sins, and resolves 
 sincerely to^forsake them, and who, in obedience to our 
 Saviour’s commands, communicates in the sacrament 
 of his body and blood, receives worthily or not. 
 
 His believing that there is no change or alteration in 
 the elements of bread and wine after consecration, will 
 not, I suppose, alter the case. If he believes, as it is 
 most natural to believe, that our Saviour, jvhen he 
 said, ‘‘ This is my body, this is my blood,” did, by the 
 same almighty word of power, which said, “ Let there 
 be light, and there Vv as light,” ordain and decree that 
 all those blessings and benefits which he had purchased 
 and procured for mankind, by his passion, death, and 
 intercession, should, as long as the world continues, 
 attend upon the sacred action, and be annexed to it ; and 
 that every individual person, who, in a just and thank- 
 ful remembrance of what his Saviour had done and 
 suffered for him, should, in obedience to his command, 
 receive the sacrament of his body and blood, — every 
 such person, should be made a partaker of all the bless- 
 ings and benefits of his passion and death ; obtaining a 
 perfect remission of his sins, and eternal salvation 
 through his merits and intercession, if he persevered in 
 obedience to him : so that, according to the definition of 
 our Church, the bread and wine in this sacrament would 
 be, most certainly, the outward and visible sign of an 
 inward and spiritual grace. 
 
 This notion would put an end to all the disputes 
 about transubstantiation and consubstantiation, and 
 would fully answer all the desirable ‘ends and purposes 
 of this sacrament ; and, indeed, it really and truly 
 seems to be the plain and natural meaning of the words 
 of our blessed Saviour. 
 
 We are not to imagine, that this last injunction, of 
 the highest endearment between our Saviour and his 
 disciples, was only a barren^ rite or ceremony, if I 
 may so say, to entitle them to the same blessing of 
 acceptance, common to all other acts of obedience and 
 devotion ; but that these words of our Saviour, “ This 
 
 » By barren is only meant, void of any new or extraordinary 
 privilege. 
 
HOW.] DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. 281 
 
 is my body, this is my blood,” without his having any 
 thought of changing the elements of bread and wine, 
 do, by a plain interpretation, assure us, that the action 
 of receiving should effectually be attended with a full 
 participation of the benefits purchased, and of the 
 atonement made for us, by his body crucified, and by 
 his blood. shed upon the cross, for the redemption of 
 mankind. 
 
 It is infinite mercy and almighty power, that has, to 
 the end of the world, annexed those blessings to this 
 holy sacrament ; and it is by faith and obedience only, 
 that we can be rendered capable of receiving them ; 
 nor does it depend, as the Papists absurdly imagine, 
 upon the intention of the priest, whether the com- 
 municants shall receive these blessings or not ; neither 
 is there any occasion or reason for the repeated sacri- 
 fices of the mass. The foregoing notion can be con- 
 futed by nothing, but by plain and positive words of 
 Scripture, which are nowhere to be found. As for 
 inferences to be drawn from them, those which favor 
 and support this notion, are the most just, easy, and 
 natural, and, freeing the mind from doubts and diffi- 
 culties, render this great mystery as intelligible as it 
 is possible to be ; sufficiently affording to every de- 
 vout communicant a rational satisfaction and comfort. 
 When we consider how much is given, and how much 
 is forgiven us, it cannot fail to kindle in our souls the 
 strongest flame of love they are capable of entertaining, 
 for each of the divine persons in the blessed Trinity ; 
 to whom all duty, praise, and love must be for ever due. 
 
 The best preparation for the performance of this 
 duty, is, a constant endeavor of becoming a sincere 
 Christian : without which all devotion is vain and inef- 
 fectual ; and with which, every religious duty will most 
 certainly be accompanied with success and acceptance. 
 But, since, through the exceeding weakness and imper- 
 fection of our nature, even the best of men are too 
 often apt to be remiss in their duties, and to slacken 
 their endeavors of pleasing God, it is most reasonable, 
 that, when we are about to commemorate the exceeding 
 love of our blessed Saviour, in his death and sufferings 
 for us, we should diligently apply ourselves to repair 
 our remissness, and strive to raise our minds and affec- 
 24 ^ 
 
282 DEVOUT MEDITATIONS. [HOW. 
 
 tions to the highest sense of duty and gratitude ; which 
 is all the return we are capable of making, for these 
 inestimable blessings we are about to receive. 
 
 The celebration of this sacrament is most fitly and 
 solemnly performed in the Church of England, and in a 
 manner perfectly agreeable to its first institution. The 
 elements are set apart and consecrated for that holy 
 purpose, and prayer is made for the fulfilling of that 
 promise which was virtually made by the words of our 
 blessed Saviour ; who is petitioned, that his body which 
 was given for us, and his blood which was shed for us, 
 may preserve our bodies and souls unto everlasting life, 
 and that we should ever thankfully remember his infi- 
 nite mercy toward us. All divine promises for mercy 
 and blessings, though fixed and positive, yet the stated 
 condition of our obtaining them, is by duty and prayer ; 
 it being vain to imagine, that the greatest of benefits 
 should be bestowed upon any, who do not earnestly 
 covet and desire them. 
 
TWO SERMONS 
 
 BY RALPH CUDWORTH, D. D. 
 
 Evo'£/?£t, w rcKvov b yap cuae/^wv, aKpas 
 Xpiffuaviapos corn rrjs ^ziag <pvae(og fxifirjais, 
 
 S. Greg. Nyss. 
 
‘Thus, Moses-like, conversing with God in the' mount, and there 
 beholding his glory shining thus out upon us, in the face of Christ, 
 we should be deriving a copy of that eternal beauty upon our own souls ; 
 and our thirsty and hungry spirits would be perpetually imbibing 
 a true participation and image of his glory. A true divine love would 
 wing our souls, and make them take their flight swiftly toward heaven 
 and immortality. Could we once be thoroughly possessed and mastered 
 with a full confidence of the divine love, and of God’s readiness to 
 assist such feeble, languishing creatures as we are, in our essays after 
 heaven and blessedness, we should then, finding ourselves borne up by 
 an eternal and almighty strength, dare to adventure, courageously and 
 confidently, upon the highest degrees of happiness, to assail the King 
 of heaven with a holy gallantry and violence, to pursue a course of 
 well-doing without weariness ; knowing that our labor shall not be 
 vain in the Lord, and that we shall receive our reward, if we faint not : 
 we should work out our salvation in the most industrious manner, 
 trusting in God, as one ready to instil strength and power into all the 
 vital faculties of our souls : we should “ press toward the mark, for 
 the prize of the high calling of God, in Christ Jesus, that we may 
 apprehend that, for which also we are apprehended, of Christ Jesus.” ’ 
 John Smith. Select Discourses, 
 
TWO SERMONS, 
 
 BY RALPH CUDWORTH, D. D. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THEY KNOW CHRISTj WHO KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 1 John, ii. 3, 4. 
 
 And hereby we do know that we know him^ if we keep his com- 
 mandments. He that saith, I know him^ and keepeth not his com- 
 mandments^ is a liar, and the truth is not in him. 
 
 We have much inquiry concerning knowledge, in 
 these latter times. The sons of Adam are now as busy 
 as ever Adam himself was, about the tree of knowledge 
 of good and evil ; shaking its boughs, and scrambling 
 for the fruit : whilst, I fear, many are too unmindful of 
 the tree of life. And though there be now no cherubim 
 with their flaming swords, to fright men off, yet the way 
 that leads to it seems to be solitary and untrodden, as 
 if there were but few that had any mind to taste of its 
 fruit. There are many, that speak of new glimpses 
 and discoveries of truth, of dawnings of Gospel light. 
 And no question, but God has reserved much of this, 
 for the very evening and sun-set of the world ; for, in 
 the latter days, “ knowledge shall be increased.” But 
 yet, I wish we could, in the mean time, see that day 
 dawn, which the apostle speaks of, and that “ day-star 
 arise, in men’s hearts.” I wish, whilst we talk of light, 
 and dispute about truth, that we could walk more as 
 “ children of the light.” But, if Saint John’s rule, in 
 the text, be good, that no man truly knows Christ, 
 but he who keeps his commandments, — it is much to be 
 suspected, that many of us, who pretend to light, have a 
 thick and gloomy darkness within, overspreading our 
 souls. 
 
286 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 There are now many large volumes and discourses 
 written concerning Christ ; thousands of controversies 
 discussed, infinite problems determined, concerning his 
 divinity, humanity, union of both together, and what 
 not. So that our bookish Christians, who have all their 
 religion in writings and papers, think they are com- 
 pletely furnished with all kinds of knowledge concern- 
 ing Christ. And, when they see all their leaves lying 
 about them, they think they have a. goodly stock of 
 knowledge and truth, and cannot possibly miss the way 
 to heaven ; as if religion were nothing but a little book- 
 scrap, a mere paper-skill. 
 
 But if Saint John’s rule here be good, we must not 
 judge of our knowing Christ, by our skill in books 
 and papers, but by our keeping his commandments. 
 And that, I fear, will discover many of us, notwith- 
 standing all this light which we boast of round about 
 us, to have nothing but Egyptian darkness within our 
 hearts. 
 
 The vulgar sort think, that they know Christ enough, 
 out of their creeds, and catechisms, and confessions of 
 faith : and, if they have but a little acquainted tfiem- 
 selves with these, and, like parrots, have conned the 
 words of them, they doubt not, but that they are suf- 
 hcientiy instructed in all the mysteries of the kingdom 
 of heaven. Many of the more learned, if they can but 
 wrangle and dispute about Christ, imagine themselves 
 to be grown great proficients in the school of Christ* 
 
 The greater part of the world, whether learned or 
 unlearned, think, that there is no need of purging and 
 purifying their hearts, for the right knowledge of 
 Christ and his Gospel. But, though their lives be never 
 so wicked, and their hearts never so foul within, yet 
 they may know Christ sufficiently out of their trea- 
 tises and discourses, out of their mere systems and 
 bodies of divinity. Which I deny not to be useful, in 
 a subordinate way; although our Saviour prescribes to 
 his disciples another method, for coming to the right 
 knowledge of divine truths: “He that will do my 
 Father’s will, shall know of the doctrine, whether it be 
 of God.” The true Christian, indeed, is not he that is 
 only book-taught, but he, that is God-taught; he, that 
 has “ an unction from the Holy One,” “ that teacheth 
 
SERM. I.] 
 
 KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 287 
 
 him all things ; ” he, that has the Spirit of Christ 
 within him, that searcheth out the deep things of God : 
 “ For, as no man knoweth the things of a man, save 
 the spirit of a man, which is in him ; even so, the 
 things of God knoweth no man, but the spirit of God.” 
 
 Ink and paper can never make us Christians, can 
 never beget a new nature, a living principle in us ; can 
 never form Christ, or any true notions of spiritual 
 things, in our hearts. The Gospel, that new law which 
 Christ delivered to the world, is not merely a dead let- 
 ter without us, but a quickening spirit within us. Cold 
 theorems and maxims, dry and jejune disputes, lean syl- 
 logistical reasonings, could never yet, of themselves, 
 beget the least glimpses of true heavenly light, the least 
 sap of saving knowledge, in any heart. All this is but 
 the groping of the poor dark spirit of man after truth ; 
 to find it out with his own endeavors, and feel it with 
 his own cold and benumbed hands. Words and sylla- 
 bles, which are but dead things, cannot possibly convey 
 the living notions of heavenly truth to us. The secret 
 mysteries of a Divine life, of a new nature, of Christ 
 formed in our hearts, cannot be written or spoken ; 
 language and expressions cannot reach them : neither 
 can they be ever truly understood, except the soul itself 
 be kindled from within, and awakened into the life 
 which animates them. A painter that would draw a 
 rose, though he may flourish some likeness of it in 
 figure and color, can yet never paint the scent and 
 fragrancy ; or, if he would draw a flame, he cannot put 
 a constant heat into his colors; he cannot make his 
 pencil drop a sound, as the echo in the epigram mocks 
 at him.^ All the skill of cunning artizans and mechanics, 
 cannot put a principle of life into a statue of their own 
 making. Neither are we able to enclose in words and 
 letters, the life, soul, and essence, of any spiritual truths, 
 and, as it were, to incorporate it in them. 
 
 Some philosophers have determined, that virtue can- 
 not be taught, by any certain rules or precepts. Men 
 and books may propound some directions to us, that 
 may engage us in a course of life, and practice, by 
 means of which, we shall at last find virtue within our- 
 
 * ‘ Si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum.’ 
 
288 
 
 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 selves, and be experimentally acquainted with it ; but 
 they cannot teach it us, like a mechanic art or trade. 
 No, surely : “ there is a spirit in man ; and the inspira- 
 tion of the Almighty giveth understanding.” But we 
 shall not meet with this spirit any where but in the way 
 of obedience : the knowledge of Christ, and the keep- 
 ing of his commandments, must always go together, and 
 be mutual causes of one another : 
 
 “ Hereby we know that we know him, if we keep his 
 commandments. He that saith, I know him, and keep- 
 eth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is 
 not in him.” 
 
 I come now to these words themselves; which are so 
 pregnant, that I shall not need to force out any thing 
 from them. I shall, therefore, only take notice of some 
 few observations, which drop from them, of their own 
 accord ; and then conclude, with some application of 
 them to ourselves. 
 
 I. First, then, if our keeping Christ’s command- 
 ments, be the right method of discovering our know- 
 ledge of Christ, then, we may safely draw conclusions 
 concerning our state and condition, from the conform- 
 ity of our lives to the will of our Redeemer. 
 
 Would we know whether we know Christ aright, 
 let us consider whether the life of Christ be in us. 
 He that has not the life of Christ in him, has nothing 
 but the name, nothing but a fancy of Christ ; he has 
 not the substance of him.^ Whoso builds his house 
 upon this foundation, not an airy notion of Christ 
 swimming in his brain, but on Christ really dwelling 
 and living in his heart, as our Saviour himself bears 
 witness, he “ buildeth his house upon a rock ; and when 
 the floods come, and the winds blow, and the rain 
 descends, and beats upon it, it shall stand impregnably. 
 But he who builds all his comfort, upon an ungrounded 
 persuasion, that God, from all eternity, has loved him, 
 and absolutely decreed him to life and happiness, and 
 seeks not for God really dwelling in his soul,— he builds 
 his house upon a quicksand, and it shall suddenly sink, 
 and be swallowed up : “ His hope shall be cut ofl’, and 
 his trust shall be a spider’s web ; he shall lean upon his 
 
 b ‘ Q,ui non habet vitaifl Christi, Christum non habct.’ 
 
SERM. 1.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 289 
 
 house but it shall not stand ; he shall hold it fast but it 
 shall not endure.” 
 
 We are nowhere commanded to pry into these se- 
 crets ; but the wholesome counsel and advice given to us 
 is this, “ to make our calling and election sure.” We 
 have no warrant in Scripture to peep into these hidden 
 rolls and volumes of eternity ; and to make it our first 
 object, when we come to Christ, to spell out our names 
 in the stars; and to persuade ourselves, that we are 
 certainly elected to everlasting happiness, before we 
 see the image of God, in righteousness and true holi- 
 ness, shaped in our hearts. God’s everlasting decree 
 is too dazzling and bright an object, for us to set our 
 eye upon. It is far easier and safer for us, to look 
 upon the rays of his goodness and holiness, as they 
 are reflected in our hearts ; and there to read the mild 
 and gentle characters of God’s love to us, in our love 
 to him and our hearty compliance with his heavenly 
 will : as it is safer for us, if we would see the sun, to 
 look upon it here below in a pail of water, than to cast 
 up our daring eyes upon the body of the sun itself, 
 which is too radiant and scorching for us. The best 
 assurance that any one can have of his interest in 
 God, is, doubtless, the conformity of his soul to God. 
 Those divine purposes, whatsoever they may be, are 
 altogether unsearchable and unknowable: they lie wrap- 
 ped up in everlasting darkness, and covered in a deep 
 abyss. Who is able to fathom the bottom of them ? 
 
 Let us not, therefore, make this our first attempt to- 
 ward God and religion, to persuade ourselves strongly 
 of these everlasting decrees. For if, at our first flight, 
 we aim so high, we shall haply but scorch our wings, 
 and be struck back with lightning ; as those giants of 
 old were, that would needs attempt to assault heaven. 
 And it is, indeed, a most gigantic essay, to thrust our- 
 selves so boldly into the lap of heaven. It is a prank of 
 Nimrod, of a mighty hunter, thus rudely to deal with 
 God ; and to force heaven and happiness before his 
 face, whether he will or not. The way to obtain a good 
 assurance, indeed, of our title to heaven, is not to clam- 
 ber up to it by a ladder of our own ungrounded persua- 
 sions, but to dig as low as hell, by humility and self-de- 
 nial in our own hearts : and, though this may seem to 
 
290 ^ THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH* 
 
 be the farthest way about, yet it is, indeed, the nearest 
 and safest way to it. We must, as the Greek epigram 
 speaks, ascend downward, and descend upward*" if we 
 would indeed come to heaven, or get any true per- 
 suasion of our title to it. 
 
 The most gallant and triumphant conjidence of a 
 Christian riseth safely and surely on this low founda- 
 tion, that lies deep under ground, and there stands firmly 
 and steadfastly. When our heart is once turned into a 
 conformity with the w^ord of God, w^hen we feel our 
 will perfectly to concur with his will, we shall then 
 presently perceive a spirit of adoption within ourselves, 
 teaching us to cry, Abba, Father ! We shall not then 
 care for peeping into those hidden records of eternity, to 
 see whether our names be written there in golden cha- 
 racters ; no, we shall find a copy of God’s thoughts 
 concerning us, written in our own breasts. There, w^e 
 may read the characters of his favor to us ; there, we 
 may feel an inw^ard sense of his love to us, flowing out 
 of our hearty and unfeigned love to him. And w^e shall 
 be more undoubtedly persuaded of it, than if any of 
 those winged watchmen above, who are privy to hea- 
 ven’s secrets, should come and tell us, that they saw our 
 names enrolled in those volumes of eternity. But, on 
 the contrary, though we strive to persuade ourselves 
 ever so confidently, that God from all eternity hath 
 loved us and elected us to life and happiness, — if yet, 
 in the mean time, we entertain any iniquity within our 
 hearts, and willingly close with any temptation, — do 
 what W'e can, we shall find many a cold qualm, every 
 now and then seizing upon us, at approaching dangers : 
 and, when death itself shall grimly look us in the face, 
 we shall feel our hearts die within us, and our spirits 
 quite faint away, though we strive to raise them, and re- 
 cover them, never so much, with the strong winters*’ of 
 our ungrounded presumptions. The least inward evil, 
 willingly continued, will be like a worm fretting the 
 gourd of our jolly confidence and presumptuous persua- 
 sion of God’s love, and always gnawing at the root of it ; 
 and, though we strive to keep it alive, and continually 
 
 ® Ava^aivciv Karitiy Kara^aivziv avoj» 
 
 d- Aqua vitsB. 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 291 
 
 besprinkle it with some dews of our own, yet, it will be 
 always dying and withering in our bosoms. But a good 
 conscience within, will be always better to a Christian, 
 than “ health to his navel, or marrow to his bones it 
 will be an everlasting cordial to his heart ; it will be 
 .softer to him than a bed of down, and he may sleep se- 
 curely upon it, ill the midst of raging and tempestuous 
 seas, ivhen the winds bluster, and the waves beat round 
 about him. A good conscience is the best looking-glass 
 of heaven ; in which the soul may see God’s thoughts 
 and purposes concerning it, reflected as so many shining 
 stars : “ Hereby we know Christ ; hereby we know 
 that Christ loves us, if we keep his commandments.” 
 
 II. Secondly, If hereby only we know, that we know 
 Christ, by our keeping his commandments, then the 
 knowledge of Christ does not consist merely in a few 
 barren notions, in a form of certain dry and sapless 
 opinions. 
 
 Christ came not into the world to All our heads ivith 
 mere speculations ; to kindle a fire of wrangling and 
 contentious dispute among us ; and to warm our spirits 
 against one another, with angry and peevish debates : 
 whilst, in the mean time, our hearts remain all ice 
 within toward God, and have not the least spark of true 
 heavenly fire to melt and thaw them. Christ came not 
 to possess our brains with some cold opinions, that send 
 down a freezing and benumbing influence upon our 
 hearts. Christ was a master of life, not of the 
 schools and he is the best Christian, whose heart 
 beats with the purest pulse toward heaven ; not he, 
 whose head spins out the finest cobwebs. 
 
 He that endeavors really to mortify his passions, and 
 in his life, to comply with that truth which his con- 
 science is convinced of, is nearer a Christian, though he 
 never heard of Christ, than he who believes all the 
 common articles of the Christian faith, and plainly 
 denies Christ in his life. 
 
 Surely the way to heaven, that Christ has taught us, 
 is plain and easy^ if we have but honest hearts : we need 
 not many criticisms, many school distinctions, to come 
 to a right understanding of it. Surely Christ came 
 
 * Vitse magister, non scholae. 
 
 
292 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 not to ensnare us, and entangle us, with captious 
 niceties; or to puzzle our heads, with deep specula- 
 tions ; or to lead us through hard and craggy notions, 
 into the kingdom of heaven. I persuade myself, that no 
 man shall ever be kept out of heaven, for not compre- 
 hending mysteries that were beyond the reach of his 
 shallow understanding, if he had an honest and good 
 heart, that was ready to comply with Christ’s com- 
 mandments. ‘‘ Say not in thy heart. Who shall ascend 
 into heaven ?” that is, with high speculations, to bring 
 down Christ from thence ; or, “ Who shall descend 
 into the abyss beneath?” that is, with deep searching 
 thoughts, to fetch up Christ from thence : but lo, “ the 
 word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart.” 
 
 But I wish it were not the distemper of our times, 
 to scare and fright men with opinions, and make them 
 solicitous only about entertaining this and that specula- 
 lation, which will not render them any thing the better 
 in their lives, or the liker unto God ; whilst, in the 
 mean time, there is no such care taken about our keep- 
 ing Christ’s commandments, and being renewed in our 
 minds according to the image of God, in righteousness 
 and true holiness. We say, ‘‘Lo, here is Christ,” 
 and, “ Lo, there is Christ,” — in these and those opi- 
 nions ; whereas, in truth, Christ is neither here, nor 
 there, nor any where, but where the Spirit of Christ, 
 where the life of Christ is. 
 
 Do we not, now-a-days, open and lock up heaven 
 with the private key of this and that opinion of our 
 own, according to our several fancies, as we please? 
 And, if any one observe Christ’s commandments never 
 so sincerely, and serve God with faith and a pure con- 
 science, yet, haply, understands not some contended-for 
 opinions, some darling notions, he has not the right 
 shibboleth^ he has not the true watch-word, he must 
 not pass the guards into heaven. Do we not make this 
 and that opinion, this and that outward form, to be the 
 wedding-garment ; and boldly sentence to outer dark- 
 ness, those who are not invested with it ? Whereas, 
 every true Christian finds the least dram of hearty 
 affections toward God, to be more cordial and sove- 
 reign to his soul, than all the speculative notions and 
 opinions in the w^orld ; and though he study, also, to 
 
293 
 
 SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 inform his understanding aright, and free his mind from 
 all error and misapprehensions, yet it is nothing but 
 the life of Christ deeply rooted in his heart, that is 
 the chemical elixir which he feeds upon. Had he “ all 
 faith, that he could remove mountains,” as Saint Paul 
 speaks, had he “all knowledge, all tongues and lan- 
 guages,” yet he prizes one dram of love, beyond them 
 all. He accounts him that feeds upon mere notions in 
 religion, to be but an airy and camelion-like Christian. 
 He now finds himself otherwise rooted and centred in 
 God, than formerly, when he merely contemplated and 
 gazed upon Him; he tastes and relishes God within 
 himself ; he has quendam saporem Dei, a certain savor 
 of God ; whereas, before, he did but rove and guess 
 after Him at random. He feels himself safely anchor- 
 ed in God, and will not be dissuaded from enjoying 
 God, though perhaps he skill not many of those sub- 
 tleties, which others make the alpha and omega of their 
 religion. Neither is he scared by those childish affright- 
 ments, with which some would force their private con- 
 ceits upon him ; he is above the superstitious dread of 
 mere speculative opinions, as well as the superstitious 
 reverence of mere outward ceremonies; he cares not 
 so much for subtilty, as for soundness and health qf 
 mind. And, indeed, as it was well spoken by a noble 
 philosopher, that, ‘ without purity and virtue, God is 
 nothing but an empty name so it is as true here, that, 
 without obedience to Christ’s commandments, without 
 the life of Christ dwelling in us, whatsoever opinion 
 we may entertain of him, Christ is only named by us, 
 he is not knoion. • 
 
 I speak not here against a free and ingenuous inquiry 
 into all truth, according to our several abilities and op- 
 portunities ; I plead not for captivating and enthralling 
 our judgments to the dictates of men; I do not dispa- 
 rage the natural improvement of our faculties by true 
 knowledge, which is so noble and gallant a perfection 
 of the mind. The thing which I aim against, is dis^ 
 piriting the life and vigor of our religion, by dry specu^ 
 lations ; and making it nothing but a mere dead skeleton 
 of opinions, a few dry bones tied up together, without 
 
 / Avev apcTijS) Oeos ovofxa fxovov, 
 
 25 ^ 
 
294 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 any flesh and sinews ; and misplacing, upon an eager 
 prosecution of these opinions, all that zeal, which should 
 be spent to better purpose upon nobler objects. 
 
 Knowledge, indeed, is a thing far more excellent than 
 riches, outward pleasures, worldly dignities, or any 
 thing else in the world, besides holiness, and the con- 
 formity of our wills to the will of God ; yet, our 
 happiness consists not in knowledge, but in a certain 
 divine temper and constitution of soul, which is far 
 above it. 
 
 But it is a piece of that corruption which runs 
 through human nature, that we naturally prize truth, 
 more than goodness ; knowledge, more than holiness. 
 We think it a gallant thing, to be fluttering up to heaven 
 with our wings of knowledge and speculation ; whereas, 
 the highest mystery of a divine life here, and of per- 
 fect happiness hereafter, consists in nothing but mere 
 obedience to the divine will. Happiness is nothing 
 but that inward sweet delight, which will arise from 
 the harmonious agreement between our wills and the 
 will of God. 
 
 There is nothing contrary to God in the whole world, 
 nothing that fights against him, but self-will. This is 
 the strong castle that we all keep garrisoned against 
 heaven, in every one of our hearts, which God con- 
 tinually layeth siege unto : and it must be conquered 
 and demolished, before we can conquer heaven. It 
 was by reason of this self-will that Adam fell, in para- 
 dise ; that those glorious angels, those morning stars, 
 kept not their first station, but dropped down- from 
 heaven like falling.stars, and sunk into that condition 
 of bitterness, anxiety, and wretchedness, to which they 
 are now reduced. They all entangled themselves with 
 the length of their own wings ; they would needs will 
 more, and otherwise, than God would will in them; 
 and, going about to make their wills wider, and to en- 
 large them into greater amplitude, the more they strug- 
 gled, they found themselves the faster pinioned, and 
 crowded up into narrowness and servility: insomuch, 
 that now they are not dble to use any wings at all, but, 
 inheriting the serpent’s curse, can only creep with their 
 bellies upon the earth. Now, our only way to recover 
 God and happiness again, is, not to soar up with our 
 
295 
 
 SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 understandings, but to destroy this self-will of ours ; 
 and then we shall find our wings grow again, our plumes 
 fairly spread, and ourselves raised aloft into the free air 
 of perfect liberty, which is perfect happiness. 
 
 There is nothing in the whole world able to do us 
 good or hurt, but God, and our own will ; neither riches 
 nor poverty, nor disgrace nor honor, nor life nor death, 
 nor angels nor devils ; but willing or not willing as we 
 ought. Should hell itself cast all its fiery darts against 
 us, if our will be right, if it be informed by the divine 
 will, they can do us no hurt ; we have then, if I may 
 so speak, an enchanted shield, that is impenetrable, and 
 will bear off all. God will not hurt us, and hell cannot 
 hurt us, if we will nothing but what God wills. Nay, 
 then we are actuated by God himself, and the whole 
 divinity Hows in upon us; and, when we have cash- 
 iered this self-will of ours, which did but shackle and 
 confine our souls, our wills shall then become truly 
 free, being widened and enlarged to the extent of God’s 
 own will. “Hereby we know, that we know Christ 
 indeed,” not by our speculative opinions concerning 
 him, but “by our keeping of his commandments.” 
 
 III. Thirdly, if hereby we are to judge, whether we 
 truly know Christ, by our keeping of his command- 
 ments, so that, he that saith he knoweth him, and keep- 
 eth not his commandments, is a liar ; — then, this was not 
 the plot and design of the Gospel, to give the world, 
 upon what pretence soever, an indulgence to sin. 
 
 But we are too prone to make such misconstructions 
 of the Gospel; as if God had intended nothing else by 
 it but to dandle our corrupt nature, and contrive a 
 smooth and easy way for us to attain happiness, without 
 the toilsome labor of subduing our appetites, and sin- 
 ful affections : or, as if the Gospel were nothing else 
 but a declaration to the world, of God’s engaging his 
 affections, from all eternity, on some particular per- 
 sons ; in such a manner, that he would resolve to love 
 them, and dearly to embrace them, though he never 
 made them partakers of his image, in righteousness and 
 true holiness ; and, though they should remain under 
 the power of all their appetites, yet they should still 
 continue his beloved ones, and he would, notwith--- 
 standing, bring them, at last, undoubtedly into heaven. 
 
296 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUHWORTH. 
 
 Which is nothing else but to make the God whom we 
 worship, the God of the New Testament, an accepter of 
 persons ; one, who encourages that in the world, which 
 is diametrically opposite to God’s own life and being. 
 
 And, indeed, nothing is more ordinary than to shape 
 monstrous and deformed notions of God to ourselves ; 
 looking upon him through the colored medium of our 
 own corrupt hearts, and having the eye of our soul 
 tinctured by the suffusions of our own desires. And 
 therefore, because we mortals can fondly love and hate, 
 and sometimes hug the vices of those to whom our 
 affections are engaged, and kiss their very deformities, — 
 we are ready to shape out a deity like unto ourselves, 
 and to fashion out such a god, as will, in Christ at 
 least, hug the very wickedness of the world; and, in 
 those that are once his own, — by I know not what fond 
 affection, appropriated to himself, — connive at their 
 very sins, so that they shall not make the least breach 
 between himself and them. Some there are, who ques- 
 tion whether of the two be the w^orse idolatry, and of 
 the deeper stain, for a man to make a god out of a 
 piece of wood, and fall down unto it, and worship it, 
 and say, deliver me, for thou art my God,” — as it is 
 expressed in the prophet Isaiah, — or to set up such an 
 idol-god as this, of our own imagination, fashioned 
 according to the similitude of our own fondness and 
 wickedness : — and, when we should paint God with the 
 liveliest colors that we can possibly borrow from any 
 created being, with the purest perfections that we can 
 abstract from them, — to draw him thus, with the black 
 coal of our own corrupt hearts, and to make the very 
 blots and blurs of our own souls, constitute the letters 
 by which we spell out his name. Thus do w^e, that are 
 children of the night, make black and ugly represent- 
 ations of God unto ourselves, as the Ethiopians were 
 wont to do ; copying him out according to our own 
 likeness, and setting up unto ourselves for a god, that 
 which we love most dearly in ourselves, that is, our 
 appetites and passions. But there is no such god as 
 this, any where in the world; but only in some men’s 
 false imaginations, who know not, all this while, that 
 they look upon themselves instead of God, and make 
 an idol of themselves, which instead of him, they wor- 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 297 
 
 ship and adore : being so full of themselves, that, what- 
 soever they see round about them, even God himself, 
 they color with their own tincture ; like the person of 
 whom Aristotle speaks, that, wheresoever he went, and 
 whatsoever he looked upon, still saw his own face 
 represented to him, as in a glass. And, therefore, it is 
 no wonder, if men seem naturally more devoutly af- 
 fected toward such an imaginary god as we have now 
 described, than toward the true real God, clothed with 
 his own real attributes ; since it is nothing but an image 
 of themselves, with which. Narcissus-like, they fall in 
 love. And no wonder, if they kiss and dandle such a 
 baby-god as this ; which, like little children, they have 
 dressed up out of the clouts of their own fond fancies, 
 according to their own likeness, on purpose that they 
 might play and sport with it. 
 
 But, howsoever we paint and disfigure him here 
 below, God will ever dwell in spotless light ; he will 
 still be circled about with his own rays of unstained 
 and immaculate glory. And, though the Gospel be 
 not God as he is in his own brightness, but God veiled 
 and masked to us, God in a state of humiliation and 
 condescent, as the sun in a rainbow, yet it is nothing 
 else but a clear and unspotted mirror of divine holiness, 
 goodness, purity ; in which attributes lie the very life 
 and essence of God himself. The Gospel is God de- 
 scending into the world in our form, and conversing 
 with us in our likeness ; that he might allure and draw 
 us up to God, and make us partakers of his divine form. 
 “God was therefore incarnated, and made man, that he 
 might deify us that is, as Saint Peter expresses it, 
 makes us “ partakers of the divine nature.” Now, I 
 say, the very proper character, and essential tincture, 
 of God himself, is nothing else but goodness. Nay, I 
 may be bold to add, that God is therefore God, because 
 he is the highest and most perfect good ; and good is 
 not therefore good, because God out of an arbitrary 
 will of his would have it so. Whatsoever God doeth 
 in the world, he doeth it as suitable to the highest good^ 
 ness; the idea and fairest copy of which, is his own 
 essence. 
 
 8 e«off yeyovev avfipwrrof, iva sviavrw ^eowoirjcfri, — S. Athanasius, 
 
298 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 Virtue and holiness in creatures, as Plato well dis- 
 courses in his Euthyphro, are not therefore good 
 because God loves them, and will have them to be 
 accounted such; but rather, God therefore loves them 
 because they are, in themselves, simply good. Some 
 of our own authors go a little further yet; and tell us, 
 that God does not fondly love himself, because he is 
 himself; but therefore he loves himself, because he is 
 the highest and most absolute goodness. So that if 
 there could be any thing in the' world better than God, 
 God would love that better than himself : but, because 
 he is essentially the most perfect good, therefore he 
 cannot but love his own goodness, infinitely above all 
 other things. And another mistake, which sometimes 
 we make respecting God, is shaping him out according 
 to the model of ourselves, when we make him nothing 
 but a blind, dark, inmetuous self-will, running through 
 the world ; such as we ourselves, who have not the bal- 
 last of absolute goodness to poise and settle us, are 
 furiously actuated by. 
 
 That I may, therefore, come nearer to the subject in 
 hand. God, who is absolute goodness, cannot love any 
 of his creatures, and take pleasure in them, without 
 bestowing upon them a communication of his goodness 
 and likeness. God cannot make a Gospel, to promise 
 men life and happiness hereafter without being regene- 
 rated, and made partakers of his holiness. As soon 
 may heaven and hell be reconciled, and lovingly shake 
 hands with one another, as God can be fondly indulgent 
 to any sin, in whomsoever it be. As soon may light 
 and darkness be espoused together, and midnight be 
 married to noon-clay, as God can be joined in a league 
 of friendship with any wicked soul. 
 
 The great design of God in the Gospel, is to clear 
 up this mist of sin and corruption, with which we are 
 here surrounded ; and to bring up his creatures out of 
 the shadow of death, to the region of light above, the 
 land of truth and holiness. The great mystery of the 
 Gospel, is, to establish in the hearts of men a god-like 
 frame and disposition of spirit, which consists in right- 
 eousness and true holiness. And Christ, who is the 
 great and mighty Saviour, came into the world, on 
 purpose, not only to save us from fire and brimstone. 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 299 
 
 but, also, to save us from our sins. Christ has, there- 
 fore, made an expiation of our sins by his death upon 
 the cross, that we, being thus “delivered out of the 
 hand of” these “ our” greatest “ enemies, might serve 
 God without fear, in holiness and righteousness before 
 him, all the days of our life.” This “ grace of God that 
 bringetli salvation,” has therefore “ appeared unto all 
 men,” in the Gospel, that it might “ teach us to deny 
 ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and that we should live 
 soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world ; 
 looking for that blessed hope, and glorious appearing 
 of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, who 
 gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all 
 iniquity, and purify to himself a peculiar people, zeal- 
 ous of good works.” — “ These things I write unto you,” 
 says the apostle, a little before my text, “ that you sin 
 not;” thus expressing the end of the whole Gospel, 
 which is, not to cover sin, by spreading the purple robe 
 of Christ’s death and sufferings over it, while it still 
 remains in us, with all its filth and noisomeness unre- 
 moved, but to convey a powerful and mighty spirit of 
 holiness,^'to cleanse us and free us from it. And this is^ 
 a greater grace of God to ns, than the former, which 
 still go both together in the Gospel ; first, the free 
 remission and pardon of sin in the blood of Christ, 
 then, delivering us from the power of sin, by the Spirit 
 of Christ dwelling in our hearts. 
 
 Christ came not into the world merely to cast a 
 mantle over us, and hide all our filthy sores from God’s 
 avenging eye, with his merits and righteousness ; but 
 he came especially to be a chirurgeon and physician of 
 souls, to free us from the filth and corruption of them ; 
 which is more grievous and burthensome, more noisome 
 to a true Christian, than the guilt of sin itself. 
 
 Should a poor wretched and diseased creature, full 
 of sores and ulcers, be covered all over with purple, or 
 clothed with scarlet, he would take but little content- 
 ment in it, whilst his sores and wounds remain upon 
 him ; and he had much rather be arrayed in rags, so 
 that he might obtain but soundness and health within. 
 The Gospel is a true Bethesda, a pool of grace, where 
 such poor, lame, and infirm creatures as we are, upon 
 the moving of God’s Spirit, may descend down, not 
 
300 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 only to wash our skin and outside, but also to be cured 
 of our diseases within. And, whatever the world thinks, 
 there is a powerful Spirit that moves upon these waters, 
 the waters of the Gospel, spreading its gelitle, healing, 
 quickening wings over our souls. The Gospel is not 
 like Abana and Pharpar, those common rivers of Da- 
 mascus, that could only cleanse the outside ; it is a true 
 Jordan, in which such leprous Naamans as we all are, 
 “ may wash and be clean.” — “ Blessed, indeed, are 
 they, whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are 
 covered : blessed is the man, to whom the Lord will 
 not impute sin but yet, rather blessed are they, whose 
 sins are like a morning cloud, and quite taken away 
 from them. Blessed, thrice “ blessed are they, that 
 hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be 
 satisfied : blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall 
 see God.” 
 
 Our Saviour Christ came, as John the Baptist tells 
 us, “ with his fan in his hand, that he might thoroughly 
 purge his floor, and gather his wheat into his garner : 
 but the chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire.” 
 IJe came, as the prophet Malachi speaks, “like a refiner’s 
 fire, and like fuller’s soap ; to sit as a refiner and purifier 
 of silver, to purify all the sons of Levi, and purge them 
 as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an 
 offering in righteousness.” 
 
 Christ came, not only to write holiness to the Lord 
 upon Aaron’s forehead, and to put his Urim and Thum- 
 mim upon his breast-plate, but, “ This is the covenant, 
 saith the Lord, that I will make with them in those 
 days"; I will put my law in their inward parts, and write 
 it in their hearts ; and I will be their God, and they 
 shall be my people.” They shall be all kings and 
 priests unto me. “ God sent his own Son, in the like- 
 ness of sinful flesh, and by a sacrifice for sin condemned 
 sin in the flesh ; that the righteousness of the law might 
 be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after 
 the Spirit.” 
 
 The first Adam, as the Scripture tells us, brought in 
 a real defilement, which, like a noisome leprosy, has 
 overspread all mankind : and therefore the second Adam 
 must not only fill the world with a conceit of holiness, 
 and mere imaginary righteousness, — but he must really 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 301 
 
 convey such an immortal seed of grace into the hearts 
 of believers, as may prevail still more and more in them, 
 till it have, at last, quite wrought out that poison of the 
 serpent. 
 
 Christ, who was, in fact, divinity dwelling in a 
 tabernacle of flesh, and God himself immediately actu- 
 ating a human nature, came into the world to kindle 
 here among men that divine life, which is certainly 
 dearer to God than any thing else whatsoever in the 
 world ; and to propagate this celestial fire continually, 
 from one heart unto another, until the end of the world. 
 Neither is he, nor was he, ever absent from this spark 
 of his divinity kindled amongst men, wheresoever it be, 
 though he seem, bodily, to be withdrawn from us. He 
 is the standing, constant, inexhausted fountain of this 
 divine light and heat, that still touches every soul that 
 is enlivened by it, with an outstretched ray, and freely 
 lends his beams and disperses his influence to all, from 
 the beginning of the world to the end of it. “ We all 
 receive of his fulness, grace for grace as all the stars 
 in heaven are said to light their candles at the sun’s 
 flame. For, though his body be withdrawn from us, 
 yet, by the lively and virtual contact of his Spirit, he 
 is always kindling, cheering, quickening, warming, and 
 enlivening hearts. Nay, this divine life, begun and 
 kindled in any heart, wheresoever it be, is something 
 of God in flesh, and, in a sober and qualified sense, di- 
 vinity incarnate ; and all particular Christians, that are 
 really possessed of it, are so many mystical Christs. 
 
 And, God forbid, that God’s own life and nature, 
 here in the world, should be forlorn, forsaken, and 
 abandoned of God himself. Certainly, wherever it is, 
 though never so little, like a sweet, young, tender babe, 
 once born in any heart, when it crieth unto God the 
 father of it, with pitiful and bemoaning looks imploring 
 his compassion, it cannot choose but move his fatherly 
 bowels, and make them yearn and turn tow^ard it, and 
 by strong sympathy, draw his compassionate arm to 
 help and relieve it. Never was any tender infant so 
 dear to its human parent, as an infant new-born Christ, 
 formed in the heart of any true believer, to God the 
 father of it. Shall the children of this world, the sons 
 of darkness, be moved with such tender affection and 
 26 
 
302 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 compassion toward the fruit of their bodies, their own 
 natural offspring ; and shall God, the father of lights, 
 the fountain of all goodness, be moved with no compas- 
 sion toward his true spiritual offspring, and have no 
 regard to those sweet babes of light, engendered by his 
 own beams in men^s hes^rts, who, in their lovely coun- 
 tenances, bear the resemblance of his own face, and 
 call him their father ? Shall he see them lie fainting, 
 and gasping, and dying here in the world, for want of 
 nothing to preserve and keep them, but an influence 
 from him who first gave them life and breath? No; 
 hear the language of God’s heart, hear the sounding 
 of his bowels toward them ; “ Is it Ephraim, my dear 
 son ? is it that pleasant child ? Since I spake of him I 
 do earnestly remember him ; my bowels, my bowels are 
 troubled for him; I will surely have m^rcy upon him, 
 saith the Lord.” If those expressions of goodness and 
 tender affection, here, among the creatures, be but drops 
 of that full ocean which is in God, how then can we 
 imagine, that this father of our spirits should have so 
 little regard to his own dear offspring, — I do not say to 
 our souls, but to that, which is the very life and soul of 
 our souls, the life of God in us, — which is nothing else 
 but God’s own self communicated to us, his own Son 
 born in our hearts, — as that he should suffer it to be 
 cruelly murdered in its infancy, by our sins, and, like 
 young Hercules, in its very cradle to be strangled by 
 those vipers ? that he should see him crucified by flesh- 
 ly lusts, nailed fast to the cross by invincible corrup- 
 tions, pierced and gored, on every side, with the poi- 
 sonous spears of the devil’s temptations, and at last 
 giving up the ghost ; and yet, that his tender heart 
 should not at all relent, nor be, all this while, impas- 
 sionated with so sad a spectacle ? Surely, we cannot 
 think he hath such an adamantine breast, such a flinty 
 nature, as this is. 
 
 What then? Must we say, that though indeed he be 
 willing, yet he is not able, to rescue his crucified and 
 tormented Son, now bleeding upon the cross ; to take 
 him down from thence, and save him ? Then must sin 
 be more powerful than God ; that weak, crazy, and 
 sickly thing, more strong than the Rock of ages ; and 
 the devil, the prince of darkness, more mighty than the 
 
SERM. I.J KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 303 
 
 God of light No, surely; there is a weakness and im- 
 potency in all evil, but a masculine strength and vigor 
 in all goodness ; and therefore, doubtless, the highest 
 good is the strongest thing in the world. God’s power, 
 displayed in the world, is nothing but his goodness 
 strongly reaching all things, from height to depth, from 
 the highest heaven to the lowest hell ; and irresistibly 
 imparting itself to every thing, according to those seve- 
 ral degrees in which it is capable of receiving the hea- 
 venly visitant. 
 
 Have the fiends of darkness, then, those poor forlorn 
 spirits which are fettered and chained up in the chains 
 of their own wickedness, any strength to withstand the 
 force of infinite goodness, which is infinite power? Or, 
 do they not rather skulk in holes of darkness, and fly, 
 like bats and owls, before the approaching beams of this 
 Sun of Righteousness ? Is God powerful to kill and to 
 destroy, to damn and to torment ? And is he not pow- 
 erful to save ? Nay, it is the sweetest flower in all the 
 garland of his attributes, it is the richest diadem in his 
 crown of glory, that he is mighty to save: and this is 
 far more noble and magnificent, than to be styled mighty 
 to destroy. For that, except it be in a way of justice, 
 speaks no power, but mere impotency ; for the root of 
 all power is goodness. 
 
 Or must we say, lastly, that God, indeed, when we 
 sigh and groan toward him, is able to rescue us out of the 
 power of sin and Satan, but that, sometimes, to exercise 
 his absolute authority, his uncontrollable dominion, he 
 delights rather in plunging wretched souls down into 
 infernal night and everlasting darkness ? What shall 
 we, then, make the God of the whole world ? Nothing 
 but a cruel and dreadful with curled fiery 
 
 snakes about his head, and firebrands in his hands, thus 
 governing the world ? Surely this will make us either 
 secretly to thijik that, if he must needs be such, there 
 is no God at all in the world ; or else, to wish heartily 
 that there were none. But, doubtless, God will at last 
 confute all these our misapprehensions : he will unmask 
 our hypocritical pretences, and clearly cast the shame 
 of all our sinful deficiencies upon ourselves ; and will 
 vindicate his own glory, from receiving by them the 
 least stain* or blemish. In the meantime, let us know 
 
304 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 that the Gospel now requires far more of us, than the 
 law ever did ; for it requires a new creature, a divine 
 nature, Christ formed within us : but then, it bestows 
 a quickening spirit, an enlivening power, to enable us 
 to perform that which is required of us. Whosoever, 
 therefore, truly knows Christ, the same also keepeth 
 Christ’s commandments. But “ he that saith, I know 
 him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and 
 the truth is not in him.” 
 
 I have now done Avith the first part of my discourse, 
 concerning those observation's, which arise naturally 
 from the words, and ofter themselves to our acceptance. 
 I shall, in the next place, proceed to make some gene- 
 ral application of them altogether. 
 
 Now, therefore, I beseech you, let us consider, whe- 
 ther we know Christ indeed : not by our acquaintance 
 with systems and models of divinity, notby our skill in 
 books and papers, but by our keeping Christ’s com- 
 mandments. All the books and writings with wdiich 
 we converse, can but represent spiritual objects to our 
 understandings; which, yet, Ave can never see in their 
 own true figure, color, and proportion, until Ave have a 
 dmne light Avithin, to irradiate and shine upon them. 
 Though there be never such excellent truths set doAvn 
 in words and letters, concerning Christ and his Gos- 
 pel, yet they will be but unknoAvn characters to us, 
 until Ave have a Avilling spirit Avithin us, that can deci- 
 pher them ; until, by secret AA^hispers in our hearts, the 
 same spirit Avhich at first indited them, become a com- 
 mentary upon them. There are many that understand 
 the Greek and HebreAv of the Scripture, the original 
 languages in Avhich the text Avas Avritten, Avho never 
 understood the language of the Spirit. 
 
 There is a flesh and a spirit, a body and a soul, in 
 all the writings of Scripture. It is but the flesh and 
 body of divine truths that is printed upon paper; Avhich 
 alone, many moths of books and libraries feed upon ; 
 many walking skeletons of knowledge, who bury and 
 entomb truths in the living sepulchres of their souls, 
 and converse only Avith these ; men, Avho never did any 
 thing else but pick at the mere bark and rind of truths, 
 and crack the shells of them. But there is a soul and 
 spirit of divine truth, Avhich could never yet be con- 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 305 
 
 gealed into ink, which could never be blotted upon 
 paper; which, by a secret traduction and conveyance, 
 passes from one soul unto another, being able to dwell 
 or lodge nowhere, but in a spiritual being, in a living 
 thing, because itself#is nothing but life and spirit. Nei- 
 ther can it, where indeed it is, express itself sufficiently 
 in words and sounds ; it will best declare and speak 
 itself in actions : as the old manner of writing among 
 the Egyptians was not by words but things. The life 
 of divine truths is better expressed in actions, than in 
 words, because actions are more living things than 
 Words. Words are nothing but dead resemblances and 
 pictures of those truths, which live and breathe in ac- 
 tions ; and “ the kingdom of God,” as the apostle 
 speaks, “consisteth not in word,” but in life and power. 
 ‘Sheep do not come and bring their fodder to their shep- 
 herd, and show him how much they eat ; but, inwardly 
 concocting and digesting it, they make it appear, by the 
 fleece which they w^ear upon their backs, and by the 
 milk which they give.’^ And lei not us Christians, 
 affect only to talk and dispute of Christ, and so mea- 
 sure our knowledge of him by our words ; butjet us 
 show our knowledge concocted into our lives and ac- 
 tions : and then let us really manifest that we are 
 Christ’s sheep indeed, that we are his disciples, by 
 that fleece of holiness which we wear, and by the fruits 
 which we daily yield in our lives and conversation : 
 for “herein,” saith Christ, “is my Father, glorified, 
 that ye bear much fruit ; ^o shall ye be my disciples.” 
 
 Let us not, I beseech you, judge of our knowing 
 Christ, by our ungrounded persuasions that Christ, 
 from all eternity, hath loved us, and given himself par- 
 ticularly for us, without the conformity of our lives to 
 Christ’s commandments, without a real participation 
 of the image of Christ in our hearts. The great 
 mystery of the Gospel does not lie in Christ without 
 us only (though we must know, also, what he has done 
 for us ;) but the very pith and kernel of it, consists in 
 Christ inwardly formed in our hearts. 
 
 Nothing is truly ours, but what lives in our spirits. 
 Salvation itself cannot save us, as long as it is only 
 
 Ta irpo^arui ov ^£povra roig iroipsatv, eiriSeiKvvei iroerov s^ay€Vt 
 
 aXXa rnv vopvv spiov efw <pepei Kai yaXa,— E pictetVS, 
 
300 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 without US, any more than health can cure us and make 
 us sound, when it is not within us, but somewhere at a 
 distance from us; any more than arts and sciences, 
 whilst they lie only in books and papers without us, can 
 make us learned. The Gospel, thgugh it be a sovereign 
 and medical thing itself, yet the mere knowing and 
 believing of its history will do us no good; we can 
 receive no virtue from it, till it be inwardly digested 
 and concocted into our souls ; till it be made ours, and 
 become a living thing in our hearts. The Gospel, if it 
 be only without us, cannot save us, any more than that 
 physician’s bill could cure the ignorant patient of his 
 disease, who, when it was commended to him, took the 
 paper only, and put it up in his pocket, but never drank 
 the potion that was described in it. 
 
 All that Christ did for us in the flesh, when he was 
 here upon earth, from his lying in a manger, when he 
 was born in Bethlehem, to his bleeding upon the cross 
 on Golgotha, will not save us from our sins, unless 
 Christ by his Spirit dwell in us. It will not avail us 
 to believe, that he was born of a virgin, unless the power 
 of the Most High overshadow our hearts, and beget 
 him there likewise. It will not profit us, to believe 
 that he died upon the cross for us, unless, by the morti- 
 fication of all our evil affections, we be baptized into 
 his death ; unless the old man of sin be crucified in our 
 hearts. Christ, indeed, has made an expiation for our 
 sins upon his cross, and the blood of Christ is the only 
 sovereign balsam to free us from their guilt. But yet, 
 besides the sprinkling of the blood of Christ upon us, 
 we must be made partakers also of his spirit. Christ 
 came into the world, as well to redeem us from the 
 power and bondage, as to free us from the guilt, of our 
 sins. “Ye know,” says Saint John, “that he was 
 manifested, to take away our sins : whosoever, there- 
 fore, abideth in him, sinnethnot; whosoever sinneth, 
 hath not seen nor known him.” Lo, the end of Christ’s 
 coming into the world ! Lo, a design worthy of God 
 manifested in the flesh ! 
 
 Christ did not take all those pains, to lay aside his 
 robes of glory, and come down hither into the world, 
 to enter into a virgin’s womb, to be born in our human 
 shape, to be laid a poor crying infant in a manger, and 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 307 
 
 having no form or comeliness, to take upon him the 
 form of a servant, to undergo a reproachful and igno- 
 minious life, and at last to be abandoned to a shameful 
 death, a death upon the cross, — he did not do all this, 
 
 I say, merely to bring a notion into the world, without 
 producing any real, substantial effect ; without chang- 
 ing, mending, and reforming the world ; so that men 
 should still be as wicked, and as much under the power 
 of the prince of darkness, as they were before, only, 
 they should not be thought so ; so that they should still 
 remain as full of all the filthy sores of sin and corrup- 
 tion, as before, only, they should be accounted whole. 
 Shall God come down from heaven, and pitch a taber- 
 nacle amongst men ? Shall he undertake such a vast 
 design, and make so great a display of doing something, 
 which, when it is all summed up, shall not, at last, 
 amount to a reality? Surely Christ did not undergo 
 all this, to so little purpose ; he would not take all this 
 pains for us, that he might be able, at last, to put into 
 our hands nothing but a blank. No, surely : the end of 
 the Gospel is life and perfection ; it is a divine nature ; 
 it is a godlike frame and disposition of spirit ; it is to 
 make us partakers of the image of God, in righteous- 
 ness and true holiness; without which, salvation itself 
 were but a notion. 
 
 Christ came into the world to make an expiation for 
 our sins; but the end of this was, that we might eschew 
 sin ; that we might forsake all ungodliness and worldly 
 lusts. The Gospel declares pardon of sin, to those that 
 are heavy laden with it, and willing to be disburthened ; 
 to this end, that it might quicken and enliven us to new 
 obedience. Whereas, otherwise, the guilt of sin might 
 have detained us in horror and despair, and so have 
 kept us still more strongly under its power, in sad and 
 dismal apprehensions of God’s wrath, provoked against 
 us, and inevitably falling on us : but Christ has now 
 appeared like a day-star, with most cheerful beams ; 
 nay, he is the Sun of Righteousness himself, who has 
 risen upon the world, with his healing wings, with his 
 exhilarating light, that he might chase away from us all 
 those black despairing thoughts. But Christ did not 
 rise, that we should play, and sport, and wantonize with 
 his light ; but that we should do “ the work of the day” 
 
308 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 in it ; that we should walk, not in our night-clothes of 
 sinful deformity, but clad all over with the comely gar- 
 ments of light 
 
 Holiness is the best thing that God himself can bestow 
 upon us ; either in this world, or the world to come. 
 True evangelical holiness, that is, Christ formed in 
 the hearts of believers, is the very cream and quintes- 
 sence of the Gospel. And, were our hearts sound 
 within, were there not many thick and dark fumes, 
 which arise from thence, and cloud our understandings, 
 we could not easily conceive the substance of heaven 
 itself to be any thing else but holiness, freed from those 
 incumbrances, which ever clogged and accloyed it 
 here ; neither should we wish for any other heaven 
 besides this. But many of us are like those children, 
 whose stomachs are so vitiated by some disease, that 
 they think ashes, coal, mud-wall, or any such trash, more 
 pleasant, than the most wholesome food. Such sickly 
 and distempered appetites have we about these spiritual 
 things, hankering after I know not what vain shows of 
 happiness, whilst, in the mean time, we neglect that, 
 which is the only true food of our souls, which is able 
 to nourish them unto everlasting life. 
 
 Grace is holiness militant; holiness, incumbered with 
 many enemies and difficulties, which it ever fights 
 against, and manfully acquits itself. And glory is no- 
 thing else but holiness triumphant; holiness, with a 
 palm of victory in her hand, and a crown upon her head. 
 ‘God himself cannot make me happy, if he be only 
 without me, and unless he vouchsafe a participation of 
 himself and his own likeness, into my soul.’' Happi- 
 ness is nothing but the releasing and unfettering of our 
 souls from all narrow, scant, and particular good things ; 
 and the espousing of them to the highest and most 
 universal good, which is not this or that particular good, 
 but goodness itself: and this is the same thing, which 
 we call holiness. With which, because we ourselves 
 are so little acquainted — for the most part ever courting 
 its mere shadow — therefore, we have such low, abject, 
 and beggarly conceits of it ; whereas, it is, in itself, the 
 most noble, heroical, and generous thing in the world. 
 
 i ‘ Deus ipse, cum omni sua bonitate, quatenus extra me est, non 
 facit me beatum, sed quatenus in me est.’ 
 
SERM. I.] 
 
 KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 309 
 
 For I mean by holiness, nothing else but God stamped 
 and printed on the soul. And we may please ourselves 
 with what conceits we will ; but, so long as we are void 
 of this, we do but dream of heaven, and I know not 
 what fond paradise ; we do but blow up and down an 
 airy bubble of our own fancies, which rises out of the 
 froth of our vain hearts ; we do but court a painted 
 heaven, and woo happiness in a picture, whilst, in the 
 meantime, a true and real hell will absorb our souls 
 into it, and will soon make us sensible of solid wo, and 
 substantial misery. 
 
 Divine wisdom has so ordered the frame of the whole 
 universe, that every thing should have a certain proper 
 place, a fit receptacle for it. Hell is the sink of all sin 
 and wickedness. The strong magic of nature pulls and 
 draws every thing, continually, to that place Avhich is 
 suitable to it, and to which it belongs. So, all heavy 
 bodies press downward toward the centre of our earth, 
 drawn in by its attraction. In like manner, hell, where- 
 soever it is, will, by strong sympathy, pull in all sin 
 and magnetically draw it to itself. While true holi- 
 ness is always breathing upward, and fluttering toward 
 heaven, striving to embosom itself with* God: and it 
 will, at last, undoubtedly be conjoined with him; no 
 dismal shades of darkness can possibly stop it in its 
 course, or bear it back.’^ Nay, we do but deceive our- 
 selves with names. Hell is nothing but the orb of sin 
 and wickedness, that hemisphere of darkness in which 
 all evil moves ; and heaven is the opposite hemisphere 
 of light, the bright orb of truth, holiness, and goodness. 
 And, in this life, we actually instate ourselves in the 
 possession of one or other of them. Take sin and 
 disobedience out of hell, and it will presently clear up 
 into light, tranquillity, serenity, and shine out into a 
 heaven. Every true saint carries his heaven about with 
 him, in his own heart; and hell, that is without, can 
 have no power over him. He might safely wade through 
 hell itself, and, like the three children, pass through the 
 midst of that fiery furnace, and yet not at all be scorch- 
 ed with its flames. He might walk through the valley 
 of the shadow of death, and yet fear no evil. 
 
 aui TodyiOiQv ayu cty to bjxoiov* 
 
310 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 Sin is the only thing in the world, that is contrary to 
 God. God is light, and that is darkness. God is 
 beauty, and that is ugliness and deformity. All sin is 
 direct rebellion against God ; and, with what notions 
 soever we sugar it, and sweeten it, yet God can never 
 smile upon it, he will never make a truce with it. God 
 declares open war against sin, and bids defiance to it ; 
 for it is a professed enemy to God’s own life and being. 
 God, who is infinite goodness, cannot but hate sin, 
 which is purely evil. Sin is, in itself, but a poor, im- 
 potent, and crazy thing ; nothing but straitness, poverty, 
 and nonentity ; so that, of itself, it is the most wretched 
 and miserable thing in the world, and needs no further 
 punishment, besides itself. Divine vengeance beats it 
 off, still further and further from God ; and, where- 
 soever it is, will be sure to scourge it and lash it con- 
 tinually. God and sin can never agree together. 
 
 That I may, therefore, yet come nearer to ourselves — 
 this is the message, which I have now to declare unto 
 you, that “ God is light, and in him is no darkness 
 at all : if we say, that we have fellowship with him, 
 and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth.” 
 Christ and the Gospel are light, and in them there is 
 no darkness at all. If you say, that you know Christ 
 and his Gospel, and yet keep not Christ’s command- 
 ments, but dearly hug your private darling corruptions, 
 you are liars, and the truth is not in you; you have no 
 acquaintance with the God of light, nor the Gospel of 
 light. If any of you say, that you know Christ, and 
 have an interest in him, and yet, as I fear too many do, 
 still nourish ambition, pride, vain-glory, within your 
 breasts ; harbor malice, revengefulness, and cruel hatred 
 to your neighbors, in your hearts ; eagerly scramble 
 after sordid pelf, and make the strength of your parts 
 and endeavors serve that blind mammon, the god of this 
 world ; if you wallow and tumble in the filthy puddle 
 of fleshly pleasures, or if, in your lives, you aim only 
 at selfish ends, and make interest the compass by which 
 you sail, and the star by which you steer your course, 
 looking at nothing higher or more noble than yourselves, 
 — if these things be so, then deceive not yourselves ; 
 you have neither seen Christ, nor know him ; you 
 are deeply incorporated, if I may so speak, with the 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 311 
 
 Spirit of this world ; and have no true sympathy with 
 God and Christ, no fellowship at all with the Father 
 and the Son. 
 
 And, I beseech you, let us consider : are there not 
 many of us, who pretend much to Christ, that are 
 plainly, in our lives, as proud, ambitious, vain-glorious, 
 as any others? Are there not many of us, as much 
 under the power of unruly passions, as cruel, revenge- 
 ful, malicious, censorious as others ? Many, that have 
 our minds as deeply engaged in the world, and as much 
 envassalled to riches, gain, profit, those great admired 
 deities of the sons of men, and their souls as much 
 overwhelmed and sunk, with the cares of this life? Do 
 not many of us, as much give ourselves to the pleasures 
 of the flesh, and, though not without regrets of con- 
 science, yet, every nowand then, secretly immerse our- 
 selves in them ? Are there not many of us, who have 
 as deep a share, likewise, in injustice and oppression, in 
 vexing the fatherless and the widows ? I wish it may not 
 prove some of our cases, at that last day, to use such 
 pleas as these unto Christ in our behalf: ‘Lord, I have 
 prophesied in thy name ; I have preached many a zealous 
 sermon for thee ; I have kept many a long fast; I have 
 been very active for thy cause in church, in state ; nay, 
 I never made any question, but that my name was written 
 in thy book of life:’ — when yet, alas! we shall receive 
 no other return from Christ but this: “I know yoq 
 not ; depart from me, ye workers of iniquity.” I am 
 sure, there are too many of us, who have long pretended 
 to Christ, and yet, make little or no progress in true 
 Christianity, that is, in holiness of life ; men who ever 
 hang hovering in a twilight of grace; who never seri- 
 ously put ourselves forward, into clear day-light, but 
 esteem that glimmering crepuscnlum which we are in, 
 and like that faint twilight, better than broad, open, 
 meridian splendor ; whereas, “ the path of the just is 
 as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto 
 the perfect day.” I am sure there are many of us, who 
 are perpetual dwarfs, in our spiritual stature ; like those 
 silly women, laden with sins, and led away by strange 
 desires, who are “ ever learning, and never able to come 
 to the knowledge of the truth;” who are not now one 
 jot taller in Christianity, than we were many years ago ; 
 
312 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 but have still as sickly, crazy, and unsound a temper of 
 soul, as we had long before. 
 
 Indeed, we seem to do something : we are always 
 moving and lifting at the stone of corruption, which 
 lies upon our hearts, but yet we never stir it, or at least 
 never roll it oft* from us. We are sometimes a little 
 troubled with the guilt of our sins, and then, we think 
 we must thrust our desires out of our hearts ; but after- 
 ward, we sprinkle ourselves over with I know not what 
 holy water, and so, are contented to let those desires 
 still abide quietly within us. We every day truly con- 
 fess the same sins, and pray against them ; and yet, we 
 still commit them as much as ever, and lie as deeply 
 under the power of them. We have the same water to 
 pump out, in every prayer ; and still we let the same 
 leak in again upon us. We make a great deal of noise, 
 and raise a great deal of dust with our feet; but we do 
 not move from oft* the ground, on which we stood, we 
 do not at all go forward. Or, if we do sometimes make 
 a little progress, we quickly lose again the ground which 
 we had gained ; like those upper planets in the heaven, 
 which, as the astronomers tell us, sometimes move for- 
 ward, sometimes quite backward, and sometimes per- 
 fectly stand still ; have their stations and retrogradations, 
 as well as their direct motions. As if religion were no- 
 thing else but a dancing up and down upon the same 
 piece of ground, and making several motions and frisk- 
 ings on it; and not a sober journeying, and travelling 
 onward toward some certain place. We do and undo; 
 we weave sometimes a web of holiness, but then we let 
 our passions come and undo and unravel all again.^ 
 Like Sisyphus in the fable, we roll up a mighty stone, 
 with much ado, sweating and tugging, up the hill ; and 
 then we let it go, and tumble down again unto the 
 bottom ; and this is our constant work. Like those 
 Danaides, whom the poets speak of, we are always, by 
 our prayers, duties, and performances, filling water into 
 a sieve, which still runs out, as fast as we pour it in. 
 
 What is it, that thus cheats us, and gulls us of our 
 religion ? That makes us thus constantly tread the 
 same ring and circle of duties, where we make not any 
 
 1 Penelopes telam texere. 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 313 
 
 progress forward, and how far soever we go, we are 
 still never the nearer to our journey’s end ? What is 
 it, which thus starves our religion, and makes it look 
 like those kine in Pharaoh’s dream, ill-favored and lean- 
 fleshed, no color in its face, no blood in its veins, no life 
 nor heat in any of its members ? What is it, that thus 
 be-dwarfs us in our Christianity ? By what low, sordid, 
 unworthy principles do we act, which thus hinder our 
 growth, and make us stand at a stay, and keep us al- 
 ways at the very porch and entrance, where we first 
 began ? Is it a sleepy, sluggish conceit, that it is enough 
 for us, if we be but once in a state of grace, if we have 
 but once stepped over the threshold ; that we need not 
 take so great pains, to travel any farther ? Or is it an- 
 other damping, choking, stifling opinion, that Christ 
 has done all for us already without us, and nothing 
 more needs to be done within us? No matter how 
 wicked we are in ourselves, for we have holiness with- 
 out us ; no matter how sickly and diseased our souls 
 are within, for they have health without them. Why 
 may we not as well be satisfied and contented, to have 
 happiness, too, without us, to all eternity, and so our- 
 selves for ever continue miserable ? “ Little children, 
 
 let no man deceive you ; he that doeth righteousness is 
 righteous, even as He is righteous : but he that commit- 
 teth sin, is of the devil.” I shall therefore exhort you, 
 in the wholesome words of Saint Peter : “ Give all dili- 
 gence, to add to your faith, virtue ; and to virtue, know- 
 ledge; and to knowledge, temperance ; and to temper- 
 ance, patience ; and to patience, godliness : and to 
 godliness, brotherly-kindness ; and to brotherly-kind- 
 ness, charity: for if these things be in you, and abound, 
 they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor un- 
 fruitful, in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 
 The apostle still goes on, and I cannot leave him yet : 
 “ But he that lacketh these things is blind, and cannot 
 see far off, and hath forgotten, that he was once purged 
 from his old sins. Wherefore, the rather, brethren, 
 give diligence to make your calling and election sure : 
 for if ye do these things, ye shalPnever fall.” Let us 
 not only talk and dispute of Christ, but let us indeed 
 “put oil the Lord Jesus Christ.” Having those 
 “ great and precious promises,” which he hath give^^ 
 27 
 
314 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 Hs, let US strive to be made “ partakers of the divine 
 nature, escaping the corruption that is in the world 
 through lust and, being begotten again to a lively 
 hope of enjoying Christ hereafter, “ let us purify our- 
 selves, even as he is pure.” 
 
 Let us really declare that we know Christ, that we 
 are his disciples, by our keeping his commandments ; 
 and, among the rest, that commandment especially, 
 which our Saviour Christ himself commends to his 
 disciples, in a peculiar manner : “ This is my command- 
 ment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you 
 and again, “ These things I command you, that ye love 
 one another.” Let us follow peace with all men, and 
 holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. 
 Let us put on, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, 
 bowels.of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meek- 
 ness, long-suffering, forbearing one another, and for- 
 giving one another, if any man have a quarrel against 
 any, even as Christ forgave us : and above all these 
 things, let us put on charity, which is the bond of per- 
 fectness. Let us in meekness instruct those that oppose 
 themselves, if God, peradventure, will give them repent- 
 ance, to the acknowledging of the truth ; that they 
 may recover themselv^es out of the snare of the devil, 
 who are taken captive by him at his will. “ Beloved, let 
 us love one another ; for love is of God, and whosoever 
 loveth, is born of God, and knoweth God.” 
 
 Oh divine love! the sweet harmony of souls! the 
 music of angels! the joy of God’s own heart ! the very 
 darling, of his bosom ! the source of true happiness ! the 
 pure quintessence of heaven ! that which reconciles the 
 jarring principles of the world, and makes them all 
 chime together! that which melts men’s hearts into 
 one another ! See how Saint Paul describes it, and you 
 cannot choose but have your affections enamored to- 
 ward it : “ Love envieth not, is not puffed up, doth not 
 behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easi- 
 ly provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity; 
 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, 
 endureth all things.”’ I may add, in a word, it is the 
 best-natured thing, the best-complexioned thing, in the 
 world. Let us express this sweet harmonious affection, 
 in these jarring times : that so, if it be possible, we may 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 315 
 
 tune the world into better music. Especially in matters 
 of religion, let us strive with all meekness to instruct 
 and convince one another. Let us endeavor to promote 
 the Gospel of peace, the dove-like Gospel, with a dove- 
 like spirit. This was the way, by which the Gospel at 
 first was propagated in the world : Christ “ did not 
 cry, nor lift up his voice in the streets ; a bruised reed 
 he did not break, and the smoking flax he did not 
 quench and yet, “ he brought forth judgment unto 
 victory.” He whispered the Gospel to us, from mount 
 Sion, in a still voice ; and yet the sound thereof went 
 out quickly, throughout all the earth. The Gospel, at 
 first, came down upon the world gently and softly, like 
 the dew upon Gideon’s fleece ; and yet quickly penetra- 
 ted quite through it : and, doubtless, this is still the 
 most effectual way to promote it further. Sweetness 
 and ingenuousness will more command men’s minds, 
 .than passion, sourness, and severity ; as the soft pillow 
 sooner breaks the flint, than the hardest marble. Let 
 us follow truth in love and of the two, indeed, be 
 contented rather to miss conveying a speculative truth, 
 than to part with love. When, by the strength of truth, 
 we would convince men of any error, let us withal pour 
 the sweet balm of love upon their heads. Truth and 
 love are the two most powerful things in the world : 
 and, when they both go together, they cannot easily be 
 withstood. The golden beams of truth, and the silken 
 cords of love, twisted together, will draw men forward 
 with a sweet violence, whether they will or not. 
 
 ^ Let us take heed, lest we sometimes call that zeal for 
 God, and his Gospel, which is nothing else but our own 
 tempestuous and stormy passion. True zeal is a sweet, 
 heavenly, and gentle flame, which makes us active for 
 God, but always within the sphere of love. It never 
 calls for fire from heaven, to consume those who differ 
 a little from us in their apprehensions. It is like that 
 kind of lightning, which the philosophers speak of, that 
 melts the sword within, but singes not the scabbard : 
 it strives to save the soul, but hurts not the body. True 
 zeal is a loving thing, and makes us always active to 
 edification, and not to destruction. If we keep the fire 
 
 ^ A\r)6eveiv sv ayair^. 
 
316 
 
 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 of zeal within the chimney, in its own proper place, it 
 never does any hurt ; it only warms, quickens, and en- 
 livens : but if once we let it break out, and catch hold 
 of the thatch of our flesh, and kindle our corrupt nature, 
 and set the house of our body on fire, it is no longer 
 zeal, it is no heavenly fire, it is a most destructive and 
 devouring thing. True zeal is a soft and gentle flame," 
 which will not scorch one’s hand ; it is no predatory or 
 voracious thing : but carnal and fleshly zeal is like the 
 spirit of gunpowder set on fire, which tears and blows 
 up all that stands before it. True zeal is like the vital 
 heat in us, that we live upon, which we never feel to 
 be angry or troublesome ; but, though it gently feed 
 upon the radical oil within us, that sweet balsam of our 
 natural moisture, yet it lives lovingly with it, and main- 
 tains that by which it is fed : but that other furious and 
 distempered zeal, is nothing else but a fever in the soul. 
 To conclude, we may learn what kind of zeal it is that, 
 we should make use of, in promoting the Gospel, by an 
 emblem of God’s own, given us in the Scripture ; those 
 fiery tongues, which on the day of Pentecost sat upon 
 the apostles, which sure were harmless flames ; for we 
 cannot read that they did any hurt, or that they did so 
 much as singe a hair of their heads. 
 
 I will therefore shut up this advice, with that of the 
 apostle : “ Let us keep the unity of the Spirit, in the 
 bond of peace.” Let this soft and silken knot of love, 
 tie our hearts together ; though our heads and appre- 
 hensions cannot meet, as indeed they never will, but al- 
 ways stand at some distance from one another. Our zeal, ^ 
 if it be heavenly, if it be true vestal fire kindled from 
 above, will not delight to tarry here below, burning up 
 straw, and stubble, and such combustible things, and 
 sending up nothing but gross and earthy fumes to hea- 
 ven ; but it wdll rise up, and return back, pure as it 
 came down, and will ever be striving to carry up men’s 
 hearts to God along with it. It will be occupied about 
 the promoting of those things only, which are unques- 
 tionably good ; and, when it moves in the irascible way, 
 it will quarrel with nothing but sin. Here let our zeal 
 busy and exercise itself ; every one of us beginning first 
 
 Ignis lambens. 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 317 
 
 at our own hearts. Let us be more zealous than ever 
 we have yet been, in fighting against our inordinate 
 desires, in pulling down these strong holds of sin and 
 Satan, in our hearts. Here let us exercise all our 
 courage and resolution, all our manhood and magna- 
 nimity. 
 
 Let us trust in the almighty arm of our God, and 
 doubt not but he will as well deliver us from the power 
 of sin in our hearts, as preserve us from the wrath to 
 come. Let us go out against these uncircumcised Phi- 
 listines, I mean our appetites and passions, not with 
 shield or spear, not in any confidence of our own 
 strength, but in the name of the Lord of hosts ; and 
 we shall prevail, we shall overcome : “ for greater is 
 he that is in us, than he that is in them. The eternal 
 God is our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting 
 arms ; he shall thrust out all enemies from before us ; 
 and he shall say. Destroy them.” We shall enter the 
 true Canaan, the good land of promise, “ that floweth 
 with milk and honey,” the land of truth and holiness. 
 “ Wherefore, take unto you the whole armor of God, 
 that you may be able to withstand. Let your loins be 
 girt about with truth; have on the breast-plate of rights 
 eousness ; and let your feet be shod with the prepara- 
 tion of the Gospel of peace. Above all, take the shield 
 of faith, whereby ye shall be able to quench all the fiery 
 darts of the wicked ; and take the helmet of salvation, 
 and the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God.” 
 And lastly, be sure of this, that ye ‘‘be strong in the 
 Lord only, and in the power of his might.” 
 
 There are some, who dishearten us in this spiritual 
 warfare, and would make us let our weapons fall out of 
 our hands, by working in us a despair of victory. There 
 are some evil spies, who weaken the hands and 
 hearts of the children of Israel, and bring an ill report 
 upon that land, which we are to conquer, telling of no- 
 thing but strange giants, the sons of Anak, there, whom 
 we shall never be able to overcome : “The Amalekites 
 dwell in the south ; the Hittites, Jebusites, Amorites, 
 in the mountains ; and the Canaanites by the sea-* 
 coast;” huge armies of tall invincible desires: “We 
 shall never be able to go against this people we shall 
 27 * 
 
THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 never be able to prevail against our corruptions. Heark- 
 en not unto them, I beseech you, but hear what Caleb 
 and Joshua say : “ Let us go up at once and possess it, 
 for we are able to overcome them not by our own 
 strength, but by the power of the Lord of hosts. There 
 are, indeed, sons of Anak there ; there are mighty giant- 
 like hosts, with whom we are to grapple ; nay, there 
 are principalities and powers too, that we are to op- 
 pose : but the great Michael, the captain of the Lord’s 
 host, is with us ; he commands in chief for us, and we 
 need not be dismayed. “ Understand therefore this day, 
 that the Lord thy God is he which goeth before thee 
 as a consuming fire ; he shall destroy these enemies, 
 and bring them down before thy face.” If thou wilt 
 be faithful to him, and put thy trust in him, as the fire 
 consumeth the stubble, and as the flame burneth up the 
 chaff, so will he destroy thy inordinate desires : their 
 “ root shall be rottenness, and their blossom shall go 
 up as the dust.” 
 
 But let us take heed, that we be not discouraged, and, 
 before we begin to fight, despair of victory : for, to be- 
 lieve and hope well in the power of our God, and in his 
 strength, will be half a conquest. Let us not think ho- 
 liness in the hearts of men, here, in the world, is a for- 
 lorn, forsaken, and outcast thing from God, and that he 
 hath no regard for holiness; wherever it is, though 
 never so small, if it be but hearty and sincere, it can no 
 more be cut off and discontinued from God, than a sun- 
 beam here upon earth, can be broken off from its inter- 
 course with the sun, and be left alone amidst the mire 
 and dirt of this world. The sun may as well discard 
 its own rays, and banish them from itself into some re- 
 gion of darkness, far remote from it, where they shall 
 have no dependence upon it, — as God can forsake and 
 abandon holiness in the world, and leave it a poor or- 
 phan thing, that shall have no influence from him to 
 preserve and keep it. Holiness, wherever it be, is 
 something of God ; it is an efflux from him, that always 
 hangs upon him and lives in him : as the sun-beams, 
 although they gild this lower world, and spread their 
 golden wings over us, yet they are not so much here, 
 where they shine, as in the sun, from whence they flow. 
 God cannot draw a curtain between himself and holi- 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 319 
 
 ness, which is nothing but the splendor and shining of 
 himself; he cannot hide his face from it,' he cannot de- 
 sert it in the world. He that is born of God, shall 
 overcome the world, and the prince of this world, too, 
 by the power of God in him. Holiness is no solitary, 
 neglected thing ; it has stronger confederacies, greater 
 alliances, than sin and wickedness. It is in league with 
 God and the universe ; the. whole creation smiles upon 
 it : there is something of God in it, and therefore it 
 must needs be a victorious and triumphant thing. 
 
 Wickedness is a weak, cowardly, and guilty thing, 
 a fearful and trembling shadow. It is the child of ig- 
 norance and darkness ; it is afraid of light, and cannot 
 possibly withstand its power, nor endure the sight of its 
 glittering armor. It is allianced to none but wretched, 
 forlorn, and apostate spirits, who do what they can to 
 support their own weak and tottering kingdom of dark- 
 ness, but are only strong in weakness and impotency. 
 The whole polity and commonwealth of devils, is not 
 so powerful as one child of light, one babe in Christ ; 
 they are not able to quench the least smoking flax, to 
 extinguish one spark of grace. Darkness is not able to 
 make resistance against light, but ever, as it comes, 
 flies before it. But if wickedness invite the society of 
 devils, so that those cursed flends most readily apply 
 themselves to it, and offer their service to feed and en- 
 courage it, because it is their own life and nature, their 
 own kingdom of darkness, which they strive to enlarge, 
 and to spread its dominions, — shall we therefore think, 
 that holiness, which is so nearly allied to God, has no 
 good genius in the world to attend upon it, to help it, 
 and encourage it ? Shall not the kingdom of light be 
 as true to its own interest, and as vigilant for its self- 
 enlargement, as the kingdom of darkness ? Holiness 
 is never alone in the world : God is always with it, and 
 his loving spirit ever associates and joins itself to it. 
 He that sent it into the world, is with it, as Christ 
 speaketh of himself: “ The Father hath not left me 
 alone, because I do always those things that please 
 him.” Holiness is the life of God, which, whereso- 
 ever it is, he cannot but feed and maintain : and, as 
 devils are always active to encourage evil, so we cannot 
 imagine but that the heavenly host of blessed angels 
 
320 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUDWORTH. 
 
 above, are busily employed in the promoting of that 
 which they love best, that which is dearest to God, 
 whom they serve, — the life and nature of God in the 
 soul. “ There is joy in heaven, at the conversion of 
 one sinner;” heaven gladly takes notice of it; there is 
 a choir of angels, that s,weetly sings the epithalamium 
 of a soul divorced from sin and Satan, and espoused 
 unto Christ. What, therefore, the wise man speaks 
 concerning wisdom, I shall apply to holiness : “ Take 
 fast hold of holiness, let her not go, keep her, for she 
 is thy life : keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of 
 it are the issues of life,” and of death too. Let no- 
 thing be esteemed by thee, of greater consequence and 
 concernment, than what thou doest and actest, how thou 
 livest. Nothing without, can make us either happy or 
 miserable ; nothing can either defile, or hurt us, but 
 what goes out from us, what springs and bubbles up 
 out of our own hearts. We have dreadful apprehen- 
 sions of the flames of hell without us; we tremble, and 
 are afraid, when we hear of fire and brimstone ; whilst, 
 in the meantime, we securely nourish within our own 
 hearts a true and living hell.® The dark fires of our 
 appetites and passions consumes our bowels within, and 
 miserably scorches our souls ; and we are not troubled 
 at it. We do not perceive how hell steals upon us, 
 whilst we live here. And as for heaven, we only gaze 
 abroad, expecting that it should come to us from with- 
 out, but never look for the beginnings of it to arise 
 within, in our own hearts. 
 
 But, lest there should yet haply remain any preju- 
 dice against that, which I have all this while heartily 
 commended to you, “ true holiness,” and the “ keep- 
 ing of Christ’s commandments,” as if it were a legal 
 and a servile thing, that would subject us to a state of 
 bondage, I must here needs add a word or two, either 
 for the prevention, or removal, of that prejudice. Ido 
 not, therefore, mean by holiness, the mere performance 
 of the outward duties of religion, coldly acted over as 
 a task ; nor our habitual prayings, hearings, fastings, 
 multiplied one upon another, though these be all good, 
 as subservient to a higher end ; but I mean an inward 
 
 • Et c£Eco carpimur igni. 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 321 
 
 soul and principle of divine life, which inspirits all 
 these ; which enlivens and quickens the dead carcase 
 of all outward performances whatsoever. I do not here 
 urge the “ dead law of outward works,” which indeed, 
 if it be alone, subjects us to a “ state of bondage but 
 the inward law of the Gospel, the “ law of the spirit 
 of life,” than which, nothing can be more free and in- 
 genuous : for it does not act by principles without us, 
 but is an inward self-moving principle, living in our 
 hearts. 
 
 The first, though it work us into some outward con- 
 formity to God’s commandments, and so has a good 
 effect upon the world, — yet we are all this while but like 
 dead instruments of music, that sound sweetly and har- 
 moniously only when they are struck and played upon 
 from without by the musician’s hand, who has the theo- 
 ry and law of music living within himself. 
 
 But the second, the living law of the Gospel, the “law 
 of the spirit of life” within us, is, as if the soul of mu- 
 sic should incorporate itself with the instrument, and 
 live in the strings, and make them, of their own accord, 
 without any touch or impulse from without, dance up 
 and down, and warble out their harmonies. 
 
 They that are actuated only by an outward law, are 
 but like neurospasts, or those little puppets that skip 
 nimbly up and down, and seem to be full of quick and 
 sprightly motion ; whereas, they are, all the while, 
 moved artificially by certain wires and strings from 
 without, and not by any principle of motion from them- 
 selves within : or else, they are like clocks and watches, 
 which go pretty regularly for a while, but are moved by 
 weights and plummets, or some other artificial springs, 
 which must be every now and then wound up, or else 
 they cease. 
 
 But they who are actuated by the new law of the 
 Gospel, by the “law of the Spirit,” have an inward 
 principle of life in them, which from its own centre 
 puts forth itself, fredy and constantly, into all obedi- 
 ence to the will of Christ. This new law of the Gos- 
 pel, is a kind of musical soul, informing the dead organs 
 of our hearts ; which makes them, of their own accord, 
 delight to act harmoniously, according to the rule of 
 God’s word. 
 
322 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CUBWORTH- 
 
 The law of which I speak is a law of love ; the most 
 powerful law in the world : and yet it frees us, in a 
 manner, from all law without us, because it makes us 
 become a law unto ourselves. The more it prevails in 
 us, the more it eats up and devours all other laws with- 
 out us ; just as Aaron’s living rod swallowed up those 
 rods of the magicians, which were made only to coun- 
 terfeit a little life. Love is, at once, a freedom from all 
 law, a state of purest liberty ; and yet a law, too, of the 
 most constraining and indispensable necessity. 
 
 The worst law in the world is the “ law of sin, which 
 is in our members which keeps us in a condition of 
 most absolute slavery, when we are wholly under the 
 tyrannical commands of our passions. This is a cruel 
 Pharaoh indeed, who sets his hard task-masters over us, 
 and makes us wretchedly drudge in mire and clay. 
 
 The law of the letter without us, sets us in a con- 
 dition of a little more liberty, by restraining us from 
 many outward acts of sin ; but it does not disenthral us 
 from the power of sin in our hearts. 
 
 But the “ law of the spirit of life,” the Gospel law of 
 love, puts us into a condition of most pure and perfect 
 liberty ; and whosoever really entertains this law, has 
 ‘^thrust out Hagar” quite, he has “cast out the bond- 
 woman and her children from henceforth Sarah, the 
 free-woman, shall live for ever with him, and she shall 
 be to him a mother of many children ; her seed shall be 
 “as the sand of the sea-shore for number,” and “as 
 the stars of heaven.” Here is evangelical liberty, here 
 is Gospel freedom, when “ the law of the spirit of life, 
 in Christ Jesus, hath made us free from the law of 
 sin and death ;” when we have a liberty from sin, and 
 not a liberty to sin : for our Lord and Master hath told 
 us, that “whosoever committeth sin, is the servant 
 of it.” 
 
 He that lies under the power and vassalage of his base 
 appetites, and yet talks of Gospel freedom, is ,but like 
 a poor condemned prisoner, who, in his sleep, dreams 
 of being set at liberty, and of walking up and down 
 wheresoever he pleases, whilst his legs are, all the 
 while, locked fast in fetters and irons. To please our- 
 selves with a notion of Gospel liberty, while we have 
 not a Gospel principle of holiness within, to free us 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP ms COMMANDMENTS. 323 
 
 from the. power of sin, is nothing else, but to gild over 
 our bonds and fetters, and to fancy ourselves the in- 
 mates of a golden cage. There is a straitness, slavery, 
 and narrowness, in sin : sin crowds and crumples up 
 our souls, which, if they were freely spread abroad, 
 would be as wide and as large as the whole universe. 
 
 No man is truly free, but he that has his will enlar- 
 ged, to the extent of God’s own will, by loving whatso- 
 ever God loves, and nothing else. Such a one does 
 not fondly hug this and that particular created good 
 thing, and envassal himself unto it ; but he loves every 
 thing that is lovely, beginning at God, and descending 
 down to all his creatures, according to the several de- 
 grees of perfection in them. He enjoys a boundless 
 liberty, and a boundless sweetness, according to his 
 boundless love. He enclaspeth the whole world within 
 his outstretched arms ; his soul is as wide as the whole 
 universe, as large as “yesterday, to-day, and for ever.” 
 Whosoever is once acquainted with this disposition of 
 spirit, he never desires any thing else ; and he loves 
 the life of God in himself, dearer than his own life. To 
 conclude this, therefore; if we love Christ and “keep his 
 commandments, his commandments will not be griev- 
 ous to us ; his yoke will be easy, and his burthen light 
 it will not put us into a state of bondage, but of perfect 
 liberty. For, that is most true of evangelical obedi- 
 ence, which the wise man speaks of wisdom : “ her 
 ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are 
 peace : she is a tree of life to those that lay hold upon 
 her ; and happy are all they that retain her.” 
 
 I will now shut up all with one or two considera- 
 tions to persuade you further to the keeping of Christ’s 
 commandments. 
 
 First, from the desire which we all have, of knowledge. 
 If we would indeed know^ divine truths, the only way 
 to come to this, is by keeping Christ’s command- 
 ments. The grossness of our apprehensions in spiritual 
 things, and the many mistakes, which we make about 
 them, proceed from those dull and foggy steams, which 
 rise up from our foul hearts and becloud our under- 
 standings. If we but heartily complied with Christ’s 
 commandments, and purged our hearts from all gross 
 and sensual affections, we should not then look about 
 
324 THEY KNOW CHRIST, WHO [CIJDWORTH. 
 
 for truth, wholly without ourselves, and enslave our- 
 selves to the dictates of this and that teacher, and hang 
 upon the lips of men ; but we should find the great 
 eternal God, inwardly teaching our souls, and continu- 
 ally instructing us, more and more, in the mysteries of 
 his will ; and from within us “ should flow rivers of 
 living water.” Nothing puts a stop and hindrance to 
 the passage of truth in the world, but the carnality of 
 our hearts, the corruption of our lives. 
 
 It is not wrangling disputes, and syllogistical reason- 
 ings, that are the mighty pillars which underprop truth 
 in the world : if we would but underset it with the ho- 
 liness of our hearts and lives, it should never fail. Truth 
 is a prevailing and conquering thing ; and would quick- 
 ly overcome the world, did not the earthiness of our 
 dispositions, and the darkness of our false hearts, hin- 
 der it. Our Saviour Christ bids the blind man wash 
 off the clay that was upon his eyes, in the pool of Silo- 
 am, and then he should see clearly ; intimating this to 
 us, that it is the earthiness of men’s affections, which 
 darkens the eye of their understandings in spiritual 
 things. Truth is always ready and near at hand, if 
 our eyes were not closed up with mud, if we could but 
 open them to look upon it. Truth always waits upon 
 our souls, and offers itself freely to us, as the sun offers 
 its beams to every eye that will but open, and let them 
 shine in upon it. If we could but purge our hearts 
 from that filth and defilement, which hangs about them, 
 there would be no doubt at all of truth’s prevailing in 
 the world. “ For truth is great, and stronger than all 
 things : all the earth calleth upon truth, and the heaven 
 blesseth it ; all works tremble at it. The truth endu- 
 reth, and is always strong ; it liveth and conquereth for 
 evermore. She is the strength, kingdom, power, and 
 majesty, of all ages. Blessed be the God of truth !” 
 
 Secondly, if we desire a true reformation, as some 
 would be thought to do ; let us begin by reforming our 
 hearts and lives, by keeping Christ’s commandments. 
 All outward forms and models of reformation, though 
 they be never so good in their kind, yet they are of 
 little.worth to us without this inward reformation of the 
 heart. Tin, or lead, or any baser metal, if it be cast 
 into never so good a mould, and made up into never so 
 
SERM. I.] KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS. 325 
 
 elegant a figure, yet it is but tin or lead still ; it is the 
 same metal, that it was before. If adulterate silver, 
 with much alloy or dross, have never so current a 
 stamp, yet it will not pass, when the touchstone tries 
 it. We must be reformed within, with a spirit of fire, 
 and a spirit of burning, to purge us from the dross and 
 corruption of our hearts, and to refine us as gold and 
 silver ; and then, v{e shall be reformed truly, and not 
 before. When this once comes to pass, then shall 
 Christ be set upon his throne indeed ; then, “the glory 
 of the Lord shall overflow the land then, we shall 
 be a people acceptable unto him, and as mount Sion, 
 which he dearly loved. 
 
 28 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 THE CHRSITIAN’s VICTORY, OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND 
 DEATH. 
 
 1 Cor. XV. 57 . 
 
 But thanks he to God, which giveth us the victory^ through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 Christ’s resurrection, which the apostle treats of 
 in the former part of this chapter, is one of the main and 
 principal articles of our Christian faith. For, though 
 Christ, by his death upon the cross, made a propitia- 
 tory sacrifice for the world, yet it was his resurrection 
 only, which manifested his death to be efiectnal and 
 available for that end, and evidenced it's acceptance with 
 God. For, if the grave had detained Christ, and held 
 him prisoner, this would have been an argument that 
 the debt for which he was committed to that dark dun- 
 geon, was not yet paid, nor satisfaction made; for, “if 
 Christ be not raised, your faith is in vain, ye are yet 
 in your sins.” But now, death and the grave having 
 delivered up Christ out of their custody, his resur- 
 rection is an undoubted argument, that they had no 
 more to lay to his charge, as he was a surety and 
 undertaker for mankind ; but the debt which was owing 
 to the law and divine justice, was, in the court of heaven, 
 fully acquitted and discharged. For “Christ was de- 
 livered for our sins, and rose again for our justification.” 
 
 And, though Christ’s other miracles ought to have 
 conciliated belief to his doctrine from the Jews ; yet, 
 his resurrection from the dead (foretold by himself, 
 and really accomplished) added to all the rest, was a 
 most undoubted and unquestionable confirmation of his 
 prophetical ministry. For if it were supposed (as 
 the Jews of old, and the Talmudists of later times, 
 maliciously calumniated our Saviour Christ) that a 
 
327 
 
 SERM. II.] the Christian’s victory. 
 
 mere wizard or magician should have appeared, and not 
 only have done many miracles, by Beelzebub and the 
 powers of darkness, but also have foretold that after 
 he had been put to death he should rise again, and have 
 given this as a further sign to confirm his prophecy, as 
 our Saviour did,^ it could never be conceived that 
 Divine Providence should suffer such an impostor mi- 
 raculously to rise again, in so remarkable a manner, 
 and so often to appear before the eyes of so many 
 spectators, and at last visibly to ascend up to heaven. 
 Because this would have been an invincible temptation 
 to mankind ; it being not imaginable what greater assur- 
 ance than this heaven itself could give, to confirm and 
 seal a prophet, and persuade the world that what he did 
 was by the finger of God, and not by magical imposture. 
 And therefore, it is observable, tliat, though a good 
 while after our Saviour’s time, when the Jews had 
 forfeited that peculiar Providence which watched over 
 them, a certain counterfeit Messias, one David El-Roy, 
 was permitted to do several strange and miraculous 
 things by magic and witchcraft, if the Jewish relations 
 be true ; yet, when he gave this for a sign to the Persian 
 king, to prove himself the Messias, that after he was 
 beheaded by him he should rise again, he plainly dis- 
 covered his imposture, to the great disappointment of 
 the deluded Jews, who as Maimonides writes, in vain 
 expected his resurrection a good while after. 
 
 Moreover, if Christ had not risen again after death 
 the world would not have had suflicient ground to trust 
 and believe in him as a Saviour. Saint Austin reckoned 
 it as great a miracle as any that Christ ever did upon 
 earth, that the world should be brought off to believe 
 in a crucified Saviour. For to worship as the 
 
 Jews by way of disgrace call our Saviour, or rov 
 dvaa'xoXo'TT'i^ojxsvov, in Lucian’s language, ‘ one that was 
 hanged,’ for a God, and to believe in him, could not 
 but seem a monstrous and prodigious thing, both to 
 Jews and Gentiles ; and, certainly, it would never have 
 been brought to pass, had there not been unquestiona- 
 ble assurance given of Christ’s resurrection from the 
 dead. For who would be so sottish as to believe in a dead 
 
 Matt xii. 39. 
 
 In Jggereth Teman, 
 
328 the Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 Saviour, and to expect help and assistance from him, 
 that had not been able to help himself, and, therefore, 
 had given no proof that he was able to help others ? 
 Nay, from him, that, to all human appearance, had now 
 no being at all? Upon which account the Psalmist 
 upbraids the sottish Heathen, that “they ate the sacri- 
 fices of the dead.” Wherefore, it is observable, in the 
 Gospel, that when Christ was now dead and buried in 
 his sepulchre, the hope and expectation of his disciples, 
 who had formerly believed in him lay, as it were, en- 
 tombed in the same sepulchre with him. . And then the 
 two disciples that went to Emraaus, could only say, 
 “We trusted that this had been he which should have 
 redeemed Israel.” But afterward, when they were 
 able, upon good grounds, to affirm that the Lord was 
 risen indeed, then their faith revived anew, and mounted 
 up higher than ever, and grew triumphant in their 
 hearts. 
 
 Again, there was another excellent design in Christ’s 
 resurrection from the dead, which the apostle pursues 
 largely also in this chapter. Namely, to give the world 
 assurance of a life after death, and of a blessed immor-=» 
 tality, to be enjoyed by all true believers and followers 
 of Christ. Christ, by his resurrection, has “ abolished 
 death, and brought life and immortality to light,” as 
 the apostle speaks,® or as the Church sings in that 
 divine anthem, ‘ After he had overcome the sharpness 
 of death, he opened the kingdom of heaven to all 
 believers.’ The reasons of philosopl^y, which prove 
 the soul’s immortality, though firm and demonstrative 
 in themselves, are, to vulgar apprehensions, so thin and 
 subtile that they glide away, and leave no such palpable 
 impressions behind them as can be able sufficiently to 
 bear up against that heavy weight of gross infidelity, 
 which continually sinks down the minds of men to a 
 distrust of such high things, as are above the reach of 
 sense. Neither are these considerations any longer of 
 force, than men can actually attend to the strength and 
 coherence of the demonstration ; and, when that actual 
 attention, which is operose and difficult, is taken off, 
 then the truth itself, like a spectre or apparition, 
 
 • 2 Tim. i. 10. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 329 
 
 suddenly vanishes away, and men question with them- 
 selves afterward, whether there were any such thin^, 
 or no. Such thin and evanid things are philosophical 
 speculations about the high mysteries of faith and re- 
 ligion. But Christ’s raising of the self-same body 
 which was laid in the sepulchre, and afterward appearing 
 in it often to his disciples, gave such evident assurance 
 of the soul’s immortality and life after death, as must 
 needs strike more strongly upon vulgar minds, and 
 make more palpable impressions on them, and be always 
 of more present and ready use, than any philosophical 
 reasons and demonstrations. 
 
 And the Scripture is, in this particular, very harmo- 
 nious, and agreeable to itself; for, as in the Old Testa- 
 ment, it makes the original of death’s entrance into the 
 world to be the sin and disobedience of the first Adam, 
 who was of the earth, earthy; so, in the New Testa- 
 ment, it attributes the recovery of life and immortality 
 to the meritorious obedience of the second Adam, who 
 was the Lord from heaven, heavenly ; who, by his 
 death, vanquished and destroyed death. For, as Sam- 
 son,, who was a type of our Saviour, when he was be- 
 sieged by the Philistines in the city of Gaza, rose up at 
 midnight, and pulled up the gates of the city, and the 
 posts, and laying them upon his shoulders, carried them 
 up to the top of the hill ; in like manner, Christ our 
 Lord, when he was environed and encompassed by 
 death, after he had been a while detained under its cus- 
 tody, ascended victoriously out of the power of the 
 grave, and carried the gates of hell and death upon his 
 shoulders, along with him, triumphantly into heaven. 
 He slighted and dismantled that mighty garrison, whose 
 walls were stronger than brass, and whose gates harder 
 than adamant ; determined, that it should no longer be 
 a prison, with doors and bars to shut up those that be- 
 lieve in Him, but an open and free passage, and a broad 
 highway to life and immortality. He is “ the resur- 
 rection and the life,” and “ he that believeth in him, 
 though he were dead, yet shall he live.” For, “ he 
 that liveth, and was dead, and is alive for evermore, 
 even he hath the keys of hell and of death.” 
 
 But, that at which I chiefly aim, concerning the re- 
 surrection and ascension of Jesus into heaven, is this ; 
 
 28 * 
 
330 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 that by, and after it, he was made Lord and Christ, King 
 and Saviour and Sovereign of *his Church. Not that 
 Christ’s humanity was not always hypostatically uni- 
 ted to the divinity ; but because the economical king- 
 dom of Christ, as mediator, according to the Scripture 
 calculation, seems not to commence till after the state 
 of humiliation ; and so, begins its epocha from Christ’s 
 resurrection, or his exaltation to sit at God’s right hand 
 in heaven. “ Let all the house of Israel know assur- 
 edly, that God hath made that same Jesus whom ye 
 have crucified, both Lord and Christ,” — “ Jesus whom 
 ye slew, and hanged on a tree, him hath God exalted 
 on his right hand, to be a prince and a Saviour.” — 
 “ Who humbled himself, and became obedient to the 
 death of the cross ; wherefore God hath highly exalted 
 him, and given him a name above every name, that at 
 the name of Jesus every knee should bow; and, that 
 every tongue shall confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, 
 to the glory of God the Father.” And that article of 
 our creed, concerning Christ’s sitting at God’s right 
 hand in heaven, signifies to us thus much ; that Christ, 
 after his resurrection and ascension into heaven, hath all 
 power given unto him, both in heaven and in earth, all 
 things being made subject to him, “ excepting him only 
 that hath put all things under him.” He being, for the 
 comfort of his Church and members here upon earth, 
 according to his humanity, made God’s vicegerent, and 
 seated in his Father’s throne ; and having a mediatorial 
 kingdom bestowed upon him, that shall continue “till 
 he hath put down all authority and power, and hath sub- 
 dued all enemies under his feet and then, hath deli- 
 vered up this economical kingdom to God the Father, 
 “ that God may be all in all.” 
 
 And this is an unspeakable consolation, which the 
 Christian religion afibrds us ; and a most gracious con- 
 descension of the all-wise God. That, forasmuch as 
 we who dwell in these houses of clay, are far removed 
 from the pure and abstracted Deity, and infinitely dis- 
 proportioned to it, there should be such a divine contri- 
 vance set on foot, that we should have one of our own 
 flesh and blood, who was in all things tempted like 
 unto us, and had experience of all our difficulties and ca- 
 lamities ; who demonstrated his infinite love, in laying 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 331 
 
 down his life for us, and therefore we cannot doubt that 
 he has a most tender sympathy and fellow-feeling with 
 us, in all our infirmities ; I say, that we should have 
 such a one, exalted to God’s right hand, and invested 
 with all authority and power, both in heaven and earth, 
 that he might administer all things for the good of his 
 Church and members, and supply them in all their 
 wants and necessities. Which consideration must needs 
 be far more comfortable, cheering, and reviving, to every 
 true Christian, than it was to the sons of Jacob when 
 they went down to Egypt to buy corn and provision 
 for their necessities, to think that Joseph their brother 
 was made lord of all the land. 
 
 But this is wholly eluded and evacuated by those high- 
 flown spiritualists of these latter times, who slight and 
 reject the letter of the New Testament, as a mean and 
 carnal thing ; and will acknowledge no other death and 
 resurrection of Christ ; no otlier ascension and sitting 
 at God’s right hand ; nay, no other day of judgment, 
 nor resurrection of the body, but what is mystical and 
 allegorical. Thus, they not only imprudently slur the 
 Gospel, according to the history and the letter, in 
 making it no better than a romantic legend, or a mere 
 iEsopic fable, that contains a good moraP under it ; 
 but also plainly defeat the counsel of God, against 
 themselves and mankind, by antiquating Christianity, 
 and by introducing in its room old Paganism again, dis- 
 guised under a few canting phrases of Scripture lan- 
 guage. For, though Moses had a veil over his face ; 
 though there were many obscure umbrages and allego- 
 ries in the law, (the children of Israel being then not' 
 able to bear the brightness of that evangelical truth that 
 shone under them;) yet now, under the Gospel, “we 
 do all, with open face, behold as in a glass, the glory of 
 the Lord” nakedly represented to us, being “ changed 
 into the same image, from glory to glory.” 
 
 But, to let these pass, and still to improve our former 
 meditation further; let us, in the next place, consider, 
 that Christ, who received all this power after his resur- 
 rection and ascension, did not receive it in vain and to 
 no purpose ; either taking no notice of our human trans- 
 
 A Krrifxvdiov. 
 
332 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 actions here below, as having removed his pavilion too 
 far from us, into those regions of light and glory ; or 
 else, remaining an idle spectator, and not concerning or 
 interesting himself, in the issues of our human affairs. 
 Which will be so much the more improbable, if we con- 
 sider what the Scripture and experience tells us ; that 
 the devil and apostate spirits are perpetually active and 
 busy, in promoting the concernments of the kingdom of 
 darkness. And therefore, doubtless, he, whom God 
 hath made the shepherd and bishop of our souls, can 
 never be so regardless of his office, nor so careless of 
 his flock and tender lambs committed to his charge, as 
 to suffer those cruel wolves to prey upon them at plea- 
 sure ; and to have no pity at all for them, nor to extend 
 his watchful providence over them, whom once he 
 vouchsafed to redeem with his own precious blood. No, 
 certainly ; he, who waded through so many difficulties 
 and agonies for us, in the days of his flesh ; he, who 
 “bore our griefs and carried our sorrows he, who 
 was “ wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for 
 our iniquities who did sweat drops of blood in the 
 garden, and was nailed to the cross for us in Golgotha ; 
 he cannot so easily forget those, whom he has so dearly 
 bought, nor suffer all that power with which, for the 
 good of his church, God has invested him, to lie by 
 him idle and unemployed. 
 
 But, to the end that there might not be the least 
 ofround of suspicion or distrust concerning this particu- 
 lar, left in the minds of men, Christ, after his ascen- 
 sion into heaven, gave us a sensible demonstration, 
 both of his kingly power and of his watchful care and 
 providence over his Church, that he would not leave 
 them orphans, and destitute of all assistance, — by send- 
 ing down his Holy Spirit upon his disciples, on the 
 day of Pentecost, in a visible and miraculous manner : 
 “ This Jesus hath God raised up, of which we are all 
 witnesses : therefore, being by the right hand of God ex- 
 alted, and having received of the Father the promise of 
 the Holy Ghost, he hath shed forth this, which you now 
 see and hear.” And verily, if there had been no news 
 heard of our Lord and Saviour Christ, after he ascend- 
 ed above the clouds out of his disciples’ sight ; no real 
 and visible demonstration of his existence, power, and 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 333 
 
 providence over his Church ; — the distrustful hearts of 
 men would have been too prone to suspect, that the pre- 
 tence of an invisible kingdom at God’s right hand above, 
 had been no better than a mere dream, an airy and fan- 
 tastic notion ; and they would have been too ready to 
 have called in question the truth of all his other mira- 
 cles, his resurrection and ascension, witnessed only by 
 his own disciples ; and to have surmised, that those 
 several apparitions of his, which we read of after his 
 death, had been nothing else but spectres, or phantasms, 
 like the vulgarly believed apparitions of the ghosts of 
 men in airy bodies. But the sensible and miraculous 
 pouring out of the Holy Ghost upon his disciples, after 
 his ascension into heaven, was a palpable confirmation 
 of all Christ’s other miracles, of the validity of his 
 meritorious death and passion, of the truth of his re- 
 surrection and ascension ; and gives most comfortable 
 assurance to all believers, to the world’s end, that, 
 though his bodily presence be withdrawn from thein, 
 yet he has not left his Church utterly forlorn, and desti- 
 tute of all assistance ; but that his Spirit, the holy 
 Comforter, continues to be present amongst them, as his 
 vicegerent, to assist them for all the holy purposes of 
 the Gospel, to the world’s end. Now, the principal ef- 
 fects of Christ’s Holy Spirit, which are to be hoped 
 for and expected by every true believer and private 
 Christian, are comprised by the apostle under thiee 
 heads, here in the text, as consisting in a threefold vic- 
 tory, over a threefold enemy. “ The sting of death is 
 sin, and the strength of sin is the law : but thanks be to 
 God, which giveth us the victory, through our Lord 
 Jesus Christ 
 
 1. A victory over sin, as that which is the cause of 
 death. 
 
 2. A victory over the law, as that which aggravates 
 the guilt, and exasperates the power of sin. 
 
 3. Lastly, A victory over death, the fruit and conse- 
 quence of sin. 
 
 First, therefore. There is a victory over sin, to be 
 obtained in and through Christ. 
 
 Some there are, who will acknowledge no other 
 victory over sin, but an external one ; that, by which it 
 was conquered for us, sixteen hundred years since, by 
 
334 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 Christ upon the cross; where he “spoiled principali- 
 ties and powers, and made a show of them openly, 
 triumphing over them in it,”® and where he “redeemed 
 us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for 
 us.”f And, donbtless, this was one great end of 
 Christ’s coming into the world, to make a propitiatory 
 sacrifice for the sins of mankind : not only that he 
 might thereby put a period to those continually repeated 
 and ineffectual sacrifices of brute beasts, and the offer- 
 ing of the blood of bulls and goats, which could not 
 take away sin, nor propitiate his divine majesty ; but 
 also that he might at once give a sensible demonstration, 
 both of God’s high displeasure against sin, and of his 
 placableness and reconcileableness to sinners returning 
 to obedience ; and therefore, to that end, that the de- 
 spair of pardon might not hinder any from repentance 
 and amendment of life, he promulgated free pardon 
 and remission of sins, through his blood, to all those 
 who should repent and believe the Gospel. 
 
 But it is a very unsound and unwholesome interpret- 
 ation of this salutary undertaking of Christ in the 
 Gospel, that its ultimate end was to procure remission 
 of sin, and exemption from punishment only, to some 
 particular persons still continuing under the power of 
 sin, and to save them, at last, in their sins, that is, with 
 a mere outward and carnal salvation ; it being a thing 
 utterly impossible, that those undefiled rewards of the 
 heavenly kingdom should be received and enjoyed by 
 nen in their unregenerate and unrei:vewed nature. 
 
 For what is this else, but to make Christ the grand 
 patron of the kingdom of darkness ; and to suppose 
 that God may be bribed and corrupted, by sacrifice and 
 intercession, to a partial connivance and fond indulgence 
 of men in their sins, to all eternity ? Or else, to insinu- 
 ate that there is no other evil at all in sin, but in 
 respect only of that outward punishment consequent 
 upon it? Which is to destroy the nature and reality of 
 sin, and to make it nothing but a mere name or fancy; 
 as if good and evil, just and unjust, had ho reality in 
 nature, but depended only upon arbitrary laws, enforced 
 by outward punishments, or mere opinions ; and so 
 
 • Col. ii. 15. 
 
 fGal. iU. 13. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAWj AND DEATH. 335 
 
 were mere factitious, or else fictitious and imaginary 
 things. If either of which opinions were true^ then 
 indeed, rernission of sin, and exemption from punish* 
 ment, would quite take away all the evil of sin. 
 
 But, if sin be not a mere name or fancy ; if it have 
 in it a real and intrinsical evil, greater than that of 
 outward punishment, then, certainly, it cannot be so 
 transcendent a happiness, as some men carnally conceit, 
 to have an impunity in sinning to all eternity ; and the 
 effecting of this* impunity should not be thought the 
 only fit undertaking for the Son of God to engage in, the 
 only one which would deservedly entitle him the Sa- 
 viour of mankind. For that of Socrates in Plato must 
 needs be true,^ that, in those who are not incorrigible 
 and incurable, it is the greatest evil that can possibly 
 befal them, to continue in wickedness unpunished ; and 
 the greatest kindness which they can receive, by the 
 lesser evil of punishment and castigation, to be cured 
 of the greater evil of sin. For, as the same philoso- 
 pher speaks, chastisement and correction is the natural 
 remedy and cure of wickedness which our Saviour 
 confirms, when he said, “As many as I love, I rebuke 
 and chasten;” and surely the remedy is not w^orse than 
 the disease. 
 
 Wherefore, it was so far from being the ultimate end 
 of Christ’s undertaking, to die for sin that men might 
 securely live in it, that, on the contrary, the death of 
 Christ w^as particularly intended as an engine to batter 
 down the kingdom of sin and Satan, and to bring men 
 effectually to God and righteousness, as the Scripture 
 plainly witnesses : “ His own self bare our sins, in his 
 body, on the tree, that we, being dead to sin, might live 
 to righteousness.”* The death of Christ conducing 
 to this great end, not only as it was exemplary, and 
 hieroglyphically instructed us that we ought to take up 
 the cross likewise, and follow our crucified Lord and 
 Saviour, suffering in the flesh, and ceasing from sin ; 
 but also, as, in a most lively manner, it demonstrates 
 God’s high displeasure against sin, and its malignant 
 nature ; which could not otherwise be expiated, than 
 
 6 Tov aSiKOVvra firj SiSovat 6iKr/v, travrwv fjLcyiarov rz Kai irpcorov kukcov 
 ZLvai, h larpiKri tyjs novripias diKrj, i 1 Pet. ii. 24. 
 
336 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 by the blood of that innocent and immaculate Lamb, 
 the only-begotten Son of God : and, lastly, as the hope 
 of pardon and free remission of sin, in the blood of 
 Christ, for the truly penitent, might invite and animate 
 men to cheerful and vigorous endeavors against sin. 
 
 Others there are, who tell us that there is indeed 
 something further aimed at in the Gospel, than the bare 
 remission of sins ; that it is, however, nothing else, 
 but the imputation of an external righteousness, or 
 another’s inherent holiness, which is made ours, to all 
 intents and purposes, as completely as if we ourselves 
 had been really and perfectly righteous ; and this, upon 
 no other condition or qualification required, except that 
 simply of mere faith, scrupulously prescinded from all 
 holiness and sanctification. A laying hold or appre- 
 hending only, as they use to phrase it, of this external 
 and imputed righteousness ; that is, the merely believing 
 and imagining it to be ours : which kind of faith, there- 
 fore, is but the imagination of an imagination ; or of 
 that, which really is not; and, as Pindar calls man, the 
 very dream of a shadow.*^ 
 
 For, though this be pretended by some, to be spoken 
 only of justification, as contradistinct from sanctifica- 
 tion, the latter of which they conceive must by no means 
 have any conditional influence upon the former, — yet it 
 will unavoidably extend to the taking away of the 
 necessity of inherent righteousness and holiness, and all 
 obligation to it : upon which very account it is so highly 
 acceptable, because, under a specious show of modesty 
 and humility, it exceedingly gratifies men’s hypocrisy 
 and carnality. For he that is thus completely justified^ 
 by the imputation of a mere external righteousness, 
 must needs have, ipso facto, a right and title, by that 
 imputation, to heaven and happiness, without holiness ; 
 for “ whom he justifieth, them he also glorifieth.” Nei- 
 ther can any thing be required inherently in them, 
 where all inherency is perfectly supplied by imputation. 
 And, though it be pretended, that sanctification will 
 spontaneously follow after, by way of gratitude,-yet this 
 is likely to prove but a very slippery hold, where it is 
 
 k Xfciaj ovap. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 337 
 
 believed, that gratitude itself, as well as all other graces, 
 is already in them by imputation. Neither can it be 
 reasonably thought, that true holiness should spring by 
 way of gratitude or ingenuousness, from such a princi- 
 ple of carnality, as makes men so well contented with 
 a mere imaginary righteousness. 
 
 But this opinion, as it makes God, in justifying, to 
 pronounce a false sentence, and to conceive of things 
 otherwise than they are, and to do that which himself 
 hath declared to be abominable, to justify the wicked, 
 in a forensic sense ; and as it is irreconcilable to those 
 many passages of Scripture, which assure us that God 
 will render to every man according to his works ; so, it 
 also takes away the necessity of Christ’s meritorious 
 and propitiatory sacrifice, for the remission of sins : for, 
 where a complete righteousness is imputed, there is no 
 sin at all to be pardoned. And, lastly, it vainly sup- 
 poses righteousness and holiness to be mere fantastical 
 and imaginary things ; for, otherwise, it were no more 
 possible, that a wicked man should be made righteous 
 by another’s righteousness imputed, than that a sick 
 man should be made whole, by another’s imputed health. 
 “If a brother or sister be naked and destitute of daily^ 
 food, and one of you say unto them. Depart in peace, 
 be you warmed, and be you filled ; notwithstanding you 
 give them not those things, which are needful for the 
 body ; what doth it profit ? Even so, what doth it profit, 
 my brethren, if a man say he hath faith [or imputed 
 righteousness], and have not works ? [that is, real and 
 inherent righteousness, or inward renovation] can 
 such a faith [that is, imagination or imputation] save 
 him ?” Certainly, no more than mere words can clothe 
 a naked man’s back, or feed a hungry man’s belly, or 
 warm and thaw him whose blood is frozen and congeal- 
 ed in his veins. Nay, it is no more possible for a man 
 to be made holy, than to be made happy, by mere impu- 
 tation, which latter, few men would be contented with ; 
 and, were it not for their hypocrisy, they would be as 
 little contented with the former ; and it would as little 
 please them, to be just only in opinion, as happy only 
 in opinion, to use Tully’s expression against the Epi- 
 
 1 Opinione tantum justi : opinione tantum beati. 
 
 29 
 
338 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 cureans. Nay, since it is most certain, that the greatest 
 part of our happiness consists in righteousness and ho- 
 liness, it will unavoidably follow, that, if we have no 
 other than an imputative righteousness, we can have no 
 other than an imputative happiness ; a mere imaginary 
 heaven, which will little please us, when we feel our- 
 selves to be in a true and real hell. 
 
 But it is not our intention here, to quarrel about words 
 and phrases, as if Christ’s meritorious satisfaction 
 might not be said to be imputed to those that repent 
 and believe the Gospel for remission of sins ; much less 
 to deny, what the holy Scripture plainly asserts, that 
 true and living faith, which worketh by love, which is 
 the very essence of the new creature, or renewed na- 
 ture, is imputed, or accounted for righteousness, under 
 the Gospel dispensation ; where God will proceed, not 
 according to legal rigor and severity, with his fallen 
 creatures, but according to that equity and ^E^jfisixsia, 
 which the philosopher tells us is the truest justice. But 
 our only design is, to caution against that Antinomian 
 error, which is too often insinuated, under the notion of 
 imputed righteousness : as if there were no necessity 
 of inherent righteousness, and a real victory over sin, 
 in order to salvation, but that an imputed or imaginary 
 one might serve the turn. Which error springing up 
 very early amongst the Gnostic Christians, Saint John 
 gives a very seasonable antidote against it : “ Little 
 children, let no man deceive you ; he that doeth right- 
 eousness, is righteous, even as He is righteous and, 
 “ He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his com- 
 mandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him.” To 
 which purpose, is that also in his first chapter : “ This 
 is the message which we have heard of him, and declare 
 to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at 
 all. If we say that we have fellowship with him, and 
 walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth : but, if 
 we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fel- 
 lowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus 
 Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” Wherefore 
 the same apostle tells us of overcoming the wicked 
 one, and of overcoming the world, by our faith in 
 Christ. And in the Apocalypse he propounds, from 
 Christ himself, divers remarkable promises to him that 
 
339 
 
 SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 overcometh : “ That he shall eat of the tree of life which 
 is in the midst of the paradise of God : That he shall 
 not be hurt of the second death : That he shall have 
 the hidden manna, and a white stone with a new name 
 written in it, which no man knoweth, save he that re- 
 ceiveth it : That he will give him the morning-star : 
 That he shall be clothed in white raiment, and his name 
 shall not be blotted out of the book of life ; That he 
 shall be a pillar in the temple of God : and. That he 
 shall sit with Christ in his throne, as he overcame, and 
 sat down with his Father in his throne.” The condi- 
 tion of all which promises being “ overcoming,” we 
 may well conclude from thence, that there is a real, and 
 not an imaginary victory only, to be obtained over the 
 power of sin, as well as the guilt of it. 
 
 Nay, it is true, and very observable, that those places 
 which are usually quoted as the foundation of an imput- 
 ed righteousness, in some other sense than that which 
 we before mentioned, are indeed, no otherwise to be un- 
 derstood than of a real, inward righteousness, wrought 
 or infused by the Spirit of Christ. As that principal 
 one: “Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss 
 for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus 
 my Lord ; that I may win him, and be found in him, 
 not having mine own righteousness, which is of the 
 law, but that which is of the faith of Christ, the right- 
 eousness which is of God by faith.” Where Christ, 
 whom the apostle desires to win, and to be found in ; 
 and the righteousness, which is through the faith of 
 Christ ; and the righteousness, which is of God through 
 faith, — are no external imputed righteousness, but the 
 real inward righteousness of the new creature, wrought 
 by the Spirit of Christ through faith, which is opposed 
 here to our own righteousness, and the righteousness 
 which is of the law ; that is, to the righteousness of out- 
 ward works, done by our own natural power, according 
 to the letter of the law, in our unrenewed state; for so 
 the following words explain the meaning : “ that I may 
 know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the 
 fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable un- 
 to his death ; if by any means I might attain to the re- 
 surrection of the dead.” And this same inward and real 
 righteousness is often elsewhere called Christ, and the 
 
340 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 new man, that is said to be in us, and which we are ex- 
 horted to put on, not by conceit or imagination only, 
 but by real conformity to his nature, and participation 
 of his spirit. 
 
 And whereas the magnifiers of free grace in an Anti- 
 nomian sense, and the decriers of inherent righteous- 
 ness, commonly conceive, that the free grace of | God 
 consists in nothing but either in the pardon of sin and 
 exemption from punishment, or in the imputation of an 
 external holiness, and accounting men just freely, with- 
 out any condition but only the mere believing of this, 
 that they are so accounted ; and that faith is no other- 
 wise considered in the Gospel, than in order to the be- 
 lieving of this imputation ; and that our own works, 
 when they are undervalued, comparatively to grace and 
 faith, are to be taken for all inherent righteousness 
 and holiness, even the new creature itself : that all these 
 conceptions are errors, as it might be abundantly proved 
 from sundry other places of Scripture, so it may suffi- 
 ciently appear from this one : “ God, who is rich in 
 mercy, for his great love, wherewith he loved us, even 
 when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together 
 with Christ, (by grace ye are saved,) and hath raised 
 us up together. That, in the ages to come, he might 
 show the exceeding riches of his grace, and his kind- 
 ness toward us in Christ Jesus. For, by grace are 
 ye saved, through faith, and that not of yourselves ; it 
 is the gift of God : not of works, lest any man should 
 boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ 
 Jesus, unto good works.” For, when we are here said 
 to be saved by grace, it is plain, that the apostle means 
 by saved, inwardly quickened and sanctified : 
 
 [to be saved] (says Grotius well here) i^purgari a vitiis: 
 [to be cleansed from faults:] which inward sanctification 
 is here attributed to God’s free grace, and denied to 
 ourselves and' to works; the meaning of which is, that 
 it is not effected by our own works (whether of outward 
 morality, or legal ceremonies), done by our natural 
 power in the unrenewed states but, by the quickening 
 and enlivening Spirit of Christ, inwardly creating us 
 anew. And, lastly, faith is plainly made the instrument 
 of this inward sanctification, wrought, not by our own 
 works, but by the grace and Spirit of Christ. Whence 
 
fiERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 341 
 
 we may well conclude, that the true object of the Chris- 
 tian faith, is, not only the blood of Christ, shed upon 
 the cross, for the remission of sin ; but, also, the re- 
 newing Spirit of Christ, for the inward conquering and 
 mortifying of sin, and for the quickening or raising of 
 us to a heavenly life. 
 
 And I dare be bold to say, that the inward sense of 
 every true and sincere-hearted Christian, in this point, 
 speaks the same language with the Scripture. For a 
 true Christian, that has any thing of the life of God in 
 him, cannot but earnestly desire an inward healing of 
 his sinful maladies and distempers, and not an outward 
 hiding and palliation of them only. He must needs 
 passionately long more and more, after a new life and 
 nature, and the divine image more fully formed in him ; 
 insomuch, that if, without it, he might be secured from 
 the pains of hell, he could not be fully quieted and sa- 
 tisfied with such security. It is not the effects and con- 
 sequence of sin only, the external punishment due unto 
 it, from which he desires to be freed ; but from the in- 
 trinsical evil of sin itself, from the plague of his own 
 heart. As he often meditates with comfort, upon that 
 outward cross, to which his Saviour’s hands and feet 
 were nailed for his sins; so he impatiently desires to 
 feel the virtue of that inward cross of Christ also, by 
 which the world may be crucified to him, and he unto 
 the world ; and to experience the power of Christ’s 
 resurrection within him, still to raise him further unto 
 newness of life. Neither will he be more easily per- 
 suaded to believe, that his sinful desires, the malignity 
 and violence of which he feels within himself, can be 
 conquered without him, than that an army here, in Eng- 
 land can be conquered in France or Spain. He is so 
 deeply sensible of the real evil, which is in sin itself, 
 that he cannot be contented to have it only histrionical- 
 ly triunfphed over. And to fancy himself covered all 
 over, with a thin veil of mere external imputation, will 
 afford little satisfactory comfort unto him that hungers 
 and thirsts after righteousness, and is weary and heavy 
 laden with the burden of sins, and does not desire to 
 have his inward maladies hid and covered only, but 
 healed and cured. Neither can he be willing to be put 
 off till the hour of death, for a divorce between his 
 29 * 
 
34^ THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 soul and sin ; nor easily persuaded, that, though sin 
 should rule and reign in him all his life long, yet the last 
 parting groan, that shall divide his soul and body asun- 
 der, may have so great an efficacy, as in a moment also 
 to separate all sin from his soul. 
 
 But, that we may not seem here either to beat the air 
 in generals and uncertainties, or, by an indiscreet zeal 
 to countenance those conceited and high-flown enthusi- 
 asts of latter times, who, forgetting that example of 
 modesty given us by the blessed apostle, — “Not as 
 though I had already attained, or were already perfect 
 — but this one thing I do ; forgetting those things 
 which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things 
 which are before, I press toward the mark,” — boldly 
 arrogate to themselves such an absolute perfection, as 
 would make them not to stand in need of any Saviour, 
 nor to be cleansed by the blood of the Lamb, which, 
 accordingly, they allegorize into a mystical sense, — we 
 must, therefore, declare, that we speak not here of in- 
 herent righteousness, and of a victory over sin, in a 
 fegal or pharisaical sense, but in such an evangelical 
 sense, as yet, notwithstanding, is true and real. 
 
 The first degree of which, is a principle of new life, 
 infused into the soul by the Spirit of Christ through 
 faith, (which the apostle calls thei seed of God,*") inclin- 
 ing it to love God and righteousness, as a thing corres- 
 pondent to its own nature ; and enabling it to act freely 
 and ingenuously in the ways of God, out of a living 
 law written upon the heart, and to eschew sin as con- 
 trary to a vital principle. For the true gospel-right- 
 eousness, which Christ came to set up in the world, 
 does not consist merely in outward works, whether 
 ceremonial or moral, done by our own natural power, 
 in our unrenewed state, but in an inward life and spirit, 
 wrought by God. Which those very philosophers 
 seemed in a manner to acknowledge, who denied that 
 virtue could be taught by outward rules and precepts, 
 like an art or trade ; and Aristotle himself, also, when 
 he inclines to think that men’s being good depends up- 
 on some extraordinary divine influence and assistance. 
 Which I the rather take notice of, because some late 
 
 * 1 John iii. 9. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 343 
 
 pretenders to philosophy have profanely derided this 
 doctrine, after this manner, as if it made good thoughts 
 and virtuous dispositions to be poured and blown into 
 men by God. But there is a second degree of victory 
 over sin, which every true Christian ought not only to 
 look upon as possible, but also to endeavor after, and 
 ceaselessly to pursue ; which is “ such a measure of 
 strength in the inward man,” and such a degree of mor- 
 tification or crucifixion of our sinful lusts, as that a man 
 will not knowingly and deliberately do any tiling, that 
 his conscience plainly tells him is a sin, though there be 
 never so great temptations to it. 
 
 Whether or no this, or any thing further, be that 
 evangelical perfection, which was the mark that St. 
 Paul pressed toward, and which he seems mystically 
 to call the “ resurrection from the dead,” I leave it to 
 others to make a judgment of. But doubtless, they 
 that have attained to such a principle of new life, and 
 such a measure of inward strength, as is already men- 
 tioned, that is, to the perfection of unfeigned sincerity, 
 may, notwithstanding the irregularities of the first 
 motions, violent assaults, and importunities of tempta- 
 tions, sudden incursions, and obreptions, sins of mere 
 ignorance and inadvertency, (which are all washed 
 away in the blood of Christ) in a true evangelical 
 sense, be said to have attained to a victory over sin. 
 
 Wherefore, I demand, in the next place. Why it 
 should be thought impossible, by the grace of the 
 Gospel, and the faith of Christ, to attain to such a vic- 
 tory over sin ? For sin owes its original to nothing 
 else but ignorance and darkness: every wicked man is 
 ignorant. And, therefore, in that sense, another maxim 
 of the Stoics may have some truth, also, that men sin 
 against their will ; because, if they knew that those 
 things were indeed so hurtful to them, they would never 
 do them. Now, we all know how easily light conquers 
 darkness, and, upon its first approach, makes it fly 
 before it, and, like a guilty shade, seek to hide itself 
 from it, by running round about the earth. And cer- 
 tainly, the light of God, arising in the soul, can with 
 as much ease scatter away the night of sinful ignorance 
 before it. For truth has a cognation with the soul ; and 
 falsehood, lies, and impostures, are no more able to 
 
344 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 make resistance against the power of truth breaking 
 forth, than darkness is able to dispute with light. 
 Wherefore, the entrance in of light upon the soul, is 
 half a conquest over our sinful inclinations. 
 
 Again, though sin have had a long and customary 
 possession in the soul, yet, it has no just title, much 
 less a right of inheritance. For sin is but a stranger 
 and foreigner in the soul, a usurper and intruder into 
 the Lord’s inheritance. Sin is no nature, as Saint 
 Austin and others of the Fathers often inculcate, but 
 an adventitious and extraneous thing ; and the true and 
 ancient nature of the soul of man suffers violence 
 under it, and is oppressed by it. It is nothing else but 
 the preternatural state of rational beings ; and, there- 
 fore, we have no reason to think it must needs be per- 
 petual and unalterable. Is it a strange thing, that, by 
 the hand of a skilful musician, a jarring instrument 
 should ever be set in tune again? Doubtless, if an in- 
 strument of music were a living thing, it would be sensi- 
 ble of harmony as its proper state, and abhor discord 
 and dissonancy as a thing preternatural to it. The soul 
 of man was harmonical as God at first made it; till sin, 
 disordering the strings and faculties, put it out of tune, 
 and marred the music of it: but, doubtless, that great 
 Harrnostes, who tunes the whole world, and makes all 
 things keep their times and measures, is able to set this 
 lesser instrument in tune again. Sin is but a disease 
 and dyscrasy in the soul ; righteousness is its health 
 and natural complexion; and there is a propensity in 
 the nature of every thing, to return to its proper state, 
 and cast off whatever is heterogeneous to it. And some 
 physicians tell us, that medicaments are but subservient 
 to nature, by removing obstructions and impediments ; 
 but nature itself, and the inward Archaeus, released and 
 set at liberty, works the cure. Bodies, when they are 
 bent out of their place, and violently forced out of the 
 natural position of their parts, have a spring of their 
 own, and an inward strong propension to return to their 
 own natural posture, wdiich produces that motion of 
 restitution, of which philosophers endeavor to give a 
 reason. As, for example ; air may be forced into a 
 much lesser room, than that into w^hich it would natu- 
 rally expand itself; but, while it is under this violence. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 345 
 
 it has a spring, or strong conatus^ to return to its pro- 
 per state (of which several ingenious observations have 
 been lately published by a learned hand). Now, sin 
 being a violent and preternatural state, and a sinner’s 
 returning to God and righteousness being that motion 
 by which the soul is restored to its true freedom and 
 ancient nature, — why should there not be such an elater 
 or spring in the soul (quickened and enlivened by 
 divine grace), such a natural conatus, of returning to its 
 proper state again ? Doubtless, there is; and the Scrip- 
 ture seems sometimes to acknowledge it, and to call it 
 by the name of spirit, when it speaks of our free-acting 
 in God’s ways, from an inward principle. For the 
 spirit is not always to be taken for a breath or impulse 
 from without : but, also, for an inward propension of 
 the soul, awakened and revived in it, to return to its 
 proper ^ate, as it is intellectual ; and then, to act freely 
 in that state, according to its ancient nature. For, if 
 the spirit were a mere external force acting upon the 
 soul, without the concurrence of an inward principle, 
 then, to be actuated by the spirit would be a state of 
 violence to the soul, under which it could not delight 
 always to continue ; whereas the state of the spirit is a 
 state of freedom, and not of violence, as the apostle 
 witnesses, when he calls it the freedom of the spirit : it 
 is the soul’s acting from an inward spring and principle 
 of its own intellectual nature, not by a mere outward 
 impulse, like a boat, that is tugged on by oars, or driven 
 by a strong blast of wind. Wherefore, the soul’s re- 
 turning from sin to righteousness, which is its primitive 
 nature, must needs have great advantages ; for it goes 
 on secundo jlumine, according to the genuine current 
 of its true intellectual nature, and has, besides, the as- 
 sistance of a gentle gale of the Divine Spirit from with- 
 out, to help it forward. 
 
 Why should it be thought so great an impossibility, 
 for men willingly to do that, which is agreeable to the 
 law of goodness? Since this is the genuine nature of 
 the soul, when freed from mistakes and incumbrances, 
 from that which is heterogeneous and adventitious, from 
 that which clogs and oppresses it; and since every life 
 and nature acts freely, according to its own propensions, 
 why should it seem strange, that the superior faculties 
 
346 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth* 
 
 of the soul should become predominant, since they arc 
 of a lordly nature, and made to rule ; and since the 
 inferior faculties are of a servile temper, and made to 
 be subject ? Why should it seem impossible, for equity 
 light, and reason, to be enthroned in the soul of man 
 again, and there to command ^and govern those exorbi- 
 tant affections, which so lawlessly rebel against them ? 
 For, if some grave commanders and generals have been 
 able, by the majesty of their very looks, to hush and 
 silence a disorderly and mutinous rout of soldiers, — 
 certainly reason, re-enthroned in her majestic seat, and 
 re-invested with her ancient power and authority, which 
 is natural, and not usurped, would much more easily be 
 able to check and control within us the tumultuous 
 rabble of apjJetites and passions. 
 
 Doubtless, God has no other design upon us, in reli- 
 gion, and the Gospel of his Son, than what is for our 
 good ; than to restore us to the rectitude and perfection 
 of our beings. Wherefore, he seeks to redeem, and 
 call off our affections, from the perishing vanities of this 
 world ; which, being so unspeakably below us, debase 
 and pollute our spirits. He would not have us, there- 
 fore, addict ourselves wholly to the gratifications of our 
 lower faculties, which are but the brute in us. But he 
 would have our best faculties to be uppermost ; the 
 man, to rule the brute ; and that which is of God in us, 
 to rule our manly and rational faculties. He would 
 not have us. Narcissus-like, to be always courting our 
 own shadow in the stream. For, even according to the 
 ancient Democritical philosophy, this whole visible 
 world is mere extended bulk, and has nothing real in it, 
 but atoms or particles of a different magnitude, diversely 
 placed, and agitated in a continual whirlpool. But all 
 the color, heauty, and varnish, all that which charms 
 and bewitches us, in external objects, is nothing but 
 the vital sensations and relishes of our own souls. 
 These give all the paint and lustre to those outw^ard 
 beauties which we court and fall in love wdth ; w^hich 
 are, in themselves, as devoid of reality, and as fantasti- 
 cal, as the colors of the rainbow. So that, this 
 outward world is not unfitly compared to an enchanted 
 palace ; wdiich seems, indeed, most pleasing and de* 
 lightful to our deluded sense, but which, in reality, is 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 347 
 
 all imaginary, a mere prestigious show ; those things 
 with which we are enamored, thinking them, to he 
 without us, being nothing but the vital energies of our 
 own spirits. In a word, God would have man to be a 
 living temple, for himself to dwell in ; and man’s facul- 
 ties, instruments to be used and employed by him : 
 which need not be thought impossible if that be true 
 which philosophy tells us, that there is a certain near 
 kindred and alliance between the soul and God. 
 
 Lastly, we must observe, that, though this inward 
 victory over sin be no otherwise attainable than by the 
 Spirit of Christ, through faith ; and by a divine opera- 
 tion within us ; so that, in a certain sense, we may be 
 said to be passive recipients : yet, we must not dream 
 that our active co-operation and concurrence, are not 
 also necessarily required. For, as there is a spirit of 
 God in nature, producing vegetables and minerals, 
 which human art and industry could never be able to 
 effect; a certain -nutritive spirit within, as the poet 
 sings, which yet, does not work absolutely, iincondi- 
 tionately, and omnipotently, but requires certain pre- 
 parations, conditions, and dispositions in the matter 
 which it works upon; (for, unless the husbandman 
 plough the ground, and sow the seed, the spirit of God 
 in nature will not give any increase :) in like manner, 
 the Scripture tells us, that the divine Spirit of grace 
 does not work in the souls of men, absolutely, uncondi- 
 tionately, and irresistibly ; but requires in ns certain 
 preparations, conditions, and co-operations : forasmuch, 
 as it may both be quenched, and stirred up or excited, 
 in our souls. And indeed, unless we plough up the 
 fallow-ground of our hearts, and sow to ourselves in 
 righteousness, as the prophet speaks, by our earnest 
 endeavors, we cannot expect, that the divine Spirit of 
 grace will shower down that heavenly increase upon us. 
 Wherefore, if, by the Spirit of Christ, we would attain 
 a victory over sin, we must endeavor to tight a good 
 fight, and run a good race, and to “enter in at the strait 
 gate;” that so, overcoming, w’e may receive the crown 
 of life. And thus much it shall suffice me to have 
 spoken, at this time, concerning the first particular, the 
 victory over sin, 
 
 I shall now proceed to speak something briefly to the 
 
348 the Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 two other victories that remain, which are attainable 
 also by Christ, over the law and over death. 
 
 And the law may be considered two manner of ways : 
 first, as an outward covenant of works, which pro- 
 nounces death and condemnation against all, who do 
 not yield absolute and entire obedience to whatever is, 
 by that law, commanded ; and which imposed also, with 
 the same severity, a multitude of outward ceremonial 
 observances, which had no intrinsical goodness in them, 
 but kept men in a state of bondage and servility. Now, 
 the law, in this sense, as it is an outward letter and 
 covenant of works, is already conquered externally for 
 us, by Christ’s death upon the cross. “ Christ hath 
 redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a 
 curse for us ; for it is written. Cursed is every one that 
 hangeth on a tree ; that the blessing of Abraham might 
 come on the Gentiles, through Jesus Christ, that we 
 might receive the promise of the Spirit, through faith.” 
 And he has, thereby, freed us also from our obligation 
 to those commandments which were not good ; having 
 “ broken down the middle wall of partition, that was 
 between Jew and Gentile, abolishing in his flesh the 
 enmity, even the law of commandments; and blotting 
 out the hand-writing of ordinances that was against us, 
 which was contrary to us, and taking it out of the way, 
 nailing it to his cross.” 
 
 Secondly, the law is sometimes also considered in 
 Scripture, as an inward state of mind, wrought by the 
 law and truth of God ; whether written outwardly in 
 the letter of the Scripture, or inwardly in the con- 
 science; prevailing only so far as to beget a conviction 
 of men’s duty, and of the wrath of God against sin ; but 
 not enabling them with inward strength and power, to 
 do what is commanded, willingly, out of a love of it. 
 It is such a state, when men are only passive to God’s 
 law, and unwillingly subject to it, as an enemy, for fear 
 of wrath and vengeance. And this must needs be a 
 state of miserable bondage and servility, distraction and 
 perplexity of mind ; when men are, at once, strongly 
 convinced of the wrath of God against sin, and yet, 
 under the power of their appetites, haling and drag- 
 ging them to the commission of sin. It is that state, as 
 I conceive, which Saint Paul describes after this man- 
 
349 
 
 SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 ner : “The law is spiritual, but I am carnal, sold undet 
 sin ; for that which I do, I allow not; bir what I would, 
 that do I not; but what I hate, that do L”“ And again, 
 “1 see another law in my members, warring against my 
 mind, and bringing me into captivity under the law of 
 sin. 0 wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me 
 from this body of death?” Now, from the law in this 
 sense, that is, from the bondage and servility of the 
 legal state, we are not delivered, n(»r made conquerors, 
 by what Christ did outwardly upon the cross, as some 
 imagine ; as if he had there purchased for us an in- 
 dulgence to sin without control ; but, by the inward 
 working of his holy Spirit, freeing us from the powef 
 and bondage of sin, and unbewitching us from the love 
 of it. 
 
 Wherefore, there is a double freedom from this legal 
 state, to be taken notice of ; a true and a false freedom ; 
 which I cannot better explain, ihan by using the apos- 
 tle’s own similitude, in the beginning of the seventh 
 chapteV: “Know ye not, brethren, that the law hath 
 dominion over a man as long as he liveth ? [or, rather, 
 as long as ^7, that is, the law, liveth ?] For the woma?i 
 which hath a husband, is bound by the law to her hus- 
 band, so long as he liveth ; but, if her husband be dead, 
 she is loosed from the law of the husband. So then, if^ 
 while her husband liveth, she be married to another 
 man, she shall be called an adulteress; but, if her hus- 
 band be dead, she is free from that law ; so that she is 
 no adulteress, though she be married to another man.” 
 Here, the law is compared to a husband ; and one that 
 is under the law, or in a legal slate, to a woman that 
 has a husband. Now, there are two ways by which a 
 woman may be freed from her husband : the one, if 
 she break loose from him whilst he yet lives, contrary 
 to the laws of wedlock, and marry another man ; an 
 undue and unlawful freedom, and then she is justly 
 styled an adulteress; — another, if she stay till her hus- 
 band be dead, and then, being free from the law of her 
 husband, lawfully marries another man. In like man- 
 ner, there are two ways, by which men may be freed 
 from the lav|j, as it is an inward slate of bondage and 
 
 ” Horn, vii. 
 
 30 
 
350 
 
 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth, 
 
 servility ; the first is, when men, illegally and unlaw- 
 fully, break loose from the law, which is their husband, 
 whilst he is yet alive, and ought to have dominion over 
 them, and marry themselves to another husband; which 
 husband’s name is carnal liberty, or licentiousness, too 
 often miscalled in these latter times by the name of 
 Christian liberty ; and such as these, may well be 
 styled, in the Scripture language, adulterers and adul- 
 teresses : — but there is an »ther freedom from the law, 
 which is a due and just freedom, when we do not make 
 ourselves free before the time, violently breaking loose 
 from it; but when we stay till the law, which is our 
 husband, is dead, and the compulsory power of it is 
 taken away, by the mortification of our desires and 
 affections; and so, marry another husband, which is 
 Christ, or the Spirit of righteousness: “The law of 
 the spirit of life in Christ Jesus, hath made me free 
 from the law of sin and death.”® 
 
 Wherefore, there are three general states of men, in 
 order to God and religion, of which we may here take 
 notice. 
 
 The first is the state of those, who are alive to sin, 
 and dead to the law. This the apostle thus speaks of: 
 “I was alive without the law once.” These are they, 
 whose consciences are not yet consideral)ly awakened 
 to any sense of their duty, nor to the discrimination of 
 good and evil; who sin freely, without any check or 
 control, without any disquieting remorse of conscience. 
 
 The second state is, when men are at oiice alive both 
 to the law and sin ; to the conviction of the one, and the 
 power and love of the other; both these struggling 
 together, within the bowels of the soul; checking and 
 controlling one another. This is a broken, confounded, 
 and shattered state ; and these, in the apostle’s language, 
 are said to be slain by the law : “I was alive without the 
 law once; but when the commandment came, sin re- 
 vived, and 1 died. And the commandment w^hich was 
 ordained to life, I found to be unto death. For sin, 
 taking occasion by the commandment, deceived me, and 
 by it slew me.” Here is no peace, rest, nor comfort, 
 to be had in this state ; men’s souls being flislracted and 
 
 • Rom viii. 2. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 351 
 
 divided, by an intestine and civil war, between the law 
 of the mind, and the law of the members, conflicting 
 with one another. 
 
 The third slate is, when men are dead both to the law 
 and sin, and are “alive unto God and righteousness; 
 the law of the Spirit of life, freeing them from tlie law 
 of sin and death.” 
 
 In i\\^ first of these three states, which is the most 
 %vretched and deplorable of all, we are sin’s freemen; 
 that is, free to commit sin, without check or control. 
 
 In the second^ we are b )ndmen to Goo and righteous- 
 ness, and serve God out of a principle of fear, and ac- 
 cording to an outward rule only; children of Hagar the 
 bondmaid, and of the letter. 
 
 In the thirds we are God’s freemen and sons, and 
 serve him, in the newness of the spirit, out of a love 
 to God and righteousness ; children of the New Testa- 
 ment, and of Sarah the free woman. 
 
 Now, there are two mistakes or errors to be taken 
 notice of, which defeat and disappoint the design of 
 Christ in giving us the victory over the law. 
 
 The first, is the mistake of those, whom we have 
 already mentioned : who seek to themselves a freedom 
 from the bondage of the law^ otherwise than by Christ 
 and the Spirit of righteousness ; namely, in a way of 
 carnal liberty and licentiousnesss ; whereby, instead of 
 being bondmen to God and righteousness, they become 
 perfect freemen to sin and wickedness : a state of the 
 most deplorable thraldom in the world. These men, 
 instead of going forward from the second state unto 
 higher perfection, wheel back again to the first. Just, 
 as if the children of Israel, after they had been brought 
 out of Egypt, and had travelled a while in the desert 
 of Arabia, where the law was given, — instead of en- 
 tering into Canaan, should have wheeled back into 
 Egypt, and there, enjoying the garlic, and onions, and 
 flesh-pots, should persuade themselves this was indeed 
 the true “ land of promise, flowing with milk and 
 honey.” And there is very great danger, lest, when 
 men have been tired out, by wandering a long time in 
 the dry and barren wilderness of the law, where they 
 cannot enjoy the pleasure of sin as formerly, and yet, 
 from their impatience, have not arrived to the relish and 
 
S62 THE Christian’s victory; [cudworth. 
 
 iove of righteousness, — lest they should, at last, make 
 more haste than good speed, seduced by certain false 
 shows of freedom, which are very tempting to such 
 weary travellers, and which promise them much com- 
 fort and refreshment, inviting them to sit down under 
 their shadow. Such are, a self-chosen holiness; cere- 
 monial righteousness; opinionative zeal; the tree of 
 knowledge, mistaken for the tree of life ; high-flown 
 enthusiasm and seraphicism ; epicurizing philosophy; 
 and antinomian liberty, under the pretence of free 
 grace, and a Gospel spirit. 
 
 The second mistake, is that of those who would, 
 by all means, persuade themselves, that there is no 
 higher state of Christian perfection to be aimed at, or 
 hoped for, in this life, than this legal state. That the 
 good they would do, they do not; the evil they would 
 not do, that they do ; that the law of sin in their mem- 
 bers, still leads them captive from the law of their 
 minds. Now, for this presumptuous error, their sole 
 ground is a novel interpretation of one paragraph in the 
 Epistle to the Romans, contrary to other express places 
 of Scripture, and to the sense of all ancient interpreters. 
 And this opinion they support with as much zeal, as if 
 it were a principal part of the Gospel-faith, while, in 
 fact, it is arrant infidelity ; as if it were no less than 
 presumption or impiety, to expect a living law written 
 upon our hearts. But this, instead of seeking liberty 
 from the bondage of the law, is to fall in love with our 
 bonds and fetters ; is plainly to deny the victory over 
 the law, by Christ ; and is to affirm, that the Gospel is 
 but the ministration of a dead and killing letter, and not 
 of the Spirit which quickeneth and maketh alive. 
 
 I come now, in the third ?ind last place, to the victory 
 over death, expressed by the resurrection of the body 
 to, life and immortality. This, as it was meritoriously 
 procured for us by Christ’s dying upon the cross, his 
 resurrection afterward being an assured pledge of the 
 same resurrection to us, so it will be really effected at 
 last, by the same Spirit of Christ that gives us victory 
 over sin here. “If the Spirit of him that raised up 
 Jesus dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the 
 dead, shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his 
 Spirit, that dwelleth in you — as though he had said^ 
 
SEHM. II.l OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 353 
 
 if the Spirit of Christ dwell in you, regenerating and 
 renewing your souls, the self-same Spirit shall also 
 hereafter immortalize your very bodies. Avicen, the 
 Mahomedan philosopher, in his Almahad, has a conceit 
 that the meaning of the resurrection of the body, is 
 merely to persuade vulgar people that though they 
 seem to perish and their bodies rot in the grave, when 
 they die, — yet, they shall have a real subsistence after 
 death, by which they shall be made capable, either of 
 future happiness or misery. But, because the appre- 
 hensions of the vulgar are so gross, that the perma- 
 nency and immortality of the soul is too subtile a notion 
 for them, who commonly count their bodies for them- 
 selves, and cannot conceive how they should have any 
 being after death, unless their very bodies should be 
 raised up again, — therefore, by way of condescension 
 to vulgar understandings, the future permanency and 
 subsistence of the soul, in prophetical writings, is ex- 
 pressed under this scheme of the resurrection of the 
 body, which yet is meant xa<ra So^av only, and not 
 xar’ cilX>)jsjav. Which conceit, how well soever it 
 may befit a Mahomedan philosopher, I am sure it no 
 way agrees with the principles of Christianity; for the 
 Scripture, here and elsewhere, assures us, that the re- 
 surrection of the body is to be understood plainly, and 
 without a figure; and that the saints, departed this life 
 in the faith and fear of Christ, shall not be mere souls 
 without bodies to all eternity, as Avicen, Maimonides, 
 and other philosophers dreamed, but shall consist of 
 soul and body united together. Which bodies, though, 
 as the doctrine of the Church instructs us, they shall be 
 both specifically and numerically the same with what 
 they were here, — yet, the Scripture tells us, they shall 
 be so changed and altered, in respect of their qualities 
 and condiiiims, that, in that sense, they shall not be the 
 same; “Thou fo >1, that which thou sowest is not 
 quickened, except it die : thf)u sowest not that body 
 that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat, 
 or of some other grain : but God giveth it a body, as it 
 pleaseth him, and to every seed his own body.” The 
 apostle here imitates the manner of the Jews, who, as 
 appears from the Talmud , p were wont familiarly to 
 
 p See Gemara, in Chetuboth, cap. 13. Ein Israel, num. 50. 
 
 30 * 
 
354 
 
 THE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 illustrate the “ resurrection of the bt)dy” by the simili- 
 tude of seed sown into the ground, and springing up 
 again. Accordingly he goes on, It is sown in cor- 
 ruption, it is raised in incorruption ; sown in dishonor, 
 it is raised in glory; sown in weakness^ it is raised in 
 power; sown a natural body, it shall be raised a spirit- 
 ual body.” Which epithet was used also, in this 
 case, both by the philosophers and the Jews ; for 
 Hierocles, upon the Golden Verses, calls them 
 ^vs\j(j^ocrixx, vehicula spiritualia, spiritual bodies ; and 
 R. Menachem, from the ancient cabalists, nwa‘7n nunn 
 the spiritual clothing. Lastly, the apostle concludes, 
 thus; “ Now, this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood 
 cannot inherit the kingdom of God, neither doth cor- 
 ruption inherit incorruption.” For which cause, he 
 tells us elsewhere that they who do not die, must, of 
 necessity, be changed. And, indeed, if men should be 
 restored after death to such gross, foul, and cadaverous 
 bodies, as these are here upon earth, which is the very 
 region of death and mortality, withont any change at 
 all, — what else wouhl this be, but, as I^ntinus the 
 philosopher writes against the Gnostics, syst^s(^jdak slg- 
 aXkov LVvov, to be raised up to a second sleep ; or to 
 be entombed again in living sepulchres? “For, the 
 corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the earthly 
 tabernacle weigheih down the mind, that museth upon 
 many things.” Wherefore, we must needs explode that 
 old Jewish conceit, commonly entertained amongst the 
 rabbinical writers to this day, that the future resurrec- 
 tion is to be understood of such gross and corruptible 
 bodies as these are here upon earth, to eat, drink, 
 marry, and be given in marriage, and, which must needs 
 follow, afterward to die airain. Nachmanides, in his 
 Shaar Hagtremul, is the only Jewish au hor who ven- 
 tures to dej)art from the common road here, and to 
 abandon this popular error of the Jews, endeavoring to 
 prove, that the bodies of the just, after the resurrection, 
 shall not eat and drink, but be glorified bodies: but 
 Abravanel^i confutes him with no other argument than 
 
 9 In Nad a’ath voth, cap. 4. This is the very same with the opin- 
 ion of the C iristnns, i' ho tio'd, that after the resurrection, nien shall 
 not eat, drink, n>arrv, or he iriven in marriaire, or die again, but cx)n- 
 tinue eternally in those Uxlies, resembling the heavenly bodies; and 
 these they coainioiily call glorified bodies. 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 355 
 
 this ; that this was the doctrine and opinion of the 
 Christians. Let us, therefore, now consider, how 
 abundantly God has provided for us by Jesus Christ, 
 in respect both of our souls, and of our bodies ; of our 
 souls, in freeing us by the Spirit of Christ, if we be 
 not wanting to ourselves, from the slavery of sin, and 
 from the bondage of the law, as it is a letter only ; of 
 our bodies, in that this corruptible shall put on incor- 
 ruption, and this mortal shall put on immortality, and 
 these vile bodies shall be made like unto Christ’s glori- 
 ous body. In both of which, the complete salvation of 
 man consists; in the perfection and happiness both of 
 soul and body. For, though our salvation consists 
 chiefly in the former, in the victory over sin, and in the 
 renovation of the mind, yet without the latter, which is 
 the victory over death, and the immortalizing of our 
 bodies, it would be a very lame and imperfect thing. 
 For righteousness alone, if it should dwell always in 
 such inconvenient houses as these earthly tabernacles 
 are, however the high-flown Stoic may boast, could not 
 render our condition otherwise than troublesome, soli- 
 citous, and calamitous. Wherefore, the holy men in 
 Scripture, not without cause, longed for this future 
 change; “We groan within ourselves, waiting for the 
 adoption, to wit, the redemption of our bodies.” — “In 
 this we groan earnestly desiring to be clothed upon 
 with our house, which is from heaven.” But there is 
 no obtaining this future victory over death and mor-^ 
 tality, except we first get a victory over sin here. For 
 this is that crown of life, which Christ, the first-be- 
 gotten from the dead, will set Uj)on the heads of none 
 but those who have, here^fought a good fight, and over- 
 come. For, as death proceeds only from sin and 
 disobedience, so, the way to conquer death, and to- 
 arrive at life and immortality, is, by seeking after an 
 inward conquest over sin. For “righteousness is im- 
 mortal,” and will immortalize the entertainers of it.*” 
 Hitherto we have shown, what the great things are, 
 which we hope to attain by Christ, and after which 
 we are to endeavor; namely, to procure an inward and 
 
 ^ As the Chaldee oracle sj)eaVs : — 
 
 ZKrayas irvpivov vow, 
 
 Kpyov zk' zvazfizias Itzvarov, Kai cuya aauxrzis^ 
 
356 THE Christian’s victory, [cudwqrth^ 
 
 real victory over sin, by the Spirit of Christ, that so, 
 we may hereafter attain a victory over death and mor- 
 tality. We cannot, now, but take notice briefly of 
 some errors, of those, who, either pretending the im- 
 possibility of this inward victory over sin, or else 
 hypocritically declining the combat, make up a certain 
 religion to themselves, out of other things, which are 
 either impertinent, and nothing to the purpose, or else 
 evil and noxious. . 
 
 For, first, some, as was intimated before, make to 
 themselves a mere fantastical and imaginary religion ; 
 they conceit that there is nothing for them to do, but 
 confidently to believe, that all is already done for them ; 
 that they are dearly beloved of God, without any con- 
 ditions or qualifications to make them lovely. But 
 such a faith as this, is nothing but mere fancy and 
 carnal imagination, proceeding from that natural self- 
 love, with which men fondly dote upon themselves, and 
 are apt to tliink, that God loves them as fondly and as 
 partially, as they love themselves, tying his affection ta 
 their particular outward perstms, to their very flesh and 
 blood: thus making God a being like unto themselves, 
 that is, wholly actuated by arbitrary self-will, fondness, 
 and partiality ; and perverting the whole nature and 
 design of religion, which is not a mere phantastry and 
 historical show, hut a real victory over the real evil of 
 sin ; without which, neither can God take pleasure in 
 any man’s person, nor can there be any possibility of 
 happiness, any real turning of the soul from darkness 
 unto light, from the power of Satan unto God. 
 
 Again, some there are, who, instead of walking in 
 the narrow way which Christ commends, of subduing 
 and mortifying our sinful appetites, make to themselves 
 certain other narrow ways of affected singularitVi in 
 things which belong not to lif*< and godliness; outward 
 strictness and severities, of their own choosing and de- 
 vising ; and who persuade themselves, that this is the 
 strait gate and narrow way of Christ, which leadeth 
 unto life. Whereas, the^e are, indeed, nothing else 
 but some particular paths, and narrow slices, cut out of 
 the broad way. For, though they have an outward and 
 seeming narrowness, yet they are so broad within, that 
 camels with their burthens may easily pass through 
 
S£RM. II.] OVER SIN, fHE LAW, AND DEATH* 357 
 
 them. These, instead of taking up Christ’s cross 
 upon them, make to themselves certain crosses of their 
 own ; and, laying them upon their shoulders and car- 
 rying them, please themselves with a conceit that they 
 bear the cn)ss of Christ ; while in truth and reality^ 
 they are frequently too much strangers to that cross 
 by which the world should be crucified to them, and 
 they unto the world. 
 
 Some place all their religion in endless scrupulosities 
 about indifferent things, neglecting, in the mean time, 
 the more weighty matters, both t»f Law and Gospel; 
 straining at a gnat, and swallowing a camel ; that is, 
 being not so scrupulous as they ought to be, about the 
 substantials of religion, and a good life. For, as we 
 ought not to place the chief of our religion in the mere 
 observance of outward rites and ceremonies, whilst, in 
 the mean lime, we hypocritically neglect the morals 
 and substantials, which may deservedly be branded with 
 the name of superstition : so, we ought to know, that 
 it is equal superstition, to have such an abhorrence of 
 indifferent things, as to make it the main of our religion 
 to abstain from them. Both of these argue equal ignor-^ 
 ance of the nature of God, as if he were some morose, 
 humorous, and captious being; and of that righteous- 
 ness, in which the kingdom of God consists ; as if 
 these outward and indifferent things could either hallow 
 or defile our souls, or as if salvation and damnation 
 depended upon the mere using or not using of them. 
 The apostle himself instructs us, that the kingdom of 
 God consists no more in uncircumcision than in cir-^ 
 cumcision ; that is, no more in not using outward cere- 
 monies and indifferent things, than in using them. 
 Wherefore, the negative superstition is equal to the 
 positive. And both of them alike call off men’s atten- 
 tion from the main objects of religion, by engaging 
 them over-much in small and little things. But the 
 sober Christian, who neither places all his religion in 
 external observances, nor yet is superstitiously anti- 
 ceremonial, — as he will think himself obliged to have 
 a due regard to the commands of lawful authority, in 
 adiaphorous things, and to prefer the peace and unity 
 of the Christian Church, and the observation of the 
 royal law pf charity, before the satisfaction of any 
 
358 THE Christian's victory, [cudworth. 
 
 private humor or interest, — ‘SO he will be aware of that 
 extreme, into which many run, of banishing away, 
 quite out of the world, all the solemnity of external 
 worship, the observance of the Lord’s day, and the 
 participation of the Christian sacraments, under the 
 notion of useless ceremonies. To conclude; unless 
 there be a due and timely regard had to the commands 
 of lawful authority, in indifferent things, and to order, 
 peace, and unity in the Church, it may easily be fore- 
 seen, that the reformed part of Christendom will be 
 brought to confusion, and at length to utter ruin by 
 crumbling into infinite sects and divisions. 
 
 Again, many mistake the vices of their natural com- 
 plexion for supernatural and divine graces. Some 
 think that dull and stupid melancholy, is Christian mor- 
 tification : others, that turbulent and fiery zeal, is the 
 vigor of the Spirit. Whereas, zeal is one of those 
 things, which Aristotle calls of a middle nature ; neither 
 goi'»d nor bad in itself, but which, as it is circumstanced, 
 may indifferently become either virtue or vice. For 
 there is a bitter zeal, as the apostle calls it, which is 
 contrary to all Christian love and charity ; and which 
 is nothing else but the vices of acerbity, envy, malice, 
 cruelty, tinctured and gilded over with a religious show. 
 And there may be also a turbulent and factious zeal, 
 when men, under a [)retence of acting for the glory of 
 God, violate just and lawful authority, in order to the 
 advancement of their own private self-interest. Indeed, 
 there was amongst the Jews a certain right, called the 
 right of zealots ; by which private persons, actuated 
 by a zeal for God, might do immediate execution upon 
 certain malefactors, without expecting the sentence of 
 any court of juiicature. And some conceive, that, by 
 this right of zealots, our Saviour whipped the buyers 
 and sellers out of the temple, and overturned the tables 
 of the money-changers; because he was never called 
 into question by the Jews, for those acts. But this was 
 then a legal and regular usage, permitted, in some 
 certain cases, by the public laws of that natii)n ; yet so, 
 as that those zealots were afterward accountable to the 
 Sanhedrim, fi)r what they did. However, a little be- 
 fore the destruction of the temple, as Josephus tells us, 
 there were a crew of desp^ral'® miscreants, who, abus- 
 
8ERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH* 359 
 
 ing this right, and calling themselves by the name of 
 zealots, made a pretext from thence to commit most 
 villanous actions. And I wish some had not too much 
 entertained the opinion, that private persons might 
 reform public abuses, whether belonging to the ecclesi- 
 astical or the civil polity, without and against the consent 
 of the supreme magistrate, in a turbulent manner, by 
 the right of zealots : nay, and that actions, otherwise 
 altogether unwarrantable in themselves, may be justi- 
 fied, by zeal for God, and good ends. But God needs 
 no man’s zeal, to promote an imaginary interest of his 
 in the world, by doing unjust things for him. “Will 
 you speak wickedly forGoD, or talk deceitfully for him? 
 will you accept his person ?” was the generous expostu- 
 lation of Job with his friends ; and he tells them in 
 the following words, that this was nothing else, but “ to 
 mock God, as one man mocketh another.” 
 
 True divine zeal is no corybantic fury ; it is a calm 
 and regular heat, guided and managed by light and pru- 
 dence, and carried out principally, neither for, nor 
 against, indifierent rites and unnecessary opinions, but 
 for those things which are immutably good, and funda- 
 mental to Christianity; always acknowledging a due 
 subordination to that authority, civil and ecclesiastical, 
 which is over us. 
 
 Lastly, some there are, whose pretence to religion 
 and the Spirit, is founded in nothing else but a faculty of 
 rheloricating and extemporizing with Zealand fervency ; 
 which they take to be nothing less than divine inspira- 
 tion, and that which the Scripture calls “ praying in the 
 Holy Ghost,” an undoubted character of a person 
 truly renovated. This is a great delusion, by which 
 many are hindered from seeking after the real effects 
 of the divine Spirit; idolizinor, instead of it, that which 
 is merely natural, if not artificial : I think it not in per- 
 tinent, therefore, here to speak a little of it. And cer- 
 tainly, that which is frequently attained to, in the very 
 height, by persons grossly hypocritical and debauched, 
 can never be concluded to be divine inspiration, can 
 never proceed from any higher principle^ than mere 
 natural enthusiasm. For there is not only a poetical 
 enthusiasm, of which Plato discourses in his Ion, but, 
 though oratory be a more sober thing, there is a rheto- 
 
fHE Christian’s victory, [cudworth. 
 
 rical enthusiasm also, which makes men very eloquent, 
 afJectioiiate, and bewitching in their language, beyond 
 what the power of any bare art and precepts could en» 
 able them to reach ; insomuch that both poets and ora* 
 tors have, oftentimes, fancied themselves to be indeed 
 divinely inspired : as those known verses testify : 
 
 Est Deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo ; 
 
 And, 
 
 Sedibus aethereis Sjnritus ille Venit. 
 
 And, concerning orat()rs, the like might be proved, if 
 the time would here permit, by sundry testimonies. 
 But 1 shall here instance only in Aristides, a famous 
 orator, who not only speaks positively of himself, as 
 inspired in his orations, but affirms the same also, con- 
 cerning rhetoric in general, when it is extraordinary, 
 that it comes by immediate inspiration, as oracles and 
 prophecies do, and not from art or nature. Wi)ere- 
 fore, it is not at all to be wondered at, if, when men 
 are employed in religious and devotional exercises, the 
 same natural enthusiasm, (especially having the ad- 
 vantage of religious melancholy, which makes men still 
 more enthusiastical.) should so wing and inspire the 
 fancies of these religious orators, as to make them won- 
 derfully fluent, eloquent, and rapturous, so that they be- 
 get strange passions in their auditors, and conclude 
 thf^mselves to be divinely inspired. Whereas, they 
 may, in fact, have no more of divine inspiration in all 
 this, than those poets and orators before mentioned 
 had; that is to say, they are no otherwise inspired, 
 than by a rhetorical or hypocliondriaca! enthusiasm, 
 which is merely natural. But it is far from my inten- 
 tion here to disparage the sincere and*ardent affections 
 of devout souls, naturally and freely l)reathing out their 
 earnest desires unto God in private; although, perhaps, 
 this be n(>t without some kind of enthusiasm also. For 
 emhusiasm, as well as zeal, and other natural things, 
 may be well used, and, being rightly circumstantiated 
 and subservient to a better principle, becomes irrepre- 
 hensible. Some have observed, that no great work of 
 the brain which l)egot much admiration in the world, 
 was ever achieved without some kind of enthusiasm ; 
 and the same may be affirmed of the most transcendently 
 
SERM. II.] OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 361 
 
 virtuous and heroical actions. But then, the good- 
 ness of these actions is never to be estimated merely 
 by the degree of enthusiastic heat and ardor that is in 
 them, but by such other laws and circumstances, as 
 moralize human actions. Wherefore, my meaning, as 
 I said before, is only this, to caution men against that 
 vulgar and popular error, of mistaking the natural and 
 enthusiastical fervor of their spirits, and the ebulliency 
 of their fancy, when it is tinctured with religion,— and 
 against idolizing it, as though it were the supernatural 
 grace of God’s Holy Spirit; to caution them, in a word, 
 against the error, of looking for the effect of God’s 
 Spirit principally in words and talk, and against think- 
 ing that God is chiefly glorified with a loud noise, and 
 long speeches. For the true demonstration of God’s 
 Holy Spirit is nowhere to be looked for, but in life 
 and action, or m such earnest and affectionate breath- 
 ings after a further participation of the divine image, as 
 are accompanied with real and unfeigned endeavors to 
 attain it : this is the true praying in the Holy Ghost, 
 though there be no extemporaneous effusion of words. 
 And, therefore, when some Corinthians were piified up, 
 by reason of a faculty which they had of rhetoricating 
 religiously. Saint Paul, like an apostle, tells them, that 
 he would come amongst them and “ know^ not the 
 speech of them that w^ere puffed up, but the power. 
 For the kingdom of God consisteth not in word, but 
 in powder and life.” Wherefore, laying aside these, 
 and similar childish mistakes, and things w^hich are lit- 
 tle to the purpose, let us seriously apply ourselves to 
 the main work of our religion : that is, to mortify and 
 vanquish our sinful natures, by the assistance of God’s 
 Holy Spirit, through faith in Christ;' that so, being 
 dead to sin here, w^e may live with God eternally here- 
 after. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 31 
 

 1 - 
 

 1 
 
 
 
Jr 
 
 1 
 
 
 ■ / 
 
» 
 
 > 
 
 
N 
 
 ^ C: 
 
 
 .v/:Vv' . 
 

 
 .#■ 
 
 
 ♦ 
 
 ■ ■ 
 
 ■■ -i'': 
 
 I 
 
 

 > ■ 
 
V'.v-. A 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 ^•^r/ • 
 
 f 
 
 'v 
 
 
 
 .# .