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EXTRACTS 
 
 MOM 
 
 THE SPIRITUAL BEE. 
 
The laborious Bee draws honey from every flower. 
 
 W. Penn’s Advice to his Children .—1699. 
 
extract# from 
 
 THE 
 
 Spi ritual Bee, 
 
 OR 
 
 A MISCELLANEY 
 
 Of Spiritual , Hiftorical, Natu¬ 
 ral Qbfervations , and Occa- 
 fional occurrencyes , 
 
 Applyed 
 
 IN 
 
 Divine MEDITATIONS 
 
 By an Vniverfity Pen, 
 
 It is my Meditation all the day long. 
 
 Pfal. 119, 97. 
 
 OXFORD , 
 Printed by WH. for John 
 Crofey , Anno 1667, 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by W. Phillips, George Yard, Lombard Street, 
 
 MDCCCXXIII. 
 
V\ w 
 
 Advertisement to the Reader . 
 
 The Fragments here presented to public 
 notice have long slept in obscurity, in a small 
 volume in two parts printed at Oxford, 1667 : 
 the first part (which, it seems, had previously 
 made its appearance as a 14 pamphlet”) being 
 dedicated “ To the much honoured Sir Co- 
 pleston Bampfield, High Sheriff for the 
 county of Devon : Oxon, Aug. 2, 1661.” To 
 the volume, as now extant, there is also pre¬ 
 fixed an Epistle to the Reader. 
 
 Several features of internal evidence, not 
 of moment to be here insisted on, have led 
 me to ascribe this little work to William 
 Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania; and to 
 regard it as exhibiting, probably, the first 
 public fruits of that extraordinary man’s piety 
 and genius. Penn appears to have quitted 
 Oxford in 1661 ; and in 1667, he joined 
 himself to the Society of Friends, being at 
 
IV 
 
 Advertisement 
 
 the time only twenty-two years of age. But 
 it is well known that the youthful years of 
 Penn were passed in company very dif¬ 
 ferent from that which too many make their 
 choice : and the reader who may have been 
 conversant with his u No Cross, no Crown,” 
 or with his u Reflections and Maxims,” will 
 not be surprised at finding-, in this collection, 
 many sentiments not unworthy to be placed 
 by the side of those justly admired manuals 
 of Christian conduct. 
 
 The author, be he who he may, shall 
 however now speak for himself, from his ad¬ 
 dress u To the Christian reader.” 
 
 u It is the happy advantage of our contem¬ 
 plative life above all others, that we can 
 never find the leisure to be truly and entirely 
 idle : and when we have a Writ of ease given 
 us from more ordinary and necessary occa¬ 
 sions, even in our relaxations and remissions, 
 the mind inured to speculation will find out 
 some matter to work on.—This small col¬ 
 lection of thoughts, which Thou art here pre¬ 
 sented. with, has been the issue of my im¬ 
 provement of that advantage—being only 
 the product of my retirement home into my 
 own bosom, in those intervals which have 
 
to the Reader . 
 
 v 
 
 been afforded me from other literary employ¬ 
 ments ; quibus in occupations exilium missus 
 sum . I confess, scarce any thoughts did 
 ever with so great a relish steal my mind and 
 time away, as those which I have thus ex¬ 
 pended. My papers would easily have af¬ 
 forded to have swelled the size; but I would 
 not presume to entrench further upon thee, 
 till thy candour towards this were secured. 
 
 c< As for this manner of writing, some have 
 thought it as advantageous to public improve¬ 
 ment as any; having observed that it hath 
 been the unhappy fate of polemical and con- 
 troversal Books, rather to enlarge and widen 
 than close differences : insomuch that their 
 usefulness otherwise doth seldom countervail 
 and expiate for their disadvantage this way. 
 For doctrinal Writings, this numerousness 
 doth rather oppress than benefit, rather sati¬ 
 ate than satisfy, the reader : and I have 
 sometimes thought the case to be much the 
 same here, as it hath been observed concern¬ 
 ing being versed in books of History, that it 
 makes men wiser than those of policy ,—as 
 furnishing us with instances as well as rules, 
 and, wffiTEg it: i o-xwrts, dressing up and perso¬ 
 nating the precept so, as that our minds 
 
VI 
 
 Advertisement 
 
 shall have a more full and advantageous 
 prospect of it. I doubt I am justly jealous 
 in fee ring it a self-flattery, to think here may 
 be that Variety which may not be wholly 
 without profit. That Divine whose aim is 
 only to please, never pleased me : and yet 
 w ithal I ever judged it impossible for a man 
 to profit that pleased not.”— 
 
 Meeting with the Volume in question in 
 the parlour of a friend, and learning on in¬ 
 quiry that it was so scarce, that a second 
 copy could no where be procured for me, I 
 began to regret its fate; and to apply to it 
 Gray’s well-known stanza ; the substance of 
 which 1 had indeed found, couched as it 
 were in a prose couplet , in the work itself: 
 
 u Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear : 
 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air.” 
 
 I was not long in resolving to attempt to 
 sort and set over again, in somewhat more 
 of method, and with due regard to the re¬ 
 fined taste of modern Readers, these gems of 
 thought. In doing this, I have, injustice to 
 the supposed author’s maturer fame, rejected 
 
to the Reader. vii 
 
 about a fourth part of the collection ; v\ Inch 
 exhibited incurable flaws or a lower water :— 
 and where (to take up the latter of Gray’s 
 metaphors) I found a flower unexpanded, 
 and, so, unfit to be shewn, yet promising 
 somewhat of scent or beauty, I have taken 
 the liberty to complete the passage; putting 
 however a mark (+) where this has been 
 done, that the Reader may know where to 
 place the responsibility. My justification 
 for this, and for the common freedoms of an 
 Editor exercised in a few other instances on 
 the text, must rest on this plea singly, that 
 it is my purpose in this publication, not to 
 revive, as a literary Curiosity, the supposed 
 remain of an illustrious character—but to 
 promote, as that character himself would 
 now rejoice to do, the religious edification 
 of cultivated and ingenuous minds. 
 
 L.H. 
 
 London , Fifth Month , 1823. 
 

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A TABLE OF THE ARGUMENTS . 
 
 Page 
 
 1. The Gospel a Trumpet. 1 
 
 2. The Allurements of Pleasure. 3 
 
 3. A new Centaur, the beast above th& man.. 5 
 
 4. A retrograde Christianity. 7 
 
 5. The Influence of evil Company. 9 
 
 6. The inveteracy of evil Habits. 11 
 
 7. The transports of Mirth to be restrained .. 13 
 
 8. A Man is not to be advised in his Anger. . 16 
 
 9. God pruneth the Vine e,f our Affections .. 18 
 
 '10. The dangers of a pliant Disposition. 20 
 
 11. Of Vows made in Sickness and Adversity. 22 
 
 12. Of Spiritual Pride and Sensual Indul¬ 
 
 gence . 26 
 
 13. Not to parley with Temptation. 29 
 
 14. Mahometan Devotion. 31 
 
 15. The disease of Mirth and Jollity. 33 
 
 16. Against rash Judgment .. ... 36 
 
 17. The Poor the younger Brother of the Rich 39 
 
 18. The Fallacy of our Passions. 42 
 
• • 
 
 All 
 
 Page 
 
 19. The Folly of Hypocrisy. 45 
 
 20. The Danger of having our Desire.. . 48 
 
 21. Contentment sought in vain among Created 
 
 Objects... 50 
 
 22. A proud Humility. 53 
 
 23. On Fervency in our Devotions. 56 
 
 24. Pleasure harder to combat than Affliction 58 
 
 25. Dives and Lazarus. 62 
 
 26. The shortest road to Happiness. 65 
 
 27. The unlawful pursuit of Temporal Good . 68 
 
 28. A Heaven and a Hell in the Heart. 70 
 
 29. A Purgatory on Earth. 72 
 
 30. Scripture benefits not by Possession but by 
 
 Use. 74 
 
 31. u Keep thy foot when thou goest to the 
 
 House of God” .. .. 76 
 
 32. Self condemnation in hasty Judgment ... 78 
 
 33. Discouragements are not to turn us aside 
 
 from Duty .. .. 81 
 
 34. A reason to be given with a Reproof. 83 
 
 35. God coi recteth us with Judgment. 85 
 
 36. The Passions are Blind. 87 
 
 37. Heathen Literature subservient to Chris¬ 
 
 tian Truth. 89 
 
 38. Of absurd Pretensions to Scripture Au¬ 
 
 thority . 92 
 
 39. The Presumption of inexperienced 
 
 Teachers. 95 
 
Page 
 
 40. An imprudent curiosity in Divine Things. 98 
 
 41. Examples from the doom of rebellious 
 
 Sinners.,100 
 
 42. Precept without Example.102 
 
 43. Self-knowledge a cure for our Pride .... .104 
 
 44. The scandal of uncharitable Contentions . 106 
 
 45. A lying Spirit cannot bear a true Testi¬ 
 
 mony. ...109 
 
 46. Temporal interests promoted under Spi¬ 
 
 ritual Pretences. ...112 
 
 47. Temptations deadened by Affliction revive 
 
 in time of Ease. 114 
 
 48. How far is Truth served by Eloquence? .. 116 
 
 49. Solid worth contrasted with a specious 
 
 Piety... . 120 
 
 50. Prayer ..:. 122 
 
 51. The privilege of the Friends of God.126 
 
 52. From seeming Evil God educeth Good . .128 
 
 53. The Unhappiness of Wordly Grandeur.. 130 
 
 54. Real worth may exceed Appearances .... 132 
 
 55. The Signs of the Times. 134 
 
 56. The dead in Trespasses and Sins.135 
 
 57. In the Christian race, the manner of the 
 
 End is more to be regarded than the time 
 of the Beginning.. .. 137 
 
 58. To reprove with discretion.. 139 
 
 59. Not to live at the highest rate of our value 141 
 
XIV 
 
 Page 
 
 60. God’s Power and Mercy displayed in the 
 
 Conversion of Persecutors ..143 
 
 61. Reprobation consequent on Impenitence .. 145 
 
 62. The place of Paradise.14T 
 
 63. The profitable Exchange. 149 
 
 64. The blessed Pilgrimage ..,151 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 34 , line 8 , blind read blend. 
 
 ——— 8 ’from bottom, fitcora .? 
 
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 3 a 3 9 
 
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 > '■■9 9 » * » » 3 t « > *» J 
 
 C* -7 S 3 C O » » U 4 t 
 
EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE SPIRITUAL BEE. 
 
The Gospel a Trumpet. 
 
 -Alexander the great was wont to say of 
 Homer's Heroic poem , that it ought to he 
 sung only to a warlike nation; and to the 
 sound of a trumpet, not when it proclaims a 
 retreat, but when it calls to the battle : for 
 it is not for mean spirits to resent motions 
 of generosity, at the recounting of affairs 
 which have no less difficulty in the conduct 
 than beauty in the description. 
 
 What he said of that admired poem may, 
 with more aptness, be applied to the gospel 
 of Christ. Tuba est Christi Evangelium! 
 It proclaims a war, sounds an alarm, and 
 calls us to the camp : to make every place 
 a pitched field, every day a day of battle 
 against those many and incessant assaults, 
 both from intestine and foreign force. And 
 who but those that are inspired with a 
 heavenly courage, can bear the thunder of 
 
2 
 
 that sound, that calleth them to love those 
 that hate them, to do good to those that 
 persecute them; to take up a heavy cross, 
 and follow Christ naked, to glory in re¬ 
 proach ; to hate father and mother and 
 (which comes to the quick) their life also, 
 to be Christ’s disciples ? How many refuse 
 to take up the weapons and enter the lists; 
 crying “ these are hard sayings—who can 
 hearthem?” And of those whoengage in the 
 encounter, when they find the greatest enemy 
 they are to combat with is self, how many 
 throw down their arms, and fall to caress 
 and embrace that which they should duel 
 with 1 
 
3 
 
 _ 
 
 IL 
 
 The Allurements of Pleasure . 
 
 I READ of an African beast, called the 
 Dabuh, which they take with music : for 
 being: charmed with the sweet sounding- of 
 it in his ears, he suffers his feet the while to 
 be fettered : and so his death is the min¬ 
 strel’s pay. So the folly of the lark is pitied 
 by us, which while it playeth with the feather 
 
 and stoopeth to the glass, is caught in the, 
 fowler’s net. 
 
 There is a spiritual charmer, which by 
 the pleasing delights and allurements of the 
 world casts us into security, and then we 
 are with ease enchained in his shackles: a 
 syren that sings us to death. This is that, 
 which hath by sweet and soft conquest ener¬ 
 vated the Samsons, overcome the Davids 
 subdued the Solomons; that in whose tri¬ 
 umphs have been led the most resolved and 
 
 a 2 
 
S V 
 
 4 - 
 
 generous spirits, the stoutest and ablest 
 champions. Do thou, with the wise Gre¬ 
 cian, stop thine ear to the music of Plea - 
 sure , for it is magic * Trust not her flat¬ 
 teries, O my soul ! for her kisses are but to 
 betray thee, and there are snares in her 
 smiles. When she fawns on thee and wind- 
 eth about thee, cast off the viper —in the end, 
 she will bite as a serpent. To relish her 
 sweetness is mortal; for she is the highway 
 to death, and if thou affect her, thy face is 
 set towards hell. 
 
 o 
 
 Lord, if I am at any time allured into 
 Satan’s net—if his bolts are cast over me, do 
 Thou knock off my chains and loose my bands 
 (as Thou didst to Paul and Silas,) break the 
 gins and deliver me, that my soul may 
 escape, as a bird out of the snare of the 
 
5 
 
 III. 
 
 A new Centaur, the Beast above the Man. 
 
 Man that was once in honour, and placed 
 little lower than the angels,” having lost 
 ns birth-right—the Scripture now sendeth 
 hm, to school to “ the beasts that perish 
 to the ant, to learn industry, to the ox and 
 'he ass, to learn attachment to God his 
 maker; to the dove, to learn innocencv, to 
 the serpent, to learn wisdom. But how many 
 do descend so far even below their degraded 
 estate, that they transcribe these patterns 
 not in the good, but in the evil. And where¬ 
 as they should make use of them as tutors 
 and monitors, they degenerate into the very 
 nature of beasts, and make Nebuchadnezzar’s 
 punishment their option. We know that 
 centaurs, made up of half man and half beast 
 came not from Thessaly, but had their ori¬ 
 ginal in Pindar’s poetic fancy: he was the 
 
 rometheus that fashioned them; and Galen, 
 
6 
 
 considering the utter irreconcileableness of 
 the fiction with the principles of anatomy, 
 is very angry at his vanity in it. 
 
 But we may find many such monsters in 
 morality , if we consider the strange discom¬ 
 posure that is in the souls of men : where 
 the difference is only, that here the prodigy 
 is more wonderful, in that the beast is 'placed 
 above the man ; passion and lust above rea¬ 
 son. How much rather should men endea¬ 
 vour to advance their natures above their 
 present sphere ; to recover and raise, than 
 thus to depress them : and instead of for¬ 
 saking their humanity in a downward course, 
 to aspire after the nature of angels, and seek 
 to become qualified to succeed to that voided 
 rank in the host of heaven, from which, as 
 we may infer from some passages of Hoi} 
 Scripture, “ the Angels that kept not their 
 first estate have fallen.” 
 
7 
 
 IV. 
 
 A retrograde Christianity , 
 
 Pope Alexander the Fifth, who had been 
 so bountiful to the poor, that he had left 
 little or nothing to himself, (records do not 
 abound with such popes) would often take 
 occasion to say chearfully of himself, That 
 he was a rich bishop, a poor cardinal, and a 
 beggarly pope ! 
 
 Many are thus retrograde in Christianity . 
 Like Nebuchadnezzar’s image, the further 
 off from the beginning, the more their worth 
 and goodness decays; as in that, the further 
 from the head the coarser the metal. At 
 first commencing they had a golden begin¬ 
 ning ; they went on to a silver progress, and 
 in the conclusion they are all earthy . Or 
 as we see salt candles, they blaze a while at 
 first kindling, with fair hopes and a clear 
 lustre ; but they soon wear out to leaks and 
 snuffs, and expire at last in smoke and stench. 
 
8 
 
 True saints go up the hill to Zion , every day 
 bears them a step nearer heaven ; but these 
 go down the hill, and are further from sal¬ 
 vation in the evening of their life than when 
 they first believed. Whereas they should 
 be like the Sun, going on from strength to 
 strength, till they come to their meridian 
 lustre, they rather resemble him as he was 
 when the shadow went backward on the dial 
 of Ahaz. For on this subject the case is one 
 where non progredi est regredi , he that doth 
 not go forward in Christianity goes back¬ 
 ward : he is already come to a decrease of 
 goodness, that doth not strive after an in¬ 
 crease of it. 
 
 Many, the higher they rise in the world , 
 the more they descend and fall in goodness: 
 their true riches decrease and are impaired 
 by the increase of outward accessions ; like 
 trees, which as they advance higher in 
 growth, their roots go proportionably deeper 
 downward into the earth. No sooner are 
 they raised to a high pinnacle, but straight 
 it follows that they cast themselves from it : 
 and being placed on a mountain, where they 
 have a more large and alluring view of the 
 w orld, they fall down before Satan. 
 
Y. 
 
 The Infection of Evil Company . 
 
 It is strange how the apostle Peter , who 
 not long before had been so daring as to 
 draw' his sword on a whole regiment, (as 
 though he were his Master’s champion) and 
 notwithstanding all his resolves and protes¬ 
 tations of not forsaking Christ, yet how on 
 a sudden he was infected with the air of the 
 Pri est’s hall. For as soon as he had got in 
 thither, as though a contagion had seized on 
 him, his temper w'as changed ; and while he 
 did but warm himself at their fire, his zeal 
 and respect for his Master was abated and 
 chilled. Many times our foot is in the 
 devil’s snare, and we are grievously entang¬ 
 led, where we thought we might have been 
 safe enough. We venture upon occasions of 
 sin, and put ourselves within Satan’s circle, 
 thinking we are sufficiently armed and se¬ 
 cured by peremptory resolves and engage- 
 
10 
 
 merits; little considering either the plausible 
 and insinuative nature of sin, to work itself 
 in; the treachery and deceit of our heart, to 
 betray us to an admission of it; or the craft 
 and importunity of the tempter to win upon 
 us. Hard it is, to avoid infection in the 
 company of those that have the pestilence ; 
 especially evil men having so much of that 
 quality, which they say is in those who have 
 the plague on them—that they desire to in¬ 
 fect others : hard, not to be seized by evil, 
 though by gentle and insensible degrees, in 
 the society of the wicked. Evil converse 
 cannot but leave a tincture of corruption 
 upon us, if rare: if more frequent, a deep 
 and double dye. The spirits and manners 
 of men are, by a secret enchantment (as it 
 were) transformed into the conditions and 
 fashions of those with whom they communi¬ 
 cate. It is not easy to retain a fresh taste 
 while we live in salt waters. We may say 
 generally of rivers, that they never run 
 within the same banks without mixing their 
 currents; and waters passing through the 
 earth, have a quality and savour derived to 
 them, from the nature of the soils and 
 minerals they have their course through. 
 

 II 
 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Inveteracy of Evil Habits, 
 
 We read of some, that by use have brought 
 themselves to swallow poison without harm ; 
 yea, and to make their food of it: so strange 
 a power hath Custom to alter the temper of 
 the body, and to change almost its very 
 economy. The like effect it hath on the 
 souls of men, in reference to those pernici¬ 
 ous sins, which have most of the poison of 
 the old serpent in them : from which if their 
 inclinations and dispositions were at first 
 utterly averse and abhorrent, yet by custom 
 and habituating themselves to them, they 
 come to make them at last a matter of daily 
 practice. 
 
 Which perfect conquest over all good in¬ 
 clinations of their mind and reluctancies of 
 their consciences that they may arrive to, 
 the devil leadeth them by steps. Beginning 
 by wicked suggestion, he offers the pill, but 
 
 / 
 
12 
 
 gilded—so pleasure is ushered in : pleasure 
 draweth on consent , consent maketh way for 
 practice , and practice bringeth on custom : \ 
 which, by excuses, palliations, defences, ob¬ 
 stinacy—and lastly by glorying and boast¬ 
 ing, correcteth, evirtuateth and rendereth 
 ineffectual all motions or endeavours of con¬ 
 science from within, and all influence of ap- | 
 plications from without. +To plead with 
 such men against their evil practices, and 
 urge upon them the necessity of reformation 
 is, too often, to charm the deaf adder, and 
 to pour water upon a stone in order to wash 
 out its colour. It was under a sense of such 
 confirmed depravity in the Israelites, that 
 the prophet was compelled to exclaim, u Cun 
 the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leo¬ 
 pard his spots ? Then may ye also do good, 
 that are accustomed to do evil!” Jer. xiii. 
 S3. 
 
VII. 
 
 The Transports of Mirth to be restrained 
 
 I saw a painter, having* made the picture 
 of a face smiling, on a sudden, with no more 
 than one dash of his pencil, make it seem to 
 weep. 
 
 How near are the confines of joy and 
 sorrow , which, with the change of a line, 
 may be made to sit successively on the same 
 countenance! Their nature is much more 
 distant than their abode. In the twinkling 
 of an eye, in the turning of a hand, sadness 
 may jostle out mirth; and deep sighs be 
 fetched from that breast, whence loud laugh¬ 
 ter made its eruption. Pleasure may die in 
 the same moment that gave it birth ; while, 
 a sudden succession of grief turns its cradle 
 to a grave. The tears which an enlarged 
 and vehement passion of joy had run over 
 with, may in the middle of their course find 
 an arrest, and be made to minister untd 
 sorrow. 
 
14 
 
 i But who would choose to dwell amid 
 these extremes ? Who prefers not the tem¬ 
 perate region to the torrid and frigid zones 
 of feeling, rendered almost uninhabitable by 
 contrary passions ? Wretched indeed is the 
 man, who is habitually subject to alternate 
 transports of mirth and visitations of sorrow 
 and melancholy ! For if we rightly estimate 
 these changes of the mind’s estate, it will be 
 found, that the raptures of the one are far 
 too dearly bought with the pains and lacer¬ 
 ations of the other. Not but that equani¬ 
 mity itself requires a previous struggle : not 
 but that there are mental pangs, which must 
 be endured, if we would attain to enduring 
 happiness. But the question is here, ofsuch 
 as seem to know no stay, to feel no balance : 
 of such whose minds are ever elated by 
 pleasing or favourable occurrences, or by 
 social excitement; and as suddenly reduced 
 by disappointment, or by solitude, to a state 
 of dejection bordering on despair. 
 
 At the sight of a bauble the infant leaps 
 for joy : the untutored savage, under similar 
 impressions, laughs immoderately, A wise 
 man will study to govern and controul the 
 emotions of his mind; and to do this with 
 
greater success, he will begin, not with the 
 violent, but with the more pleasing modes of 
 its excitement: he will check himself in his 
 talk and laughter . Here he will find the key 
 to greater and more fruitful degrees of self- 
 controul. For these gusts of social tran¬ 
 sport, like the fabled wings of Icarus , do but 
 elevate the spirit for a season, to drown it 
 presently in a sea of trouble. The lower, 
 therefore, thou fliest in thy mirth, the less 
 occasion thou will make to thy soul, to 
 plunge afterwards into dejection. 
 
 
IS 
 
 <• 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A Man is not to be advised in his Anger , 
 
 Finding my friend in a passion of anger 
 I gave him a check, and endeavoured by 
 some motives to reduce him to moderation; 
 but I perceived that he was the more in¬ 
 censed, and that after the attempts I made 
 to slake and allay his heat, it was become 
 greater than before. Passion is deaf to all 
 advice but what may seem to encourage it. 
 This wildfire makes that its fuel which was 
 intended to quench it; and turns that into 
 food, which was designed for remedy. Wa¬ 
 ter cast on the smith’s forge doth the more 
 inflame it, and makes it burn the fiercer. A 
 torrent is so far from being restrained by 
 what is set to stop it, that it swells the 
 higher and spreads the further; Pontem i 
 indignatur . 
 
 To encounter a man in the boisterousness 
 ofhis passion, is to enter the combat with 
 
17 
 
 such creatures as St. Paul fought with at 
 Ephesus; to cast reins on the waves of the 
 sea when it rageth : and to use rational en¬ 
 deavours, is to call a soldier to council in 
 the heat and fury of a battle. The method, 
 therefore, both most kindly and most effectual 
 is, to give place to wrath while the tempest 
 rageth : not to apply ourselves to the cure 
 ' of it in its paroxysm—not at too great a 
 disadvantage to meet it with reason and 
 counsel, when it comes forth armed with 
 fury and hooded with blindness. When the 
 fire hath got a full conquest, and the flame is 
 outrageous, we seek not to quench it with 
 water, and so save the house, but by pullino- 
 down the next, make the want of fuel dim t 
 nish the flame. So the violence of anger is 
 best broken by giving way, and yielding to 
 it (as a flint is easiest broken on a cushion) 
 and time is the best lenitive to mollify it. 
 
 
 B 
 
18 
 
 » r ‘ 1 i | { 9 
 
 \ 
 
 IX. 
 
 • 9 
 
 God pruneth the vine of our Affections. 
 
 A vine, which is one of the most fruitful 
 of trees, (made use of by God to compare the 
 Christian unto) if it be left to its natural 
 growth, unregarded and unpruned, shoots 
 forth into many superfluous branches and 
 stems, and spendeth its most generous strength 
 that way, and so becometh weak and fruit¬ 
 less. 
 
 If God should leave the best Christian 
 to the vicious exorbitances of his own heart 
 and affections, and not curb and prune them, 
 and retrench the extravagancy of his desires, 
 his strength would be spent on that which 
 profiteth not, and he would soon grow barren 
 and useless. There is need that, both by 
 His restraining grace He reduce and limit 
 our desires; and that by the sharp knife of 
 
 
affliction He cut short and check their ex 
 crescencies. 
 
 When mine heart doth irregularly run out 
 after vanity, let the smart of thine hand cor¬ 
 rect my wanderings, and tame the wildness 
 of my affections. It is better I should bleed 
 by thy prumng-hoofc, than be cut down by 
 
 thy ax as withered and fruitless, and cast 
 into the burning! 
 
 b 2 
 
20 
 
 X. 
 
 The Dangers of a pliant Disposition. 
 
 There is that we are wont to call good 
 nature , which however desirable, yet doth j 
 very much prepare and expose those in 
 whom it is found to temptations. For it is 
 nothing but a pliable, yielding, waxen frame, j 
 which is so much the more subject to evil 
 impressions rather than good, as wickedness 
 is more insinuative than virtue. As flexible 
 twigs are easily bowed into crookedness, so 
 is this soft temper of mind wrought and 
 moulded to a compliance with dangerous 
 suggestions. Their facility and bashfulness 
 oft betrayeth them to a grant of that which 
 yet they condemn themselves for not deny¬ 
 ing ; and they know not how not to comply 
 with the desires of the boldest and most un¬ 
 reasonable insinuator. That bashfulness is 
 dangerously hold , w'hich dares oftend (jod, 
 lest it should displease man. Nothing more 
 
 t ! 
 
21 
 
 laudable than a firm inflexible temper, when 
 found in the way of righteousness.” Let 
 me never be abashed to deny what another 
 is so shameless as sinfully to ask. Let my 
 heart be wax to the impressions of goodness, 
 but marble to those of evil; pliant as an 
 osier to the hand of virtue, stiff* as an oak to 
 Satan and his instruments. Let a righteous 
 and just request be as a command to me, let 
 me obey it as-a law, though it be but a de¬ 
 sire ; but let an unjust and wicked demand 
 be cast back by me with abhorrence. If my 
 friend be in any thing a spokesman for Satan, 
 let me bid him get him behind me . I would 
 use him as Moses did his rod. While it was 
 a rod , he held it familiarly in his hand ; but 
 when it began to wind and hiss and shew 
 itself a serpent , he cast it down and ran from 
 Jt. Better lose my friend than my inno¬ 
 cence : it is safest to keep at a distance from 
 him when he breathes contagion. I may be 
 an adversary to his vice , while a friend to his 
 pei son ; like that archer, Alcon , who when 
 the dragon was enfolded with the child, 
 could strike his arrow into the one, and not 
 hurt the other. 
 
23 
 
 XI. 
 
 Of vows made in Sickness and Adversity. 
 
 When Nebuchadnezzar had straitly begirt 
 Jerusalem , and they were reduced to ex¬ 
 tremities, the Jews made a solemn covenant 
 with God, to dismiss their servants, and set 
 them free : but no sooner had the king re¬ 
 moved his siege, and left the city open, 
 than they reverse and repeal their vow, and 
 bring back their servants to their former 
 bondage. 
 
 How often do we find such whom God 
 hath beleaguered with an affliction, or 
 planted his battery against by a disease, 
 whom He seemed to have marked out for 
 death, make covenants and promises for a 
 future reformation, and of putting away their 
 sin : whom yet, when He withdraws his 
 terrors and puts up his arrows, those ties do 
 no more bind than the withes did Samson— 
 
but they arise and go out and do as at other 
 times. While their backs smart under the 
 rod, and they sit on the brink of the grave, 
 their spirits stoop, their passions are broken, 
 and the heat of them assuaged; their thoughts 
 are humbled to sobriety. Then, to be liberal 
 of promises is an easy bounty :—but when 
 the storm is over, and they return to their 
 former freedom and delight, in sensible con¬ 
 verses, then are they restrained in perform¬ 
 ance, and rescind former engagements. The 
 sighs of their sick bed, which they turned 
 into penitent groans, are now vanished into 
 air and forgotten : the sad reflections on 
 their former vanities, the serious recollec¬ 
 tion of their ways, which they were reduced 
 to, when the flesh sat uneasy upon them and 
 dwelt in sorrow, are now as little thought 
 upon as the dolorous accents of their grief. 
 When they are newly come out of the furn¬ 
 ace, while the smell of fire is yet on them, 
 they are scrupulous and tender. But it is 
 but as those who come out of a hot stove, 
 that shrink from a cold air at first, but by 
 degrees are brought to their former hardi¬ 
 ness of temper. If the soul be not changed, 
 though there may for a while some religious 
 colour appear in the man’s face, he will at 
 
24 
 
 last return to his former habit . It was there¬ 
 fore wise counsel which Theodoric , bishop 
 of Cologne, gave to Sigismund , the Emperor, 
 who demanding how he might be directed 
 the way to Heaven, he answered, If thou 
 live so as thou promisedst in a painful ft of the 
 gout or stone. 
 
 The Israelites, again, when they had been 
 humbled with the voice out of the fire, the 
 uproar in all the elements, the thunder, 
 darkness and terrors of Mount Horeb , were 
 very prodigal of their promises—“ All these 
 things we will do ” But God foresaw, though 
 they spake as they intended in that distress, 
 that they would afterwards be no less nig¬ 
 gardly in their performances—“ O that there 
 were such a heart in them ! 
 
 Never was a heart harder than PharoaKs , 
 and yet upon the repetition of every plague, 
 how couchant is the lion—how doth he fawn 
 and crouch to the power which his stubborn¬ 
 ness incensed’—At length—he suddenl} 
 gives the Israelites a dismission, and as H 
 were thrusts them forth— 46 Rise up, getyoi 
 forth from among us Yet no sooner wen 
 they gone, but the stream of his passioi 
 hath a reflux, being only diverted by tha 
 
25 
 
 judgment: and he makes after them with 
 the whole power of his country to fetch them 
 back again. 
 
 Lord, let never my holy resolutions go 
 away with my afflictions, nor my health dis¬ 
 pense with the vows of my sickness. Let 
 immunity from evil never render me such a 
 stranger to what I was in distress, that I 
 should recoil from my promises and disown 
 them ! 
 
XII. 
 
 Of spiritual Pride and sensual Indulgence. 
 
 The Panther is wont to be taken by the 
 hunters by two sorts of wiles : sometimes by 
 wine, in which he hath so much delight, that 
 he will drink of it to inebriation: at other 
 times they lay glasses for him, in which while 
 he tarrieth to behold himself, he is with ease 
 overtaken and destroyed. 
 
 Satan makes men drunk with the pleasures 
 of sin, and then dealeth with them as he 
 pleaseth. By immersing and drenching them¬ 
 selves in carnal delights, they become trans- 
 foimed as it were into swine, wallowing in 
 the mire of sensuality ; exposed as an easy 
 piey to him that u goeth about seeking 
 whom he may devour.” It was by the too 
 fond affection of Samson to his Dalilah , that 
 he was betrayed to the loss of his great 
 stiength, and laid open to the unresisted 
 
27 
 
 assaults and insults of his enemies : thou¬ 
 sands of whom, before, could not effect that 
 which a handful did then. 
 
 But where he cannot allure to gross sen¬ 
 suality, he compasseth men with a device no 
 less effectual and more refined. For this 
 mighty hunter of souls then setteth a glass 
 before them, wherein they may view and 
 contemplate their own excellencies . And the 
 mirror is usually so false and flattering, as 
 that it shall represent a fair beauteous image 
 to the most deformed mis-shapen face. When 
 he hath set the soul on a pinnacle, there to 
 be presented with a large view of its glory, 
 and to gaze on its own perfections, no won¬ 
 der if the weak head soon grows dizzy with 
 pride. 
 
 These entrapments the devil hath prac¬ 
 tised on the publican and the pharisee. The 
 one he hath made to run into more enormous 
 and gross sins. Before the other he hath set 
 his glass, and he is so taken with his own 
 image, that he can find no other matter to 
 fill his prayers with, but the recounting of 
 his own perfections. Lord, suffer not Satan 
 by any of these wiles to ensnare me ; not to 
 
28 
 
 intoxicate me by the pleasures of sin, and so 
 weaken me and shave off my locks ; lest the 
 legions of hell be upon me. Let me not 
 drink of the devil's wassel: his “ wine is a 
 mocker my soul “ look not on it when it 
 is red, when it giveth its colour” in the 
 temptation : “ for in the end, it will bite like 
 a serpent and hurt like a cockatrice.” Pride 
 also goeth before destruction, and a high 
 mind ,before a fall: therefore lay thine hand 
 upon thy mouth, for God hateth an haughty 
 
 ( 
 
29 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Not to parley with Temptation. 
 
 A subtle lawyer desireth no greater ad¬ 
 vantage in an hold which he would take on 
 a conveyance, than many words. Somewhat 
 he will find (in this case) to fasten on ; and 
 he will so blanch the matter, that that shall 
 seem plausible at last, which at first had no 
 such appearance. 
 
 I date the beginning of the fall of our first 
 parents from thence, where Eve took the 
 boldness to hold chat with the serpent. If 
 once we enter into a discourse with the 
 tempter, and proceed so far as to listen to 
 
 him, we are half won already. There is for 
 him an easy passage from the ear to the heart. 
 Where such a sophister is admitted to reason 
 the case, where our ears are open and our 
 tongues free, the matter is as sure given up , 
 as if it had been yielded without dispute. 
 
30 
 
 Evil and error is of itself insinuating and 
 plausible—much more when managed by so 
 subtle and persuasive a Rhetorician. If the 
 devil be entertained in our parlour, he will 
 soon get a lodging in the bed-chamber; if 
 we give him entrance to an outwork, he will 
 soon possess himself of the citadel. There¬ 
 fore stop thine ears at the voice of this 
 charmer; and as soon as he addresseth him¬ 
 self to a temptation, send him going with an, 
 Avoid, Satan I 
 
31 
 
 XI V. 
 
 Mahometan Devotion. 
 
 I read that the Mahometans have set 
 hours for their daily oraisons , in which they 
 are so constant, that not any secular matters, 
 whether impediments of business or divertise- 
 ments of pleasure, do keep them from pray- 
 i ing five times a day. Whether they are 
 fixed at home, or abroad moving in a journey, 
 when the appointed times come, they apply 
 themselves to their (O that I could call them 
 true) devotions. And this doth every one; 
 from him that bears the sceptre to him that 
 carries the sheephook. 
 
 How many are there, called Christians , 
 that cannot afford to pray so many times in 
 a week, in a month , as those men do in a 
 day; that can be content to crowd a whole 
 se’nnight's devotion into one prayer, and 
 
32 
 
 count such too lavish of their time, that make 
 greater allotments of it for this business than 
 they. Yea, some think it enough if they 
 may sum up their lives, and expire their last 
 breath, with a u Lord have mercy upon me”! 
 But Christ commandeth us to pray for daily 
 bread. Everyday, manna must be gathered 
 from Heaven. It is as necessary to the spi¬ 
 ritual life of our souls, as our often repeated 
 meals and refections are, to the subsistence 
 of our bodies. 
 
 + How opposite to such coldness and in¬ 
 devotion was the fervour of the Psalmist :— 
 My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my 
 expectation is from Him. He only is my 
 rock and my salvation : He is my defence; 
 I shall not be moved : In God is my salva¬ 
 tion and my glory : the rock of my strength 
 and my refuge is in God. Trust in Him at 
 all times , ye people; pour out your hearts 
 before Him. God is a refuge for us ! 
 
 Ps. lxii, 5—8. 
 
 \ 
 
S3 
 
 XV. 
 
 The Disease of Mirth and Jollity. 
 
 We are told of the Tarantula , an insect 
 not unfrequent in Italy, that if it bite any, 
 usually with a wonderful fit of mirth and 
 laughter by degrees they die away : and no¬ 
 thing but music can cure them. 
 
 Methinks the case of those is much the 
 same who are bitten by that infernal ser¬ 
 pent : all whose years are spent in mirth 
 and their days in laughter, but in a moment 
 they go down to the grave. Let us see a 
 little how the humour works : let us look 
 on the image of this spiritual phrenzy, and 
 listen to the crackling of thorns . Eccles. 
 vii. 6. 
 
 Let our heart cheer us (say they) let all 
 care be extinguished in laughter. Let a 
 solemn aspect never be entertained in our 
 countenance : let sad looks be perpetually 
 banished. Let a serious speech be inter- 
 
 c 
 
34 
 
 preted tlie raising of a mutiny against the 
 reign of mirth, let a sigh be punished with 
 manacles, and the dropping of a teai as the 
 venting of a libel. Let him that bieaks not 
 out every way in jollity (as the wheel of a 
 well-eouched firework that flies out on all 
 sides) be baulked as a malcontent : as one 
 that would blind and dash our wine with 
 water; that would spoil the charms of our 
 music with discord. Let us own no care but 
 how we shall multiply and vary our methods 
 of delight; how to make the ensuing day 
 glide away with more of softness and jollity 
 than its forerunner; how to sublime and ex¬ 
 alt pleasure, and extract an elixir from all 
 the flowers in the paradise of delight. Let 
 us eat our bread with joy, and drink our 
 wine with a merry heart, for there is no¬ 
 thing better than this. Let disports and 
 revels, feasting and dalliance be our daily 
 and nightly entertainments! 
 
 Rejoice, O young men, in your youth, and 
 let your heart cheer you in the day of your 
 youth ; and walk in the ways of your heart 
 and in the sight of your eyes. But listen— 
 you shall hear a clap of thunder : Ivnow that 
 for all these things God shall bring you into 
 
35 
 
 judgment! Your joy is but a flash: your 
 mirth vanisheth in the noise, your disports 
 do but imp the wings of Time [to bring on 
 the conclusion :J your feasts are but running 
 banquets, short delights : your ordinary is 
 pleasant, but the reckoning is ruin : your 
 dalliances do not embrace content, your 
 music is empty as sound. The frolicksome 
 excesses and extravagancy of your mirth are 
 the harbingers of anguish and sorrow —for the 
 end of these things is death! f Behold the 
 sum of your misery—behold also the only 
 door for your escape ! Eternal wrath is en¬ 
 tailed upon these momentary delights, and 
 nothing can cut off the entail but an act of 
 sovereign mercy. Hear then that voice from 
 Heaven, which if ever you become truly sen¬ 
 sible of your diseased condition, will be as 
 music for the cure: “ Seek ye the Lord 
 while he may be found, call ye upon him 
 while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his 
 way,and the unrighteous man his thoughts: 
 and let him return unto the Lord, and he 
 will have mercy upon him; and to our God, 
 for he will abundantly pardon.” Isa. lv 
 6, 7. 
 
 c 2 
 
36 
 
 XVI. 
 
 A gainst rash Judgment. 
 
 The high-priest Eli , who was so mild to¬ 
 wards the notorious sacrileges, adulteries 
 and incests of his sons, of which all Israel 
 
 rang,_how uncharitably doth he misconstrue 
 
 poor Hannah?s devotion ; and upon what a 
 weak ground (only seeing her lips move 
 without noise) doth he build the heavy 
 charge of drunkenness against her : but 
 afterwards, perceiving his error he recants, 
 and turns his condemnation into a prayer 
 for her. 
 
 Thus it often happens, that they who are 
 most mildly indulgent to their own, are 
 most sharply censorious of others : as the 
 hedge-hog hath sharp prickles without , but 
 is smooth and soft within : and as the snakes 
 
in Syria (some say) do sting foreigners, but 
 will not hurt any of the inhabitants. 
 
 He whose judgment is suborned, or bribed 
 by affection to a too partial and soft gentle¬ 
 ness, will on the same account, where the 
 subject differs, be as much warped and 
 biassed to the contrary extreme of unjust 
 rigour. For the case is much altered with 
 the persons that are concerned in it. If 
 nature or affection be allowed to pass the 
 sentence, and in judging offences to accept 
 the person of the offender, the judgment 
 must needs be partial. The same eye which 
 was so bleared that it could not discern a 
 beam, in one case, will be so quick sighted 
 as to spy a moat, in the other. And how 
 apt is hasty and inconsiderate zeal to pass a 
 grievous censure, where there is no other 
 ground for it than mere misprision! Those 
 that are thus forward and rash in their re¬ 
 proofs, are often guilty of a zealous breach 
 of charity . 
 
 Let me imitate Eli not in committing, 
 but in amending his fault; and if in my 
 haste I have prejudiced or injured another, 
 by an unjust censure, let me not persist in 
 
38 
 
 my error; but be as unquiet till I have 
 made satisfaction for my offence, as 1 was 
 till I had committed it. Let me, in a cooler 
 moment, make the best reparation 1 can 
 for the wound I have given in my heat and 
 distempered zeal. 
 
 + Confess your faults one to another, and 
 pray one for another, that ye may be healed. 
 The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous 
 man availeth much. Jam. v. 16. 
 
S9 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The Poor the younger Brother of the Rich. 
 
 Though our laws make so great a dif¬ 
 ference between an elder and & younger bro¬ 
 ther , as that the elder hath assigned to him 
 the main bulk of the Estate , yet it doth not 
 so entirely go into his propriety, but that 
 the Father chargeth it with requisite pro¬ 
 visions for the younger. The measure where¬ 
 of, if it be not determinately limited, the 
 greater is the engagement which his father’s 
 confidence lays on the elder, not to frustrate 
 the intention by a too narrow conduct. 
 
 God, who is the common Father of man¬ 
 kind, hath never either so far gratified the 
 propensities or disregarded the indigence of 
 his creatures, as by a large affluence to de¬ 
 sign an iudulgence to the luxury of some, 
 
40 
 
 and in the mean while to make no provision 
 out of it for the necessity of others. No : 
 he hath given to the rich man his abun¬ 
 dance, with this proviso , that the poor is to 
 have his dole out of it. God hath placed 
 the rich in the midst of such affluence, not 
 as Proprietaries , but as Stewards. The things 
 that are in their possession, are not merely 
 and entirely theirs; though they have the 
 dispensing power given them. And accord¬ 
 ing to their receipts , so must be their dis¬ 
 bursements ; if they expect joy and reward at 
 the last great audit of their accounts. They 
 are God's almoners and must relieve the 
 poor out of their surplusage : and although 
 the Hand of Providence doth not deal out 
 to the indigent their portion in an immedi¬ 
 ate manner, yet he hath given to these a 
 right to be supplied out of the largeness of 
 others. And the silence of Holy Scripture 
 on the subject of a punctual limiting of the 
 proportion of our charity ; the circumstance 
 of its being thus trusted to our hands, should 
 the more engage us, not treacherously to 
 deceive our trust by scanty allotments. For¬ 
 asmuch as we thereby not only detain the 
 rights of the poor, and turn their lot into 
 

 41 
 
 
 the supply of our pomp, excess or covetous¬ 
 ness, and so sin against them ; but offend 
 likewise against God, in the unfaithful 
 management of that, wherewith He engag- 
 eth us to take care of the needy in His 
 family. 
 
 / 
 
42 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The fallacy of our Passions. 
 
 They who indulge themselves in reading 
 romantic Stories and Fables, do experience, 
 that although they know all to be false and 
 fictitious, yet many times they cannot for¬ 
 bear having as violent passions as if it were 
 true; and as if they saw that really before 
 their eyes, which they are sure is painted. 
 Sometimes they are under a transport of jo?/, 
 sometimes of sorrow, as it hath pleased the 
 Romancer to tell his story of good or un¬ 
 happy fortune. They are in fears when 
 extremity of danger is represented, and in 
 hopes when a good issue of the matter seems 
 to open itself: and that with as lively a 
 sense, as if they were in good earnest in¬ 
 terested in the affair. And while they still 
 can reflect on the whole, as the dreams and 
 
43 
 
 fancies of another, yet when they find them¬ 
 selves so truly afflicted, they are ready to 
 think them their own proper concerns. 
 
 This plainly evinceth what vain, irrational 
 things our Passions for the most part are : 
 how eager and vehement they may be in the 
 pursuit of that, which is empty as shadows 
 and dreams. It would be a good lesson 
 from this experience, to learn how little we 
 should trust their impostures, and the repre¬ 
 sentations of our deceitful fancies, in matters 
 of a more weighty and important nature: 
 it being an approved rule in prudence, 
 never to trust those entirely , who have once 
 deceived us . How great is our folly, to 
 permit ourselves to be hurried away by 
 these blind and hood-winked, yet impetuous 
 guides ! In this instance, likewise, we have 
 an insight into the misery and unhappiness 
 of our natures ; into the strange and secret 
 violence exercised by sense over reason, the 
 tyrannical power which Passion usurpeth in 
 the soul. How extremely contagious is the 
 neighbourhood of the inferiour faculty, the 
 Imagination , to the higher and more refined 
 Understanding! Certainly there is in man 
 more of the earth out of which he was taken 
 
44 
 
 and framed, than of that living Spirit which, 
 was breathed into his nostrils—there is more 
 v an soul in this proud creature, who 
 thinks himself made to have dominion over 
 all others! 
 
45 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The folly of Hypocrisy. 
 
 It hath always been the fate of Neutrality 
 to please neither party; and those who would 
 compound matters and bring themselves to 
 comply with opposite interests, are disliked 
 and maligned on both sides. The praetor 
 of the Samnites wisely observes, in Livy, 
 Media via nec amicos parit , nee inimicos 
 tollit: the middle way (in politics) neither 
 procures friends nor removes enemies. Thus 
 Alphonsus observed of the Senenses , that be- 
 ijig neuters in the Italian war, they were 
 afterwards made a prey on both sides. As 
 the flying fish, which being partly bird, 
 partly fish, is still persecuted in the water 
 by the fish, and in the air, the birds have an 
 enmity against him. 
 
 Such is the condition of the religious Hy¬ 
 pocrite, who will give God his outside, but 
 
46 
 
 bestow bis heart on some other treasure ; 
 who will serve the devil and his own lusts 
 under God’s livery; who will give Him the 
 courtesy of the lip and knee, but his heart 
 falls down before some other idol, and in his 
 breast he recanteth what his tongue and 
 gestures pronounce. And in this scenical 
 and artificial dress, he applaudeth himself 
 secretly for thus acting his part with two 
 faces ; for his wise and crafty compliance 
 with the doubly gainful service of two mas¬ 
 ters. As though he had found out the way 
 to atone the opposite interests of heaven and 
 hell, and compound them in one common 
 temper. 
 
 But alas! nothing hath more in it of folly. 
 For because he is a saint , though only in 
 profession, therefore the world hateth him: 
 for it hateth sheep’s cloathing though upon 
 a wolf’s back. Chi pocora si fa , il lupo la 
 mangia. He that makes himself a sheep the 
 wolf will eat him. And because he hath the 
 form, only denying the power, therefore God 
 hateth him the more; in whose eye, simulata 
 sanctitas est duplex iniquitas , sin appears 
 double, when beheld under a mask of lioli- 
 ness. The world hateth him, because he 
 
47 
 
 seemeth good, and God because lie no more 
 than seems so. Religion is the best armour 
 in the world: but he that maketh a cloak of 
 it , will find when God calleth him to a reckon¬ 
 ing, that the stuff hath cost him dear . Better 
 t timely uncase thyself, throw off thy vizor, 
 and shew thyself what thou art, than appear 
 to be what thou art not. But ’twere best of 
 all, for thee no longer to personate, and 
 merely act a part; but truly to be what thou 
 hast endeavoured to seem . 
 
48 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Danger of having our Desire . 
 
 I have sometimes wondered at the 
 strange perverseness of the Israelites, who 
 when God slew them, then they sought him 
 and returned early (Ps. lxxviii. 34,) but when 
 they had quails to the full and manna in 
 abundance, then they repined and tempted 
 him most. Servants are no where more apt 
 to a^ETTrorov (as Philo phraseth it) 
 so to behave themselves as if they had no 
 master, than where they most experience 
 his lenity and goodness.—Yea, the man 
 after God’s own heart, while he was kept in 
 chase, and hunted in the mountains like a 
 partridge, was so jealous (over himself) and 
 so sensibly conscientious, that, but for cutting 
 off the skirt of his unjust and causeless 
 pursuer’s garment, (as though the same in¬ 
 strument had wounded the tenderest part of 
 his soul) his heart smote him : and yet, when 
 
49 
 
 brought to ease and plenty, and courtly jol¬ 
 lity, he boldly adventures on those crimina 
 devoratoria salutis , adultery and murder.— 
 Thus a condition of prosperity and affluence, 
 and immunity from evil, doth as it were de¬ 
 bauch the mind, and make it grow wanton 
 by excess: whereas nature, when kept under 
 restraint, and depression, is capable of just 
 obedience. As in the body, a high and full 
 diet breeds many noxious and superfluous 
 humours, whereas a spare feeding keeps it 
 both clean and healthful. We are most 
 fruitful in an humble estate ; as trees in a 
 low valley are fertile, but on a high hill 
 more barren. There is as much variety (too 
 commonly) in the tempers of our souls, in 
 reference to the different conditions of Ad¬ 
 versity and Prosperity, as there is in some 
 fountains, which in the night are warm, in 
 the day time cold : or that Indian Taddy we 
 read of, which is sweet before the sun riseth 
 on it, but when warmed with his beams it 
 becometh sour. ’Twas when he was pam¬ 
 pered in the a land flowing with milk and 
 honey”, that “ Jesurun waxed fat and 
 kicked”; and became more unruly than he 
 had been before, while under the discipline 
 of the scourge, in a dry and barren desert. 
 
50 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Contentment sought in vain among created Objects. 
 
 The universal Centre to which all the 
 thoughts, actions, and contrivances of men 
 do tend, the point to which they are all di¬ 
 rected is, Contentment. This is the great 
 spring to all the various movements of man¬ 
 kind : and however distant and contrary 
 their ways and courses, their inclinations and 
 constitutions, here they all meet, and are 
 reconciled in this one object. They do per¬ 
 haps propound to themselves as several ideas 
 thereof as they have different faces, but their 
 desire is one and the same. Contentment is 
 that which the learned man seeks to attain 
 in his industrious quest after knowledge. 
 This jewel the merchant seeks in his dan¬ 
 gerous voyages, the ambitious in his passion¬ 
 ate pursuit of honour, the covetous in his 
 unvaried heaping up of treasure, the lasci- 
 
51 
 
 mous in the pleasing charms of beauty, the 
 conqueror in his earnest desires after victory, 
 the politician in his deep designs and crafty 
 contrivances. J 
 
 But alas! the misery of men is, that they 
 would find that in the variety of the crea¬ 
 tures, which exists no where but in the unity 
 of the Creator. If is not in the wise Solo- 
 mon s dear-bought experience, in the rich 
 fool s full-stored barns, in ambitious Hainan’s 
 state and grandeur, in Ahab’s ravished vine¬ 
 yard, in Samson’s lovely Dalilah, in Achito- 
 phel s deep policy, in Nebuchadnezzar’s rule 
 over the nations. It is peculiar to God’s 
 wisdom to engross all content in his own 
 lands that he may dispose of it at will to 
 the children of men, and enforce all either 
 to purchase it of him, or want it. Hence it 
 is, that men generally waste themselves in 
 desires, tire themselves with labours, form 
 still new projects; and all the while spend 
 their money for that which is not bread ■ 
 and take up with glass beads instead of that 
 learl of price. I condemn their desires as 
 injust, not as being without prudence. No 
 natter though they be insatiable, if thev 
 vere not blind, or fixed on objects too 
 
52 
 
 scanty and disproportionate. God, as lie is 
 the only Principle of being, so is he the only 
 fountain of Content . I will therefore desist 
 from all vain, bewildering, unsuccessful pur¬ 
 suits of this happiness within the bounds of 
 finite things, where it is not to be found, 
 and procure a patent of it from Him who 
 hath reserved the monopoly of it to him¬ 
 self. 
 
53 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A proud Humility. 
 
 I have sometimes observed such a thing 
 as a proud Humility in the world. Some 
 will reject a merited commendation, only 
 with a desire to be commended for rejecting 
 it; and that their esteem may grow by their 
 seeming restraint of its increase. 
 
 These look one way and row another, 
 shunning praise with a greater vain-glory. 
 Ihey hate pride—-but so, as that there is 
 pride in their very hatred of it. Diogenes , 
 trampling on Plato's rich bed out of con¬ 
 tempt, was told that he trampled on it with 
 more of pride than he had who possessed it. 
 Some are wont to inquire into the blemishes 
 of their own actions and discourses , on pur¬ 
 pose to hear that it was well done , or spoken y 
 and without blemish . There may be equal 
 
54 
 
 vanity in praising and dispraising ourselves. 
 For as they who commend themselves, desire 
 consent, and seek others approbation ; so 
 likewise, many times, they who blame them¬ 
 selves, seek after opposition, and desire that 
 they may be contradicted. Such have petty 
 arts and contrivances to lay a foundation for 
 a reputation, where they would seem to be 
 undermining it; and secretly to raise es¬ 
 teem, where openly they seem to design the 
 ruining of it. Because the way to be ex¬ 
 alted is to be abased, therefore they will 
 seem to cast themselves down in their own 
 estimation, that they may rise in that of 
 others. While they affect to pour contempt 
 on themselves, they are drinking in the 
 waters of vanity. Their humility and mo¬ 
 desty is only scenical, a dress and a mask : 
 and usually they are discerned through the 
 vizor. Their dissimulation is not of per¬ 
 petual continuance : Ficta cito in naturam 
 suam recidunt. Touch such a man a little 
 in his reputation, and see if he will not grow 
 impatient: make an assault upon his esteem, 
 and see if his vanity do not cast off the 
 mantle and betray his real disposition — 
 which he fain would have concealed. There 
 
55 
 
 is no more critical indication of our Humility, 
 whether it be serious or only personated, 
 than this—to find out whether we are con¬ 
 tent to hear praise or dispraise, not only from 
 ourselves , but from others . 
 
56 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 On Fervency in our Devotions. 
 
 Our Redeemer, in approaching towards 
 his last suffering, repeated the same prayer 
 thrice, ££ Father, if it be possible let this cup 
 pass from me—nevertheless, not as I will, 
 but as thou wilt” ; which is so far from a 
 tautology, that there is in it the divinest art 
 of rhetoric. 
 
 For reiteration is a great evidence of the 
 strong intention and affection of the mind. 
 It was the overflowing of Compassion which 
 doubled the compellation in that address— 
 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest 
 the prophets, and stonest them that are sent 
 unto thee, &c. ; and of Love, in that to 
 Peter: Simon, Simon, satan hath desired to 
 have you, that he may sift you as wheat, 
 &c.: and the sweet singer of Israel is no 
 
57 
 
 where more pathetical, than where he twice 
 doubles the note, 66 Sing* praises to our God, 
 sing* praises: sing praises to our God, sing 
 praisesall crowded within the compass 
 of one verse! He found so much melody on 
 that string, that he could not suddenly let 
 it go. 
 
 But how often does the vigour and fer¬ 
 vency of our Devotion rather lose than gain 
 ground upon our deadness and coldness, in 
 the continuance of the act. Our hands fall 
 and our desires sink : the sails flag, which at 
 first setting out (it may be) seemed to have 
 a full gale. When this is the case, it yieldeth 
 suspicion, that the work is not so naturalized 
 to us as it should be: For natural motions 
 increase their swiftness, the more near they 
 draw to their period. 
 
58 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Pleasure harder to combat than Affliction. 
 
 I find it to be more hard to combat plea¬ 
 sure than grief \ and that I am more easily 
 foiled by the insinuating and victorious na¬ 
 ture of that, than overthrown by the open 
 and harsh violence of this. For Grief, where 
 it makes its onset, can hold no intelligence 
 within me to facilitate a surprisal; but Plea¬ 
 sure hath a treacherous party in my bosom, 
 that have secret compliances with her—a 
 thousand passions that favour her admit- 
 ance, and by all endeavours seek to frustrate 
 my resistance. The soul barricades itself 
 against Grief, and by all wards seeks to keep 
 off the fury of its assaults ; but to Pleasure 
 it lies open and naked, and upon siege or 
 retrenchment being laid, soon hearkens to 
 the summons. It admits of parlies , truces , 
 correspondences and compliances , here; where¬ 
 as, in the other war, it fights it out to the 
 
59 
 
 last without quarter. That is like the strife 
 between the torrent and the dam, the one 
 always struggling to force the other; but 
 this is like that between wind and tide, 
 which sometimes come about and are both 
 of a side. The will keeps its forces firmly 
 united and closely conjoined, when it enters 
 the lists with that; but when 'pleasure is to 
 be resisted, they are divided and dissipated, 
 and not easily rallied. The soul’s resolu¬ 
 tion will not be borne down by force; but 
 it gently surrenders to the delights that 
 would corrupt it. It soon comes to a treaty 
 here ; but the stormings of grief it firmly 
 opposeth. 
 
 Therefore I will adventure to pronounce 
 it, though it be a bold aphorism, That it is 
 more easy to live on the dunghill of Job, with 
 patience , than in the midst o/'Solomon’s great 
 affluence and soft contents , with moderation . 
 Those paths washed with butter (as the 
 Scripture phraseth it,) must needs be more 
 slippery and rank, than the way that hath 
 blocks and crosses in it, or that is strewed 
 with the salt of affliction. 
 
 Surely, if we go out upon an inquest, and 
 retrieve the examples of those who have 
 
 
60 
 
 marked the ways that lead to destruction 
 with their blood, we may return with this 
 in our mouth : Adversity hath slain her thou¬ 
 sands, but Prosperity her ten thousands. 
 —King James once asking a gentleman of 
 note, what the people talked of the Spanish 
 navy, was answered, 44 Sir, the people are 
 more afraid of the Spanish match than of the 
 Spanish powder I more fear Satan’s kind 
 offers and courting addresses, than his hos¬ 
 tile attempts. 
 
 Grief is here clearly meant by the Author 
 to signify adversity ; or that persecution for 
 righteousness’ sake, of which (if his name be 
 rightly guessed ) he had already largely tasted. 
 And thus it is with the young disciple, whom 
 the fervour of faith and love bears up, as on 
 wings, above the rudest shocks of opposition. 
 But let him once have become a Mnason , 
 let him by diligent striving have advanced 
 far into the narrow way, and have brought, 
 as it were, the Apostle and his company to 
 Jerusalem to lodge with him, it is much 
 but, by that time, he will have found in his 
 heart a chord that will vibrate more easily 
 to Grief than to Pleasure. This painted har- 
 
61 
 
 lot, not liking his looks, may then let him 
 go on his way unmolested ; and he may, in¬ 
 stead of her flatteries, have to bear up and 
 exercise patience, (as Socrates did with 
 Xantippe) under the frowns and chidings of 
 inward discouragement. The trials of the 
 same Believer may probably differ as much, 
 in different periods of his life, as any one 
 man’s outward condition does from that of 
 another: but let him still believe , (with full 
 purpose of heart cleaving to the Lord,) and 
 he shall find verified to him that promise of 
 the departing Lawgiver to Asher, u Thy 
 shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy 
 days, so shall thy strength be.” Deut. 
 xxxiii. 25.— Editor . 
 
62 
 
 XXV . 
 
 Dives and Lazarus, 
 
 Among the prospects which the Scripture 
 opens to us of Eternity, my contemplation 
 sometimes places me in the midst of that 
 great gulph, fixed between Lazarus in the 
 bosom of Abraham, and Dives in the midst 
 of foul fiends ; with eyes directed, now to 
 the consideration of the one, then of the 
 other. 
 
 Whither are all the rich man's joys fled, 
 in which his soul was steeped and inebriated ? 
 W hat is become of his heightened delights, 
 his music and masques, unctions, feastings, 
 ample buildings and large and jolly enter¬ 
 tainments ; his trains of attendants, “ the 
 purple and fine linen,” his wanton plea¬ 
 sures, and the whole pageantry of his hap¬ 
 piness ? On the other side, where is the 
 
63 
 
 misery and contemptibleness, the nakedness 
 and hunger, the aches, the sores, and the 
 stench of the poor man ? These things are 
 all vanished, and the scene is altered. Their 
 past condition is changed into a present, as 
 different each from other, as Heaven from 
 hell; and the present is fixed in a stability 
 as unalterable as Eternity ! 
 
 Let us consider, and weigh their purchases 
 in the balance of the sanctuary. The rich 
 man’s exchange is—the pleasures of sin, 
 which were but for a season, for those dread¬ 
 ful pains which are the reward of sin, and 
 which never shall have a season either to 
 mitigate or conclude them ; a seeming para-t 
 dise for a real dismal dungeon; momentary 
 contentments for eternal torments; delights 
 that are empty as froth, and shortlived as 
 the age of a minute, for sorrows so heavy 
 and acute, that no metaphor can equal or 
 hyperbole transcend them in expression ; so 
 durable, that they shall run parallel with end¬ 
 less ages. The poor man’s exchange is, from 
 a small weight of infelicity to an exceeding 
 weight of glory ; from a wilderness to a 
 land flowing with plenty; from a cross to a 
 crown; from tears without their saltness, 
 
64 
 
 sorrows deprived of their sting, griefs as 
 short, at longest, as the span of life ; to 
 pleasures untainted, joys the most exalted, 
 a happiness as much without a period as 
 Eternity itself. And who but joins with that 
 exclamation of the father ? u O miserable 
 happiness of the one, that concluded in 
 everlasting misery ! O happy misery of the 
 other, that ended in everlasting happiness!” 
 
 I had rather, with Lazarus , beg in rags, 
 than be in the place of Dives , ruffling it in 
 silk, and faring deliciously every day. His 
 low estate is so far above my contempt, that 
 it is the object of my wish rather than that 
 of the rich man ; which is so far below my 
 envy, that it falls within my pity. 
 
 r 
 
65 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The shortest Road to Happiness, 
 
 I meet with this excellent advice of a 
 Heathen (so excellent that I cannot but think 
 it proceeded from a higher dictate than that 
 of his own spirit,) to procure that which is 
 in reality the goal which all men’s pursuits 
 do diive at, (contentment / aXXo BsXsjv y a o 
 Qeos BeXs/; To will nothing hut what God wills . 
 
 Allton I Ew savToy, 
 
 Methinks this is like a North-west passage, 
 or a shorter cut to a treasure greater than 
 that of the Indies; to a haven of satisfaction 
 and rest, at which men seek to arrive, gene¬ 
 rally* by a wide compass of vain cont rivances . 
 This is that Panacea , that universal remedy, 
 that preventeth and removeth all discon¬ 
 tents, frettings, tumults and disquietudes, 
 
 E 
 
66 
 
 murmurings and discouragements of tlie 
 Soul: and puts it into a temper so equal, so 
 calm and serene, that it doth in a measure 
 anticipate its future happiness, by a present 
 enjoyment. For when our wiU is thus, as 
 it were, resolved into the will of God, we 
 have all that we desire, and nothing can 
 happen to us but what we will,—and what 
 more needeth there to make us happy here ? 
 This is a higher degree than the mere sub¬ 
 mitting ourselves to God’s will, (which yet 
 is a high attainment,) for it makes the Divine 
 will and ours to be the same. This is the 
 ready way to procure riches and honours, 
 and pleasures—not by using endeavours to 
 add to our wealth, reputation and outward 
 enjoyments, (for thus we find by experience, 
 that he that hath most, hath greatest want 
 in his store,) but by a more compendious 
 and less tiresome w ay ; by detracting from 
 our desires, and reducing them to a due pro¬ 
 portion. As he is not rich that hath much , 
 but he that hath enough; nor he indigent 
 that hath little , but he that craves more . 
 For we are not rich or poor, happy or un¬ 
 happy, honourable or mean, so much ac¬ 
 cording to the proportion of that which we 
 
67 
 
 possess , as of that which we desire. There¬ 
 fore I commend the answer of that man, 
 who when his friend wished for him that 
 the gods would give him whatever he de¬ 
 sired, “ Nay, rather (saith he) that they 
 would give me to desire but what they 
 give.” Iambi, in vita Pt/thagorce. 
 
68 
 
 t l A • - ‘ ' ’ '* 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 * \ * , t 
 
 The unlawful Pursuit of Temporal Good. 
 
 Shimei , when eager in the pursuit and 
 search after his renegades, (1 Kings ii.) was 
 unmindful of the injunction Solomon had 
 laid on him, and the limits he had confined 
 him to; and so ventured the loss of his life 
 for the finding of his servants. 
 
 God hath made laws that might limit and 
 circumscribe the ways and actions of men, 
 and hath menaced death for the transgres¬ 
 sion of them ; but most men are so earnest 
 in the pursuit of transitory things, (riches 
 and pleasures, which are but servants , and 
 should not command our desires) that they 
 mind not the bounds which He hath pre¬ 
 scribed them. While in the heat of their 
 career in sin, there is no time for a sober 
 weighing of that startling question, What 
 will be the end of these things? or for a 
 
69 
 
 serious reflection on the terror of that threat¬ 
 ening Voice, The soul that sinneth it shall 
 die. The 'voluptuous man will as little own 
 any bounds set to moderate his pleasures, 
 as rivers, when they swell, do acknowledge 
 their banks: the ambitious man is as vast 
 and wide in his aims and hopes as the bound¬ 
 less ocean : the covetous man can falsify 
 weight and measure, using the balance of 
 deceit, while he mindeth only his gain, and 
 considereth not that his conscience is sold 
 in the bargain. 
 
 Lord, let me never endanger the loss of 
 my soul in the unlawful or unwarranted pur¬ 
 suit of any temporal good ! 
 
70 
 
 XXV1IX. 
 
 A Heaven and a Hell in the Heart . 
 
 There is a true and pithy Proverb in use 
 among the Levantines , that a heaven and 
 hell are seated in the heart of man.” 
 
 Every man is a little world within him¬ 
 self. Here is carried on the whole process 
 of a Court of Judicature; the pronouncing 
 of a sentence of condemnation or of absolu¬ 
 tion, a binding or loosing; and according 
 to that award, an execution. In the former 
 the Conscience sits as a deputy judge under 
 God, in the latter it becomes an executioner. 
 And there are in the Heart, on the one hand 
 a paradise of pleasure with streams of com¬ 
 fort ; on the other, a gibbet, a fire and a 
 rack. 
 
 Doth not he find a Heaven within him, 
 that hath that certain and sincere and un¬ 
 troubled happiness, those gleams of joy and 
 
71 
 
 refreshment, which spring from a good con¬ 
 science? Let popular noises, vulgar suf¬ 
 frages and opinions, outward commotions 
 and attempts be what they will, they can 
 no more disturb the inward calm of this 
 Pacific sea , or restrain the transport that 
 ariseth from the triumphs and applauses of 
 Conscience, than all the thunderings and 
 storms in these lower regions can discom¬ 
 pose the serenity of those above the stars. 
 Paul and Silas sing in their prison, while 
 the foundations of it are shaken by an earth¬ 
 quake. 
 
 And doth not he carry a very hell in his 
 bosom, whose soul is rent and distorted with 
 those convulsions of horror and terror, dis¬ 
 tracted by those fearful amazements, pierced 
 by those sharp agonies, which a guilty con¬ 
 science punisheth him with ? Though he 
 seek relief by diversion to worldly business, 
 by consorting with merry society, by run¬ 
 ning for sanctuary to false and flattering 
 opinions, by robing himself in his uneasy 
 chain of fire—yet he may as soon forsake 
 himself as by all his arts and methods get 
 out of these suburbs of hell. 
 
72 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 4 
 
 A Purgatory on Earth. 
 
 i ■ • 
 
 Gold in the ore, as it is newly come out 
 of the mine, before it hath passed through 
 the Fire, can hardly be discerned from stone, 
 or a piece of hardened earth; but when it 
 hath felt the furnace, and is purged and 
 separated from dross, it comes out the most 
 precious of metals: insomuch that the flames 
 seem rather to make than purify the Gold. 
 
 Many who, before they were cast into the 
 Furnace of Affliction, had so much of dross 
 and impurity and earthliness cleaving to 
 them, that little of Heaven was discernible 
 in them, come out of it wholly unlike them¬ 
 selves. That searching and penetrating Flame 
 separateth the precious from the vile, divid- 
 eth between them and those corruptions 
 which are most closely and intimately com¬ 
 bined with their spirits. They enter into 
 
73 
 
 \ 
 
 the fiery trial earth and come out gold . 
 This endues them with that holiness and 
 humility, by which they are prepared for 
 that high perfection of beauty and glory, 
 with which they shall be invested when they 
 enter that City, whose streets are paved with 
 pure Gold, whose foundations, and whose 
 gates are of precious stones. The hue and 
 complexion of their souls, who thus pass 
 through the fire, is altered : they have aban¬ 
 doned and laid aside all their carnal ad- 
 herences, repaired the damage of their 
 consciences, the decays of their graces, their 
 neglect of duties, their coldness in religious 
 service. Though before they were bound 
 and fettered by their corrupt inclinations, 
 yet they come forth (as the three children 
 out of Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace) free and 
 at liberty . 
 
XXX. 
 
 Scripture benefits not bp Possession but bp Use . 
 
 The Turks have a saying concerning- the 
 Tartars, whom they repute a very wise peo¬ 
 ple, that other nations have their wisdom 
 written in their books, but the Tartars have 
 devoured their books ; and so, have wisdom 
 lodged in their breasts, which on all occasions 
 they can draw forth to practice. 
 
 Many Christians possess the word, as writ¬ 
 ten in their Bibles, who have never (as St. 
 John did) swallowed the book. The Laws 
 of God are best inscribed in the tables of the 
 heart. The Soul is the best phylactery and 
 repository for them, and Practice the fairest 
 transcript of them. He is the good Text-man 
 whose life is a comment on Scripture. 
 
 What actual benefit can there accrue to 
 us of gold in the mine, or of pearls in the 
 
75 
 
 bottom of the sea; except we dig for the 
 one, and coin the bullion of it into money ; 
 and dive for the other, that we may have 
 them to apply to our use ? “ II vin nelfiasco 
 non cava la sete del Capo : Wine in the bottle 
 quencheth not a man’s thirst.” He to whom 
 the word of God is not as his necessary food, 
 that doth not, tanquam sacer hclluo (with a 
 real avidity for the holy diet,) devour, di¬ 
 gest and convert it in succum et sanguinem , 
 (to spiritual nourishment,) is like to him, 
 who as long as he had Plato's Book of the 
 immortality of the soul in his hands, was a 
 Platonist ; but as soon as he had laid it by, 
 became again an Epicurean, As we use to 
 say of some physicians, that they are better 
 acquainted with Galen than with the disease; 
 so of such we may say, That they carry their 
 wisdom rather in their book than in their 
 heart. 
 
76 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 < , 
 
 u Keep thy foot zehen thou goest to the House 
 
 of God ” 
 
 The Mahometans are wont at their en¬ 
 trance into their Mosques , to put off their 
 shoes and leave them behind them; and 
 when in their devotions, they stop their ears 
 and fix their eyes , that their thoughts be not 
 diverted. 
 
 Surely when we enter into the house of 
 God, we ought to take heed unto our goings. 
 The shoes we are to put off, (as Moses when 
 he entered upon holy ground) are worldly 
 and carnal Affections. We must divest our¬ 
 selves of all earthly incumbrances—not bring 
 that into God’s presence which may profane 
 his Sanctuary, but wash our hands in inno- 
 cency and so compass his altar. Much less 
 may we carry into his house any resolutions 
 of sin, or allowed and cherished inclinations 
 
71 
 
 to it. For this were not only to enter with 
 shoes on, but with feet filthy and bemired ; 
 which cannot but pollute the ground we 
 tread on, and cause God, not only to be 
 angry at, but hate and abominate us. And 
 when we are engaged in duties of worship, 
 a strict guard must be kept on the senses , 
 that they be not inlets to that which may 
 steal away our hearts; that through their 
 treachery, our sacrifice be not found, (what 
 the Heathens accounted prodigious in their 
 Victims,) without a heart . 
 
78 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Self-condemnation in hasty Judgment. 
 
 When the prophet Nathan had given to 
 king David a relation of the cruel extortion 
 and injustice of the rich man, in wresting the 
 poor man’s ewe lamb out of his bosom, how 
 doth his anger kindle presently, and his pas¬ 
 sion rise against the wickedness of the in¬ 
 jury. Insomuch that he straight resolves, 
 and backs it with an oath, that the man should 
 surely die who had done that thing. But it 
 proved that David was more nearly concern¬ 
 ed in the matter than he was aware of, when 
 the Prophet came home to him with the 
 words-4^ow art the man. The sentence he 
 had pronounced was upon his own person; 
 and righteous David (righteous in this in¬ 
 stance) had unwittingly become the judge to 
 condemn David the adulterer and murderer, 
 at his own bar, out of his own mouth ! 
 
79 
 
 Do we not thus often condemn our own 
 vices in other men’s persons ; and pass 
 a just censure on those sins in them, which 
 we have inconsideratelv indulged in our- 
 selves ? Many do severely censure worldly - 
 mindedness , declaim against covetousness , 
 brand and defy the sensualist , pronounce 
 condemnation on the hypocrite , and can with 
 heat inveigh against such other sins; whereas, 
 if they would turn their eyes inward , they 
 might see what they thus condemn, within 
 their own bosom ; and their sentence would 
 
 be no where better applied than to themselves. 
 
 > 
 
 When I read the relation of the cursed 
 treachery of Judas , his covetousness and dis¬ 
 simulation, in selling his master for thirty 
 pieces of silver, (the price of him that was 
 valued) betraying him into the hands of the 
 Jews to a grievous passion and death—how 
 doth mine anger boil and my heart rise 
 against his wickedness : how severely is 1Pi¬ 
 late condemned at my tribunal for sentenc¬ 
 ing my Saviour ; and I pronounce the Jews 
 a thousand times worthy of that scourging, 
 and buffeting and death, which they inflicted 
 on Christ! But if I seriously reflect on my¬ 
 self, may I not find a traitor at home ? I may 
 
80 
 
 startle and disown it; Judas himself would 
 not answer to his name, but put it off with a 
 Master is it I? Surely it will appear, that 
 I may turn upon myself with a thou art the 
 man; if I consider how I have betrayed 
 Christ to my lust, and delivered him into 
 the hands of his enemies : how I have sold 
 him by preferring the pleasures of sin, the 
 satisfaction of my carnal desires, the dross 
 of the world before him : when, by mine 
 hypocrisy I have made a kiss the covert of 
 my treachery ; I by my sins have pronounced 
 Pilate's sentence, Let him be crucified. 
 Every transgression hath been a thorn, a 
 nail, and a spear to him. I have spit in his 
 face by despising his ways ; and by my va¬ 
 nity and pride have cloathed him with the 
 mock-purple, the crown of thorns, and reed 
 of reproach. He hath been wounded, not 
 only for but by my transgressions: and 
 though he pronounced on the cross, It is 
 finished , yet by these new v^^xtoc 9 these 
 afterings of sufferings 1 act as though it had 
 not been finished ! So I need go no farther 
 than myself (though I cry Hosanna to Christ) 
 to seek a Judas , a Pilate , a Jew. 
 
81 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 ' * ‘ • 3 j, 4 
 
 Discouragements are not to turn us aside from Duty. 
 
 1 have seen a pretty deceit used with 
 some, to keep them from their meat, that 
 they dare not eat, by laying shreds of Lute¬ 
 strings on it, which have appeared like 
 worms; and from their drink, by putting 
 into it the counterfeit of a Toad. 
 
 Satan often plays this part, and useth 
 such wiles to affright the children of God 
 from their Father’s table, and to make them 
 out of conceit with Duties. He presents to 
 their sight the corruptions of their perform¬ 
 ances, and so representeth them, that they 
 shall appear formal though never so zealous, 
 proud or Siypocritical, though attended with 
 never so much humility or sincerity. When 
 thou hast done thy work, then he cometh to 
 thee with his sophistry, to put thee into a 
 distrust that what thou hast done will turn 
 
 v 
 
S2 
 
 to thy great hurt. Opening the parts of thy 
 duty, he telleth thee, “ Here thy corruption 
 wrought; there, thy pride discovered its 
 stirrings; here thou wert as cold as if thou 
 caredst not whether thou wert heeded or not; 
 there, thou hadst lost thine heart. And is 
 there not death in the pot, thinkest thou; 
 or expectest thou wages for what deserveth 
 stripes . 2 ” 
 
 These sleights he useth, to dishearten Be¬ 
 lievers from their services ; and he hath this 
 great advantage, that they are usually verj 
 apt to suspect themselves. Their humours 
 are stirred to his hand, and therefore he may 
 the more easily work on them. They are 
 ready to give credit to any reasonings that 
 comply with their pensive apprehensions; 
 and therefore are easily induced to use Sa¬ 
 tan’s perspective; which at one end magni¬ 
 fies the Evil of their performances, and 
 makes it seem greater than it is ; as the other 
 extenuates the Good, and makes it appear 
 less. It is easy to him to keep down one 
 that is already sinking, and to dye that soul 
 sable black, which is of a dark and sad hue 
 before. Thou, that art not ignorant of his 
 devices , shew him that thou seest the sophis¬ 
 try, and understandest the cheat. 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 A Reason to be given with a Reproof. 
 _ 
 
 Ouk Saviour in his discourses was accus¬ 
 tomed to enforce his checks and reproofs 
 with a Reason. As, to the disciples going to 
 Emmaus, Luke 24, he exclaims, “ O fools 
 and slow of heartbut why so ? “ Ou<dit 
 not Christ to suffer, &c.” To the disciples 
 m Simon’s house, Matt. 26, “ Why trouble 
 ye the woman.” “ For she hath wrought 
 a good work. For the poor ye have always 
 with you, but me not always.—For she did 
 it for my burial.” To Mary, in the garden, 
 John 20, “ Touch me not: because I am not 
 yet gone to the Father.” Lastly, to Peter, 
 for drawing his sword on the high priest’s 
 servant, Matt. 26, John 18, he subjoins to 
 his reprehension a four-fold reason. 1, “ He 
 that takes the sword shall perish by the 
 sword.” Therefore, it is an unjust attempt 
 
 p 2 
 
84 
 
 to resist and hinder my passion. 2, u The 
 cup which my Father hath given shall I not 
 drink?” Therefore, also impossible. 3, 
 u Can I not ask ray Father, and he would 
 <rive me more than ten legions ?” Therefore, 
 the attempt is foolish. 4, “ How else should 
 the scripture be fulfilled.” Therefore, it is 
 
 undue. 
 
 Our Reproofs would have a more effectual 
 operation, if they were thus still attended 
 with Reason. The ears of men are generally 
 very tender and delicate, and a reprehension 
 ovateth on them if not attempered by a due 
 conveyance. A smart rebuke, if not clearly 
 evidenced to be just, by being backed with 
 sufficient reason, doth but irritate and em¬ 
 bitter the minds of men. The plaister mak- 
 eth the wound rage, if this ingredient.be not 
 in the compost: the cauterism doth more 
 hurt than the disease. The reproof even ol 
 a righteous man, although it be (to use the 
 Psalmist's expression) “an excellent oil,” 
 yet may “ break the head” if unduly admi- 
 
 nistered. 
 
85 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 God correcteth us with Judgment . 
 
 We may observe that Lightning (loth work 
 with more of potency and force, where it 
 meeteth with great resistance ; and acteth 
 more on that which hath hard and firmly 
 compacted parts, than on what is soft and 
 yielding. It hath been said sometimes to 
 pass through the Scabbard without any effect 
 on it, and to melt the Sword within it. 
 
 The Judgments of God in their working 
 are much accommodated to the temper of 
 the subjects on which they alight. Where 
 they meet with a stubborn unpliant Enemy , 
 they fall with greater force, and are most 
 pressing and heavy—they will break where 
 they cannot bow. “ The foolish heart ( Prov. 
 19) fretteth against the Lord ; he is careless 
 and rageth.” But what is the effect ? u The 
 man that hardeneth his neck when he is re- 
 
86 
 
 buked, shall suddenly be destroyed, and 
 that without remedy.” Those that are as 
 wild bulls in the net of God, their own fury 
 and rage doth but the more entangle, per¬ 
 plex, and weaken them. But where God 
 meeteth with souls of a complying and obedi¬ 
 ent temper, his dealings are accordingly 
 gentle. He afflicteth them lightly, and doth 
 not stir up all his wrath. He doth but shake 
 over them the Rod with which he lasheth 
 others. In this respect, because God doth 
 thus wisely and carefully distinguish between 
 different states and tempers, he is said to 
 correct with judgment . 
 
 Ps. vi. 1—xxxviii, 1. 
 
 Jer. x, 24—xxx, 11. 
 
87 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 ,.. 
 
 The Passions are Blind. 
 
 I have sometimes wondered, and almost 
 judged it another miracle, that Balaam was 
 not more appalled and amazed, at that most 
 strange uncouth Miracle—to hear a voice 
 come from that mouth which was wont only 
 to bray; and to see himself out-reasoned by 
 that which was remarkable for nothing so 
 much as its stupidity and dulness (almost 
 as though he and his beast had exchanged 
 natures:) that his knees did not tremble, and 
 his heart become like a stone, nor did he so 
 much as alight—but as though no strange 
 thing had fallen out, he giveth the beast a 
 wrathful answer ! I rather think, that the 
 transport of madness which so possessed this 
 Prophet, and the Covetousness which blinded 
 his eyes, left no room or capacity to reflect 
 on the unnaturalness of the accident. 
 
88 
 
 See, then, how senseless and stupid Lust 
 and Passion make us. Many are so eager in 
 the pursuit of their carnal desires, sd wholly 
 possessed with contrivances to compass, and 
 hopes to attain their satisfaction, that they 
 regard not any Providences, though never so 
 strange and remarkable, that interfere and 
 cross them in their course. Though God 
 meet them in the way with a drawn sword, 
 though he speak from Heaven in a voice of 
 thunder against them, they are not astonish¬ 
 ed or appalled. They may storm and rage 
 at the impediments that traverse their unlaw¬ 
 ful pursuits, and at the blocks which are 
 laid in their way; but they take no notice of 
 the hand of Providence which casteth them 
 there, though it be, perchance, as visible as 
 that which wrote Belshazzar s doom on the 
 wall. 
 
81) 
 
 xxxyn. 
 
 Heathen Literature subservient to Christian 
 
 Truth . 
 
 It is, now, no new advertisement, that the 
 Spirit of God himself doth in Scripture 
 make use of the speeches and observations of 
 Heathens, and apply them to a spiritual use. 
 Thus, St. Paul took notice of a Pagan inscrip¬ 
 tion AlW]ft/0E<y, and began his sermon to the 
 Athenians from that text: and in the same 
 place he quotes one of their poets, Aratus , 
 tov yxg ysvos kt/xev i as also IHcnarider , in 1 
 Cor. XV. 33. <I>$e/gov(r/v t)$v XS V><7 ^ xatxati 
 
 and Callimachus , or Epimenides , Tit. i. 12. 
 KgYiTns otei Vevrai, &c.: and in James i. 17. we 
 have a perfect Hexameter verse, and a double 
 Iambic in 2 Peter ii. 27. 
 
 Surely, the warrant of such an example 
 will give good ground for our making use of 
 the borrowed helps of human writers, in 
 sacred things : so we deal with them as God 
 
90 
 
 commanded the Israelites to do with the 
 Canaanitish women; if they would wed 
 them, to shave their heads and pare off their 
 nails —if we divest them of their Pa<mn vices 
 and superfluities. It would reflect injuriously 
 upon the wisdom of God to think that He 
 (who furnished Cyrus with the treasure and 
 riches of secret places for the building of His 
 Temple, Ezra i. 2) hath given the treasures 
 of art and learning, to be used merely for the 
 gratification of a taste which sometimes be¬ 
 comes almost idolatrous—for the production 
 of a golden calf in the wilderness; rather 
 than to be applied in his service to the uses 
 of the sanctuary , Exod. 35. But then, these 
 things must be made to pass through the fire 
 (as was the Midianitish gold and silver, 
 Num. xxxi. 32.) and be thoroughly refined 
 from their heathenish dross. 
 
 + Elijah did not reject the food that was 
 brought to him by the Ravens, which were 
 unclean creatures under the law. In like 
 manner (as we have seen in the examples 
 above-mentioned) the preacher who ministers 
 “ as of the ability that God giveth,” may find 
 a place and an use for the learning and sci¬ 
 ence in which he may have been educated. 
 
91 
 
 But he should know, at all times, that it is 
 God who sends him the bread and the flesh 
 by the ravens , while he thus abides u by the 
 brook Cherith” : nor should he seek to use 
 it out of season; for it has not u the strength 
 of that meat” which the prophet received by 
 the Angel, and which enabled him to go 
 through the wilderness cc forty days and 
 forty nights” u unto Horeb , the mount of 
 God ” 
 
92 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Of absurd pretensions to Scripture Authority . 
 
 It was a ridiculous inference which that 
 person made, who reading* in the subscrip¬ 
 tion of some of Saint Paul’s Epistles, Missa 
 fuit Romce , presently thence concluded, 
 that inass was said at Rome in the days of 
 the Apostle. Poyntz , a Jesuit, cries out, 
 u There is no hope of prevailing with these 
 hereticks, because it was long since prophe¬ 
 sied of them, 2 Chron. xxiv. 19. At illi 
 protestantes noluerunt audire !*” ’Tis well 
 (as one observes) that Protestants were thus 
 heard of in the Old Testament as well as 
 Jesuits , whose name by good hap one of 
 them hath found somewhere—even as Eras- 
 
 * The passage is thus in the Vulgate, Mittebatque eis 
 prophetas ut reverterent ad Dominum, quos protestantei illi 
 audire nolebant.—E d. 
 
93 
 
 mus found friars in St. Paul’s time, inter 
 falsos fratres! 
 
 Many there are, whose dicta are as little 
 favoured by scripture, and who are not 
 ashamed to make as ridiculous a claim to 
 its patronage. Who will not bring their 
 opinions to the test of the word, but draw it 
 to their opinions ; and force their own sense 
 out of it, with as much violence and torture 
 as that whereby Chymists endeavour to ex¬ 
 tract that out of metals which God and na¬ 
 ture never put into them. Such would 
 make the Divine oracles to speak 
 
 to the patronising of their own interest,/ 
 would suborn God (were it possible) for a 
 witness to their own errors. As Caligula 
 dealt with the statue of Jupiter, taking off 
 the head of it and placing his own in its 
 room, so they substitute the devices of then 
 own brain in place of the sense of God’s 
 word. Yea sometimes, such interpretations 
 and glosses are given, as do not only corrupt 
 but contradict the Text; and that with as 
 open and declared an enmity as that of the 
 Papists, when they make, in one of the 
 Pope’s canons, by the word statuimus to be 
 meant abrogamus. Such might with greater 
 
94 
 
 shew of reason pretend either to a new 
 Revelation, or to have found what they de¬ 
 liver in some of those spurious writings, 
 The Epistle of Paul to Seneca , The Gospel 
 of the Hebrews , The Acts of Paul and 
 Thecla , rather than in the Old or New Tes¬ 
 tament. 
 
 * 
 
XXXIX. 
 
 The Presumption of inexperienced Teachers. 
 
 Young Lapwings when hatched are, as 
 it were, so impatient of delay, that before 
 the Shells open of themselves, they break 
 their passage through those walls, not en¬ 
 during to be pent up by their confinement; 
 and as soon as their Head and Feet are at 
 liberty, they run away with the remainder 
 yet upon them. 
 
 Many we have seen, whom a strong con¬ 
 fidence, grounded on but weak abilities, 
 hath put forward before their time; who 
 have rather rushed out than been sent forth : 
 mariners that have put out on their voy¬ 
 age, before the vessel hath been sufficiently 
 ballasted or rigged : envoys that have gone 
 forth before they have had instructions, like 
 Ahimaaz , who would needs be running 
 
96 
 
 though without a command for it; and if 
 examined, can give as little an account of 
 what message they bring as he could. Such 
 are like unthrifty Heirs: when they should 
 be gathering knowledge, they spend faster 
 than they get, their expenses exceed their 
 receivings. Such who venture to set up, 
 though all the stock they have (if any) is 
 perchance a borrowed one : who enter on 
 an embassj' without credentials : such Lap¬ 
 wings as these, that go from under the wing 
 of their dam while their heads are green and 
 the shell on them, do soon run wild. The 
 conclusion is, that as the enterprise was 
 rash, the progress ineffectual and unprofit¬ 
 able, so they reap in the end blushing and 
 discomfort. 
 
 The protection of a flock against ravenous 
 beasts is a weighty charge; and though 
 young David could slay the lion and the 
 bear when they set upon his sheep, yet every 
 ruddy youth is not fit to be a shepherd. Where 
 a rare precocity of understanding antici¬ 
 pated] years and supplieth age, yet methinks 
 (that I may here apply what one said) they 
 might tarry at Jericho till their beards are 
 
 grown . 
 
 I ever thought it more safe to be 
 
97 
 
 drawn forth and forced by importunities, to 
 set our hands to that work for which, Who 
 is sufficient ? rather than to rush on it un¬ 
 called, as that for which any might be suf¬ 
 ficient that would think himself so. It is 
 obedience to go when we are called, but to be 
 running forth before a call, is a too forward 
 officiousness, arguing pride and boldness. 
 If such novices would go and learn what 
 that of St. James meaneth, “ My brethren 
 be not many teachers,” Jam. iii. 10. they 
 would find it would give a writ of ease to 
 their too forward adventures. 
 
 a 
 
XL. 
 
 An imprudent Curiosity in Divine Things . 
 
 The elder Pliny (as his nephew tells us; 
 Plin. Epist. L. 6: c. 16) out of curiosity pry¬ 
 ing into the mountain Vesuvius, that he might 
 discover (as in Nature's kiln) the manner 
 and causes of those fiery eruptions, was de¬ 
 stroyed by them;—and so found his death in 
 his too bold advance in quest of that mystery 
 of nature. 
 
 Surelv, to be too curious in our enquiries 
 
 * ' 
 
 and researches into the mysteries ‘of God, 
 cannot but be dangerous. God hath drawn 
 a veil over some things; and if we are so 
 bold as to go about to lift it up, he may justly 
 strike us with blindness, even in those things 
 which were before exposed to view. If we 
 long after such forbidden fruit, the u flaming 
 sword, turning every way,” may be set to 
 
99 
 
 keep us not only from the Tree of life and 
 knowledge, but from all other trees in his 
 Paradise. If the waves of the sea have their 
 limits set, i( Hitherto shalt thou come, but 
 no further”—much more man’s presumption 
 and curiosity. And what security can he 
 give himself, that will boldly invade the 
 privacies which Infinite Wisdom hath locked 
 up in concealment—that will break down 
 the enclosures which the Almighty hath set 
 up ? Cannot we be content to be admitted 
 into his House, except we ransack his cabinet: 
 to be of his Court except we be his secre¬ 
 taries? If we have an ear to hear what 
 God hath not spoken, he may justly cause us 
 to have no eye to read what He hath written. 
 Tis dangerous presumption to break open 
 God’s seal, to go in quest after that, which 
 He hath therefore hidden that we might not 
 find it. He who is not content to look on 
 the Sun, where his rays are refracted through 
 a cloud, will but lose his sight by staring on 
 him in his naked brightness. 
 
100 
 
 XU. 
 
 Examples from the doom of rebellious Sinners. 
 
 In tbs rebellion of Corah , Dathan , and 
 Abiram , wherein they rose up against Moses 
 and Aaron, to bereave the one of his rule, 
 the other of his priesthood, it was a dismal 
 terrifying sight to see their Punishment: the 
 earth to open under them and swallow them 
 up alive, and close her mouth on them: 
 that which is wont to be only a grave, to 
 become their executioner: insomuch that I 
 do not wonder that the people (who by God’s 
 command were all called thither to be spec¬ 
 tators) a all that were round about fled at 
 the cry of them ; for they said, lest the eaith 
 should devour us also.” 
 
 If we might in like manner see how re¬ 
 bellious impenitent Sinners go hence into 
 the pit of destruction, if we might in visible 
 
101 
 
 manner behold how Hell opens her mouth to 
 receive them—how they fall into an Abyss 
 of death w hich is closed upon them to all 
 Eternity—surely it would make us tremble 
 and flee; make us endeavour to avoid the 
 danger and seek out a refuge, lest it should 
 devour us. Their destruction would put us 
 upon vigorous endeavours of working out 
 our Salvation with fear and trembling; and 
 the sad example of their death would be one 
 means to remedy the sinful evil of our lives. 
 
 That which we cannot see by an eye of 
 sense we may discern by Faith : let it there¬ 
 fore have the same effect on us, thus believed, 
 which it would, were it visibly beheld. 
 
102 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Precept without Example. 
 
 Many there are who can teach others to 
 know and practise that, which they them¬ 
 selves have learned to know only, not to 
 practise : like Scheubelius , that great Mathe¬ 
 matician, but by book only; who being re¬ 
 quired once in the army to make use of his 
 Quadrant , knew not the difference between 
 umbra recta , and umbra versa. 
 
 The lives and doctrines of some Teachers 
 are so little relative , that they are a down¬ 
 right contradiction to each other. Their 
 Precepts are a directory for the way to 
 heaven, but their Example, if followed, 
 would lead to hell. They have never rumi¬ 
 nated duly on that prudent advice of Solomon, 
 If thou be wise, be wis e for thyself. They 
 carry their wisdom, as the birds do meat to 
 their young, not in their breasts but in their 
 
103 
 
 beaks. Like tlie holy Parcemiasfs slan¬ 
 derer, though they speak well, yet there are 
 seven abominations in their heart. Prov. xxvi. 
 At the best, they are but fools that have 
 learned to be wise by rote ; and their Clergy 
 will scarcely save them at the tribunal of the 
 Judge of all men; who hath no other pecu¬ 
 liar respect for him that knows his will and 
 does it not, than a greater number of stripes 
 to reward his learned folly. 
 
 Where I meet with this unhappy conjunc¬ 
 tion of a bad life and good doctrine (a light 
 shining but not burning) the former may 
 well excite in me indignation and pity : and 
 with regard to the latter, as we are all more 
 apt to tread in the footsteps of Example, than 
 to heed the guide-post of Precept, there is 
 no small danger for such a Teacher, that it 
 may defeat the very object of his lessons. 
 What he saith well belongs however to all, 
 but what he doth ill , should be left to its 
 author as his crime , not followed by others 
 as their direction . 
 
104 
 
 
 
 ' * '• 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Self-knowledge a cure for our Pride. 
 
 It is storied of j Primislaus, the first king* 
 of Bohemia, that being raised from a very 
 mean birth to that Dignity, he always kept 
 his country shoes by him, to remind him from 
 whence he took his rise to that advancement, 
 and thus prevent pride and insolence. And 
 we know that Agathocles would always have 
 his table furnished with Earthen vessels, in 
 memory of his being raised from the occu¬ 
 pation of a potter to be King of Sicily. 
 
 Methinks every man carries that about 
 him which might temper and allay his Pride 
 and vanity; were his advancement never so 
 high, whether in external things, honour, and 
 riches; or in internal endowments, the gifts 
 and accomplishments of the mind. I say 
 this will be the case, if he be not a stranger 
 
s 
 
 105 
 
 to that great and necessary work of self- 
 refection. For, let him consider his Ex¬ 
 traction. His soul was drawn out of nothing , 
 and his body formed out of the slime of the 
 ground —a clod of earth kneaded into human 
 shape. If he would think on his relations , 
 Corruption is his father, and the W orm his 
 mother and sister. Job xvii. 14. Surely 
 that man must needs have forgotten his rise 
 and his alliances, that entertains any thing 
 of pride and vain-glory; and he need only 
 study and mind himself to learn to be hum¬ 
 ble. 
 
106 
 
 M 
 
 JK 
 
 % 
 
 - 
 
 M- 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 ♦ ; 
 
 The Scandal of Uncharitable Contentions . 
 
 It is observable in what manner the con- 
 tention is related, Gen. xiii. 7. between the 
 herdsmen of Abraham and those of Lot. 
 <6 There was a strife between Abraham’s 
 herdsmen and the herdsmen of Lot’s cattle 
 and immediately there follows in the text, 
 in what seems at first a strange connexion— 
 u and the Canaanite and the Perizzite dwelt 
 in the land.” Which, surely, the Spirit of 
 God inserted as no small aggravation of the 
 unseasonableness of the Strife; that they 
 should fall out and quarrel, while the heathen 
 lived so near them and were looking on ; 
 and thus expose their Religion to reproach 
 and contempt. 
 
 How great an aggravation have our Dis¬ 
 sensions and Differences received from the 
 
107 
 
 neighbourhood of those that are adversaries 
 to the Truth, who have delighted themselves 
 to look on and see our quarrels,—from hence 
 also taking occasion to reproach and vilify 
 our religion. As Saint Paul says of the be* 
 lievers, speaking with tongues and not inter¬ 
 preting, 1 Cor. xiv. S3, 66 Would not he that 
 comes in say ye are mad” J So, when those 
 that are without hear of so many dissensions 
 and brawls, such jangling opinions among us ? 
 will they not think us mad? They will not 
 easily be induced to believe there is a Church 
 or Temple of God building, where they hear 
 such a noise and clatter of hammers and iron 
 instruments. Surely, Sion can as little be 
 built np amidst such disunion of hearts, as 
 Babel could with that discord of tongues. 
 God is not wont to be in the whirlwind of 
 dissensions and uproars, but in the still 
 voice. And that Heavenly Dove the Holy 
 Spirit, like the Halcyon , builds its nest only 
 in a calm. Though the garment of the 
 king’s daughter, the Church, be of divers 
 colours, though there be variety of gifts— 
 yet it should be like Christ’s garment, with¬ 
 out a seam. Lines, the nearer they approach 
 to the centre , the nearer they come to one 
 another; and those Christians are at greatest 
 
108 
 
 distance from God , who are farthest off from 
 each other in uncharitable differences. 
 
 But have the Canaanite and the Perizzite 
 been merely lookers on—or have they not 
 had another interest in the strife ; by strong 
 and secret influences causing and fomenting 
 differences and contentions, and kindling 
 sparks into a flame ? Surely, u the hand of 
 Joab hath been in all this;” 2 Sam. xiv. 19. 
 and to the Enemy, sowing tares , we are in 
 great part to impute the stirs and disturbances 
 which new Disciplines, new Doctrines, Sects 
 and Schisms have raised among us; who 
 hath been diligent in improving that rule in 
 the Machiavelian politicks, Divide et impera; 
 making divisions and disuniting, that he may 
 bring the broken parties more easily under 
 his own mastery. 
 
109 
 
 XLV. 
 
 A lying Spirit cannot bear a true Testimony . 
 
 Our Saviour (Luke iv.) would not give 
 the devil audience, even where he spake 
 truth—“ I know thee who thou art, the 
 Holy one of God;” refusing to have the 
 father of lies bear witness of him, because 
 he knew he used that Truth only to coun¬ 
 tenance Error. And on the same account 
 the Apostles (Acts xvi) silenced the Spirit 
 of divination, and set a gag in his mouth, 
 when he would have defiled the gospel by 
 preaching it. In Matthew iv, we find the 
 devil quoting scripture, but strangely maimed 
 and perverted, to make it serve his own 
 turn; for one part is left out, the other 
 misapplied. We may be sure this Impostor 
 hath never any errand but deceit, whatever 
 message he seems to bring. This liar al- 
 
110 
 
 ways mixeth some truth with his tale, that 
 may make way for it to enter into belief. 
 For vice and falsehood must still borrow 
 the assistance of Virtue and Truth. There is 
 always true corn strewed under a pitfall; 
 and they are full and weighty ears, the stalks 
 of which we daub with bird-lime, to deceive 
 the poor birds in a snow. In lotteries, there 
 are some few prizes among many blanks, to 
 keep up the game : Even in the dunghill of 
 Mahomet's Alcoran, there are some jewels; 
 and Sergius hath bespangled and decked it 
 with some parcels and branches of Scripture 
 and Christianity : 
 
 Et partem verifabula quceque tenet . 
 
 This great deceiver, Satan, dealeth as 
 cheats are wont to do; who to make their 
 impostures more current and passable, use 
 some means to gain credit before they apply 
 them. Alchemists bring* forth sometimes 
 true and real Gold out of their furnaces, 
 pretending it was made there; whereas it 
 was secretly conveyed thither, that they 
 might the more easily impose upon belief. 
 Let me beware of Satan’s hook, though 
 covered with never so specious and pleasing 
 
Ill 
 
 ■i 
 
 a bait. Though he take the covering of an 
 Angel of light upon him, yet by a circum¬ 
 spect eye the black fiend may be discerned 
 under it. There suspect him most where his 
 pretences are most plausible. 
 
112 
 
 XLvr. 
 
 Temporal Interests promoted under Spiritual 
 
 Pretences. 
 
 The Rabbins tell us, according to their 
 wonted vanity, that Aaron , Exod xxxii, in¬ 
 tended not to make a calf, but cast the 
 golden ear-rings into the fire to consume 
 them; when by the operation of Satan, 
 working by some Egyptian magicians in the 
 camp, there came forth the form of a Calf! 
 
 This is absurd enough—but surely it is 
 very usual for that old Serpent to make us 
 unwittingly advance his interest, while, as 
 we think, with innocent intentions we drive 
 on a good design; and to use zeal w ithout 
 know ledge, as an instrument to promote his 
 cause, under the pretext of doing God ser¬ 
 
 vice. 
 
113 
 
 Peter thought he had uttered that which 
 would have pleased Christ, “ *Be it far 
 from thee , Lord : this shall not be unto 
 thee.” Yet the devil (it seems) had made 
 him his spokesman: “ Get thee behind me, 
 Satan.” Matt. xvi. 22. 23. That design 
 which, to gain proselytes and assistants had 
 pro arts stamped on its front—“ holiness to 
 the Lord” inscribed on it—when the other 
 side is seen, hath sometimes proved to be 
 only pro foots; for the advancement of a 
 carnal interest, which some have set up to 
 be promoted under that appearance. Hence 
 it hath proceeded, that what David said, 
 
 The zeal of thine house hath eaten me 
 up,” may, by a prodigious inversion be ap¬ 
 plied to some, of whom it may be said, Their 
 zeal hath eaten up the house of God. 
 
 * In the Greek, lXtcos rot Pity thyself. 
 
 H 
 
114 
 
 I 
 
 ' 
 
 t 
 
 ‘ 
 
 I 
 
 XLYII. 
 
 Temptations deadened by Affliction revive in 
 time of Ease. 
 
 Serpents in the cold of Winter grow 
 impotent and languid, and retire themselves 
 to their dens and caverns, unable to do hurt, 
 or to withstand the least resistance; yet 
 when warmth returneth with the Sun, they 
 renew their former strength and vigour, re¬ 
 linquish the holes and retirements in which 
 they lay folded up, shew their force and their 
 - sting again, and appear dreadful to the most 
 armed opposition. 
 
 In like manner, those Temptations which 
 in the season of Adversity we seemed to be 
 wholly freed from ; which had so lost their 
 force and efficacy, that it was an easy con¬ 
 quest to subdue them, when the sunshine 
 of Prosperity cometh on are cherished, and 
 invigorated: their number is augmented, 
 their strength more prevailing, and their 
 
assaults more frequent: scarce a step we 
 take, in this state, in which we are not in 
 danger of a serpent’s sting. 
 
 I find, both by the course of God’s Pro¬ 
 vidence, and the instruction of His word, 
 that He hath sometimes a rod to lay on the 
 backs of friends, and favours to bestow on 
 enemies. But surely He knows with whom 
 He is dealing—He favoureth these in Anger, 
 and punisheth those in Love. He lifteth up 
 some on high that their Fall may be the 
 greater; who might apply that expression 
 to their case, Thou hast lifted me up and cast 
 me down : and others He casteth down, that 
 they may by a happy rebound rise the 
 higher. 
 
 I choose Affliction and adversity with 
 Love, before happiness and Prosperity with¬ 
 out it. Lord, as I pray that Thou wouldst not 
 rebuke me in anger , (1 do not deprecate thy 
 rebuke—my Sins call for it—but thine Anger : 
 this word hath the accent of my desire, not 
 that,) so likewise that Thou w r ouldst never 
 bestow Favours on me in judgment^ or pros¬ 
 perity with a Curse attending. 
 
116 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 How far is Truth served by Eloquence ? 
 
 Galeacius , Marquis of Vico , was so ef¬ 
 fectually wrought on and persuaded by an 
 elegant similitude in a sermon of Peter 
 Martyr's , that he soon after laid down all 
 his honours, interests and relations, at the 
 feet of Christ, and by a voluntary choice, 
 took up his cross and became a Convert.* 
 
 Perhaps the same thing nakedly and bare¬ 
 ly proposed, would not have made so easy 
 and so great impression on him, as it did, 
 
 * “ Galeacius Carraciolus , Marquis of Vico, abandoned his 
 friends, estate and country, resolutely saying with Moses, 
 * That he would rather suffer afflictions with the first Re¬ 
 formers and Protestants, than enjoy his former plenty, 
 favours and pleasures, with his old religion.'” Penn s No 
 Cross No Crown : chap. 22. §. 6. Editor . 
 
117 
 
 set forth and adorned in that rhetorical 
 dress. The same passage in a different 
 habit, may be vigorous and piercing, or lan¬ 
 guid and dispirited. +We must not how¬ 
 ever, here omit to acknowledge, that in 
 every instance of true conversion, it is God 
 who reaches the heart, not merely the 
 Preacher who moves the affections by his 
 Eloquence : and he may in reality have sur¬ 
 rendered to the secret influence of Grace, 
 who in his inexperience, as a raw convert, 
 is led to attribute the effect to the particular 
 passage , or discourse, under which his whole 
 will and faculties, for the first time, felt the 
 force of religious conviction. 
 
 Hearers , nevertheless, are generally like 
 bees : they go all to the flowers. Therefore 
 our discourse may be profitably, as well as 
 pleasingly strewed with them ; so they yield 
 as much honey as they make of fair shew. 
 The assistance of Oratory, duly applied, and 
 coming in only as an auxiliary, is no way to 
 be slighted : for by this, chiefly, among se¬ 
 cond means , the Preacher reigns in the af¬ 
 fections of his Auditory : by this he thunders 
 and lightens in them—as Pericles was said 
 to do by his eloquence. ’ 
 
118 < 
 
 Surely it was not without the help of this 
 art, that Christ was so graphically described, 
 and as it were painted forth in his Cruci¬ 
 fixion, before the eyes of the Galatians; 
 
 VWS*** ” GaL iiL L +Yet WG find the 
 same Apostle, who could use such a touch¬ 
 ing eloquence in its place, declaring to an¬ 
 other Church, that he had come among them, 
 
 “ not with excellency of speech” or even 44 of 
 wisdom,” and that his preaching had not 
 been with persuasive words , 4c but in demon¬ 
 stration of the Spirit and of power and for 
 what end ? 44 That” their 44 faith should not 
 stand in the wisdom of men but in the power 
 of God.” 1 Cor. ii. 1—5. 
 
 The imposture of that Rhetoric deserves re¬ 
 proof instead of commendation, which works 
 on the Affections alone, and not at all on 
 reason or conscience: as does likewise the 
 zoantonness of that, which is as gay and gaudy 
 in the dressing of every sentence, as a young 
 Scrivener is, in flowering a capital letter with 
 his luxuriant pen. + Truth will not thus be 
 decked in meretricious finery: yet does she 
 not refuse that her native beauty should 
 have the advantage of a matron-like orna¬ 
 ment.—Comely and neat Apparel becomes 
 
119 
 
 her : but if either gaudy or slovenly, it is a 
 disgrace. 
 
 Note. —The reader may here be gratified by comparing 
 with these thoughts, Penn’s avowed sentiments on the same 
 subject, published at a later fieriod. 
 
 “ Elegancy is a good mien and address given to matter, 
 be it by proper or by figurative speech. Where the words 
 are apt and the allusions very natural, certainly it has a 
 moving grace : but it is too artificial for simplicity, and 
 sometimes for truth. The danger is, lest it delude the weak; 
 who in such cases may mistake the handmaid for the mis¬ 
 tress—if not error for truth. It is certain Truth is least 
 indebted to it, because she has least need of it, and she least 
 uses it. But it is a reprovable delicacy in them that despise 
 truth in plain clothes.” ‘ Reflections and Maxims,’ under 
 Eloquence. 
 
1£0 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Solid Worth contrasted with specious Piety. 
 
 I have sometime seen a blazing Comet 
 
 much outshining other stars, and attracting 
 
 the eves of men to behold it with wonder: 
 */ 
 
 which yet by its decay (of light) and vanish¬ 
 ing a while after, hath appeared to have had 
 no true place among the Stars, but in the 
 lower regions.—How many, in our days, 
 have been seen and gazed on with admira¬ 
 tion, who have shined with glorious beams ; 
 who yet by their fall have at length dis¬ 
 covered themselves to have been Exhalations 
 only, gilded with rays and counterfeiting 
 stars, by an exceeding splendour: for often 
 doth the Hypocrite outgo the Saint in ap¬ 
 pearance, as much as he comes short of him 
 in reality. Many have had a shining zeal 
 in those exercises of religion that lie open 
 to the view, and so have gotten and kept up 
 a high esteem and credit; but not trading 
 on a solid stock, but taking up their saint- 
 
121 
 
 
 j ships all upon trust, no wonder they prove 
 bankrupts at last. The foolish Virgins made 
 a great blaze with their lamps ; which yet 
 by their going out appeared to want oil, 
 
 These falling stars shall never shine in 
 the firmament of Heaven. Let all therefore 
 try to assure to themselves the fixedness of 
 their station, the consistency of their sub¬ 
 stance ; and making just allowances for that 
 adscititious and imposturous light, which 
 interest, profit, worldly credit and ad¬ 
 vantage, slavish fear of God, may have 
 vested them with, examine what remains of 
 that which is true, and firmly grounded. 
 Let me never deceive myself or others with 
 a false light. I had rather be a true Star , 
 though the smallest, and shining undiscerned 
 fas the stars in the milky way, which cannot 
 be seen without a Galileo’s tube,) than be 
 the most glorious Comet.— 
 
122 
 
 L. 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 . ■ f feT ) * ■ . gk 
 
 Some are so curious as to conjecture, that 
 Christ’s prayer which he made after his with- 
 dravvment from his disciples (Matt. xxvi. 
 39—44,) was not merely mental, but vocal; 
 inferring it from the manner in which the 
 Evangelist relates it, “ He prayed saying”— 
 which they will have to imply an audible 
 Speech and Voice. 
 
 However, whether we have so great a 
 Pattern for it or not, I think there is some 
 
 Note.—I think there can be no reasonable doubt, from 
 the words in which the fact is stated by the Evangelist, that 
 our dear Redeemer, in this his extremity in the garden, 
 prayed vocally. 
 
 It is most true, as observed by the author, that ** God 
 hath an ear to hear what the heart prayeth;” and the heart, 
 it may be added, when truly converted to Him, hath a lan¬ 
 guage beyond all words in which to cry unto Him. On the 
 whole, therefore, we may do well, not to insist on any 
 
123 
 
 advantage to be observed, that secret Ptayer 
 hath which is vocal , above what is mental 
 only : although it be all one to God, who 
 hath an ear to hear what the heart prayeth, 
 as well as what is said with the mouth. 
 
 1. In that by joining a voice to our men¬ 
 tal prayer, our A flections are more awakened 
 
 uniform mode of performing this most important duty. 
 The thing respecting which it behoves the Christian to be 
 well assured is, that he does {iray : the thing for him to be 
 alarmed at is,when notwithstanding the utterance of words, 
 he feels he does not. Again, from the great variety of state 
 and of circumstance which at different seasons may obtain m 
 the relation of our souls to God; as our Sovereign Lord, our 
 Righteous Judge , our most Merciful, provident, and tender 
 Father; there may surely be inferred a great diversity in the 
 manner,as well as in the matter of the Soul’s communication 
 with Him. One rule seems to apply to all cases—that our 
 petitions be put up in dependent faith, “ nothing wavering, 
 for he that thus hesitateth, “ is like a wave of the sea driven 
 by the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he 
 shall receive any thing of the Lord.” James i. 6,7, As like¬ 
 wise in full submission, yea, as much as may be in resigna 
 tlon , of our own will to the will of God, let the matter be 
 never so near to us; or however strong our desires respect¬ 
 ing it mav have been. For this we have both precept and 
 example from the all-perfect Leader: ‘‘When ye pray, 
 say—Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth : An in 
 his great extremity* which has been already allude to, 
 
 prayed saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let tins cup 
 
 pass from me; nevertheless not as 1 wills as ,0H 
 Luke xi. 2. Matt. xxvi. 39. Editor* 
 
124 
 
 and quickened : as we find by experience, 
 that the sense of a misery, when cooped up 
 in our own thoughts, may not express itself 
 in tears, (which are the language of grief,) 
 yet when we vent it to others, in our re¬ 
 counting it we cannot refrain from weep- 
 ing. 
 
 2. It limits the Mind more, and keeps it 
 more fixed, and intent upon what is 
 spoken. 
 
 3. We find sometimes, that V^ehemency of 
 affection doth force us to it: for when our 
 passion and Devotion is ardent, and the fire 
 is kindled within us, it breaketh forth into 
 outward expression ; complaints or tears. 
 
 4. I may add, lastly, that we can some¬ 
 times better form, or at least draw out in 
 better order, our Conceptions of what we 
 pray for in an audible voice. 
 
 Let us contemplate Prayer in its journey 
 between earth and Heaven—as Jacob did 
 the angels ascending and descending. It 
 ascendeth, then, lightly, mounted on the 
 wings of faith, but it comes ever laden down 
 again upon our heads. It goeth up, it may 
 be, in a shower of Tears, and descendeth 
 
125 
 
 in a shower of Blessings. It is wafted 
 into Heaven with groans (for these have a 
 force to open Heaven’s gates; and that 
 prayer flies swiftly that is carried on the 
 wings of a groan,) but those sighs return 
 laden with comforts, like the Southern winds 
 in Egypt, whose wings are charged with the 
 sweet odours of spices. They go out weep¬ 
 ing, but never come weeping back; for 
 where the spring and seed-time is wet, the 
 Harvest is clear and joyful. They that sow 
 in tears , reap in joy. 
 
126 
 
 LI. 
 
 « i 
 
 The Privilege of the Friends of God . 
 
 In civil Converse with those with whom 
 we are unacquainted, we cannot find such 
 pleasantness and relish as in that society 
 which Familiarity seasoneth with delight. 
 For when we converse with strangers, it is 
 at some distance as it were, and under check 
 and restraint, (as in a strange country where 
 we venture nothing without guard or con¬ 
 voy,) and so, not without a kind of uneasi¬ 
 ness : but where as familiar friends, there 
 we have freedom and openness. 
 
 If we transfer this experience to our spi¬ 
 ritual intercourse with God, we shall find 
 the cases very coincident. Purely, it would 
 be far more delightful unto us, it we did 
 not by our neglect still keep ourselves as 
 strangers to Him ! Frequency in our ac¬ 
 cesses would bring on that familiarity , (if 
 
127 
 
 the comparison may be allowed,) in which 
 we might converse with our God in that 
 freedom, with which friends open their bo¬ 
 soms one to another. We should be more 
 enlarged in our addresses, and that would 
 make them to have a more pleasant relish 
 to us. By often treading the way, we 
 should, (as it were,) beat out a path to the 
 Throne of Grace, free from that uneasiness 
 and discouragement, which in unfrequented 
 waps we meet with. He who pays the most 
 frequent visits to the courts of Heaven, finds 
 himself most welcomed there, and hath the 
 best Entertainment : and he who cometh 
 oftenest, will still desire to come more 
 often ! 
 
 Therefore let those, who esteem that as 
 void of Delight in itself, which their own 
 negligence only rendereth so, learn to judge 
 righteously, and impute the effect to its gen¬ 
 uine cause. Manna is here to be gathered, 
 if they would but come out with their ves¬ 
 sels—the table lies already spread, and 
 Christ saith to his friends, Cant. v. i; “ Eat, 
 O friends, drink, yea drink abundantly,”— 
 but behold ! they stand off as strangers, and 
 will not be among His friends ! 
 
128 
 
 HI. 
 
 From seeming Evil , God educeth Good . 
 
 It seemed strange to me when I first 
 understood, that some venomous things 
 would yield an Antidote to their own Poison 
 —-that the Viper will afford a remedy against 
 the deadliness of his own sting. But I have 
 since understood, that it is a frequent thing 
 in Chemistry, to extract Alexipharmacal 
 medicines out of things which in themselves 
 are most noxious and destructive. Thus the 
 artist will make Mercury and Antimony, 
 deadly poisons, by the power of his opera¬ 
 tion to yield remedies of rare virtue. We 
 read of a plant also, in the West Indies, 
 whose leaves are venomous, and yet the 
 root of it is an excellent antidote. 
 
 Let me not then wonder, that He who 
 brought all things out of nothing, and light 
 
129 
 
 out of darkness, can educe good from evil— 
 that this Omnipotent Chymist can make our 
 disease afford a medicine : that he can out 
 of the gall and wormwood of affliction, ex¬ 
 tract a quintessence of pleasure, and sublime 
 tears into spiritual joy. 
 
 * 
 
 Let me admire and adore thee, O Lord! 
 not only for thy grace and love in our 
 salvation, but for thy power and wisdom 
 in the methods of it ! 
 
 1 
 
130 
 
 LIII. 
 
 The Unhappiness of worldly Grandeur. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth , before she came to her 
 crown, being kept in restraint as a prisoner, 
 happened to hear a simple Milk-maid sing 
 cheerfully in the field, while she herself was 
 more inclined to sadder airs of sighing : 
 which occasioned her to say, that that poor 
 maid was happier than herself. 
 
 Peace, and freedom of heart and content¬ 
 ment, is more often to be found in a cottage, 
 than under a high and magnificent roof. I he 
 greatest outward Pomp and splendour cannot 
 secure against misfortune, or give one night s 
 sleep (though it do disturb many) or satisfy 
 any appetite of reason, or natuie, or Reli¬ 
 gion ; all which the meanest fortunes may 
 afford. Worldly glory and Grandeur only 
 make it possible for a man to be made more 
 
131 
 
 profoundly and extremely miserable. It is 
 the unhappy privilege of being advanced to 
 a great height, that it makes a man liable to 
 a greater and more sadly calamitous fall. 
 So the Shell-fish is carried by the Eagle high 
 into the air, only that he may be the more 
 surely broken in the casting down. A great 
 condition is exposed to great crosses and 
 misfortunes; but rags and a mean fortune 
 can have but small ones however. It is cer¬ 
 tain, that greatness of state is but a great 
 vanity, and high Fortune is nothing but 
 danger, trouble, and temptation. I would 
 rather choose a Mediocrity than the highest 
 condition : there I am high enough, where 
 I can best stand upright, and where my fall 
 can be least miserable and dangerous. 
 
 u Fata si lice at mihi 
 Fingere arbitrio meo , 
 
 Temperem zepkyro levi 
 Vela , ne pres see gravi 
 Spiritu antennae iremantSfc. 
 
 Sen. Oed. Act 4. 
 
 i ^ 
 
132 
 
 t' 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Real Worth may exceed Appearances. 
 
 The deepest Waters move most silently 
 and undiscernibly ; and the Spheres have the 
 swiftest motion, yet move without noise. 
 The stars, though vast and glorious bodies, 
 are yet by distance made to seem very small; 
 and many (as in the Galaxy) shine unseen. 
 The moon, when that side towards the earth 
 is darkened, towards heaven shines bright. 
 
 If in some men’s conversation I seem to 
 discern liftle or no Splendour, let me not be 
 too rashly forward in my censures of their 
 estate. It may be, that I do not approach, 
 near enough to them. Perchance our Hea¬ 
 venly Father may see that in secret, which 
 doth not discover itself openly. He may 
 have a bright side Heavenward, though to¬ 
 ward earth lie seem wholly eclipsed. Pei 
 chance he hath so much more of the Publican 
 
1 33 
 
 in him than of the Pharisee , as to think it a 
 good work to conceal his good works : and 
 therefore is so far from making his Prayers 
 in the open streets, to be seen of men, that 
 he thinks his closet scarce private enough 
 when the door is shut: and is so far from 
 proclaiming his Almsgiving by sound of trum¬ 
 pet, that he will not let his left hand know 
 w hat his right doth, when it dispenseth them. 
 
 The flax may have fire in it, though it be 
 but smoking and does not break out into a 
 flame. As most men do seem better than they 
 an e in truths so some are better than they seem 
 to be. And I would rather be good and not 
 seem so, than seem good and not be so : for 
 the publican went home rather justified than 
 the pharisee. 
 
134 
 
 K 
 
 * 
 
 LV. 
 
 The Signs of the Times. 
 
 They say of Trefoil, that by observation 
 guesses may be taken from it of the future 
 season of the weather: that when it generally 
 bears many flowers, it is a sign of plenty of 
 rain and showers to succeed ; and when few, 
 it portendeth great drought. 
 
 No better Prognostic can be taken, of 
 w hat Heaven designeth concerning a people, 
 than from the lives ot Christians, If thej 1 are 
 fruitful and plentiful in good works, that is 
 a forerunner of God’s bountiful effusion and 
 showering down of mercies : but when they 
 are generally barren, it is a sad sign of ap¬ 
 proaching judgment, and of God s making 
 such a land dry and barren for the iniquity ot 
 them that dwell therein. 
 
135 
 
 LVI. 
 
 c 
 
 The dead in Trespasses and Sins . 
 
 A Spartan, having been occupied about 
 the dead body of a man, to try if he could 
 settle it firm in an upright posture, and per¬ 
 ceiving how ineffectual his endeavours prov¬ 
 ed ; sometimes the head falling into the bo¬ 
 som, sometimes the arms flagging downward, 
 and the whole at length falling to the ground 
 —he addressed the by-standers, who were 
 smiling at his unsuccessful attempt, with 
 this observation— u There is wanting, I per¬ 
 ceive, ritv^ov, something within 
 
 Thus it is in dealing with those who are 
 dead in trespasses and sins. If we endeavour 
 to hold up their countenances heavenward, 
 and would have them fix their eyes on Eter¬ 
 nity and an immortal state, we cannot hold 
 them to it one moment : they presently in¬ 
 cline toward the Earth again. If we would 
 
136 
 
 set them on their feet and make them go up¬ 
 right : if we would set their hands to work 
 on deeds of righteousness, and have them 
 stretch out their arms to the relief of those 
 that are in distress—all is in vain. There is 
 no spirit nor principle of motion : something 
 is wanting within ! 
 
 t And how fearfully insensible do we some¬ 
 times find these ; their inward state resemb¬ 
 ling, to a surprising degree of likeness, that ot 
 the dead outwardly* If God’s dreadful threat- 
 enings be sounded in their ears with a voice 
 of thunder, they hear it not: if hell be 
 set before their eyes, as in clear and visi¬ 
 ble representation, they see it not. If the 
 scourge be laid on their backs, their dead 
 flesh feels it not. But the day will come, to 
 these as to all men, in which the n ev£o», the 
 Soul, having let fall to earth its mortal co¬ 
 vering, shall see, even as it is now seen ot 
 God ; and no longer conversant with things 
 Visible and temporal, shall behold, to its 
 everlasting joy or confusion, those which 
 though they be now unseen, are neverthless 
 real and eternal. 
 
137 
 
 LVll. 
 
 In (he Christian race , the manner of the End is 
 more to be regarded than the time of the Beginning . 
 
 Some Christians have been earnest and cu¬ 
 rious to know the very day of their conver¬ 
 sion, the time of their spiritual Nativity ; 
 when there was an access of joy among' the 
 angels in Heaven, (because of a sinner that 
 repented) : the day from which, as the Epoch 
 of their salvation, they are to date the begin¬ 
 ning of their happiness : that they might set 
 a mark upon it, and make it signal in their 
 calendar in red letter, as the day of their 
 second birth. 
 
 But let it not be so much my care to know 
 when I commenced Believer, as to assure my¬ 
 self that the day is past, and the happy change 
 effected. The voice by which God raiseth a 
 
138 
 
 sinner from the dead is not always accompa¬ 
 nied with thunder and tempest, but is some¬ 
 times a still voice. He sometimes cometh 
 early, and preventeth Satan’s harvest, and 
 stealeth into the bosom silently and undis- 
 cernedly, before any giant-sin hath defiled 
 the soul: and then by no token can we re¬ 
 trieve or find out the determinate season— 
 not by the most careful search. The streams 
 of Grace may be large and full, where yet 
 the head of it may be undiscovered : as the 
 river Nile hath a great and plentiful current, 
 yet his spring is unknown. The Sun may 
 rise with his head veiled in a cloud, and un¬ 
 observed ; and yet may afterwards appear in 
 his full strength and glory. 
 
 Saint Paul had his eye upon the goal, and 
 forgetting those things which are behind, 
 pressed forward towards those which are be¬ 
 fore : Phil, iii, 13. If we would imitate his 
 practice, we should not so much busy our¬ 
 selves to know where we first made our start, 
 as to mind the running the race while it pro¬ 
 ceeds. 
 
139 
 
 L VIII. 
 
 To reprove with Discretion. 
 
 An indiscreet imprudent Reproof hath 
 usually a double ill effect: first, in that by 
 the fault of the manager (as a good story may 
 be quite spoiled in the relating) the action, 
 in itself good, is rendered for the present 
 irksome and tedious: and next, in that it 
 leaveth a Prejudice behind, which is very 
 disadvantageous at the like future occasion. 
 A good stock of prudence and caution is in 
 no duty more requisite, than in this of Chris¬ 
 tian reproof; which requires such an exact 
 observation of circumstances, time, manner, 
 and persons, in order to a wise management 
 of it. As I desire never to act that tacit part 
 of a Flatterer, with silence seemingly to sooth 
 and cherish him that deserves reproof; and 
 by a friendly cruelty to betray him into secu¬ 
 rity ; so I think it both more safe and more 
 
140 
 
 wise to tarry on the shore, rather than launch 
 forth, when I know the w'ind will be contrary 
 and beat me back again. Where the person 
 hath so much of the swine and the doo- in 
 him, that he will trample under feet instruc¬ 
 tion and reproof, and turn again and rend 
 us, Christ’s prohibition warneth us not to 
 dispense the holy thing —not to cast the pearls 
 before him . 
 
141 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Not to live at the highest rate of oar Value „ 
 
 It may be observed that our Saviour some¬ 
 times, where the beams of His Deity have 
 broken forth, doth straight casta cloud over 
 them, and shut up his great and divine mi¬ 
 racles with, See you tell no man . He will not 
 permit his glory to appear in its full and un¬ 
 alloyed lustre, but draws a curtain upon it. 
 
 How far dilferent from this Is the spirit of 
 many we meet with, whose only desire is, 
 that they may dazzle the eyes of others with 
 their splendour ; who would have all they do 
 taken notice of, and set on record, and esteem 
 that treasure to be as good as not possessed 
 and enjoyed, which is unknown . These look 
 upon a virtuous modesty only as a fine inno* 
 cent qualification, serving a little to com¬ 
 mend and set off a man, under the defect ot 
 more real merits. They desire always to be 
 
142 
 
 on the stage, and to be acting some part that 
 may procure them some renowned title. 
 Glory is the centre to which all their actions 
 are directed ; and they care not how crooked 
 the lines they draw, or the paths they pro¬ 
 ceed in, so they all meet in this. Their 
 great aim is, to min admiration; and, that 
 I may so far gratify them, I will wonder at 
 them—but it shall be only because of the 
 folly and vanity of their choice. It were a 
 wrong to ourselves to envy them, for they 
 are indeed below deserving it; or to pity 
 them, because they think themselves above 
 meriting it. In truth, they are but the 
 wonder of fools, and the fools of wise men. 
 
 Christian modesty teaclieth a man not to 
 expose himself to the greatest advantage in 
 the view of others—not to live at the highest 
 rate of his value. Some talents are best im¬ 
 proved while laid up : solid and true esteem 
 and reputation grows the more by being sup¬ 
 pressed. Many a rich mine is enclosed in the 
 entrails of the earth ; and many a fair pearl 
 lies in the sea's womb, which never came to 
 view , nor shall come . 
 
143 
 
 LX. 
 
 God's Power and Mercy displayed in the Conver¬ 
 sion oj Persecutors. 
 
 Behold Saul on his way to Damascus, 
 u breathing out threatenings and slaughter 
 against the disciples of the Lord;” how 7 in 
 this high road to damnation he is met with 
 by God, and by a sudden arrest made to 
 stand, thrown off his horse, and forced to 
 surrender up his heart! And how soon do 
 we find the Jailor (Acts xvi, 33) anointing 
 those wounds which, a little before, his own 
 scourge had inflicted on the Apostle and his 
 companion ! 
 
 Thus it pleases God sometimes to set a 
 stop to a sinner in his hottest career, when 
 he is (like that son of Nimshi,) driving fu¬ 
 riously—breaking his course on a sudden, 
 while in his speed. His proceedings in this 
 work are not always gradual and leisurely, 
 
144 
 
 but He delights sometimes, by a speedy res¬ 
 cue to recover those entirely, that were 
 deeply sunk into the jaws of hell; and by 
 a mighty surprise to bring them on their 
 knees to beg for peace, whose hearts are full 
 of rage and war, against Him and his Laws : 
 so that the suddenness of the work may seem 
 to anticipate all previous promptness, dis¬ 
 positions and inclinations to good. 
 
 t These are eminent instances of the 
 Power and Mercy of our God—recorded 
 for the instruction of believers; that they 
 may regard with Charity even their perse¬ 
 cutors ; nor despair of the conversion of 
 these,—when they appear to sin in igno¬ 
 rance. “ I thank Christ Jesus our Lord 
 (saith Saul the persecutor, now become Paul 
 the Apostle,) who hath enabled me, for that 
 he counted me faithful, putting me into the 
 ministry, who was before a blasphemer, and 
 a persecutor and injurious : but I obtained 
 mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbe¬ 
 lief. — Howbeit for this cause I obtained 
 mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might 
 shew forth all long-suffering, for a pattern 
 to them which should hereafter believe on 
 Him to life everlasting.” 1 Tim. xii. 16. 
 
145 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Reprobation consequent on Impenitence . 
 
 Saltpetre, though itself observed to be 
 of a fiery nature, yet being mixed with luke¬ 
 warm water, at first it contesteth with it; 
 but when it is overcome and dissolved by it, 
 the water becometh abundantly more cold 
 than otherwise it would have been. And 
 that water which hath been warm, and after 
 returneth to its native temper, becomes more 
 cold, and more subject to be frozen, than that 
 which hath not felt the fire. 
 
 The Convictions of the Spirit of God, 
 where they do not work a thorough chang'e, 
 the heart becometh afterward benumbed in¬ 
 to a greater coldness and deadness. A spi¬ 
 ritual relapse is very pernicious.—Where 
 God hath been knocking, and hath been sent 
 away with a repulse, in judgment He may 
 suffer another bar to be clapt on that door 
 
 K 
 
146 
 
 and make tlie sinner more hardened. He 
 that hath conquered the good motions and 
 desires which Heaven hath kindled in him, 
 is given over to a more reprobate sense; as 
 the temper of Iron is more hardened, by its 
 being quenched after it hath been heated in 
 the forge. No sinner doth more eagerly 
 wallow in the mire, than he that returneth 
 to it after he was once washed. Where 
 the unclean spirit, after his departure for a 
 season, on his return findeth the Soul empty 
 of Christ , swept and voided of all Gracious 
 dispositions, and garnished with whatsoever 
 vice may suit the entertainment of so un¬ 
 clean a Guest, his re-entrance is with new 
 attendance, and his Hold is rendered seven¬ 
 fold more impregnable than before: he taketh 
 to himself the black company of seven other 
 spirits worse than himself, and that man’s last 
 estate is worse than his first. 
 
 Lord, let me never quench those sparks, 
 which I should be always quickening and 
 kindling into a flame : lest by so doing, I 
 make myself fuel for a flame that shall never 
 be quenched. 
 
147 
 
 LXII. 
 
 The Place of Paradise. 
 
 It hath been matter of no small debate 
 where Paradise was situated ; some placing' 
 it beyond an immense Ocean,—others by ail 
 extravagant fancy have made room for it 
 near the Moon’s orb : some in the third’ 
 region of the Air,—others have set it under 
 the Equinoctial: most, in or about Meso¬ 
 potamia. 
 
 But the Inquiry is as fruitless as it is 
 curious : and the most certain denomination 
 we have, is that which placeth it in Terra 
 incognita ; I mean out of the sphere of our 
 knowledge. All the Paradise that now the 
 Scripture speaks of, (as existing,) is that 
 Third Hearten into which Saint Paul was 
 wrapt. I will not employ myself to seek 
 where that Paradise y)as ? which we lost ^ 
 
 k 2 
 
148 
 
 while I know where that is, which I must 
 busy myself to seek . Our sin set the guard 
 of Cherubim and the Flaming Sword at the 
 entrance of that; and hath since spoiled and 
 defaced its glory. Our Saviour hath opened 
 a free passage to this, and hath prepared it 
 for a reinstatement of us in happiness. And 
 this, which our second Adam hath purchased, 
 doth in as great a portion surpass that which 
 the first Adam lost, as the highest Heavens 
 do excel the beautifullest and richest Earth. 
 For that Paradise was but as a transient 
 representation and type, shadowing forth the 
 much more exceeding and abiding Glory of 
 this our Heaven. 
 
 
149 
 
 Lxin. 
 
 The profitable Exchange. 
 
 One of the most tragical and sad argu¬ 
 ments of human misery that is wont to be 
 presented to us, is that of the unhappy King 
 Lysimachus , who made an exchange of his 
 Crown for a draught of Water : which bar¬ 
 gain, the constraint of that necessity he was 
 reduced to, doth sufficiently excuse. For 
 now his soul sat on his lips, being forced 
 out of his body by a violent Thirst; and a 
 kingdom was not an over-rate in the pur¬ 
 chase of that by which his Life was to be 
 redeemed. 
 
 Who then will account that a hard saying 
 in the Laws of Christ, that commandeth us 
 to forsake all and follow Him ; where the 
 reward is Life? Not a temporal life only, 
 which is alway subject to the changes and 
 
150 
 
 incursions of fortune; exposed to labour, to 
 infirmities and diseases of the body ; infected 
 with more troublesome and incessant dis¬ 
 tempers of the Mind; always either lan¬ 
 guishing* under chillness of Fears, or burn¬ 
 ing in feverish Desires—a life still besieged 
 with temptations :—not this , but an Eternal 
 life which is not only free from all those 
 evil attendants, with which the other is 
 rendered miserable, but possessed also with 
 an inconceivable felicity. Who would not 
 go and sell all he hath for the purchase of 
 such a Pearl ? Who would not disesteem all, 
 though he were as great a Monarch as ever 
 reigned, for the gaining of that “ living 
 Water,” of which he that drinketh shall 
 never thirst more—yea, who would not bar¬ 
 ter Trifles for an immarcescible Crown ? 
 
LXIY. 
 
 The blessed Pilgrimage. 
 
 How many deluded Pilgrims measure 
 thousands of tiresome paces, adventure 
 through many dangers, endure many hard¬ 
 ships and severe and grievous entertainment, 
 in a journey to the holy land : and are con¬ 
 tent at last, when come in view of Jerusa¬ 
 lem, to pay a great entrance-tribute to the 
 Turks for admission : and all merely to see 
 the sepulchre which enclosed our Lord’s 
 body, and the place which once had the 
 marks of his footsteps. 
 
 I too am a pilgrim, not by choice, but by 
 an unhappy necessity.* My journey is to¬ 
 wards a holy land, the heavenly Canaan. I 
 seek a city which is from above—the new 
 Jerusalem ; which my Saviour not only hath 
 blessed, but always doth bless, with his pre- 
 
 * Alluding probably to the fall of man. 
 
152 
 
 sence ; and that not in his low abject hum¬ 
 bled estate, but with his exalted wonderfully 
 glorious presence. Shall I complain of the 
 tediousness of the way, the terror of incident 
 dangers, the sweat, the toil and laborious¬ 
 ness of the travel to be undergone, where 
 the contentment and delight at the journey’s 
 end is so infinitely transcendent ? What 
 Red Sea can have so much horror—what 
 wilderness so much dismal and sad amaze¬ 
 ment—what occurrences can be so fearful, 
 hardships so grievous, dangers so terrible— 
 what condition so necessitous, or state so 
 bewildered, as will not be rendered amiable 
 and desirable, when leading: to the sight and 
 enjoyment of our Saviour? No tribute, 
 either of sorrow or death itself, but is an easy 
 purchase for admittance ; for admittance not 
 to his sepulchre but to his throne : not to see 
 the place where the Lord lay , but where he 
 reigneth —not to look on, as an Alien; but 
 to possess, as a Denizen . 
 
 THE END. 
 
 London: W. Phillips, Printer.